Populate Humbarine Epilogue | TSC Populate of Giju

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Humbraine - Governor's Mansion

Equipment:
Knight Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

Of course that was his answer. Someone who could apparently survive decapitation, or walk around with half of his head missing, would probably end up dismissing death as a minor inconvenience.

Ace's eyes lowered briefly toward the gilded sword resting beneath Meliant's hands. The way he held it, and the familiarity of it. For a moment, almost unconsciously, Ace's own hands drifted toward the hilts hanging at his belt. Then he caught himself and let them fall away again.

Meliant's next comment earned nothing but a humorless scoff. A Jedi's heart. Dark eyes lifted back toward the ruined Sith, lingering on the crater where half his face used to be.

"Did you lose half your brain with your face too?" Ace asked flatly. "You don't know what you're talking about." The insult didn't carry much heat behind it. Just contempt.

Then came the question about the "flaxen-haired dandy". Lysander. Who else could he possibly mean? Ace didn't answer immediately. Instead, his awareness stretched outward through the Force. Threads drifted through the mansion and beyond it, brushing against familiar presences. Eventually he found the one he was looking for.

Lysander was somewhere nearby. Alive and uninjured, as far as he could tell.

"He's somewhere." That was all Ace offered, completely ignoring the battle buddies remark.

His gaze returned to Meliant, contempt lingering. For a few seconds he simply studied him again, then shook his head.

"So the Covenant really just accepts anyone, huh?" His eyes narrowed slightly. "What're you even doing here? Figured this would've been the last place you'd end up. Considering we wiped out your Empire."

Meliant​

​

 

[Meliant]

Attn: Acier Moonbound

"Did you lose half your brain with your face too?" Ace asked flatly. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Tender, tender," Meliant clucked, lifting his chin so that he seemed to be looking down on Acier... Even if half his face was missing.​

"So the Covenant really just accepts anyone, huh?" His eyes narrowed slightly. "What're you even doing here? Figured this would've been the last place you'd end up. Considering we wiped out your Empire."

"Now you're just being mean," he snickered. "You're not even good at it. Whose Empire was it, anyway? Not mine. I turned my coat and now I own the jewel of the galaxy."​

​

He leveled his gaze - if it could be called as such - at Acier again.​

​

"Sometimes it's good to see how the other ninety-nine percent lives. Makes me feel… Grateful. All I had to do was stab some losers in the back and now I've got everything I ever wanted. You? You'll probably die in this shit."​

 

[Nilira Vornix]

Tag: Anet Raine

Well. It certainly seemed as if she had missed a show. It suited Nilira anyway, the more she faded into obscurity, the better in her eyes. Even so, it had given her plenty to experiment with and plenty of research material as she wiped the crimson staining her hands against her robes, as some liquid dripped from the corner of her bag, leaking along the floor of the mansion. Loose lips also seemed to be leaking, as Nilira listened to the conversations of those who had taken part in the battle.

Her gaze flicked amongst them all. Those who celebrated. Those who played. Those who drank. All for different reasons. Be it joy, sorrow, anger or pride. Whatever their reasons were, it would ultimately be fleeting. By tomorrow, those emotions the people were feeling in this moment would be gone. Focused on the next murder, the next atrocity or the next moment for them to prove themselves. Then there would be another after that. And another. An endless road that people would continue to journey down. A road that Nilira had decided to stop travelling herself. There was no need to hold onto such fleeting experiences such as that.

There were at least a handful who looked at her as if she didn't belong here. For all intents and purposes, she didn't belong here. She had not taken part in the battle, in the slaughter that some had so relished in. But that had been beneath her. Nilira had her own goals in mind, and what others thought of her did not come into equation as she sat herself down in the cleanest chair she could find, and put her feet up. Pulling out her datapad to start entering some data points into it, flipping open her bag for a moment to look at the contents.

"That makes...seven...eight...nine. Plenty to work with...Would have had more but more of the suitable candidates were too badly damaged..."

​

 

[Vess Sadragen]

When Vess finally woke, the first thing she became aware of was that the nightmare seemed to have ceased, her surroundings no longer twisted in ways that challenged the laws of the universe. She remained where she was for a few moments, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling while her thoughts slowly caught up with reality. The room around her looked more like an office than anywhere intended for recovery, a large desk sat against one wall beneath shelves crowded with datapads, and reports. Her memories began to come flooding back.

Humbarine.

The depot.

The mainframe.

The weave.

The memory made her immediately regret thinking too hard, there was a dull ache settled behind her eyes as fragments of the last thing she remembered surfaced. The overwhelming flood of emotions, the impossible pressure. Thousands of minds crashing into her awareness all at once before everything had simply gone dark. Vess rubbed both hands across her face and slowly sat up. The room tilted briefly before settling again. She waited for the dizziness to pass, then glanced around properly.

Empty.

No Lily.

The realization brought a small knot of disappointment she immediately tried to ignore. Rationally she knew Lily was probably busy, the battle seemed to have ended, there was the sound of rain on the office window that drew her attention but otherwise the building was silent. Lily was certainly needed elsewhere, but that didn't stop her from wishing she'd been there when she woke up.

With a quiet sigh, Vess pushed herself to her feet and stretched carefully. Every muscle in her body complained about the movement, but nothing seemed seriously wrong. She was exhausted, and drained. And her head felt like someone had taken her brain apart and put it back together in the wrong order. But it was functional enough to let her walk, that was good enough.

The office opened into an empty corridor; there was considerable movement elsewhere what seemed to be an important structure. Against her better judgement she moved toward it, most of the Sith seemingly uninterested in her. Rather than ask she simply acted like she belonged and move like she was supposed to be there. Finally, she entered busy corridor where people moved through the governor's mansion carrying supplies, datapads, crates, weapons, and occasionally things Vess couldn't immediately identify. The atmosphere felt different from the desperate chaos she remembered before blacking out. She was tired, certainly, but calmer and all signs pointed to the battle being well over, with the Sith seemingly victorious.

For a while she simply wandered, the mansion was large enough to get lost in even under normal circumstances, and she was currently not operating at peak efficiency. More than once she found herself doubling back after realizing she'd somehow ended up in a supply room or command center. The fact that the building continued obeying the laws of physics was reassuring. After the day she'd had, that bar was surprisingly important.

Eventually she began hearing music and laughter echoing through the halls. Apparently, somebody had decided that surviving Humbarine warranted a celebration. The thought struck her as somewhat appropriate given the apocalyptic events she witnessed before blacking out. Vess followed the noise briefly, confirmed Lily wasn't among the crowd, then retreated before anyone could attempt to interact with her.

​

TAG: Lily Rhodes Arris Windrun Lysander von Ascania + Open

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

​

Between words, the pauses they shared were not rushed nor worrisome. Conversation naturally flowed a bit differently for beings such as them. A'Mia was not hasty nor sought to fill the gaps between his thoughts.

Speaking with Garza Inari was rather… Nostalgic? She'd been cast out by her people for being born wrong so early in her life that she had precious few memories of them. Ponderous speech patterns though were often a hallmark of elder neti.

So the arboreal woman merely listened, until it was abundantly clear that the titan was ready for her response. She swayed slightly in the rain, her simple robes clinging to her, but the neti didn't seem to mind. In fact, the rain seemed to bring her complexion to life and she practically glowed with vibrancy despite the gloom and destruction all around.

"I am a shapeshifter, by birthright and by sorcerous skillset."

She clambered a bit higher up a broken wall, then a pile of rubble, moving as deftly as a spider until she reached a better vantage point to look out upon the city with him.

"Brosi was sick, would have remained so were it left. We ensured it was reborn anew. Humbarine… Well, perhaps this is a necessary thinning of the proverbial trees for the sake of the forest?"

Her calculating eyes watched as the day's destruction settled more fully upon the city. Sentient's were resilient things and in the long run, she knew that they would rebuild. The story of what happened here, the memory, would become whatever it needed to be for whoever claimed the right to steer it.

A much longer silence fell as A'Mia considered Garza's final thoughts. She mulled over that most poignant query spoken between two such dispassionate creatures. Her strange gaze slowly shifted from the city to look back up at him. Finally her answer came, voice carried up to him through the wind so she needn't raise it more than a murmur.

"Celebrations do not always appeal to me, particularly if I don't have ambitions for being there. Besides, I have sought company. Yours."

Her eyes traveled along his form, gathering details invisible from the average sight and marveled at the raw primal power it must have taken to craft such a being. She wondered absently if he was often lonely, or if he was like her. Knowing how different they were from others whilst merely accepting that few in the galaxy could truly understand them on a deep enough level to provide any sense of companionship.

"I'm curious about you," she admitted.

"And I wondered if you wanted any healing."

 

[Meya Liefi]

One slender figure stood near one of the great windows. A crystal glass of wine rested loosely in her right hand. The dark liquid shifted with each absent-minded turn of her wrist, catching fragments of light before sinking back into shadow. Though the wine had been poured some time ago, she had shown remarkably little interest in actually drinking it.

Black silk draped elegantly from her frame. Fine gold stitching wound through the fabric in intricate patterns resembling constellations scattered across a night sky. At the center of her chest rested a single embroidered world worked in gold thread and dark crimson gemstones. Dathomir.

Thin chains had been woven through her dark hair. Rings decorated several fingers. Bracelets circled her wrists. A delicate necklace rested against her collarbone.

The man standing before her seemed far more interested in the conversation than the view.

"My lady..." Sweat beaded along his brow despite the cool air. "That timeline is impossible."

Meya's gaze remained fixed upon the view beyond the glass. "That's not my problem."

She waved him away with a dismissive motion of her free hand. The conversation, in her mind, was concluded. Unfortunately, the man appeared unconvinced.

Several Twin Suns enforcers positioned nearby turned their attention toward him simultaneously. No threats were spoken. None were necessary. He departed immediately.

The Twin Suns thugs watched him leave before returning to their previous positions.

Only then did Meya finally raise the wine glass. A small sip followed.

The battle had left no mark upon her personally, and her youngest creation had exceeded expectations on the battlefield. The thought brought the faintest hint of satisfaction to her expression. Not pride. Merely confirmation that months of work had produced the desired result.

She had attended the celebration because appearances occasionally mattered. Thus far, however, she had spent most of it conducting business.

 

[Efret Farr]

Efret clung to Casimir's arm as they ascended the crumbling steps to the late Governor's Mansion. She glanced up at him, assessing if invisible jolts of pain coursed one side of his face, the same half of her countenance that had been touched by the heat that had scorched Mercy wherever she had been during the battle. It had come on suddenly in the University Center, switching off just as quickly after an intense jolt of phantom sensation that had felt very real.

It could have convinced her that her skin had liquified, had touch not brought with it the truth that she was physically unharmed.

But then the aftershocks of her evident bond with her new master had pulsed through the Force as she held up the sky against orbital bombardment. They were gentler at first, but built on one another. It was very fortunate that Casimir had found her when he had, and that he had taken it upon himself to redirect the ghosts distracting her to him.

She rose her hand to his cheek, eyes asking if it hurt him.

Casimir Thorne​

 

[Casimir Thorne]

WEARING: xxx | WEAPON: x | x | TAG: Efret Farr​

There was something about celebrations that overwhelmed Casimir. He was not a social creature to begin with, but gatherings like this assaulted him from every direction. Laughter, conversation, flirtation, rivalry, insecurity, affection, jealousy. Every movement carried meaning, and every expression revealed something the speaker often never intended to share. A room filled with people became a flood of information that threatened to drown out everything else.

Casimir had long ago learned to filter it.

Efret made it easier.

Her presence anchored him in the moment. The warmth of her hand against his face held his attention far more effectively than the growing crowd waiting beyond the mansion doors. Warm light spilled from towering windows and stretched across the stone walkway ahead of them. Music drifted through the evening air whenever the doors opened to admit arriving guests, while voices and laughter escaped in brief bursts before being swallowed once more by the night.

With every step toward the celebration, Casimir allowed himself to focus on her instead of the gathering beyond the entrance.

They had survived.

The thought should have brought comfort.

Instead, it brought memory.

Humbarine had never been about the battle. The world had been another stop in a search that refused to end, another thread that might have led him closer to Kaelis. A broker had promised information, and information was enough to bring Casimir across the galaxy.

Then everything had gone wrong.

The fighting had not been part of the plan.

Neither had Efret.

Casimir had already decided not to tell her why he had been on the planet. There was no reason to introduce another source of tension into an aftermath already burdened by enough of it. Information had a way of resurfacing eventually. If the lead held value, it would find its way back to him.

His attention remained fixed on the hand resting against the side of his face.

The Echani leaned into the touch without thinking.

Taking her phantom pain had been foolish.

He knew it.

The aftereffects had never really left. At times, his skin felt as though it remained trapped beneath invisible flames. The sensation came and went without warning, leaving behind an irritation he refused to acknowledge aloud. His expression revealed little, but Efret knew him well enough to ask anyway.

Did it still burn?

Casimir answered with a small nod.

There was no reason to lie to her.

He lowered his forehead until it rested gently against hers and closed his eyes. For a moment the sounds of the celebration faded into the background as he drew a slow breath through his nose.

Saffron and Clove.

The scent settled over him immediately.

A hand slipped from his pocket and reached for hers. Ever since the mountain, Casimir had searched for a way to keep Efret safe. The reasoning began simply enough. He needed her to find Kaelis, and losing Efret would mean losing the best chance he had ever found of locating his sister.

At least, that had been the explanation.

Somewhere along the way it had stopped being sufficient.

The small onyx cord he had crafted rested in his palm before he pressed it into her hand.

His thumb brushed lightly across her skin.

The two of them were developing their own language now. Words remained useful, but increasingly unnecessary. She would understand.

A - G I - F T

[/CENTER]

​

 

[Anet Raine]

Nilira Vornix
​

After a while, Anet got tired of sitting. Though she wasn't a warrior, she was actually disappointed to have missed out on the fighting. The scholarly acolyte had grown a certain... taste for killing and maiming with her lightsaber, and more than that, she was eager to put her new techniques into practice. Alas.

Right as she was about to leave the parlor, Anet noticed someone familiar in the corner of her eye.

Nilira.

Anet was trying to place her... Then it clicked. Yes, but of course. She was the one who cauterized her wounds after that wonderful moment with Kirie during the Second Conclave. A pinkish hue filled her otherwise pale-blue cheeks, and she bit her lip.

But then she shook her head to free herself of the nostalgia. Instead, she turned and approached the young woman.

"Oh, what are you--" Her eyes fell to the bag. "--oh..."

Well.

Okay then.

"Some... project you're working on?"

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Lily Rhodes Arris Windrun Vess Sadragen​

Rain found the angle of his jaw and dripped. Lysander left the silence where it was. He'd learned not to disturb such things prematurely. Especially among their kind, the Sith. Sometimes those were just tremors waiting for an avalanche. An invitation to an early grave. Most within their order were either flayed or forgotten in one way or another. Part of him should've mourned that in the Dark Horse. But his visage suggested otherwise; he had sat in rooms where the wrong expression also cost lives.

Then a voice, one tht was half familiar. The Alderaan 'parade' came back to him Even then, something about her struck him as displaced. A rogue variable. Now, pulled into the Covenant's orbit by hands unseen, and the Covenant did not typically acquire people by coincidence. Given his role, Lysander made it his business to know the terrain of the Core before it shifted underfoot, at least to the best of one's ability; her arrival was a dark spot on the radar. In time, he suspected he would learn more.

"You're right. We will. And Arris-" Lysander tilted his head, slow and serpentine. "I'm done letting you sidestep that one."

His eyes went to Lily at last; the thought that had been forming behind it didn't quite complete the journey. Truth was, that he didn't care to be in the governor's mansion; there was nothing worth celebrating after razing an entire city just to survive. The same stale script, the same strategy performed on an infinite loop, even if he'd willingly played a hand in it. The Sith were becoming nothing more than predictable. Just one more doubt added to the growing list that plagued the emissary of late.

 

[Lily Rhodes]

“No.”

Lily’s answer to Ariis’s suggestion came fast, too fast to give it any real consideration before she let out a breath and tried again. “Technically, yes.” So why didn’t she? Her feet shifted, rain sliding down her jacket as she did. “I’m pretty sure I’m the reason she collapsed, I don’t want to freak her out anymore than she already might be.”

Also, her head fucking hurt.

“Can you start upstairs? I’ll go down again and we can meet in the middle.”

Again, her eyes moved to Lysander, and Lily took a breath to steady her nerves.

“If you’re not busy, mind if I borrow your eyes too?” She did not need them. “I, umm…” she trailed off trying to figure out the right words.

“We need to talk.”

It had to be now. The minute she found Vess, she was dragging both of them out of there, provided the slicer was willing and Lily had no idea if she would be back or when she’d see him again.

Arris Windrun Lysander von Ascania Vess Sadragen

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Humbraine - Governor's Mansion

Equipment:
Knight Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

Meliant's answer earned a quiet exhale through Ace's nose. It only served as insight into the kind of person he was.​

​

The Empire was just a vehicle, and now, he assumed the Covenant had taken its place. Somewhere to stand while they remained useful. Ace's expression didn't change.​

​

"You're proud of being a parasite? And all you wanted was a palace and a title? So, you're as basic as the rest of everyone here." What he said wasn't meant to insult. In fact he just sounded bored.​

​

Still, Meliant's actions weren't so different from his own. For months Ace had burrowed his way into the Covenant, rising through its ranks and using the Covenant to further his own goals. In a sense, he was a parasite too. Except, he did it for a purpose whereas, it seemed, this was just Meliant's nature.​

​

Ace wasn't sure whether Meliant was trying to get a rise out of him with his final statement. Regardless, he folded his arms, expression indifferent​

​

"Obviously I'm going to die. Eventually." He said.​

​

It was something he'd accepted a long time ago now. Living his life this way, something was going to have to give some day.​

​

"It's funny. For someone who talks like he's above dying, you make a lot of effort to not stay dead."​

​

Meliant​

 

[Efret Farr]

Her lips pulled down into a slight frown when he nodded.

When he reached for her with something in his hand, she let go of the crook of his arm with one of hers, extending it to take whatever it was he was offering.

A long black crystal pendant rolled into her palm, its silver chain draped between her hennaed fingers and hanging freely into the air below. With her thumb, she caressed over a couple of the facets. Warmth radiated against her skin pleasantly against the cold air carried in by the distant storm. It seemed very natural and unnatural at the same time: she could easily imagine the heat was subterranean, a kinetic imprint of the onyx's geologic formation, and at the same time realize that some sort of anthropogenic process had trapped the energy inside.

As wonder gave way to panic, her heart hammered against her chest. The last time she received a gift from a man, it was the last time she had seen him—at least that version of him. Elias returned from the Netherworld irreparably broken by his experience, one he had spared Efret from sharing. She thought back to her quarters on the Throneworld, in the Grasping Parish. The dried Picture of a Lady flower, which Varin Mortifer had helped her retrieve from her former home in Lake Country, sat in a virtually indestructible safe. Though she was glad to have it in her procession again, she could look at it anymore, couldn't keep it in the open, but also couldn't bear the idea of discarding it.

She looked up at Casimir. Her heartbeat evened again under his gaze pale with a corruption she knew was waiting for her two. He was here; Elias was not. Her lips turned into a gentle smile, not unlike the ones she had often given as a Jedi to a variety of beings in a variety of circumstances.

Evidence that the Darkness hadn't completely, or even really fundamentally, changed her. It only allowed her to touch the parts of her she had ignored for years, or hadn't even known to be there.

She withdrew her other hand to sign, her vocoder speaking against the encroaching night as she does, "It's beautiful."

Sometimes, words are still necessary between them—verbal and not—but they are slowly loosing their importance. In time, they're be able to understand each other completely subverbally: a prospect that they both are beyond comfortable with.

She handed the necklace back to him. Sweeping her loose black hair to one side of her neck, she turned her back to him.

Casimir Thorne​

 

[Casimir Thorne]

WEARING: xxx | WEAPON: x | x | ALLIES: Efret Farr​

Casimir reached for the corner of her mouth and turned her lip upward, silently indicating that he did not want her carrying sadness or remorse for the pain that still burned beneath the surface of his skin. Words would never fully express how willing he would be to endure it again if circumstances demanded it. His eyes could not yet convey everything his mind wished he could say.

I meant it when I said I needed you.

The need was not born from romance or desire. It was selfish in a way Casimir understood all too well. Desperation drove it. Efret represented the best chance he had ever found to locate Kaelis, and that truth remained at the center of everything. What troubled him was how often that explanation felt incomplete. Too many times already he had abandoned reason, plans, and opportunities where Efret was concerned. For now, it was easier to tell himself she was the key to finding his sister than to examine whatever existed beneath that justification.

The steady rhythm of her heartbeat lingered at the edge of his awareness. Fear remained visible in her eyes as the gift settled into her hand, though neither of them seemed willing to acknowledge how much they had already come to depend upon one another. Whatever emotions hid beneath the explanations they offered themselves were not important tonight.

What mattered was that they were bound.

The clasp seemed fragile between his fingers. As her hair shifted, that familiar scent reached him again.

Saffron and clove.

The combination had become dangerously familiar.

The cord settled around her neck as he secured the clasp and allowed the pendant to rest against her skin. Once it was in place, a finger tapped lightly against his own chest, indicating the matching cord resting beneath his clothing. A small gesture between them completed the thought.

Connected.

He wanted her to understand that much.

The Force carried the rest.

It was beautiful.

A small smile crossed his face when she offered one of her own. The expression was brief, disappearing almost as quickly as it arrived before settling back into the more stoic demeanor he usually wore. Together they climbed the remaining stairs. His free hand rested over the hennaed hand tucked into the crook of his arm.

There was nothing left to say.

The gift said it for him.

Whether he wished to admit it or not, Efret had become important to him in a way few people ever had.

 

[Tavi Corvask]

Vesper Thrace

Goth Flamingo.

Now there was a vision.

Tavi Corvask wasn't in a better state. His hands were bandaged, because in the decaying influence of the Field of Blades, Tavi had been forced to carve his own palms over and over again. Anything to keep the pain fresh in his mind, so he wouldn't be taken by the influence. It had been a close call anyway and almost made him drive their ship deep into that nasty place.

"You look very fashionable with it, Captain." Tavi said with a straight face as he tried not to laugh at her own description. Even if it was her own words, she'd find a way to make him pay and he would deserve it for getting smart.

Then he got serious.

"A quarter of the vanguard are out of commission permanently. I already got the men salvaging whatever they can from them." Then a smirk. "We are also looking through the debris field to see if there is anything worth extracting from the Mandalorian and Imperial wreckages. The Covenant Fleet has jumped out the system already, they seem to want to press the advantage and make sure the Imperials can't re-group deeper in the Humbarine Sector."

That is where his smirk was coming from.

It meant they had choice of pickings and then some.

 

[Eurydice]

Eurydice didn’t flinch, but she did startle - a soft noise from the back of her throat, and wide eyes blinking up at the sound of a feminine voice.

The woman before her was tall. Self-assured, perhaps even quietly dangerous. Everyone here was dangerous, whether they looked it or not. Most of them looked it.

The Seer’s eyes lingered on her jacket a little longer than they should have, before her gaze snapped away out of respect.

“I suppose that it had to be done,” she said grimly.

For the Covenant’s sake, or for her own?

Eurydice cleared her throat before turning back to the woman.

“Would you like a glass?” she lifted her goblet, tilting it towards the bottle of wine. “It’s lovely.”

Astra Sadow

 

[Nilira Vornix]

Tag: Anet Raine

"Research project. Yes."

The Acolyte continued to tap away at the datapad, not even bothering to give a glance in Anet's direction. The others were only a simple distraction to her, getting in the way of what she wanted to discover. Sith would make for terrible research material, as she continued to count how much she had managed to accumlate.

"Emotions. Fear. Joy. Love. Where do you think they come from? The heart? The brain? Through the blood? What happens if you take one and replace it with an artificial version? What if you take an artificial version and replace it with an organic one? Could you make something not alive, alive?"

Her gaze focused in one the datapad, as she entered her own queries into her entries. Most of it was her thinking out loud, but part of it was also to at least grant Anet some kind of look into the inner workings of Nilira. Dozens of thoughts rushing through the Acolyte's mind, all working as a distraction to her own inner self. So she didn't have to think about herself

​

 

[Astra Sadow]

​

"Nothing ever has to be done. Life is full of choices and desires. Justifying your acts claiming there is some objective imperative is the sort of delusion the Sith are meant to oppose." Instead some of them were its greatest proponents. Well, Astra wasn't the galaxy's Purity Police.

Astra peered at the young woman from the corner of her eye. Was she old enough to drink? She smirked at the thought. "Gladly." She turned to step closer and claim another seat near where Eurydice sat.

"So, why were you here? And what was it about what happened you did not enjoy?" Astra wouldn't mind knowing who her Master was either, but that would have had her on guard worried this unknown woman would go telling. "Name's Astra, by the way."

 

[Arris Windrun]

Lysander von Ascania | Lily Rhodes | Vess Sadragen
​

Arris just gave Lysander a look - difficult to read as always. But in it was the weakest, most subtle smile that showed itself before vanishing just as quickly. Yeah, they would have a long chat.

Her attention turned fully to Lily again. The Talusian listened as the young woman expressed her fear: that she was responsible for what happened to Vess. Finally, Lily suggested that they split up. Arris high, herself low, and extended an invitation for Lysander to help, but it sounded to Arris like an excuse for them to talk - so she decided to play along, if only to make it easier on Lily.

"Lys, you go with her. I've got the upper floors."

She didn't even wait for a response before she stepped back inside, and began her search for Vess.

The cyborg knew next to nothing about her, other than that she was a technopath, like her... Which gave Arris an idea. She stopped dead in a hallway and closed her eyes. Reaching out though the Force, Arris extended her presence across the building, touching every benign electronics and machinery she could find. Lights, a jukebox, the automatic doors. If Vess was anything like Arris, then she might have had trouble tuning out the 'voices' of technology. Through the devices, Arris generated noise, the kind only people like them would feel, creating a trail that led back to Windrun's hallway.

Worth a shot, at least.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber

Varin’s gaze looked upon the destruction that was Humbarine. Ruins and bodies never bothered him, the part that always caught him was the story left behind and the fact that some peoples whole world had to shift due to new circumstances.

He felt an itch to walk. To look around and explore some. He left the bacta injector on the table for Isobel and gave her a soft smile.

“Try to ease that pain, and try to enjoy the company around you. I…need to go clear my head a bit.”

He offered her one last smirk before he stood back up and wandered through the party area, people tossing up drinks in revelry, unknown substances being shared, conversations exchanged. Varin took it all in as he wandered.

Until he came to the door of a mansion. The guards did not try to stop him, they saw what he was capable of. So he invited himself inside.

As he wandered the interior he climbed a set of stairs, taking in the various art upon the wall, some small tables that occasionally held masonware. It was quiet in here. Some conversations he could hear, but nowhere near as loud as it were outside. When he heard approaching footsteps from a disgruntled man who had been waved away he knew he was heading somewhere that may have someone with no conversational partner.

The man’s eyes widened as they shot up to look at the large frame of Varin. Towering before him like a mountain to a shrub. Before he had looked up he looked as if he were going to say something to him out of annoyance for being in his way, but he choked it down, and walked around Varin like a current avoiding a large stone.

He climbed up the stairs to the next floor where he found a room accompanied by a large window, and by that window two Twin Suns thugs stood near a woman he found familiar. Varin stepped in as the two thugs watched him, seeming to ready themselves to defend what they were here to protect. Varin paid them no mind, if they wished to challenge him, it was their death. It’s possible they could see that, so they made no immediate move.

Varin spoke.

“Unexpected to see you here.”

He looked at the near full wine glass in her hand, then back to her.

“Enjoying the festivities from a distance I see.”

Mention: Isobel Serraris
Direct: Meya Liefi​