High Roller

[Nilia Saavilin]

high roller, phrase; a person who gambles excessively, who takes high risks for high rewards.​

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Space, The-Not-So-Final-Frontier, The Jate'kara, Elite Lounge, Undetermined Time
Entertaining, Like A Good Hostess | Interacting with [member="Darth Prazutis"] ~ Red Right Hand ~ "On a gathering storm comes a tall handsome man, in a dusty black coat with a red right hand."
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All was quiet about the Jate'kara.

Or so it seemed, at any rate. And 'quiet', even falsely, was exactly how Nilia liked it to be. They had just collected the last chartered load of passengers from some forgettable planet and now continued on their leisurely pace, the decks alive with patrons gambling and gossiping and drinking, so much drinking. She didn't reflect on it much as she sipped at her own old vintage, some old brandy from Corellia that surely had a backstory longer than her evening gown's train. Those rare individuals who could afford the favours necessary to buy their way into the highest deck of the Jate'kara, where she held court as a would-be Sovereign, knew of her affinity for old drinks and would lavishly provide. To remain in Fortuna's favour was worth such trivialities, after all.

Here it was different than below. A curated clientele, and every sin imaginable behind a simple set of doors, a party that she ensured never found an end. The band tucked away in the corner lulled some old, sweet tune that made her inexplicably morose so she waved her hand, the small band of troubadours swift to shift from depressing to upbeat as soon as the gesture was received. That was how she liked it aboard the yacht -- Everyone, especially the staff, playing to her tune.

"Eyris," The former Senator craned her neck to catch a glimpse of her young Togruta assistant/would-be successor, who eagerly stepped up at the mention of her name, "How are we doing?"

Her assistant glanced down to the datapad in her hands, live information from across the vessel streamed to that one central device for interpretation, "All sold out, Mi-- Nilia." Casual name use was something she scarcely tolerated, but she'd saved Eyris from the life of a refugee in the Sovereignty. They went back farther than most, and she could call the girl a friend even outside of business, "The casino's reporting a hefty cut, as well."

"Good. Ensure it stays that way."

 

[Darth Prazutis]

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[Nilia Saavilin]

Space, The-Not-So-Final-Frontier, The Jate'kara, Elite Lounge, Undetermined Time
Managing, Like A Good Hostess | Interacting with [member="Darth Prazutis"] ~ Red Right Hand ~ "Heal your shrinking soul, but there won't be a single thing that you can do; he's a god, he's a man, he's a ghost, he's a guru."
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"What do you mean, 'we have a problem'?"

Nothing ruined a night more than best-laid plans being cast aside by those aboard. The Togruta seemed slightly ashy now, her lovely yellow skin looking more like pale milk as Nilia was forced to reign back some of that freshly-cultivated anger. Giving into emotion was a unique sensation, but not one she wished to indulge upon an old friend who was simply a messenger, "There's a patron," Eyris began, glancing back to a few uniformed men who had come to personally deliver the news of what was occurring in their halls, "A patron who's won far more than he should at the tabl--"

"Did the pit boss tell him off?" Cheats weren't anything new. She sipped at the brandy again, casually, somehow the move more intimidating than if she'd actually gotten angry, "Well-- Well, yes," Another glance to their men, then back to Nilia, Eyris certainly looked rife with anxiety now, "But, he, err, the patron, that is, he..."

"He's still playin', and still winnin', ma'am. I don't think our boys could take 'em, either. Broke a Wookiee's arm clean in half, he did." One of the uniforms called out rather casually, Nilia's razor-sharp focus shifting from her near-panicking assistant to the one speaking, "Is that so." The level, callous glare was enough to even make the mercenary shrivel.

What was happening aboard her own ship? Briefly, a scowl crossed her face, and she set the small glass down on the counter of the bar, standing from her barstool. Her black dress slinked over the round seat with the movement, her gaze level with Eyris again, "Don't freak out," She began, in the calm voice of a Senator, "I'll go see what our new friend needs. Personally."
"But what i--"
"Stay here, ensure the rest of the Casino is turning a profit. Stars know I've lost enough credits tonight. I'll be fine, old friend." And with that ultimatum at hand, Nilia moved to pass through the doors of the lounge, to the turbolift that would take her to the public sectors of the liner without another word of protest from her people.
To the lion's den she went, an appraising expression on her face. What she was going to face when she arrived to the hall, not even the fleeting Force could tell her.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

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[Nilia Saavilin]

Space, The-Not-So-Final-Frontier, The Jate'kara, Elite Lounge, Undetermined Time
Problem-Solving, Like A Good Hostess | Interacting with [member="Darth Prazutis"] ~ Red Right Hand ~ "They're whispering his name through this disappearing land, but hidden in his coat is a red right hand."
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Those with a strong self-confidence were always the alluring ones, weren't they?

Despite internal reminders that this man was cleaning a good chunk of her fortune out, Nilia found herself drawn. Moths to the flame, as they say, and Nilia was ever-lured by the promise of strength. The gown was unique, twisting over her neck and down her arm in a way that certainly lent itself to money and sophistication. Money he was, as mentioned, ciphering away with each win. An attendant of her own brought her a glass of the expensive stuff, one she took gratefully. One never marches to battle without a stiff liquor.

"Thank you," The ringleader started in a voice unmarred by fear or anything of the like. Her own confidence came from being aboard her own ship, safe in the idea that it would be her lighthouse in the night. Whether or not that was true remained to be seen, of course, but for now? For now, she seemed to believe it wholeheartedly, "I can see that. Betting high, are we?" Rhetorical question. Evidenced by earlier, nothing happened on this ship without her knowledge. Nothing.

Nothing, except maybe a Sith Lord boarding without a single alarm set off. Some things were even beyond her foresight and knowledge, and omnipotence wasn't a skill she'd achieved yet.

Nilia found herself moving by this strange patron, glass held in both hands, "I just had to see it myself to believe it, is all. We run a tight ship here, it's not often that the system is disrupted." Most of the goers probably knew how the tables were rigged in the house's favour, but, well, gambling was an addiction for a real reason. Not a vice she partook in, but one she could settle to exploit to keep the lights on and the drink flowing.

"Might I have your name? I suspect you know mine already."

 

[Darth Prazutis]

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[Nilia Saavilin]

Space, The-Not-So-Final-Frontier, The Jate'kara, Casino Level, Undetermined Time
Losing Control, Like A Good Hostess | Interacting with [member="Darth Prazutis"] ~ Red Right Hand ~ "You'll see him in your nightmares, you'll see him in your dreams, he'll appear out of nowhere but he ain't what he seems."
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Zambrano.

For once, Nilia had met someone who might just know more than she did.

She gave no visible reaction or recoiling to being so casually handled, even crossing her legs neatly after being pulled in so intimately. Yes, the Jate'kara was a palace of luxury, a construct of her own design. A tribute to all that she'd clawed back after her government collapsed like a tent after the carnival left town. Brutal, fast, efficient, "Some call me Fortuna, but that's mainly my contacts," Her explanation was without a drop of patronization, instead, all business and facts, "Ms. Saavilin or Nilia will do if you're feeling informal. What should I call you?"

Another sore point about how much of her capital she'd lost tonight. It'd take a while to rebuild, certainly, but it wasn't impossible. Hopefully, the credits would be put to a relatively good, if not deceitful, purpose. It was all she could hope for at that point.

This time a casual grin crept onto her features as she took the compliment to the ship almost a little too eagerly, a nonchalant shrug of her shoulder in response, "You've certainly caught my attention." Part of her mind was still lucid and aware of how much the majority of her was sinking into this man's web, willingly or otherwise. But if there was an opportunity here, what sort of entrepreneur would she be if she didn't seize it by the horns?

 

[Darth Prazutis]

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[Nilia Saavilin]

Space, The-Not-So-Final-Frontier, The Jate'kara, Casino Level, Undetermined Time
Drowning On Dry Land | Interacting with [member="Darth Prazutis"] ~ Red Right Hand ~ "You'll see him in your head, on the TV screen."
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Nilia's mind briefly scrambled, slammed into reverse, then swerved as her own calm gaze met his with a touch of brazenness in the act. Sure, her poker face was not as good as his, but it was passable. Those around them wouldn't have lost faith in her quite yet. The hand holding her drink dipped to gesture to the table before them, then, a darkly amused expression blooming across her features.

"Your streak keeps rising. You may break records tonight, Braxus." The Senator in her, long-dormant, would have used titles and every honour to avoid the possibility of offence. Nilia the Information Broker couldn't be fussed. Even still, each compliment and intimate pass served to break down barriers, an ego efficiently stroked to keep her invested in this enigmatic high roller, "And I'm afraid my story winds up being terribly short and uninteresting in reality. Perhaps believing the rumours would be for the better on that one; they probably have better tales of my exploits." A drink, a drink was necessary. Fingers curled around the glass of her own liquor again and she sipped, letting the firewater burn some of her buried nervousness right out of her system. Now wasn't the time to lose nerve. For all her ways with intel, she was ever-so-slightly out of touch with what happened across the galaxy-- Dimly she could recall the Free Worlds Coalition, attending a party during her tenure as a Sovereign Senator --but the actual details of their violent descent into the night were lost on her. Just another government lost in this bloody galaxy.

And she would have never guessed the demon that led the charge had his arm around her. Stifling a exhale that bordered on a nervous sigh, she drank again.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

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[Nilia Saavilin]

Space, The-Not-So-Final-Frontier, The Jate'kara, Casino Level, Undetermined Time
Finding Her Sea Legs | Interacting with [member="Darth Prazutis"] ~ Red Right Hand ~ "You're one microscopic cog, in his catastrophic plan..."
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To be dethroned without a single demeaning action was entirely new to Nilia, but she could feel herself slipping regardless, falling a little further into the web with each statement and look. A weakness exploited was a sight to behold, and she only sat at this lord's mercy with the awkwardness of an unsocialized being. What was it about tonight that seemed to be her undoing? Another drink, to wash the rest out of her system.

At the sound of the potential to save her operation from any further damage Fortuna sprung into action. Well, not literally sprung, she moved too carefully and slowly for such a rapid action. A lethargic, carefully-crafted smile grace her face as she looked to this Braxus who seemed to win at everything, "There's more to this ship than meets the eye, of course." To contrast his immense stature, Nilia was petite and looked liable to break like a precious vase if handled the wrong way. Perhaps that was the air she was giving off, though, to hide a strength that could serve her well in the dance to come. Setting her glass down on a passing tray to let it be taken away her form-fitting skirt was tweaked with her fingers slightly before a dark gaze flitted up to match his, "And I'd say that you've paid for your entrance." She had paid, in reality, but at this point, there was no turning back, no escape from this particular Zambrano storm.

He was entering the inner sanctum whether or not she actually wanted him there.

"The turbolifts are just passed this hall." Feeling a certain amount of confidence to turn her back to him she began to lead on out of the hall, finding relief in that she could start to recoup costs immediately. At least up there, he couldn't syphon her resources anymore. Nilia took a few steps before tipping her head back, to ensure he was following.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

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[Nilia Saavilin]

Space, The-Not-So-Final-Frontier, The Jate'kara, The Exclusive Deck, Undetermined Time
Wielding Her Crown | Interacting with [member="Darth Prazutis"] ~ Red Right Hand ~ "...Designed and directed by his red right hand."
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The familiarity that Braxus operated at was a little jarring, but tolerable. Wouldn't be the first, and he was unlikely to be the last. Nils. Even the easy way he shortened her name down to a more digestible epithet sent her hairs standing straight up, but she couldn't be sure if it was from her enjoying the attention or fearing how casual things had grown in such a short span of time. Perhaps a cocktail of both, one that kept her moving down her vessel's short hall to the turbolift that travelled the vertical length of it.

Upon arriving at the luxury space at the top of the Jate'kara, Nilia's tension eased. She might have been the Queen of the rest of this vessel, but this was her court, her seat of power. Here she could find no issue, no fault, no trouble. Except maybe now, with him behind her.

The room was circular, spacious, viewports of crystasteel on the perimeter wall to allow the patrons an unbroken view of space and the emptiness around them. Most of the room was empty of furniture to allow social circles room to fraternize. Strange and beautiful holographic trees provided seating along the edge of the floor and doubled as digital works of art for those who cared to look. A bar tucked into the corner with far finer vintages than were served below, a band in the opposite nook back to crooning a slow, old-style tune. What could be seen of the walls between the large windows were intricately done too, clearly crafted by hand. The floors were a polished metallic sheen and Nilia's heels made a nigh-mesmerising noise against it; but seeing as the Sith Lord was the one doing the entrapment, the effect seemed reserved for those who were hedonistically enjoying themselves. Some turned to look, to see their returning ringleader, eyes lingering on the companion she had elected to induct into their little club. A few whispers, some murmurs, eyes on the pair. A particular Togruta girl looked rather floored by the sight and scrambled to check a datapad held in her spindly arms.

His hands carelessly on her hips seemed to jump-start Nilia's system, her chin raising to gaze at him, "Is there any other option?" Her voice and low, almost crooning, if not for the clear undertones of mild uncertainty. Nonetheless, a brave Fortuna led the newest member of their sinful cloud nine affairs towards the bar. Mainly for her own benefit -- She craved the feeling of an ice-cold glass in her hands.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

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[Nilia Saavilin]

Space, The-Not-So-Final-Frontier, The Jate'kara, The Exclusive Deck, Undetermined Time
Lost At Sea | Interacting with [member="Darth Prazutis"] ~ Hell or Highwater ~ "Did you hear the story, The man from above?"
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A part of her mind dully registered that the vintage he was ordering was meant to be reserved for special occasions, taken herself during the fall of the Sovereignty, but she was too caught up in the spell of it all to really notice. Eyris looked a little concerned, definitely faint, speaking in soft tones with a nearby staff member as Nilia found herself lounging with the stranger who had been close to severely crippling her empire. All of this, it was all so intimate and casual, feeling terribly out of place but the aura of the encounter was too hypnotic to fall any other way. This can't be luck, some lucid part of her mind rationalized, there has to be a goal here.

"Thank you," She murmured nonetheless, gladly grasping the offered drink in both hands to avoid spilling it, "Brandy is a definite favourite, here." A sip and she felt the tension in her spine slip away to be floated down the river of aged alcohol, an audible and relaxed sigh leaving her without a fight. It didn't take long for the crowds to return to normal like nothing had ever happened, the selfish desires dominating any lingering concern of their fearless leader being openly encircled by something dark and deadly.

Nilia's legs even crossed with an air of sophistication despite her position with him, well, balanced atop him, "I'm just a Wild Space girl with ambitions above her station." That was a start, part of the picture, but not the whole painting. That simple statement neglected her Mandalorian mother, her Sith Lord of a Uncle, the Sovereign she had served until the military had turned on itself like Vornskrs over the last scraps of meat, "This ship and enterprise is the culmination of all that work and effort to achieve those ambitions, Lord Zambrano." The way she drew out his name before taking another drink of brandy made a smile form, despite the faint warning bell in her mind to stop this before it got any worse. Or better?

 

[Darth Prazutis]

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