Private In Cloaks of Silk and Honey Does The Galaxy Move | THR [Sibylla]

[Ravion Corvalis]

The doors of the chamber whispered open, admitting Senator Ravion Corvalis into the inner sanctum of the Royal Palace. He paused before those doors of green filigree, taking in the artistic decoration that had sat there for generations, that had seen so much change in this galaxy and his smiled. Not a deferential smile, never that, but respectful in the way a man acknowledges the presence of a force greater than himself.

He crossed the marble floor without hurry, boots tapping lightly against inlaid patterns of crescent-cut gold. Morning light spilled through the tall windows, painting him in a wash of warm golds, the sort of glow that made his features seem softer, his eyes gentler.

He stopped several paces before the dais and lowered his head, his cloak of Republic gold and red flowed majestically around him as if asked to perform.

“Your Majesty.” He allowed a pause. Just long enough to be ornate, not long enough to be theatrical. Then he lifted his gaze; it was steady, warm, and with the faint smile he reserved only for allies he valued. Allies he needed. “Lady Abrantes, it has been far too long. I do however regret that as much as I would love to sit and discuss the private collection I come on Senate Business.”

He lifted a smooth silver datapad from the crook of his arm, offering it to one of her handmaidens rather than presuming to ascend the steps himself. His eyes locked with the girl, and he avoided any facial change; the eyes of Bastila Sal-Soren had become known throughout the Republic as the final stage of getting anything to Sibylla, the young Jedi, noble, iron cham…what ever she called herself was as much a pain in Ravion’s plans as she could be. What he would give for ten minutes without that nosy brat peering into everything placed before Sibylla. The pad he handed her contained the newly consolidated Articles of Magistration, the legal backbone that would allow, by public image, allow Naboo to reclaim its elected ruler and the stand ins of forced positions reset.

“If you will permit…” He smiled.

“The language has been refined,” Ravion said, spreading his hands slightly as the pad was carried to her. “Ensured precedent is airtight, and the citations to the Old Charter stand uncontested. No legalist from Corellia to Coruscant could mount an effective objection… it has been combed for anything that could be considered unjust for the parties involved. It’s just pure reset legislation allowing for the senate to regain its democratic electives.”

He let the room breathe. Ravion was always good at that, allowing the silence to do what pressure could not, letting anticipation fill the air like incense. Then he smiled a little wider, the kind of smile that felt like shared confidence.

“I remember telling you, back before all these dark times,” he said softly, “that wearing the crown was beneath your talents.” It was not an insult, just a tiny echo. A reminder. A hook set gently.

“You have proven me right.” A small inclination of his head. “The kingdom survived because you and Aurelian have made sure that you are a team capable of anything. But the truth remains: His chosen place is upon that throne and your mind is wasted on ceremony. You are far more dangerous when unbound.” He shifted his stance, hands folding behind his back in a casual clasp.

“And now… now the Republic requires precisely that version of the two of you, we are beset by enemies on all sides and we need the two of you in your most advantageous positions.”

Ravion paced a single step to the side, it did not appear to be restless, but it was deliberate. One move allowed himself to frame his form in the morning light. Speaking as though the words weren’t persuasion at all, but simply the truth between old colleagues.

“The Senate, the house of Democracy, has no elected leader. The Crown, the symbol of Naboo’s choice of its own traditions is suspended over your head while voices say it should be over his. We have a Chancellor who cannot lift his hand without half the Assembly accusing him of overreach, and the other half accusing him of hesitancy. A situation which benefits only those who live between shadows. Those who do not have our strongest interests first and foremost.”

The implication hung unsaid; The Black Sun, the Ryloth Separatist Movement, the Imperial Core. Choose any poison and you could find it seeping into the senate.

“It is time,” he said, voice deepening, calm but certain, “for the elected throne to be restored and his Voice to step back onto her position of power.”

He gestured lightly toward the datapad.

“These Articles would compel the Senate to take its rightful action: declare Magistration, trigger the succession protocols, and return the speakership of the throne to its intended place. It would allow Aurelian Veruna to reclaim his elected authority…” His eyes lifted to Sibylla. He made sure he was offering understanding there. Yes, and something else, something like a promise he’d never made but that she had to realise he was keeping. “...and allow you to return to being the Voice of Naboo. Where you are needed. Where your words carry the weight of a scalpel, not the weight of a sceptre.”

Ravion allowed himself to exhale, a rare flicker of genuine feeling softening the edges of his features.

“You have borne a burden that was never meant to fall on your shoulders,” he said quietly. “Both of you stepped into the breach because no one else had the strength.”

Again that pause, so quiet, so meaningful.

“But it is time to step out of it.”

He approached no closer, but his presence seemed to; his voice was warming, his natural charisma like a steady current.

“The Senate respects you. I’d even say they fear you in the correct way. They will follow your guidance if you present the Articles. They trust you to act without self-interest.” A faint, rueful quirk of his mouth. “Something I, admittedly, have had to work much harder to convince them of.” There was a glimmer of humour that softened the admission.

“But together; your clarity and influence, Aurelian’s insurance and standing along with my support and the systems in agreement; we can end this instability. We can return Naboo to what it is meant to be: a world ruled by its elected sovereign, and advised by its finest mind.”

He dipped his chin toward her, earnest now…absolute and complete deadly earnest.

“All I ask is that you read the Articles with the same incisive care you bring to every problem. And if you find them worthy… lend them your voice.” Ravion’s tone eased then, softer but no less intent. “Naboo has suffered in these last few months. The Senate has stalled with whispers of false corruption and overreach that was necessary yet unwelcome. The galaxy is watching. We need stability before someone else decides to offer theirs.”

His hands spread slightly.

“And you, Your Majesty, are the only one with the legitimacy to set this in motion. I say this as a friend of you and your family, with respect that you have built over the years.” He straightened; calm, controlled, resolute. “Say the word, and I will make sure the Senate will act.”

Sibylla Abrantes​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

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T H E E D * P A L A C E


Sibylla listened.

Of course she did. That was half the work of rulership -- the listening, the weighing, the careful sifting of truth from flattery and intent from rhetoric. And Ravion Corvalis , for all his cultured polish, for all the soft gold warmth of morning catching his cheekbones just so, was still very much a man who understood the power of performance.

Internally, she marveled again -- curious and almost amused -- at how far he had come.

An art dealer.

That was what most remembered him as. And not a poor one. Her mother had adored his taste, his exclusive acquisitions, his pleasant longwinded monologues about symbolism and brushstroke technique during those all too drawn-out dinners. Lady Abrantes had vouched for him more than once, discreetly connecting him with those Senators who still held the old Republic virtues dear.

And that endorsement had bought him legitimacy. Connections.

Influence.

It had also, Sibylla suspected, done him the greatest favor of all -- it had convinced certain high-ranking families that a man with an eye for beauty might still possess teeth.

Serendipity. Or convenience. Or both.

Shiraya, how the galaxy loves coincidence, she mused while maintaining a serene, queenly stillness upon her throne.

If she had wanted to dig, she might find questions worth asking. The attack on the Senate, the former Senator of Malastre's treason, the sudden vacancy, and then Ravion's appointment sliding neatly into place like a puzzle already cut to shape… It was almost too poetic.

But Shiraya help her, the man was so verbose that interrogating him further would require stamina she simply did not possess this morning. Perhaps after reviewing the Articles she would ask proper questions.

Still, he spoke of precedent and stability, of heirs and rightful positions, of democracy straining under strain. His voice filled the chamber, weaving a picture of duty and return, of Naboo poised between tradition and necessity.

And as he extolled her and Aurelian Veruna as he praised their intervention while very politely suggesting they now step away from the breach, Sibylla found her internal amusement hard to quiet.

She and Aurelian had not sought these roles. They had stepped forward because no one else had dared. Because everyone else had quailed at the idea of becoming a martyr for the Senate or a target for Black Sun. And now those very same senators wrung their hands over whether Aurelian had taken too much power or not enough.

The audacity would have been laughable if it were not utterly exhausting.

So this is what he meant, she realized with a quiet flicker of understanding.

Aurelian's warning about the Senator of Malastre. To learn it was Ravion Corvalis was a curious enough curio indeed.

And how strange it was, remembering when Naboo was merely a kingdom -- before the Republic, before all of this chaos and reconstruction. Before these burdens had dropped into their hands.

She accepted the datapad with a graceful motion, the chime of her headdress rippling softly through the air. She only skimmed it now, that much was visible, but she would read it thoroughly tonight. Alone, with her stylus in hand. Or perhaps with Aurelian beside her, poring over each clause to ensure no hidden trap behind the elegant phrasing.

Because Sibylla Abrantes did not distrust Ravion outright but she had learned better than to ever take an ally's paperwork at face value.

The young woman took a deep intake of breath, feeling the weight of her mantle and the promise of its eventual return to Aurelian's shoulders. She took comfort in that. She wanted that stability... not just for him, but for their world, for their future.

And when she spoke, her voice was the calm cadence of a Queen who had learned, finally, that she could bear the crown....and also set it down.

"Senator Corvalis," she began, inclining her head with composed gratitude, "your diligence on this matter does not go unnoticed. You have my thanks for the work, refinement, and clarity you have brought to these Articles."

Dark kohl-lined hazel eyes lowered briefly to the datapad before they rose again to settle upon Ravion with certainty.

"I will review the Articles of Magistration with all due haste, and with the care they warrant. Once my assessment is complete, my response shall be given to you forthwith."

The Interim Queen of Naboo took a slow and measured breath then continued with certain assurity.

"Naboo, the Republic, and the entire galaxy stand in need of stability. Of wisdom, not panic. Of rightful governance and not the vacuum we now navigate. Your efforts toward that end are appreciated."

Another soft chime of her headdress as she inclined her head in closing.

"Thank you for bringing this before me today. You will have my answer soon."

 

[Bastila Sal-Soren]

Bastila remained a statue through the exchange.
The shadows cast behind the throne hid most of her face, but it did not hide the sharp focus of her gaze. She tracked Ravion Corvalis with the same disciplined attention she’d give a pirate gunslinger or a Sith with a particularly polite smile. Sometimes the most mannered men were the most perilous.

And he was mannered. Too mannered. She had met types like him before, just never in the safety of Naboo, under the guise of a friend. They also like to talk and oh boy did this man like to talk. The Sal-Soren’s never really had much dealings with Corvalis, the art dealer having distanced himself after her father had died, yet as she watched him she was realising that she hadn’t missed out on much.

Sibylla closed the audience with regal grace, like any queen would and Bastila stepped forward, hands clasped before her in demure posture, they both played the role well, every inch the obedient attendant and the serving monarch, yet they both hid the poised blade well too.

“Senator Corvalis,” she said, dipping her head. “If you will follow me.”

Ravion turned toward her with a pleasantness that felt handcrafted.
“Of course,” he said warmly. “Your guidance is always impeccable, Lady Handmaiden.”

Lady Handmaiden. It was a deliberate phrasing, pretending to be a subtle compliment. He obviously knew her identity, it was no secret and he was in the circles that she made her debut in, yet still he spoke to her as though he understood far more than she wished him to.

Bastila ignored it.

She led him through the length of the chamber, his boots clicking softly on the polished stone. The Force around him was strange, almost muted. Not empty. Not dark. Simply carefully… brushed over. As though his mind were a painting coated in too many layers of varnish for her to glimpse what lay beneath.

She disliked that immensely.

When they reached the threshold, Bastila pressed her palm to the panel. The great doors opened with a low sigh and with two steps the Senator was nearly out of the room, or he would have been if Ravion hadn’t paused before stepping out.
He turned slightly toward her, the gold light framing him like some holonet politician mid-campaign poster.

“You serve Her Majesty with a rare precision,” he said, voice pitched low. “A reassuring presence. Naboo is fortunate to have such guardians… especially in these uncertain days.”

“Thank you, Senator,” Bastila replied, every syllable perfectly polite. “Her Majesty’s safety is my only priority.”

“Oh, of that I have no doubt.” His smile shifted, it became a fraction sharper at the edges, it put Bastila slightly on edge. “Your eyes never left me.”

Her spine didn’t move, but her pulse gave a single, irritated flick.

“That is my duty,” Bastila answered coolly. “To observe.”

“And to judge?” he asked lightly, though his gaze narrowed just slightly, it was curious, almost probing.

“My judgments are reserved for threats to the Crown.” She responded without blinking as she stared into those brilliantly radiant eyes of his. There was a brief silence. Then Ravion’s face seemed to soften, his normal warm smile returned and he was pleasant once more.

“Then I am relieved you do not consider me one.”

Bastila offered the faintest inclination of her head, making sure it appeared ambiguous on purpose. It wasn’t her job to annoy the senate.

“The palace will receive you when Her Majesty next requests your presence.” She offered in an attempt to get him out of the door. Her attempt nearly payed off as he bowed, hand gliding over his chest in one graceful sweep.

“I look forward to that summons. Do extend my regards to Her Majesty.” With that, Ravion stepped beyond the threshold. “Oh and Bastila, give my regards to Mr Praxon as well, next time he makes his visits to you, so brave of him to undertake this next grand adventure.” Before she could react any more than widening eyes, the doors drifted closed behind him with a whisper, sealing in the silence he left behind.

Only then did Bastila take a breath, it was quiet, controlled and allowed her to compose herself.

She turned back toward Sibylla, crossing the chamber with the ease of someone long accustomed to making no sound at all. When she approached the dais, she bowed her head, even though the two had become beyond friends in her service as Handmaiden there were still customs to uphold.

“Your Majesty,” she said softly as she came to settle in position near the throne, she gave no hesitation in her words. “I don’t trust that man.”

Her voice remained low, her words shaped by absolute certainty.

“He speaks too sweetly. Shields his intentions behind something I cannot read. It’s not deception, it’s something more practiced. He has trained himself to think in silence.”

Bastila’s hand pressed briefly against her sleeve, where her lightsaber sat hidden.

“That kind of discipline does not grow in a Senate office,” she continued quietly. “It grows in darker places. In harder lives. Say the word, and I’ll watch him more closely. If he does harbour any ill intent…”
She gave a small, contained breath.
“I will know.”

She moved into guard position, posture straightening, her resolve settling like iron beneath silk. “We will know.”

Ever the handmaiden.
Always the blade.

OUTFIT: XoXo | TAG: Sibylla Abrantes EQUIPMENT:

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[Sibylla Abrantes]

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T H E E D * P A L A C E
Bastila Sal-Soren

Sibylla watched Bastila approach. And for a moment, as Bastila bowed her head, Sibylla felt the warm pull at the young woman's presence. In their time together, they had grown close.

But friendship between noblewomen was always a treacherous thread to walk -- delicate, politicized, prone to fraying under the slightest pressure.

And Bastila herself was a curious one. Brilliant, perceptive, and yet… sometimes it seemed her mind was elsewhere, chasing something just beyond Sibylla's grasp. Something she did not pry at. Would not pry at. As long as Bastila served with the diligence she always had, Sibylla would allow her those private corners.

One day, though… perhaps. But not today. Today, duty spoke first.

She met Bastila's certainty without flinching, her hands folded gracefully atop one another, the filigree gems of her heavy headdress catching the morning light.

"I suspected as much," Sibylla murmured, her tone soft for Bastila alone. "Your instincts rarely err."

Sibylla didn't need to be Force user to recognize the undercurrent of intention within Ravion Corvalis. Which, in politics, could be far more dangerous.

"Lady Abrantes has always spoken of him warmly," Sibylla continued quietly in a hushed tone, "but even my mother's fondness does not make him above scrutiny. He is practiced... and his occupation as an Art Connoisseur certainly has given him the ability of sweet speech. And just how curious that serendipity has a way of arriving at his doorstep at just the right moment."

Kohl-lined hazel eyes went drifting briefly toward the doors where Ravion had vanished. A faint line of tension shaped her shoulders, just subtle enough that only Bastila would catch it.

"His appointment, the timing of it, the ease of it… I cannot dismiss any of it as mere coincidence." Sibylla murmured with quiet pensiveness. Especially in the wake of the same event that had resulted in the kidnapping of Kalantha. After a moment, the Interim Queen took a deep breath and then straightened slightly under the heavy regalia she wore, settling into a queenly composure once more.

"But for now, he has proposed something that benefits us. And Naboo needs what he claims to offer... we cannot afford continued disquietness regarding the emergency appointment and that once again, the Republic has taken a Monarch from her home. King Veruna should return to the throne, and I to Naboo's Voice."

It was the only way they could smooth things over in the Republic's Capital and beyond. It would be one thing if Aurelian Veruna had run for Chancellorship and been elected. Another time, the State of Emergency had caused it, and we still had no elections for a Magistrate.

So while Sibylla's voice gentled, there was no naivety in her eyes.

"That does not mean we lower our guard."

When Bastila's hand brushed the sleeve hiding her lightsaber, Sibylla's jaw softened with a quiet note of gratitude.

"We will watch him," she agreed, using Bastila's phrasing deliberately. "Together."

Another pause and then a subtle nod.

"And if he harbors intentions he thinks he can hide from us… then yes. We will know. Perhaps it would be best to appoint surveillance by someone trusted." A thought came to mind with Sibylla. Dominique Vexx and her connections with intelligence. "I've someone who could assist as well. No only in gathering information regarding Senator Corvalis... but others as well. I want to gauge what is going on with the Senate truly... and whose interests they may be serving."

And as that heart-shaped face decorated in full regalia softened, something unspoken flickered there -- respect, trust, and the faint wish for a bond deeper than rules permitted.

"Thank you, Bastila," Sibylla added, allowing a hint of warmth to thread into her voice. "Your vigilance is a comfort more than you know."

Then, with a quiet exhale, she returned her attention to the datapad at her side, the Articles of Magistration waiting like a dormant minefield.

"Remain close," she said gently. "There is more yet to unravel."