Faction Frozen in Time || Sith Order

[Aspect of Defiance]

Winter ruled the planet with quiet authority. Snow lay deep across the plains and reached the base of the stronghold in long white drifts. Ice clung to every surface and turned the outer walls into cold mirrors that caught whatever light reached the courtyard. The air felt still. Even the wind seemed to move with caution, as though the land itself wished to keep its silence unbroken.

The courtyard carried the weight of the theme without a spoken word. Figures lined the wide path in rows that looked ceremonial at first glance. Their forms resembled carved statues, yet each one stood with such lifelike tension that many guests hesitated to meet their eyes. Some leaned forward as if ready to take a final step. Some stood mid gesture, caught in the moment before a strike or a cry. Others wore a look of surprise that suggested a story interrupted without warning.

Their surfaces were covered in a thick glaze of frost. The ice softened every line of the face while preserving the emotion beneath. A visitor could not tell if the expressions were crafted with intent or captured from something that once breathed. Sith who knew the truth never spoke of it. The title of the celebration spoke loudly enough.

Beyond the statues, an entrance of tall glacial walls marked the beginning of the maze. The frozen corridors wound in deliberate patterns that bent vision and sense. Light entered through thin sheets of ice, fractured into strange colors, and followed guests like shifting threads. Walkers felt time slip in odd ways within the maze. Moments stretched. Footsteps echoed longer than they should. Each turn tested patience as much as courage.

The far side of the courtyard opened into a broad area of packed snow prepared for dance. Lanterns hung from tall pillars, each holding a Kyber shard that glowed with a steady pulse. The light touched the dancers and cast long shadows across the white ground. Music rose from crystal keyed instruments and metal horns. The rhythm carried the tone of ancient ritual rather than celebration. Every step spoke of endurance. Every movement echoed the idea that surviving another year was reason enough to gather.

Sleighs waited near the main gates. Their repulsorlift engines hummed softly beneath carved wooden frames. Riders followed marked trails through the silent plains toward distant cliffs where the sky shimmered with sheets of color. The view felt unchanged by time, as if the world had been holding the same breath for centuries.

Around the grounds, artisans shaped ice into beasts from the old worlds of the Sith. Hunters tested their aim against frozen targets that shattered with clean sound. Shielded fire pits allowed guests to warm their hands without disturbing the winter atmosphere. The feast hall remained open, filled with roasted game, strong broth, and sweet breads shaped with the emblem of the Order.

Life Day for the Sith did not celebrate peace or comfort. It honored survival. It recognized the will to endure when the galaxy offered no sympathy. The title of the night held its truth. The Order stood firm. The Order remained.

Some things froze in time. The Sith chose to endure within it.

Spoiler: OBJECTIVES

A wide circle of packed snow serves as the ballroom floor, ringed by tall pillars crowned with cold lanternlight. Music from crystal keyed instruments carries through the courtyard and turns the frozen air into something almost ceremonial. Cloaks move in quiet arcs. Boots press soft marks into the snow. The dance feels formal, yet the cold gives it an edge that suits the Sith.

Guests choose partners or move alone through measured steps that reflect ancient tradition. Nothing here is lighthearted. Every movement reveals intention. Every turn places strength on display. The Winter Ball is where alliances begin with a hand offered in the cold or falter in the space of a single misstep.

Guests can enter the ice maze if they want a challenge. The tall frozen corridors bend light and sense with each turn, creating small illusions and brief moments that feel stretched. Those who reach the center find quiet chambers carved from clear ice before returning to the courtyard. Sleighs wait nearby to carry riders across the plains toward high cliffs where the sky glows with color.

The rest of the grounds offer simple trials and winter games. Ice targets stand ready for precision contests. Sculptors work at frozen blocks while visitors try smaller carvings beside them. Shielded fire pits provide brief warmth between events. The grounds give guests a chance to test skill, explore, or step away from the crowd.

Guests may move through the celebration in any direction they choose. The ice maze waits for those who want a test of nerve. Sleigh trails lead into open plains where the sky shifts with color. The statues offer quiet places to pause, and the dance floor draws those who want company. Every path carries its own tone and discovers its own moments.

Some may wander the frozen corridors until they reach a hidden chamber. Others may find a companion near the fire pits or meet someone new while watching the horizon. The night is open to choice. Follow whatever pulls your attention and let the celebration unfold around you.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: This
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
SHIP: Vigfjall
TAG: Open

Gerwald stepped onto the upper balcony that overlooked the courtyard and let the cold air settle against him. The stone beneath his boots held a faint chill, and thin frost had already begun to gather along the railing. The night stretched open below, filled with scattered lanternlight and the slow rise of music from the musicians near the dance circle. The first guests had arrived, and their movements turned the snow into soft drifting patterns. From above, the entire scene resembled a painting caught at the moment before motion returned to it.

Two drinks sat on the ledge beside him. One held the deep amber of a strong whiskey. The other carried the bright colors of a fruity cocktail. The contrast made him pause. He could remember the exact moment those colors had mattered for the first time. It had been a different winter celebration that he overlooked from a different balcony. It seemed like ages ago. Naedira Darcrath had left him with a drink he never would have chosen for himself, and she had not cared one bit about his reluctance. She had been amused by it.

He remembered telling her he could not dance. He remembered the quiet confidence in her eyes when she called him a liar. She had taken his hand without hesitation and stepped forward until he had no choice but to follow. The memory settled with a warmth that cut through the cold. He waited now with both drinks in reach. His duty as a Dark Councilor was to be present. His mate could join him whenever she wished.

Below, the celebration continued to grow. Guests drifted toward the ice maze, drawn by curiosity and pride. The tall frozen walls shimmered with scattered light, and each person who crossed the threshold did so with a different posture. Some were eager while others were cautious. Then there were the ones determined to prove something to themselves or someone watching. The sleigh yard had begun to fill as well. The repulsorlifts hummed against the snow as attendants prepared the next set of rides.

Gerwald let his gaze travel across the courtyard and settled on the row of statues that lined the main path. The frost on their surfaces caught the lanternlight and created the impression that each figure watched the revelers with quiet awareness. Their faces held no motion, yet the emotion remained clear. Surprise here. Anger there. A deep and unspoken fear in another. The stillness reinforced the theme of the night. They had been frozen in time. He understood the weight of that idea more than most.

A small chime from the datapad beside him drew his attention. The message log confirmed that the note had been delivered to Ivalyn Yvarro . A formal notice from a Dark Councilor was a rare thing, and this one carried no ambiguity. She had been granted a personal TIE fighter, crafted to specification and marked by her service. The gift had purpose. It would push her further. It would hopefully keep her tied to the Order in some way each time she stepped into the cockpit. He imagined she would be surprised by the message at first which would quickly turn to a more calculating thought next. He expected nothing less from that one.

The Dread Wolf sat the datapad aside and returned his attention to the balcony edge. The drinks remained where he had placed them, one bright, one dark. He lifted the whiskey and held it for a moment before setting it down again. The cold reached his fingers, but he did not move away from it. It helped him think.

The courtyard below shifted as new guests entered. Cloaks caught the wind. Lanterns flickered across armor. The music rose in a steady rhythm. He watched the dancers form their first slow circle. Gerwald remained on the balcony, waiting while watching the world the Order had shaped take its first breath.

 

[Reina Daival]

Tag: Open

The flames danced in Reina's eyes as she stared at the blade in her hand, flipping it between her fingers in thought. A gift. Gifted to her by Eira Dyn . The only gift so far she had gotten for Life Day. There was a poison that coated the edge of the blade. Poison. Was that what she worked with now? Was she becoming an assassin? Someone who lurked in the dark? It also reeked of the Dark Side. A constant reminder. In a way, it was almost ironic in a way. When she was doing jobs for the Republic or Mandalorians, she kept Whisperwind at her side. A beacon of the Light side. And now, for her jobs with the Sith, it seemed like she'd have yet another beacon of the Dark Side attached to her hip. A dagger on one side, and the Saber she had earned on the other. Whether she realised it or not, it seemed more and more apparent that she was leaning towards one side over the other...

With the flick of her wrist, the redhead sent the dagger hurtling into a clump of snow. Her mind wandered onto others, even as the fire pit continued to dance, illuminating Reina's eyes. Almost as if they were projecting Reina's thoughts. What would Everest Vale be doing today? Would she be spending time with Tigris? Would they have already opened their gifts? What would they given to each other? The same could be said for Acier Moonbound . Was he celebrating with his new found friends she had seen him with on Ukatis? How would Kito and Valaine Valentine be celebrating? If Kito was anything like Reina, she doubt the fireshaper would be celebrating most. Only for Reina's thoughts to finally fall upon Quinn Varanin . Reina hoped the Princess had enjoyed the gift that Reina had sent off to her. There was a part of her that wondered if a weapon would have been better, especially as she stared at the dagger...

As Reina shook her head to forget those thoughts, she rummaged her hand into her pocket, pulling out a warm flask of rum. Popping open the cap before taking a small swig of the stuff, letting out a slight wince at the warmth. It had been a while since she had a drink like this, before she had even became an Ersansyr. With that being said, she lifted the flask up into the air, letting out a sigh.

"Here's to me."
​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

The cold did not bite Seren Gwyn. It recognized her. Frost clung to every surface of the Sith stronghold, turning the courtyard into a quiet cathedral of ice and shadow. Lanternlight fractured in the frozen air, scattering pale reflections across faces, armor, and the faint spirals of breath rising from gathered Sith.

Seren crossed the threshold with measured steps, the snow beneath her boots indenting only slightly—as though the ground itself hesitated to hold her weight.

Tonight, she did not hide.

Shadows trailed her like a half-forgotten memory, following out of habit rather than need. For once, she let them slip away, thinning around her until only the faintest shimmer of umbral haze clung to the edges of her silhouette.

Across the courtyard, near one of the fire pits, a young red-haired woman raised a flask to herself. The flames cast a flicker of gold over her features, her moment of solitude briefly cutting through the gathering hum of voices. Seren's gaze passed over her only for a breath—just long enough to recognize a quiet defiance in the gesture.

Then her attention swept toward the heart of the celebration. The ballroom floor—a perfect circle of packed snow—pulsed in time with the crystal-keyed instruments. Cloaks brushed in slow arcs. Sith spun through the ritual steps of the Winter Waltz, their movements controlled, sharp-edged, intentional.

This was where she wanted to be seen.

She approached the boundary of the dance floor, and the lanternlight welcomed her as though startled. Reflections scattered across her features: amber eyes, blue-black hair pinned with obsidian metal, a sorceress carved from shadow stepping willingly into the open.

Several Sith paused mid-step. Attention shifted like gravity.

Seren's voice cut through the music in a low, steady murmur: "The Order keeps surprising me."

She lowered a gloved hand, letting her fingertips hover just above the snow, feeling the pulse of footsteps beneath its surface. "A waltz for Life Day…a ritual made of intention rather than blood. I suppose even winter has room for spectacle."

Her amber eyes narrowed with soft amusement as murmurs rippled outward through the crowd. She stepped into the circle. Not hesitantly, not boldly—just inevitably. Like a star slipping into its proper place in the night sky.

The music caught her immediately, threading itself through the cadence of her breath. Shadows rose at her ankles again, this time moving in rhythm with the waltz as if tempted to dance with her.

"If the night honors endurance…" Her voice carried farther, her posture straight and unyielding. "…then let those of us who belong to the dark's quiet places stand where all can see us."

Around the circle, heads turned. Whispers sharpened. The sorceress from Malachor had finally stepped into the light. And the Order watched.

@open

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Varin had made his way to the frozen event. He was nervous. He did not know why, but something was just eating at him. His shaking hands finished fastening the buttons of his shirt as his usual maroon and black cloth wrapped around his form, fitting it perfectly.

The last time he had actually intended on participating in an event like this and dressed up for, was the night his family was taken during his ceremony of being his father’s apprentice. He did not get lost in the thought. This was not that night, and it was time he tried to move forward from that. The past year or so he had been doing nothing but make progress. Progress in power and breaking his chains.

He took in a deep breath as he stepped out of his ship.

CC-14 followed up to the end of the landing path.

“Master Varin, You look good tonight. Go have some fun for once.”

Varin looked back at the droid that had been his protector and carer since he was but a babe. A slow nod of acceptance as he dipped his head to him.

“Of course CC. Make sure Sinew does not chew the seats this time, we just had them redone.”

He spoke as he walked the snowy path. Glancing up at the sky, the stars were bright. The night sky seemed to be enjoying the event as well. His hand rode up his cheek to some of his bangs that had shifted over his brow, pulling it back to the way he liked it.

He intended to join the ring of dancers. Something he did not have the courage to do since that night. Whether Nyara Dakhan accepted his invite or not was still to be determined. He would love for her to be there, but he knew she had been terribly busy lately.

Soft flakes fell from the branches of trees and onto his form, melting away in a quiet hiss of steam. He made his way through the courtyard and towards the boundary of the circle. The music surrounding the dancers, as if guiding them with their hymns. Varin watched as a familiar face stepped in. He recognized the golden eyes and the dark hair anywhere.

An anxiousness gripped his chest as he slowly stepped forward.

“Good evening.”

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren turned at the sound of his voice, the movement unhurried, almost fluid—like a shadow adjusting itself to new light. Lanternfire cast a soft halo along the dark waves of her hair and settled in the amber of her eyes until they glowed with quiet warmth rather than their usual predatory intensity.

Varin looked as though the snow itself had paused to watch him. There was a tension in the set of his shoulders, not born of fear, but of memory—something old, something heavy. The kind of weight she recognized without needing to name.

She stepped closer, letting the music wrap around them both. Here, in the open where so many Sith moved with calculated poise, Seren's presence softened. The harsh edges she carried in Malachor's depths did not vanish—but they eased, as though she'd allowed them to rest for the night.

"Varin," she said, and the sound of his name from her lips held a quiet certainty, as though she had expected him long before he arrived.

Her gaze moved over him—not assessing, not predatory—simply seeing him. The snow that clung to his shoulders melted in faint curls of steam. His attire, formal and dark, suited him in a way that made him seem more grounded than she had seen him before.

"You chose a difficult night to step into the open," she continued, her voice low but steady, carrying just enough warmth to cut through the cold. "Winter has a way of remembering what we would rather forget."

Her eyes lingered on his for a long, unbroken moment. "But you came anyway." There was no praise in her tone. No pity. Only acknowledgment—an understanding that felt deeper than the words themselves.

The music shifted then, rising into a slow, deliberate cadence. Cloaks and silhouettes moved across the snow in elegant arcs, the Winter Waltz beginning its next cycle. Lanternlight rippled across the dancers like liquid gold.

Seren shifted her weight slightly, her posture opening—not commanding, not demanding—simply inviting.

"Walk with me," she murmured, offering her hand in a gesture more intimate than it was romantic. A gesture of grounding. Of steadiness. Of shared resolve.

Her head tilted, the faintest curve touching her lips as she added: "The courtyard is less cold with company…and endurance is always easier when someone witnesses it."

The wind curled softly around them. The lanterns flickered. And for the first time that night, Seren allowed the world to see her not as a creature of shadow, but as someone willing to meet another where they stood.

Varin Mortifer @open

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti
​

Lysander scanned the area with approval, hardly surprised they weren’t on Desevro again. By now, it was obvious, the way he drifted through the galaxy, always finding reasons to wander about, and Naniti was often at his side these days. Invitation or not, he treated them all the same.. as opportunities to observe, experience, and when the moment allowed, spend time with her. Traveling the stars had suddenly become fun.

The cold hit him before fully leaving from his freighter. The wind pressed the edges of his cozy black jacket, and gave a tug on his pants. The Sith’s white hair was intricately braided as though the pattern were to suggest both his discipline and elegance. A snug wool beanie was placed over the crown, enough to keep him comfortable, while framing his youthful visage.

A small pivot brought the Togruta into view. "Try not to tumble down a cliff. I've got a reputation to maintain as a responsible companion, you know."

Along the short trajectory to their destination, his matte black boots began leaving fresh prints across the courtyard, as he darted like a fool, slipping right into the building with a playful skip. Surely, she had caught onto that trait by now. Maybe, he simply liked being Lysander when no one else was around.. when the galaxy’s endless strife and conflict could not claim his time. Besides, with their daily training out of the way, there shouldn't be anything standing in the way of him having him.

It was still early, and as he passed through the room, he didn’t spot a single familiar face. But there was another reason for the detour. By the time he returned only moments later, a small treasure was nestled in his hands. One cup.. just for Naniti. Somehow, the idea of gifting it to her made him grin, teeth flashing in a way that was typically reserved for private moments. His steps slowed as he approached. “You might find it helpful against the wind.” He tilted the cup toward her, steam curling between them, with the sweetness of cocoa.

A sleigh, one of many, was under the pale sky. Another step and he swung one leg over the edge, easing onto the bench. The repulsor lifts hummed beneath him. “I don’t think the stars will mind if we take our time for once.” For all his travels and experiences, this would be his first proper ride. “Here’s to trying something new.. and doing it with the right company.”

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He gave her a soft smirk as she said his name.

“It seems you may have been expecting me, Seren. It's good to see you again.”

He noticed her eyes trace over him as she stepped closer.

“The cold always has a tendency to remind us of pain. Winter has always been a season of memorial and remembrance. But also a time of reflection.”

Varin noticed the change in the music as the next set had begun. Gently he took her hand, the warmth spreading over her skin like a summer’s breeze.

“As you wish.”

The words were soft. A compliance that he wanted to join her, not that he was forced to.

“In all honesty, I wouldn’t really know if it was harder or easier to brave the cold alone. I just simply do. Though, I see how a duo would make it easier.”

The refractions of the light from the crystal bathed the area in all colors of the spectrum. Just as he did on Malachor he walked with her, only this time it was not for secrets. Instead of trying to know the past, he wished to know of her now. He watched the soft shadows around her dance in the faintest beat of their own, as if moving with the lights.

I knew you two would meet again eventually.

Ignati’s voice echoed in Varin’s head.

I take it you will want silence again tonight?

Ignati’s voice grew quiet once again as they ventured forth into the ring.

“Malachor seems nice this time around would you say? Especially when the planet is not trying to suffocate you with faint promises.”

He smirked with the small jest.

"But I suppose this will work for us to catch up some."

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

The shift in him was small, nearly imperceptible, but Seren felt it as clearly as the change in the music. His smirk was soft, unforced—a gesture without armor. When his fingers closed around hers, the warmth of his touch contrasted sharply with the crisp bite of the air, and something in her shoulders eased, as if the cold had been holding tension she no longer needed.

His words about remembrance, reflection…yes. She understood that too well.

"Pain is a stubborn teacher," she replied quietly, her voice almost lost beneath the swell of the waltz. "Winter simply reminds us to listen."

As he walked beside her, Seren matched his pace without thought—the same unspoken synchronization that had carried them through Malachor's depths. Yet this time the shadows that drifted at her heels did not cling or coil; they moved lightly, as though exploring the lanternlit air for the first time.

The prismed colors reflecting from the kyber lanterns danced across Varin's features, and Seren's gaze lingered for a moment, reading the lines that memory had carved there.

His jest about Malachor drew a rare, genuine sound from her—a soft, low hum of amusement that warmed the cold space between them.

"It shows admirable restraint tonight," she answered. "Though I cannot promise it isn't plotting new ways to test you when you return."

She tilted her head, studying him with that steady, perceptive calm of hers—the kind that made one feel entirely seen, yet not exposed.

"But for this evening," she continued, "it's a relief to walk beside you without ancient tombs attempting to claim your soul."

Her lips curved—not quite a smile, but the closest she ever came to one in public.

They crossed beneath an archway of frozen branches, and the lanternlight above cast slow-moving constellations across the packed snow. Seren's gaze drifted upward for a moment, then returned to him.

"We never finished our last conversation," she said gently. "About what you seek…and what it has begun to make of you."

But she did not press.

Instead, she let the music take them deeper into the circle, allowing the rhythm to settle around them, giving him space to choose his pace, his depth, his beginning.

"We can speak of Malachor," Seren said softly, "or of anything else that weighs your thoughts tonight."

A pause. A subtle softening in her amber eyes.

"I am listening."

Varin Mortifer

 

[Naniti]

It wasn't that Naniti hated Desevro, but Lysander offered up real-world opportunity to explore and grow... and, yes, sometimes -- maybe often times -- find some entertainment in it all. With him. Like today when another ball-like event would likely keep them from playing Sith Warrior for an evening. An opportunity to just be with him.

Before they'd met, Naniti never thought about being around someone just to be around them. There always had to be a point. A goal. An objective. It was a transaction world where trust practically didn't exist, and everything was ruled by fear. Or so she'd been brought up to believe. Now there were all these new opportunities, and she grown used to them. To his company.

Unlike the Empress' ball, however, Naniti wasn't wearing relatively little. They'd been mostly indoors back then. Today they might be outdoors, like Desevro itself. She'd spent a good deal of time trying to find a fitted, black outfit to match Lysander's suspected color choice though. Too much time? It didn't matter. Wasn't like Naniti also had to spend time fixing hair she didn't have. Not that a woman could just not tend her montrals and lekku.

A mock salute was given in response to Lysander's quip. "Yes, sir, Lysander, sir." Then the smile returned. Tumble down a cliff, indeed.

When they got near the building, the normally very responsible and serious man did a little slide and a skip to cross the threshold. Naniti's smile grew fonder rather than harder. That was not what she expected any Lord to ever do, but it was what he would do. Just something she'd gotten used to over time -- how different he was to what Naniti had always thought a Sith was supposed to be. Good thing they'd met or she would have turned into a real hard ass.

The Togruta followed along with the slid, but her 'skip' was only enough to avoid tripping when ice turned into flooring; not quite so playful. Well, maybe she wasn't at risk of being ultra serious all the time, but some habits died hard.

Lysander had already gotten a head start, which caused her head to tip just a bit. She tracked where he was going with her eyes. It was quickly noted -- or surmised -- he was getting something. Half a step was taken after him before he turned and started to make his way back.

An open smile without reservation or concern for others watching was returned when he flashed her a grin. Both of her hands rose to accept the cup. "Thank you, Lysander." Something hot would be nice given the weather. And the act of gratitude also wasn't as difficult to give as when they'd first met. The Togruta lifted it to draw in the sweet scent of hot cocoa.

Fully equipped, the pair stepped out to one of the sleighs nearby. She followed after without complaint or question about the hover contraption. What was there to worry about? Doing something new was what they liked to do together, after all. Her thoughts and his cheer mirroring one another only bolstered her chuckling. "If they do, we'll just tell the stars to bug off."

Of course, Naniti made certain to sit on the same bench as Lysander -- if there were two. So it'd be easier to talk, of course, and see what the other saw or pointed at along the way. And maybe so it'd be more comfortable leaning on someone soft instead of a hard, unyielding side of the sleigh.

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He could feel the tension melt away from her as their fingers entwined together. Her words of pain spoke true to Varin as they moved closer through the archway of branches frozen above them, giving off their own shimmering gleam.

She seemed to look not just at him but into him. See him for what he is, what he was and possibly what he may be. His eyes locked with hers for that moment as well as the refractions of light moved over her features.

“I know I will be just as, if not, more stubborn than the first time. Perhaps I will visit again soon. The place has some way of"

A slight smirk came to his lips.

"…drawing me back to it.”

She raised a question about their prior conversation. What was he seeking? How would it change him? Questions he often asked himself at times. Gently he took her other hand as they began to move at a slow rhythm with the music. A test of feeling for the dance to come.

“I guess what I am seeking is the truth. As for what it would make of me, that remains to be seen.”

He paused for a moment to find his words.

“My hope is that it breaks some of my bindings with the entity.”

He looked her in the eyes again. A certain curiosity hit him.

“But, I feel you may have something to speak of as well. Don't let me take all of the words tonight.”

A softness glossed over his face.

“I am also listening.”

A voice of a more genuine nature took hold of him. A nature of pure curiosity, the feeling of wanting to get to know someone.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti
​

Just a few seconds after Naniti settled beside him, the sleigh lifted into motion. Lysander hadn’t known what to expect. Something clunky perhaps.. or a jolt. The repulsorlifts carried them forward gently. Not as though he’d truly thought he might be thrown out. Something almost suspiciously peaceful about it.

The fortress slowly slipped from view, meter by meter. The corners of his expression tugged upward in that involuntary way again. This time it was less of a grin.. more an admission that was difficult to hide. Her comment echoed through his mind again. It fit her perfectly. A breath of amusement soon left him. “Oh, I can already hear the outrage. Centuries of some powerful cosmic authority, undone by a single Togruta with a cup of hot chocolate. The audacity..”

His head leaned toward her, warmth lighting his gaze. “Honestly, though.. I think they’d listen to you long before they’d ever bother listening to me.”

Ilum taught him a truth or two. "I've learned not to underestimate you," he admitted. "There's this way you seem to nudge the 'verse around until it cooperates. It's.. actually pretty impressive."

Compliments weren’t exactly encouraged at the academy. Saying anything close sounded more like volunteering to get shivved. Funny, really.. he could recite philosophy or write poetry for days in his journal, and now he found himself quiet over something that should’ve been far from new territory. Maybe that was the difference, journal ink didn’t look back at him.

Their meetings carried the shape of lessons, sure, yet there was no denying that her presence carved him sharper as well. “I enjoy training with you too. You pick up the small things that most overlook.” His boot tapped against the sleigh rail twice. “I’m glad I’ve been there for it, too. It’s one parts of the day I really look forward to. Kind of sneaks up on me..”

He hadn’t planned much beforehand.. Lysander rarely did during recent ventures. Talking came easily to him, but he liked to think listening did too. Korriban and a few other trips just hadn’t provided the right opportunity.

Again, his sight reached forward, watching the trail unfold. Based on what he’d seen thus far, he imagined the cliffs would open onto a welcome, or serene horizon.

“Think the views up top will be as dramatic as you? Because that’s a high bar.”

 

[Seren Gwyn]

The shift in their joined hands was subtle, but Seren felt it immediately—the way his tension eased, the way his steps aligned with hers without hesitation, the way the music seemed to settle around them rather than press against them. She let him guide the first half-measure, not because she needed the direction but because she wanted to feel how he carried the rhythm.

He moved like someone learning to breathe in a different climate. It suited him.

Her amber gaze lifted to him as he spoke of Malachor drawing him back. The faintest breath of amusement shaped her expression—barely there, but unmistakably genuine.

"Malachor remembers those who walk its depths without breaking." A pause, her voice lowering without losing clarity. "It does not let them go easily. Nor entirely."

When he took her other hand, completing the dance's frame, Seren allowed the movement with a stillness that felt almost reverent. The shadows at her heels drew inward, quieting as though in respect for the space they created together.

His words—about truth, about the binding, about the entity—settled between them like distant thunder. Seren did not shy from any of it. She never had.

"Truth rarely arrives gently," she murmured, her steps gliding in time with his. "It tears, it burns, it reshapes. If you seek it, it will change you. That is its nature."

He looked at her then—truly looked—and something in his expression softened. Honest. Open. The kind of curiosity that wasn't driven by hunger or ambition, but by the desire to understand her.

And that, more than the dance, made Seren pause—not in movement, but in breath. No Sith looked at her that way. So she met his gaze fully, without veils, without distance.

"You are not wrong," she said quietly. "I do have something to say." Their steps carried them through a slow turn, the lanterns above scattering shards of color across their features alike.

"Our work on Malachor…showed me something I did not expect." Another breath. The faintest shift of her fingers in his. "Most Sith take. You did not. You endured. You listened. You trusted the guidance offered to you, even when it hurt." Her gaze softened with something rare—a recognition deeper than admiration, quieter than praise. "You reminded me that not all strength is sharpened by cruelty. Some is shaped by survival. By choice."

A beat. "You asked what I wish to speak of." Her voice dropped to a warm undertone, the kind that belonged only to truth. "I wish to speak of the person you are becoming. And the one you are allowing me to see."

The music swelled behind them, slow and deliberate. Seren's steps matched his perfectly now—not guiding, not following, but moving with. "I am listening, Varin." A small breath of warmth crossed her expression. "And I am here."

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He looked down at her as her gaze met him, a faint shift in her facial expression of amusement. He didn't have to see a facial change to feel her engagement in the conversation.

“Planets that hunger will always call those that survive back. Malachor will continue to test individuals as long as they keep coming back.”

Her acceptance into the motion of dance brought a small smile to his face.

“It seems like the tests for me will continue.”

He began to follow into the flow of the music with her as he began to grow more comfortable. The old motions and muscles memory coming back like a haunting dream that just barely clings to the back of the mind.

“I would rather the truth crush me than to hear beautiful lies. Ignorance is only blissful until reality sets, by then some individuals are so far gone they cannot cope. Lies bring weakness.”

Her gaze stunned him for a blur of time. It felt like minutes, but the reality was only a second. He could not help but stare back, reading what was behind them. The lantern light only seemed to brighten them. A golden hue, reflecting back at him.

The shift in her fingers did not go unnoticed as she spoke. Spoke of his will to survive, his drive to keep pushing.

“To endure, is to obtain power. But it also gives lessons. Survival teaches you more about yourself than any kind of self study.”

He paused for a moment. She wished to see him, the real him. He took a moment to find his words.

“I am listening, Varin. And I am here.”

His eyes flicked back to hers as he took a deep breath.

“I fear that what I am becoming is but another copy of any Sith. One who only starves for power and control. At least, that is what it looks like.”

His memory blinks back to the many battles and duels he has endured, and the animosity he displays, the brutality and the blood lust that stirs deep inside.

“Sometimes, its more comfortable to wear a mask. Pretend that I am someone else.”

He chuckled lightly.

“But I suppose that contradicts my preference of facing hard truths over beautiful lies.”

He shifted the two of them as the music began to change again. That's when he noticed it, quiet. Peaceful quiet in his head. It was strange to be able to hear his own thoughts and opinions without the pollution of another mind accompanying him.

He took another deep breath.

"I am a weapon of Bogan's Will. I destroy, I kill, I break. And I always hunger for more."

The entensity flared in his dark brown eyes as a light orange hue. Just a quick flash before it returned to its natural coloration.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

Tags: Open!
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The cold that permeated the event at hand was rather welcoming all things considered, Sith worlds were often fairly chilly in one sense or another after all. It was mostly halted by His robes, keeping Him well insulated, yet every now and then it seeped in and sent a spike of ice through Him that reminded Him of where He was. Darth Strosius ran a gloved hand along one of the cold pillars that served as a pedestal for one of the lights illuminating the dancing area.

A sort of ballroom almost, if one were to be swept up in the moment. The music crooning through the air to give rhythm for the dancers to follow as they stepped and swayed and twirled in their little couplings, the light casted over the snow leaving just as many long shadows as it did bright paths that flowed together, the chill encouraging dancers to keep moving or pull one another closer in order to ward it off.

He had never been one for partaking in Life Day celebrations Himself, there were simply other holidays that He much preferred to enjoy and which were more important in His eyes, however even He couldn't argue with the spectacle of the winter event. He allowed Himself to lean against the pillar for a moment as His hidden gaze trailed over the dancers and then out to the rest of the courtyard beyond.

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren did not break the rhythm when he spoke those words. She felt them settle—not as a confession to be corrected, but as a truth being offered.

Her steps stayed smooth, unhurried, matching his without effort. The shadows at the edge of the lanternlight drew closer to her boots, not restless, not hungry—contained. They listened, the way they always did when she chose stillness over force.

When she finally answered, her voice was quiet enough that it belonged only to him.

"You are not wrong," she said gently. "The hunger is real. It is woven into the Sith as deeply as breath. To deny it would be the first lie we tell ourselves."

Her gaze lifted to his again—not to challenge, not to probe, but to hold. There was no flinch when the brief flare of orange crossed his eyes. She had seen worse storms and quieter ones, too.

"But hunger does not dictate how we feed." They turned together as the music shifted, her hand steady in his, grounding rather than guiding.

"Some consume until nothing remains but ruin. Others learn restraint—not as weakness, but as precision. That is why I chose shadow." The word was not dramatic when she said it. It never was.

"Shadow is desire controlled. It is hunger given shape instead of release. It allows me to take what I need… without becoming nothing but the taking."

A pause. Softer now.

"You fear becoming a copy because you are still capable of fear. Most Sith lose that long before they notice." Her thumb shifted slightly against his hand—an anchoring touch, deliberate and calm.

"Masks are useful," she admitted. "But you did not wear one just now." The lanternlight caught her eyes again, amber and steady.

"You call yourself a weapon. Perhaps you are. But weapons still have hands that wield them—and intent matters."

The music swelled, slower, deeper.

"You hunger," she finished quietly. "So do I. The difference is not that one of us wants less…but that I choose what I am willing to become in the process." She met his gaze again, unflinching. "If you wish," she said, not as an offer of salvation but of understanding, "I can show you how to let the hunger sharpen you—without letting it hollow you out."

And then, without pressing further, she let the music carry them onward— shadow and flame moving together, neither dimmed, neither unleashed.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Naniti]

Well a young woman had to start telling the universe to bugger off sometime! That'd been some time ago, but only because it was expected of her to do so. Now she had a personal reason for it to kark off. It wouldn't kill anyone -- and if it did, it wouldn't matter long as it wasn't them -- to have a single night alone.

Though, admittedly, she wasn't sure why she found herself struggling to maintain her breathing and heart rate just climbing into a sleigh. Wasn't like she was out of shape. They hadn't gone on a run to warm up for another duel. And it was just a little embarrassing to think how similar this echoed certain romantic holodramas.

The slowly passing scenery couldn't hold her attention when Lysander kept complimenting her. A little extra heat blossomed in her cheeks, which she hoped the darker hue of her skin hid well. Well, of course, she thought. He shouldn't underestimate her! The universe belonged to them didn't it? One had to keep it in line... or so the party story went. Easier to think of it like that than, well-- the Togruta smiled under Lysander's gaze as their heads bent in toward one another.

Soon, Naniti found herself frozen with indecision. Everything Lysander said just kept making her feel... well, better, but shocked too. He really thought all of that about her? There had definitely been times... when she'd had thoughts, but they were foolish thoughts. Or she'd seen the way he acted around her different then when he was with his drinking and warrior friends from before her time. Actually, that last bit sometimes had her jealous, but she wasn't Lysander's Master to make demands especially after all the invitations he'd given her for other ventures. And those times together had been so captivating! She never wanted it to end. It was so much more... more... so much more! than what she'd ever expected at the Academy.

Was it right to be... together? Objectively... since he was teaching her... But he wasn't her Master! And no one said it wasn't allowed. Well, any of it wasn't allowed, but they said being a Sith meant you took what you wanted. You got stronger, you staked your claim, and you lived. Lysander was just her friend. Someone that taught her things, and took her places, and said nice things to her in confidence...

The Togruta managed to lift her gaze from the path ahead to look back at him tentatively.

"Everything you've shown me... A Force Nexus, ballroom dancing, skating on the ice," to name a few, "I've looked forward to every second of it with you. Sure, there were some rough times, but we made it through. Together. And you've shared a lot of things with me that have helped open my eyes to a wider world." She just hoped her contributions had somehow made it all worthwhile. It must have, right? He kept inviting her. She'd like to think so, but Naniti felt so nervous. She shouldn't feel nervous! But she did.

"If the view is anything worth looking at it's because I'm with you."

Should she... do something? Say something? Naniti lifted a hand to set it lightly atop Lysander's leg nearest to her. It was just, you know, to show she was grateful. No, wait, happy he was there. Was that better or worse? A smile trembled slightly on her lips, not sure what she really felt, but it was nice.

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

Tags: Lina Ovmar | Darth Strosius
Outfit
Theme

It hadn't been high on her list of events she felt she simply must attend, but when Lina made mention that she was considering being there, A'Mia couldn't resist an opportunity for them to put their heads together. Having found a shared passion for similar dark arts, and with both of them particularly delighting in similar company, it only made sense for them to further strengthen their ties and get to know one another better.

​

Contrary to their wintery surroundings, the arboreal woman had chosen to lean into the evergreen aesthetic and was a bright spot of verdancy against a snowy backdrop. She wore a full length gown decorated with butterflies that shimmered and seemed alive, fitted with a lacy, high collared bodice, and her hair worn in a crown-like updo. Standing about a head taller than Lina this night, the neti was her usual energetic self. A'Mia took in their surroundings with apparent delight upon their arrival, and her attention was soon drawn to the uncanny statues of various figures locked in arrested movements and frozen expressions.

"Oh how ghastly," she trilled pleasantly to her lovey companion.

"I'm sensing authenticity from them, but I wonder who invented such sorcery or crafted these specimens?"

Despite her curiosity she soon pulled herself away from examining a particularly shocked looking statue and was soon gliding arm in arm with Lina toward the ballroom floor. The lantern light did wonders to further accentuate their already ethereal beauty as the pair of ladies made their way out into the music filled air. A familiar presence caught her attention and she turned to behold Alisteri. It was rather surprising to see him at a social gathering with no obvious sign of him having been dragged there. She gave a little smile and nod in his direction.

A'Mia then turned to Lina and bowed before her, brushing a kiss to the top of her hand before straightening. It was a formal gesture but not devoid of warmth.

"I so enjoyed our brief exchange on Jutrand, and found our dance to be invigorating. Might I have the honor of another?"

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He listened to her words, not just her voice as she spoke. Hunger always had a grip on everyone, but she had learned to direct it. It is impossible to get rid of hunger, but it is also possible to control it.

“That is where we are different. You were able to choose yours. Fire is purity at its best, but it is also a form of passion. It is exceedingly difficult to control that.”

His voice trailed slightly as he spoke, as if speaking to himself as well as her. Reminding him that despite his belief to the contrary, the flames of hunger still rule over him. The shifting of her thumb returned him to the present and a soft smile came to his lips.

“I think losing fear can turn people into fools. To think that nothing out there can harm you or anything you lay possession over, overrides rational thought. But the same goes for the other direction. Too much fear leads to lack of growth. How do you expect yourself to grow to your fullest if you can’t face your fears?”

He watched as the lantern light caught her eyes once again, and he saw it. Genuine interest in his words. Someone who was truly listening to things he would not even tell his battle brothers, not that he believed they would not listen, but that they would see him as weak. He could not seem weak to them. A representation of weakness brings doubt to anyone who relies or wields them. It was just something he could not afford.

A stunned silence came over him as she pointed out his lack of a mask. He couldn’t find words to rebuttal or even discuss. It was just a simple truth that he removed his false self for just a split moment.

“The hardest part of being a weapon that can think, is wondering if you are in the right hand that wields you.”

The sentence was quick and quiet. His eyes drifted to the side as if lost in thought. He maintained the motions as the music continued. His gaze found her again as she spoke of her control over her hunger. How she found out how she could control what she became and what she fed off of. He blinked a couple of times.

“I…”

He paused for a moment, almost hesitant with his answer.

“I think I would like that.”

He continued to sway as a light stream of smoke created a light ring around them. A circle that marked a boundary between them, a makeshift sanctuary for Varin to feel himself. Something he thought he had lost as he began to lose himself to the music and the company he was with.

After a moment he looked down at her again.

“How did you get to choose your path?”

His voice was soft, a voice of curiosity with a hint of sorrow laced between each word.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti
​

There were a handful of things Lysander thought he’d be prepared for on this ride.. the quips, maybe even windburn. The usual, predictable things. What he hadn’t braced for was Naniti leaning into what he’d said so openly. Just her.. answering him in a way that was like a sudden burst of warmth in the cold. A curious look darted her way when she brought up rough times, though he wouldn't’ t interrupt. Just listening felt right.

“I know,” and there was a softness threaded through the words. “Bad days will always show up. That’s just part of the path, right?” A small breath. “And the ones that were? They didn’t push me away. They just…” the blonde searched for a word while stealing a glance to the path ahead, before returning to her, “made me realize how much the rest of this mattered.."

When the touch brushed his leg, it was ridiculous really, how fast his heart skipped, like his breath might trip over itself. Even the Sithspawn back in the Nexus hadn't rattled him like that. A hand slipped from his lap before removing the glove. And then Lysander reached down. A small part of him reached for a small part of her, his pinky curling around hers in a hook. A helpless smile stole across his face.. one that didn’t need to be sculpted. Something that just.. happened because of Naniti. Others saw where he stood now.. but almost nobody knew what the Outer Rim had cost him since walking away from the Light. But she made it easier.. easier to speak without needing to calculate everything. He’d learned to simply exist around her.. without armor.

Softness was punished on Desevro, but they weren’t there, were they? Out here, with the cliffs ahead.. this was a place where they could both actually breathe.

“Naniti.. I invite you because I want you there. Every time..” The sleigh hummed beneath them, drifting through pale light. "And.. if I'm honest, that's only gotten truer since our night on Jutrand."

The waltz was the first time she trusted him to lead in something so close, and the way it ended.. was perfect.

A glance slipped down, his pinking tightening with a note of pressure, before returning to her blue eyes. “That night has always stayed with me.” Offering her the truth was easy. "When I was summoned to Chandrila with the Covenant, it was you I was thinking about before we landed, I didn't mind carrying you there with me, because I’ve realized something lately. I like what we’ve become. Not just the training.. or the missions, or the chaos we seem to find ourselves falling into.. together.” A small furrow gathered between his brows before easing. “I like you, Naniti.. and I want to keep this. Whatever this is.. whatever we’re becoming, I want more of it.”