Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Just a small incision :2300:

Pahul's lips curved into a grin that was almost too charming for the setting. "Especially a Grandmaster." He paused, letting the words linger before turning to greet a fellow guest at the table as if nothing had happened.
 
April lowered her goblet, staring into the golden liquid. She could still feel the trace of his smile pressing at her thoughts. Whatever game he was playing, it unsettled her more than any duel.
 
The hall grew louder as more trays circled through the tables. Laughter echoed, the clinking of goblets rang, and the initiates—bright-eyed, hungry, eager—ate with reckless joy. April tried to let their energy ground her, but her focus remained scattered.

She felt it first in the Force. A ripple. Subtle, almost imperceptible—like the surface of still water touched by a single falling leaf. It was coming from across the table, from Pahul. His presence was vast, luminous, controlled. Yet beneath that serenity was… something else. A current she couldn't name.

Her fork slowed mid-cut, her senses sharpening.

And then—pressure. Warmth. A hand brushing against her thigh beneath the table. Deliberate. Firm enough that she knew it wasn't accidental, gentle enough to be deniable.

April froze. The world around her blurred into background noise. She forced her breath to remain steady, her face calm, her eyes fixed on her plate. But inside, the ripple became a storm. The Force around her coiled, bristling like a predator ready to strike.

Slowly, carefully, she turned her head toward him.
 
Pahul's expression was maddeningly composed—his fork poised, his goblet raised, as if they were merely discussing the weather. And then, when no one else was looking, he tilted his head just enough to meet her eyes. A quick flash of teeth. A wink.

Before she could react, he withdrew his hand and rose gracefully from his seat, sliding back into the crowd with that same easy charm.
 
April sat still, her pulse still racing, her jaw tight. The warmth on her thigh lingered like a brand.

What had just happened?

A test? A taunt? Or something else entirely—something that could shake the image of the man the galaxy revered?

She pressed her goblet to her lips, hiding the storm behind her eyes. If anyone had noticed her shift, they'd see nothing but a Knight enjoying her meal. But inside, her thoughts churned.

The shadow in Pahul's smile was no longer just suspicion. It was danger.
 
April excused herself with a polite smile and a nod to the guests at her table. None questioned her departure; the hall was too alive with music, conversation, and the clinking of plates for anyone to notice her absence.

She slipped into the corridor outside, the noise of the feast fading behind the heavy doors. The silence was immediate and oppressive. Cool stone walls lined with dim sconces gave her nothing to focus on except the storm within.

Her boots echoed softly as she walked, aimless at first, until she found a small alcove beneath an arched window overlooking the gardens. She braced herself against the sill, palms flat, the night air brushing against her flushed face.

Her thoughts spun.

He touched me.
The image of Pahul's easy smile replayed in her mind, the wink that had cut her balance in half. He hadn't acted like a man caught in impropriety—he had moved as though it were deliberate, chosen.

Her stomach twisted. This was the Grandmaster. The man her sect revered, the one whose philosophies guided the K.O.T. He wasn't supposed to behave this way.

And yet…

April's eyes flickered shut. In the Force, she tried to trace the ripple she had felt at the table. That strange undercurrent beneath his presence. It hadn't been lust, not entirely—it had been more complicated. Calculated. Like a veil covering a hidden current of intent.

Was it a test? A probe into my discipline? Or… a warning?

Her fingers curled into fists against the stone. She thought of the initiates inside, laughing, eating, celebrating. Would they believe her if she spoke of this? Would the sect? Or would she be painted as fragile, paranoid—unworthy of her title?

She drew a long breath, steadying herself.

No. This stays with me—for now. I need to know more before I decide if it's confession… or confrontation.

But even as she resolved to bury it, April knew the brand of his touch wouldn't fade so easily. It would follow her into her meditations, her sparring, her sleep. A question without an answer, and a shadow she dared not share.

Behind her, faint laughter drifted through the door as the dinner continued without her. Inside, her secret condition had always threatened to expose her. Now, she carried another secret—one with far greater stakes.

And in the back of her mind, she could almost feel that smile again.
 

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