Inauguration Ball - Eriadu (Galactic Alliance and Frienemies)

[H3xle]

​

ERIADU ​

PRESIDENTIAL RESIDENCE​

BALLROOM​

​

OOC:

Spoiler

This is open to anyone, but it is in GA space on a well defended planet. Security is tight at the ball, and this is meant to be a social thread anyway.
Have Fun!

Dalton smiled in the way that his wife had always told him brought the sparkle out in his eyes. He was surrounded by people, some he knew, most he didn't, and was in his element.

"I can assure you minister, the M'Haerian Crown is one of our most valuable trade partners." Dalton said, taking a small sip of his champagne. "The policy of Eriadu under my leadership will not change that, you can assure them."

"You can understand my worries, Mister President. M'Haeri, much as it pains me to say it, isn't an economic powerhouse as Eriadu and Sullust are in the region. Maintaining our economic ties has practically become the full time job of the M'Haerian diplomatic corps, especially as His Majesty has begun to age..." The human diplomat opposite Dalton said, sotto voce. He had been trying to get a meeting with Dalton before the inauguration this morning, to the point where he had to have his chief of staff assign a secretary to take all of the inbound calls from the M'Haeri consulate.

That staffer had done such an excellent job, however unpleasant it may have been, that Dalton had made her his Press Secretary. He could see her moving effortlessly through the crowd as if born to the role.

Dalton slid his gaze back to his current companion with a nod of understanding, before he could be caught staring by any but the most perceptive of guests nearby.

"As I've said, you can tell His Majesty that I will maintain the policies of my predecessors where M'Haeri is concerned. We will maintain trade at the very least. Everything else can be discussed in meetings, contact my Chief of Staff's office. This, however, is a ball. So stop worrying and have some fun. You never know, you could always expand M'Haeri's interests without having to worry about it." He said with his smile, then took another sip of his champagne. The minister nodded and moved towards the bar, his step a bit lighter and with less tension in his back as he moved.

Dalton took the rare moment of free time to look around the room. The main doors of the residence were on the eastern side of the building, where a team of Presidential Security officers in uniforms were checking guests in. They were then led around a hallway that was lined with busts and paintings of the past presidents of Eriadu for as far back as they could get images for. Some of the busts and paintings showed the marring that happened when the First Order bombed the planet. The bust of his immedeate predecessor was melted along the right side of the face.

The hallway wound around to the western side of the ballroom, side hallways were cordoned off with elegantly dressed security agents patrolling them. The doors to the ballroom were wide open, wide enough for a rancor to walk through and almost tall enough. The room took up two stories of this part of the building, a wide veranda circled on the second floor, accessible from both interior hallways that were guarded, and stairways leading up from the main floor of the ballroom. In the northeastern corner was a large bar, offering many types of libation. The bartenders were HRD's programmed special to be gracious bartenders and walking breathalizers, cutting off anyone who got too inibriated. The southeastern quarter of the room was a dance floor, a slightly raised dais held a small sized orchestra playing soft music for any who wanted to dance. The rest of the room held tables, both with seats and those sized for standing.

Dalton stood near the center of the room, the orchestra and dance floor to his back as he watched his guests flow in and mingle.

Spoiler

I am tagging people who have said they were interested, but anyone may join.
[member="julius sedaire"] [member="draco vereen"] [member="faith organa"] [member="kellyn muir"] [member="cathul thuku"] [member="liliane lancaster"] [member="joza perl"] [member="six-o"] [member="davin kal'bith"] [member="cira"]

Faction Admins, if you want to join for social or intrigue, you are welcome to have your people come and make it fun and interesting.
[member="thurion heavenshield"] [member="coci heavenshield"] [member="isamu baelor"] [member="vilaz munin"] [member="tanomas graf"] [member="rolf amsel"]

Sorry if I missed anyone. Come have fun!

 

[Ashin Varanin]

High-level social functions in Alliance territory always had their risks. As a result, Ajira had refreshed her Quey'tek concealment, restricting the quality and magnitude of her Force presence to match her public record. Officially, she was a career naval officer who now ran strategic security for Theed Hangar, and who had never got around to really exploring her moderate Force-sensitivity. As usual, she wore excellent contact lenses that stole the yellow from her eyes. She'd been Ajira Cardei for a few years now, and so far she'd managed to avoid losing a contact in public. For clothing, too, she looked the part: Naboo fashion was unmistakable, and she wore it well. No weapons, of course. No defenses. Should violence or skullduggery transpire, she was nothing but a middle-aged bureaucrat whose military days were behind her.

The point of comprehensive preparation was that a well-prepared soul could go about its business without undue worry. With all in readiness, Ajira felt comfortable pursuing the business of the night: connecting with Eriadu, and obtaining a clearer picture of the political lay of the land within the Alliance. Tonight had no firm objectives, just connections to be made and details to hear. Drink in hand, she set about admiring the half-burned artwork.

 

[Liliane]

For once again, it was the time of the year when Liliane would have to spend all of her money on something useless she would never wear again after the first use -- she'd arrived to the planet of Eriadu in a completely new dress, this time tailored for her for a perfect fit. This time, it was a golden dress that faded into white as it neared the bottom, decorated with a light blue flower on the right side of her chest.

And once again, she would wear the title of Lady Liliane Amore Lancaster Imperieuse of Zahat'n'ira, Jedi Marshal of the New Jedi Order. It was by no means a powerful title, but it was something, so she was proud to use that on such an occasion.

She remembered the last time she'd been to one of such galas really well. She'd loved it. And even though she'd gotten really drunk, she had met one called [member="Aedan Lochlan"] there, and that had turned out to be such a fun night.

This time, she had no idea where she was going. She just knew that she'd been invited to the party and that she was going. No worries about the people she was going to meet, no worries about whether she would be seen as an innocent little girl or an ambitious Jedi Master. DIdn't matter. Because she was there just to enjoy the night.

And what better way to do that than to head right to the bar. Of course she wouldn't hurry -- she would greet people along the way whenever she were to meet somebody she relatively knew.

 

[Cathul Thuku]

Cathul was a little disconcerted: even though her main reason to be on Eriadu has to do with its reconstruction, just coming out of a mission where she was called upon to broker a chapter house over the Great Seal on Aleen, she had been away from the main fleet, stationed over Kriselist if the First Order decided to get on the offensive again. Hopefully it will be more than an excuse to wear the latest fashion in Witch circles: she might be a Jedi, but because she wanted to use the Force over a lightsaber, she was often considered as a witch, and publicly known as such. Last time she was the host of the ball, this time she is just an interested party. If the rumors about [member="Dalton Eldyr"] are accurate, perhaps some contracts for finishing the reconstruction of the planet would be handed out. Or at least a window for submitting bids. IGR was willing to do its part, knowing that, while they rebuilt entire cities, on Shawken, Gala, Dahrtag and Kriselist, what was left of the reconstruction was too big for one single corporation to do. Witchcraft was quite different from what [member="Ajira Cardei"] or even [member="Liliane Lancaster"] would do with the Force. But here, her purpose was purely about rebuilding the planet, and she entered the ballroom, crowded with many of the more notable members of the GA upper society.

 

[Taeli Raaf]

She really didn't like attending such events, but once again she felt obligated to at least make a brief appearance. So that was how Taeli found herself, nursing a glass of water instead of anything strong, garbed in a midnight blue dress and just watching people come and go. She could distinctly remember the last party she had been to like this, they had an unexpected party crasher... literally. This time should be a little different, she mused to herself.

She checked her chrono to see how long she had been there... not even fifteen minutes. It would probably be impolite to leave yet, and who knows, maybe she would get some interesting information or a conversation at least. It just felt like a distraction when she had research to be doing.

 

[Judah Dashiell]

Politics.


Judah wasn't the type of man to get involved in the political scene. A businessman couldn't be overly vocal one way or another. Connections were important and business came from all walks of life, although he did make an effort to avoid funding Sith or their various activities.


Needless to say, connections are what drew him to the Inauguration Ball on Eriadu. He had done business with the Galactic Alliance before, a underground base that had been difficult to construct considering the lava. There hadn't been any activity since but it was always important to keep the connection in place. One never knew where the next paycheck and project was going to come from.


Hand waved away a sever offering a tray of alcoholic drinks as he scanned the room. He assumed the man in the center was the man of the hour, the reason the ball was being thrown. He'd have to investigate later in the evening, to find out more about the politician.


Adjusting his bowtie and brushing the front of his suit jacket, Judah slowly began working his way around the room.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

A ball. Or a Gala. Julius hadn't paid overly much attention to the Gala, but had instead simply brought his new padawan, [member="Kellyn Muir"], along. Ostensibly he was here to represent the interest of the Green Jedi Order, but he had hardly dressed the part of what some in the New Jedi Order would call 'traditional'. Then again, expecting a Corellian Jedi to follow Orthodoxy would be like expecting an honest speeder salesman on Nar Shada. Out of respect, he had left the lightsaber back in the ship for once. There was enough unarmed combat time logged with the likes of his various mentors he could hold his own hand-to-hand if a desperate need came about. But that was not his purpose here this night, and he reminded himself to relax a bit as he entered. Or as much as he ever did after freeing Corellia.

Even 'relaxed', he still stood almost rigid, walking with a fluidity and grace that was borne of his training, a sort of rolling saunter at all times. His right hand also remained curiously settled about his waist and hips, whilst not really holding onto the belt encircling them. Simple white military dress shirt in Tusken cotton, tucked into black bloodstripe trousers gleaming metallic red on the stripe, those running into black boots that were even polished. A blue captains jacket without sleeves hung over his shirt, with a touch of aurabesh on the left lapel giving his ships' name. There were various medals and ribbons along the chest, detailing both Alliance and Corellian League achievements, the two being fairly closely allied in general purpose. The only hint with this guise he was a Force User at all was the Jed-Cred that sat chained around his neck, just above the opening of his shirt, and the silvery traces of the tattoos he had gained from the Aing-Tii at the nape of his neck and wrists.

There were several here he knew, by reputation or on sight, but none that he would feel compelled to go over and greet, so he took his time walking through the busts, remembering the attack on Eriadu, and fending off the First Order. Dark times that he would never forgive those beasts for. Order and stability were needed, it was true. He believed it when he had sworn as an Imperial Knight for the Fel Imperium in his youth and still held it now as a truth. But his time with the Mandalorians on the 'Rim and working to free Corellia had shown him the value inherent in self-determination and freedom of choice. Precious things not to be given over or squandered lightly in any manner.

Not seeing Kellyn yet, he made his way for the bar, smiling and greeting anyone who might do the same to him, and making a note to himself to remain sober. This was a test for Kellyn. He had told the learner to mingle and drift, learn what he could of everyone here. It was a natural talent to the spook he called his apprentice. Applications of Force Sense and the like were stressed. Used the Force to sense any danger, anyone lying to him, anyone who might be overly Dark Sided or anything like that. In all likelihood others would detect and deal with any serious matter long before Kellyn knew it was happening. Possibly by Julius himself. But, it put the man in a situation he was used to, just using new skills to deal with the challenges. Hopefully that made learning said skills more natural and easy.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Judah Dashiell"]

Judah gorram Dashiell. How long had it been since the Vagrant Fleet? Ten, fifteen years, something like that? His name had popped up once or twice since then, mainly in business circles. Like a few other Vagrant salvagers she could name, he'd done well for himself. But to engage or not to engage? She'd changed forms and faces since then, and a good few other things; she wasn't the Ashin Varanin he'd been acquainted with. If she remembered right, he'd more or less hung out with the crew that went on to found the Levantine Sanctum, and some of them had turned into her enemies, fighting for the Underground.

None of that gave her any certain indication of whether he would be a problem, should he happened to learn or guess her original identity. By and large, the risk appeared minimal. What benefit, then, to approaching? Maybe business, maybe a clearer idea of where the old Levantine crew had gone, including deadly names like Seydon and Merrill. Maybe just a moment's nostalgia, seeing someone she'd known a little a long time ago.

A very little, and a very long time ago. Those days, the aftermath of Roche and Voracitos' coup, didn't rank among her most comfortable memories. Why revisit them?

Her indecision reached a tipping point as she caught the edges of an actively aware mind, a Jedi or something like it, doing his level best to get a read on Darksiders or deception. And right over there was a man with Corellian bloodstripes and a Jedi Credit around his neck, walking like he knew he was dangerous. Time to blend in, then. She headed for the salvager, drink in hand, and did her best to remember the context where his name had come up.

"Excuse me, are you Judah Dashiell? I'm Ajira Cardei with Theed Hangar. I was hoping to talk to you about underwater arcologies."

 

[Judah Dashiell]

[member="Ajira Cardei"]


In his slow meanderings around the room, Judah had stopped to observe the man of the hour once again. He had done his best to piece together a bit of information on the man from talks around the room. [member="Dalton Eldyr"] was newly appointed president of Eriadu. Something of a man who had come from the bottom but not necessarily from nothing. Again, he would have to greet the man and introduce himself before the night was over.



Before he could slink off into the corner for a bit, a beautiful woman stopped him to ask if he was Judah Dashiell. She was with Theed Hangar, a company Judah might have placed a time or two at an SSB auction, couldn't be entirely sure. Unfortunately he couldn't place the womans name or face, just the vague recollection of Theed Hangar.


"The one and only." Warm smile graced his features and he took Miss Cardei's hand in a brief greeting. "A pleasure to meet you Miss Cardei. My apologies if I am not aware of the full Theed Hangar line, although I believe I've seen your products at a South Systems expo a time or two."



"Underwater arcologies? Vastly underused.....although that is merely my personal opinion. Do you have a personal or professional interest? Both?"

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Judah Dashiell"]

Friendly sort; charming in an engineerish kind of way. She could easily imagine him on stage in a turtleneck, presenting passionately to a glitzy tech conference. All right, maybe not quite a turtleneck, but something business casual. An introvert who'd learned extroversion, perhaps.

"Both," she said. "Theed Hangar is the trade name for the Theed Palace Space Vessel Engineering Corps - I work for the King of Naboo. We're looking at a project inspired by the Levantine Astronautical Academy, and more than three quarters of Naboo citizens are Gungan. Some of our concept teams are sold on the idea of a self-contained, half-submerged facility, an integrated, multicultural community that's partially underwater."

 

[Cathul Thuku]

While she paid no attention to [member="Julius Sedaire"], or even [member="Judah Dashiell"], much less [member="Ajira Cardei"] or [member="Taeli Raaf"], she realizes that she must refrain from drinking alcohol, whether the alcohol is Force-brewed or not. It was actually pretty unlikely, but not entirely impossible, that anyone [member="Dalton Eldyr"] knew would even know how to use the Force to fermentate alcohol: she pioneered the practice. Yet she was mostly there to listen to the music. Pretty par for the course compared to the other balls she went to for various reasons: like the one on Coruscant or, previously, on Gala. Will I have a chance to actually take part in the reconstruction of Eriadu, after this horrible orbital bomardment that occurred years ago, for which the reconstruction is not yet complete? she thought, while overhearing some guests talking about underwater arcologies and how does that relate to Gungans. Sure the Gungan Rep Council would then want some public consultation on the topic, or to be otherwise consulted on the design because Gungans are going to be major stakeholders in such a thing.

 

[Judah Dashiell]

[member="Ajira Cardei"]



Despite the full name of the business and the mention of the King of Naboo, Judah was still drawing a blank on much of their products. Miss Cardei didn't need to know he had been focused on the Tingel Arm and various other bits of the 'verse, ignoring much of everything else. Best to listen and glean what he needed from their conversation.



"Levantine,eh? There's a name folks haven't bandied around in a while. Nice to see a few remember the best government and territory the galaxy had to offer."



A few moments went by as he thought of the project Theed Hangar was proposing. Sounded as if it could be a mix of old and new, a seamless facility for both species commonly found on Naboo.


"Ambitious, I like it. One of the largest issues I encounter in my own work is the amount of moisture in the air. My son thrives in an environment where you can practically drink the air, same for a number of my employees. Humans on the other hand....gets a bit more uncomfortable. If I may offer a suggestion? Perhaps some low-level research into comfort levels for all then see if any of those values intersect. I'm sure there has to be a compromise somewhere..."

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Judah Dashiell"]

"Those are exactly the kinds of issues we're starting to explore, Mister Dashiell. Optimal humidity, pressure, gravity, and temperature for both species; nutrients, biological recycling, environmental hemostasis. Now, Theed Hangar specializes in high-end personal and diplomatic ships, mainly subcapital, so we're no strangers to complex, custom life support systems. When we start scaling up, though, complexity increases by orders of magnitude."

Another memory floated up, so to speak. "I understand you were involved in building underwater facilities out near Ceto and so forth, with Selkath if I remember right. How did you handle the balance of the multispecies residential environment?" She glanced around. "Forgive my lack of small talk. At my age, the small seems insignificant."

 

[Tanomas Graf]

It hadn't been the first time a Lambda T-4a shuttlecraft soared gracefully over the terrain of Eriadu.

Ever since the history Glassing of Eriadu, which felt so long ago but recent enough to be branded into the old man's memories, the Emperor had been so adamant against even going near the damaged world ever again. Unbeknownst to all, even the Remnant, except for himself and some very redacted First Order files; He had been present as a Captain of the Navy, carrying out the monstrosities that had been mentioned so forlornly ever since. His part in it was one of the major reasons why he had acted so quickly with the infant Remnant to save Christophsis twice.

His thoughts ceased when the shuttle folded its 'wing' stabilizers, landing just outside the Presidential Residence. The landing ramp lowered quickly, followed by half a dozen Imperial Guards and Novatroopers debarking to line up in a minor parade formation outside the vessel while Emperor Graf strolled down, his footfalls casting loud metal clangs on the durasteel boarding ramp. "Stay with the ship, my presence alone could cause trouble with these Galactic Alliance folks, I didn't exactly receive an invitation." He mentioned, being acknowledged by the honor guard, who all remained in front of the shuttle, guarding it from exterior threats while Tanomas went to attend the ball.

Inside he was frisked by an over-eager security guard who ruffled through his trench coat before returning it in a rather disgruntled state, which did not please the old man. Once inside the ballroom, he stood, observing the occupants and his surroundings, trying to recognize anyone who could be a potential asset in the long run.

[member="Dalton Eldyr"] | [member="Julius Sedaire"] | [member="Theodosia Naphrite"] | [member="Ajira Cardei"] | [member="Judah Dashiell"] | [member="Cathul Thuku"] | [member="Taeli Raaf"] | [member="Liliane Lancaster"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Tonic and gin wasn't his normal drink, but it would do. It was also very light and easy compared to what some others might drink. Especially Julius. Nine Hells, for Julius it was practically water. Still, he sat nursing it, looking at the statues and remembering. Screams and beams of light and explosions. The First Order could run whatever propaganda they wanted, there would be no forgetting in his mind, not ever. They would never be able to repay the bloodshed and slaughter. Hands permanently were stained with blood to him that day. Swirling the glass, he eased back a bit and caught the bartenders attention.

"Hey, 'keeper... Anyone here interesting I should know about?"

The man, a fellow Corellian by birth before taking up with the Galactic Alliance Defense Force and then retiring on a bum leg, nodded. He pointed out a few here and there, though his information was usually vague and non-specific, relating to occupations or what the person he indicated had been asking. Julius was tipping him, even though it was an open bar. That tended to make your bartender one of your bigger fans when you did that, and Julius didn't mind at all helping a fellow out a bit.

Suddenly, the bartender nodded to the trenchcoated man with a disgruntled look.

"That would be that damn wannabe Emprah from the Remnant, sir. He'll be lookin ta cause trouble, no doubt."

Without a word, Julius drained his glass in one motion, dropped it to the counter of the bar and swung off the stool. Jovial nature was gone, and his face was drawn, eyes hard and glaring daggers. He had served the Fel Empire as an Imperial Knight, once. Served a true Remnant. And he didn't much care for anything Imperial now-a-days. Much less some bastard splinter of the First Order that hadn't even a clue what they were claiming to be the successor of. They were little better than the facist Order, in his mind, except they didn't even have the cunning of those base idiots. They were just vain and greedy in his mind. So his walk become an arrow to the target, a hound on the hunt. Every muscle coiled, on alert and ready.

At first, he had intended to maybe yell at the man. Put him off guard. Spit at his feet and hurl insults, get him to swing first or throw a drink in his face. But with each step his anger grew, and his determination to do the pompous fop harm did as well. Without him even knowing, his right fist balled up at his side in white knuckles, shaking with a rictus of muscle as his boots clicked. Some people cleared away from the look in his eyes, and others still seemed to move from his path even though their backs were to him. One would have to be stupid not to see him and know where he was headed, and to not feel the heat in his gaze. Finally coming even to the man, he tapped him on the shoulder, clearing his throat and calling out.

"Do I have the honor of addressing the Emperor of the Imperial Remnant, suh?"

His anger showed in the dripping syllables that had lost their various accents from travels, a pure Corellian drawl, as [member="Ayden Cater"] would have put it. The anger wafting from him put a palpable tension in the air as he waited for a response.


[member="Tanomas Graf"] | [member="Judah Dashiell"] | [member="Taeli Raaf"] | [member="Liliane Lancaster"] | [member="Dalton Eldyr"] | [member="Cathul Thuku"]

 

[HK-36]

Meanwhile,

HK was standing by himself in a lonely corner of the hall where the ball was taking place, clad in his ceremonial GA armor, an equally ceremonial metal saber and an old parade shatterpistol hanged off of his belt, secured in holsters. His head scanned from left to right as he suspiciously watched over the other guests gathered for the celebration,

"I swear, if one of those kharkers are hiding a Star Destroyer ready to summon it, so help me the Machine God, I will shove my claw-foot so far up their arses they will change their last name to 'Moccasin'"

The droid muttered as he kept watching over the other guests, suspicious as always during one of those things. HK lived too long and saw too much chaos-imbued crap go down during public events not to expect something going horribly wrong, after all he still remembered when Wren was getting married to whoever it was and somehow millions of droidekas ended up showing up, when Protectorate got involved the war droids started serving cake, plus the last public event he went to at least two people were killed in a restroom by a sudden tentacle monster.

This time the machine was ready, he already had calculated and plotted the shortest routes to take if he needed to quickly dash towards one of the toilets and barge his way inside to fight with some horrible tentacle monstrosity. Hope for the best but expect the worst.

 

[Judah Dashiell]

[member="Ajira Cardei"]


"I have no doubt you'll figure out how to put your complex life support systems to work on a larger scale. When you do, I would be very interested in contracting out several for use by Salacia. I have some projects on the horizon that could use a fresh eye in that area."


Just as they were going to continue the conversation on multispecies facilities, commotion riled up the large ballroom. A older gentleman entered, causing the man in Corellian bloodstripes to become extremely irate. It was clear there was an anger between the two.


Typical drunk Corellian.


Judah moved slightly, placing himself in a subtle defensive position between the potential issue and Miss Cardei. While the dark skinned woman seemed like the type that could easily defend herself, he liked to think chivalry wasn't entirely dead.


"Small talk is a bit overrated Miss Cardei. The topic at hand is far more interesting. As for issues with multispecies spaces, it is something I have yet to master. Underwater spaces typically are more humid, perfect for aquatics of course. Residential areas I try to cater to the species personal preference. In spaces with a mix, industrial dehumidifiers have been a lifesaver."


"Sadly someone still ends up being a little uncomfortable in mixed-used spaces. Trade-offs I suppose."

 

[Kellyn Muir]

Formal balls, of a presidential nature, weren't something of Kellyn's forte. At least not yet. Foreign intelligence didn't always involve clandestine operations and covert affairs. Some of it was of a more obvious nature, certainly more friendly. That is when foreign intelligence bled into the world of diplomatic relations, as so often as it did. He was here not just as a scout for the Aegis Initiative, but also to meet with the Green Jedi he met on Corellia - [member="Julius Sedaire"].

Wearing a semi-formal designer suit he acquired from his travels in the business district of Coruscant, he exited his BV-47 shuttle as he breezed through front door security and entered the glamorous state house. No need for a star destroyer or marine escort, or even a concealed blaster pistol. He highly doubted any real fuss would arise, especially on a system as prominent and well-defended as the Galactic Alliance holding of Eriadu. Before he even made it to the main ballroom, he could sense that his master was there already. Examining the setting and getting a feel for the place, he briefly exhaled in satisfaction before making his way to search for Julius. It didn't last long - the man was as predictable as it gets, seated at the bar.

Downing a beverage, he walked with a whimsical step over to an older gentleman he didn't recognize and tapped him on the shoulder. Kellyn had a sickening feeling that his master was about to be the first incident of the evening. Though he was confident the Corellian could hold his own weight in alcohol, the way he mischievously attempted to get the man's attention didn't sit right with him.

The non-confrontational type, he went to the bar himself and got himself his favorite, Corellian rum. Taking a sip, he turned and leaned on the bar, watching the situation unfold. If necessary, the bar top was always there to set his drink down.

[member="Tanomas Graf"]​

 

[Eugen Aker]

​

Learning to fly with the old Jedi Starfighter Corps, Arisa had often been warned about the dangers of staring out at hyperspace for too long. Prolonged viewing could induce madness, as beings from realspace didn't really belong on this higher plane. They were all just trespassers trying to cheat time. The phenomena of hyper-rapture reminded her of cosmic horror stories where mortals came face to face with titanic, system spanning entities that defied known convention, driving the characters mad as they were forced to acknowledge their ignorance and insignificance. There was no fear like that of the unknown. The figured that's what she was going on in hyperspace, their simple minds unable to make heads of tails of what they were witnessing.

For her, it was a different story. Removed from the normal bounds of time and space, the Jedi experienced solace as she was relieved her responsibilities and concerns for a time. Each trip also reminded her that there was much more to the universe than her struggles with her enemies and herself. Keeping the big picture in mind was what carried her through every fight and catastrophe.

-------------------------​

Reversion over Eriadu meant the end of break time for the Jedi, even if she was about to attend a gala. This was no social call. Frustrated with the passivity of the Silver Order, she was curious to see if she would have better luck combating her enemies by assisting the Galactic Alliance. It was a chance to get acquainted with some of the big-wigs who kept the Alliance wheels spinning. She knew many in her corner of the galaxy that didn't care much for their militancy, but sometimes one had to be proactive to get things done. Which was why she had returned the Kiribi to help lead a new mission, the ISAF.

Perhaps in contrast with many other attendees, she didn't fly in anything fancy like a yacht or consular ship. Just a starfighter. She had replaced her J-1 with a new KSA model slated for mass production soon. It had a sleek, avian design that was ascetically pleasing as much as it was functional, encapsulating Kiribian sensibilities.

After being successfully transmitting her credentials as a Kiribian diplomat, traffic control directed her to a landing pad near the site of the Alliance event. After landing, she went through a thorough review with Customs. From there, she rented out a room for the week at a nearby hotel. Her jobs as a bodyguard and now a KSA consultant left her with a nice chunk of credits, so she decided to splurge for a nice suite as this was her first time in Alliance space.

When the time came close for the ball, she freshened up and swapped out of her usual street garb for a tasteful black dress, chocolate locks fashioned into a chignon. She had been blessed with good skin while also maintaining a healthy regiment, so she only required a light application of makeup to leave her face looking dewy.

​

A short cab ride later, and she was at the ball. She went through another round of checks, but they would come up empty as she had left her weapons in her fighter. Not like she needed them for this venue. She doubted there would be anyone rash enough to strike the Galactic Alliance within their home sector. However, in case it happened, she had a Kiribian expeditionary group at her command, originally deployed to the Wornal sector to neutralize rogue Sith who had devastated the planet of Krillest during a rampage. She was sure the Alliance itself had a whole armada it could bring to the party, on top of whatever assets that were already based within the system.

Most of the faces were foreign to her, but she recognized a few due to their fame. Like [member="Tanomas Graf"], leader of the newly reformed Imperial Remnant, which she thought had died on Carida. As the former Watchman of Klatooine, she had kept a close eye on events in the east, following the rise of his empire with unease. Kamino was now under his control from the defunct Zenithian Empire, and with it the potential to unleash vast clone armies upon the galaxy. Needless to say, she was wary of yet another offshoot of the old Galactic Empire being allowed to build itself up like the First Order.

She tried mingling for a bit, but as she was a total stranger to these parts, she wound up at the bar in short order. She was in good company, as she could feel other Force Users congregating at the bartop. She passed by one such FU on her way to an open seat ([member="Kellyn Muir"]), looking outwards with a beverage in hand. She flashed a smile and gave a small nod in wordless greeting as she took an open stool beside him, even as his gaze was fixed on the throngs of VIPs.

Drinks were on the house, but she ordered a Chai Blossom, not feeling comfortable consuming alcohol while she was technically in the company of strangers.

While the event was in full swing, she felt a decided lack of joviality amongst the crowd as she peered around her surroundings. It looked like she wasn't the only one here for business and networking. She really wished didn't have to play these games of faces, but that's just how things were done, she had come to learn acting as a bodyguard for officials of the Old Republic.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Judah Dashiell"]

Neither the impending confrontation nor Dashiell's tacit chivalry got a response, though her estimation of the salvager-turned-magnate ticked up a notch.

"It's true," she said, "there's no perfect middle ground. Some designers suggest an intermixed climate - one room leaning a little toward human preferences, the other leaning a little bit Gungan. The difference between Naboo's marshlands and grasslands, effectively. The issue, then, is making sure to avoid segregation, or the appearance of it. Fortunately, we've started formal consultations with the Gungan Rep Council..."

She drifted off, glancing past his shoulder. "That's Emperor Tanomas Graf, isn't it. The defector or some such. I wonder who invited an Emperor to Eriadu - especially one who used to be part of the regime that bombarded this world from orbit. Forgive the small talk."