Kabal Stomp | CIS Dominion of Kabal

[Saraya Arenais]

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Location: Markets​

Wearing: [xxx]​

[member=Seren]​

From up on the Wolf’s shoulders, Willow could see everything. Since the gondola had dropped them off at the edge of the cobblestone street, Willow had insisted on sitting there. With one leg either side of his head she absently wondered if she was making him uncomfortable being up here, but the more she thought about it the more it became clear her weight was probably no more than a mild inconvenience to him.

The market was filled to the brim with vibrant looking stalls covered head to toe in an array of brightly coloured material. Aged wooden table tops were filled to bursting point with the interesting wears persistent vendors tried to sell to passers by. The air was filled with delicious scents, some of which Willow could have picked out with her eyes closed. Others were exotic and entirely new. Spicy, sweet, sour, savoury, all slightly strange and foreign to the little spider but she enjoyed them all the same.

A pale white hand came to rest on the top of the Wolf’s head. Her fingers affectionately curled into his thick locks until it was unclear where one started and the other stopped. ‘What are we doing here?’ Pools of bright lavender glanced down from her height to look at the profile of the Wolf beneath her. The question wasn’t posed ungratefully, simply curiously as most of her questions had become. Over the past few weeks the little spider had accepted her fate. That being the Wolf was the only person she had left in the Galaxy. While the past hadn’t been completely forgotten just yet, she was more willing to talk to him, to build up the rocky foundation of a relationship that they were used to.

It was beyond her to say she was becoming fond of the beast, but she certainly harboured a deep rooted affection for the man he kept hidden underneath. He was the one who treated her like a human. The one that had made her smile after all the turmoil the beast had put her through. To anyone else the beast and the man were one and the same person, but to Willow they were as different as chalk and cheese. The man wanted the best for her, the beast wanted her. The man made sure she went to bed every night with a smile on her face, the beast had beaten her so badly she’d stayed black and blue for a solid month. There was a difference, but many strangers they came across would only ever met the beast. They would only ever question her motives for staying.

So, as crazy as it seems, and though the man had given her many chances up to now to leave and make her own way in the Galaxy, the little Spider stayed. Every day up to now the man had ensured she knew he was grateful for it. Every day he stole and replaced the sour taste of regret with something sweet and beautiful. With her vibrant purple gaze resting on his sun kissed face, Willow found an endearing smile had made a home on her expression. It wasn’t a smile she was very familiar with yet, as thus far it had only been reserved for him, but it was by far her favourite smile.

‘Are we buying things for Jen’mae?’ It was the only reason she could think of for their presence in the exotic markets.

 

[Áine]

Location: Canals​

Wearing: [xxx]​

[member=Kerstan Blackmoore]​

Kerstan had picked the perfect place.

Naboo had been her original choice. It was the height of the fashion industry, and anyone who was anyone could be found there, but in the end Áine was pleased her creator had put his foot down. In hindsight, she should have immediately recognized that he knew best. He was the only one who knew her inside and out. He was the reason her heart beat a steady rhythm against the crushed purple velvet clinging to her chest. He was the reason she was able to enjoy the sour taste of the wine as it slipped down her throat. He was the reason she could see the beauty of the river as the gondola made its slow winding way through the gentle waves.

The experiments body stretched out across the luxurious satin pillows created a voluptuous, curvaceous line from her head to her heel clad toes. A strong scent of river water mixed with the wine and fruit they had spread out across the table before them had, on multiple occasions, caused the fiery haired woman to beam shamelessly. As she lifted a crystalline glass of crimson liquid to her lips, the voice she had spent five hundred years craving whispered softly in her ear. A tongue of a delicate pink shade poked out to hunt out the stray drop of wine that glistened in the light on her full lips.

His words sent shivers down her spine. Everything he did seemed to jolt her senses with an undeniable spark of electric energy, but by now she was well practiced in keeping such emotions to herself. Áine used that exact kind of emotion to hunt, and she was not in the business of showing the same weakness as her prey, but even beyond that the relationship they shared was a strange one. It began when Áine took her first breath. He doted on his creation, he taught her everything she knew, but it wasn’t to last. After his cruel abandonment and their subsequent reunion the nature of their relationship had shifted entirely. They were no longer just creator and creation. The hatred she had felt for his leaving had morphed into something entirely different. Now? They were full of intense passion for each other, and a deep desire that none would ever come close to matching.

Her head craned, turning her bright emerald eyes up to glint at their creator. Bright rouge lips turned up into a smile that lit them up in the dazzling sunlight. ‘Hmm…’ The note vibrated her chest softly. ‘Almost.’ Her sickly sweet tone poured from her mouth like honey from a jar. ‘I don’t doubt you’ll have to spoil me all day to make up for Xagobah. Besides..’ The smile she wore developed into a rather alluring smile meant to entirely capture his attention. ‘It’s not just clothes and credits I want. I imagine your debt won’t be paid in full until tomorrow morning at the very least.’

 

[Madalena Antares]

Wearing: Dress
Tags: [member="ToKola Bakari"] | Open

The waves broke many feet below her, water crushing against sand, foam appearing momentarily only to disappear back into the ocean. What did it feel like, to become foam? To form only to disappear so fast? Was that how her ancestors had seen their offspring, like little children who graced the galaxy for the span of a few breaths before they vanished again? Taking gifts they had bestowed upon them, such as the knowledge of how to extend their lives by nibbling on the Force, and using them not to re-build the great Empire of Darkness, but instead… Instead join a place like the Confederacy, where all their offspring worked from the bottom to prove themselves instead of naturally glide into seats of power that their blood and legacy demanded them to fit so naturally into?

And what was there, what remained, when the thing that had filled her heart with such joy was now gone and ripped from her, leaving her alone and lonely, leaving her bed cold and an embrace that no longer existed. Not even her ancestors had an answer to that. Her grandfather, she knew, had attempted to kill himself after her grandmother had left him. But she had not been killed – she had left. Her grandmother's parents, had died together. Two pairs that had firmly believed they had been each other's other halves. One pair discovered they were not. The other one was murdered before such a thing could take place. Up and up and up the family tree Madalena went, never finding true departure save for her grandmother. They had all either gone through their lives caring not for matters of the heart, or had never truly died. The oldest ancestors she knew of, Ashmedai and Boadice, had seen death as a pause, as a break. They lived or took breaks from life as per a rhythm none but they could understand, never sad or missing the other, knowing that they would be reunited both in life and in whatever existed afterwards. They were a pair of evil people who had no qualms sacrificing their family members to further their own goals. And yet, Madalena envied them and the love they had somehow learned to have throughout all of it.

Again Madalena gazed into the waterline, a shudder running through her body. She somehow knew. She knew that if ToKola had been there with her, his hand would caress her face, just like that. When she closed her eyes, she could almost feel it, allow herself to get lost in the sensation. How she wished he were here with her. How she knew they would both have laughed at how neither had the patience for more of these useless Confederate parties, but their respective jobs demanded their attendance quite regularly. How they would together, make sure they were seen, before sneaking off to be with each other, because it did not matter whether they had been together for a few days, a few months, or even years from now, they were supposed to remain as passionate and excited about each other until the end of times.

Force, she could sense him now. Madalena looked around, confused. Her mind surely must be playing tricks on her. She had not been able to find ToKola, not through the Force, not through witches, not through anything. And yet now she could feel him, his presence almost tangible to her tongue. Was this what it felt like when one lost their minds? Was this what it was like, to go completely crazy because of a shattered heart?

Yua.

Madalena gasped, her hand reaching up, trying to touch the air, certain that he was there, that her ToKola was not truly gone anymore, but he had found the way to come back. But her hands found nothing, her body pressed against nothing, there was just air in front of her and nothing else. Another step she took forward, somehow maintaining her balance without falling, an empty grunt escaping her throat now, one that encompassed the emptiness and the pain that resided together within her.

Nothing.

She looked around, blinking, realizing now that the last few seconds had made her appear… To others, not as she had wanted to appear. She was still their Lord Marshal, she was still one of the Knights Obsidian leaders. Madalena knew she could have weaknesses, and she knew that they could never be on display. Not like this. Not so publically. She moved a strand of hair behind her ear, looking around again to make sure no one had noticed her. As far as she could tell, she was in the clear.

He gaze cast down, Madalena walked through the crowds, beginning to make her way out of the promenade. Perhaps she had pretended to entertain herself at the location for long enough.

 

[9-LOM]

Tag: [member="Alwine Lechner"]​

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An open balcony, fresh flowers, and warm evening sky reflect on the back of 9-LOMs head - they are looking the other way. Captured, instead, in dialogue with the Shoribus grounds security chief. Naturally, the two had seen each other's sleek, black external attire - of course the guard was wearing armor, and was not a droid. The Male Imroosian seemed rather entertained with the droid, and vice-versa. It was really quite circuit-warming.

"It is assumed, then, the Bundki vibrocutlass and JND-41 are sufficient utilities for neutralizing-" Nine proposed, indicating the weapons hanging from the guardsman's magbelt.

"An Alpha Waterspider?" the guardsman chuckled, "Why - you'd be woven into the stonework before you could scream!"

The security chief knocked back another brightly-colored beverage through his grin. He placed a hand on the droid's shoulder, raising where perhaps an eyebrow would be - if the Imroosian had any.

"Now, if you say truly you've done the things you have, well... come visit during nesting season. I will give you a personal, heavily armored tour through the Shoribus Underworks."

"Possible venture... prioritized." Nine said, detecting the ever-slightest tinge of appreciation.

The Imroosian guard looked down at his wrist-comm, a small red light flickering. He punched in a code, then gave the droid a nod. Nine tilted their stiff protocol stature just slightly in salutations, and then the guardsman was off.

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

Objective: Rock The Casbah!​

Wearing: Jet Robes​

Wielding: Bass Xantha​

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Someone had handed him an electric bass.

Was this a good idea? Probably not. Had that stopped him? Absolutely not. Did he even know the group that was jamming with him on the stage? Nope.

Through the Force, the boy was hearing the melody before it had been played. This preternatural grace allowed him to play all of the right notes, maintaining a furious fervor on the strings as the jam played on into the sunset.

Raging against the dying of the light, as the song ended and the last rays of day were turning from amber to red, the boy thrust a fist into the air as he proclaimed, "WE'RE GONNA ROCK ALL NIGHT LONG!"

The audience gathered around the stage cheered.

The drummer piped up from the back to ask, "Uh, Zak? Isn't your bed time, like, 10pm?"

That was true. Also, the last time he'd tried to stay up all night long, he'd just wound up face-planting in a random spot before midnight.

Throwing his fist into the air a second time, the young Nautolan amended his earlier battlecry.

"WE'RE GONNA ROCK 'TIL 10PM!"

 

[Luca Donskoi]

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Wearing: Dark Gray, Button-Down Collared Shirt (left sleeve rolled; right sleeve tied just below half way), Light Khaki Shorts​

Tags: [member="Faye Malvern"]​

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Kabal wasn’t exactly what Alden had expected it to be. Especially following what the warmongering group known as The Crucible had been rumored to have done to the planet in recent history. Having razed it and enslaved its people to become more fuel for its blight. Even so much as to forcing the hand of its people into constructing this technological marvel unlike any other. This advancement whose purpose could only have carried ill intent considering the diabolical organization that saw to its very construction.

But. But these people of Kabal would not go quietly into the night as their conquerors had thought and prepared for. And perhaps this spoke to a great magnitude that just what was so easy to perceive at face value. Perhaps this spoke a volume to their pride and self worth. To their unwillingness to see this pride freedom they had come to know and love stripped from them. Their sense of nationality amid a galaxy besieged in war. The ever turning gauntlet of nations that rose and faded from power. Seeking by any means possible to put their very own staples into the pages of history.

This was Kabal. And its people would not see themselves crushed beneath the heel of tyranny.

It seemed, though, that all this had fallen by the wayside. A mere blemish in the fabric of everything Kabal and its people were. A bustling and exuberant display or artistry that rang in fanfare to a city built upon culture and history. Architecture that sprawled out of carved stone that saw a myriad of vines painting unique and intricate design across them as only nature could. The green giving way to blues, reds, purples and golds and the flora that sprouted from the fingers of the vines found themselves in full bloom. A cacophony of natural beauty that it appeared only Kabal could produce.

The ebb and flow of the current that gently pushed the stream coursing through the city, was heard softly in the background as Alden, himself stood by it. His shoulder on his right side was bandaged heavily, showing only the faintest signs of its being there as it pressed into the thin fabric of his button down, collared shirt. The right sleeve lay limply, blown by the occasional errant breeze that would brush past it. His left hand hung lazily down by his side, thumb hooked through one of the belt loops and fingertips tucked into the nearby pocket. He found himself in a simple pair of shorts for the first time that he could recall in years, but his goal in his attire today had been an account of being comfortable, not of being formal.

“Sir, the next gondola will be along shortly, if you are ready.” The voice came from a young boy tending to the port of embarkation as he offered the news to Alden.

“Thank you, but I’m waiting for someone. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.” Alden responded in as courteous a manner as he could. His left hand rose and rubbed at shoulder, where his arm had once been. It still bugged him. The arm - or rather lack thereof. Sure, the pain wasn’t there, but it was a constant reminder of his failure back on Tattooine. Of how his confidence, even amid his lack of experience, had caught the better of him. The only bit about that day that really gave him any reprieve was that fact that he’d not been the only one to lose something that day. He’d nearly taken the Exarch’s leg with the errant of his blaster that he’d pulled and fired instinctually.

His eyes closed and he pushed the sour thoughts from his mind. The person he awaited didn’t know any of this yet, and the last thing he wanted was for them to feel his pain or self loathing at his loss. Especially one he knew would be replaced in time. After all, technology was so advanced now, arms and other appendages could seemingly be bought off a shelf much like anything else.

 

[Luna V]

Location: Canals | Objective: Explore | Outfit: x ​

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Luna thanked her gondola driver friend and deftly climbed out of the small wooden craft. She glanced up to where [member="John Locke"] stood, pausing for the briefest moment. His face was shadowed as he waited above, his form silhouetted against the city architecture. It was, she surmised, quite nice to see him outside a laboratory environment. She herself had kept to one of Locke and Key's research locations – she had not found a reason to leave, until recently.

But, now, she was beginning to see the merit in exploration.

She ascended the stairs and approached John with an amiable smile. “How are you?” She asked, not only was it the polite thing to do, she was genuinely interested in the state of her friend's well-being. Despite the fact that she looked like a human girl, she still felt odd about interacting with most organics. However, John was part machine, like her, they had that in common. And, he accepted her for what she was. Now, she was quite content to act as an assistant for his business enterprise, and, perhaps, as something like a younger sibling.

“Your calendar indicated that there was a social gathering,” She said, “You do not wish to participate?”

Luna blinked and canted her head to the side slightly, a motion that she found most organics used to accompany their inquiries.

 

[Karlie Lynn Destat]

Location: Duh...the canals.
Tagging: Open for fun interactions... @Hisashi (last chance..getting off the ride)
Posts: 3




"Ahem...." She cleared her throat, straightening herself out on the seat. The man hadn't replied...
'Okaaay...' Karlie must have dreamth it then, along with the rest of the fleeting dream she had when she dozed off. Well, she had walked for the better part of the day, and had indulged a bit over the top with that late lunch she had not 20 or so minutes before. Yea, she had looked over her crono for the GPS coordinates and time. Over eating and then a slow relaxing gondola ride...well, it had shut her down a bit.

Tap tap... on the wood trim of the gondola.
"Excuse me." She tapped on the wood trim of the gondola to get the gondolier's attention.

"Yea...." She had his attention.
"Uhm listen...can you pull over at the bank there?...yea, the one to the left. I get off here.." She said, taking a quick look about to see if she laid anything to rest on the seat next to her.

The driver complied with a tilt of his head and headed over to the nearest bank. Karlie were a few hundred meters past where her hotel was. She had after all dozed off. There was no point in asking for the man to turn the boat around, seeing as she were sharing a ride with Mr Personality there...she was certain he had said something to her...just really couldn't be sure about it. Still, the man was giving her the creeps now and her best course of action were to disembark.

The gondola came to clunk up next to the bank and Karlie got up to leave.

 

[John Locke]

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Location: Kabal​

Objective: Meet a friend​

Tagging: [member="Luna V"]​

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For once John had slipped his hands out of his pockets, abandoning the protection afforded by his practiced posture, the dark metal of his hands resting on the stone balustrade, tapping a small nonsense beat against the stone. Dark eyes tracked Luna as she made her way up the side of the bank, winding her way through the crowd as the beating fingers tapped out one last melody before falling silent, resting against the coold stone. For a moment his gaze flicked away, staring at the constrast, dark metal against pale stone, there was a unexpected contrast there, an almost artistic rendering. A small smile touched his lips as the mand lifted his hands, turning to face his friend as she closed through the crowd. If he didn't know better he couldn't have picked her out as not human, just another curious off-worlder taking in the sights and sounds of the festival, a far cry from when she had first come online, the change in his friend had been remarkable. He could remember the inhumanity of her first few days and now, now she was engaged and interested.

"I actually just came from there," John's hand came up, gesturing at his monekysuit, the tie pulled loose around his neck, "It's just, they can be a little overwhelming at time," he admitted with a wry smile. "I guess when it comes down to it I'm still more comfortable in a lab or a ballroom than a party. At least there you know what you're dealing with. In a party, they all smile so much," he winked at Luna, "It's got to be a trap, I mean who really smiles that much?" John's hand swung out slightly, a small gesture to take in the crowd around them. "This is...more real. When someone out here is smiling its cause they're happy, enjoying themselves. I've never been the best about dealing with people hiding their intentions behind masks, I'd make a lousy politician." The cyborg's hands slipped down to rest on his belt, nodding at the woman, "And what about you? Looks like you've been enjoying yourself out here."

 

[Grrwunhoooll Agaburry]

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This place was strange. Never before had Malcolm seen such colors. Vibrant hues! It was all a splendor to behold and take in. With a charming smile he walked through the Promenade with a burning passion to meet others. A passion yearning for a deep inner hunger. For now it was sated and was to be worried about at a later time. " Hello. Hello. Greetings to you sir....Ma'am, My bad. Dang." His brow raised in question. A passing by alien seemed not to like his polite mannerisms and hailing. It wasn't his fault that the creatures sex was a mystery to him. He himself was adorned in clothing fit for a ruler. Easily he could of passed as a noble if he so deemed it.

He did not in the end. He was a simple man looking to explore all he could without succumbing to...well. A topic best served for later to be honest. " How much is this lovely...Crystal." He asked gazing apon a green hued gem that irradiated a power. He was drawn to it naturally. It was a Atrusian Crystal. Rare to the galaxy and owned by a noble merchant looking for a fat profit. Malcolm had to have it. For a mere flash his eyes were almost haunting. The inner mind reaching out to grasp the gem, but the thoughts were interrupted with the wave of a hand and a price said.

" 15,000 Credits. Are you still interested?"

 

[Tempest Yore]

Objective: Support [member="Zak Dymo"]



Tempest stood up against the stage when she heard her fellow student of Magick take up with the band and started jamming. Boy is he awesome! At first she thought the whole night was going to just be absolutely boring, seeing all the men and women paired up and being all googlie-eyed at one another. But that did mean one good thing for a youngling, no adult supervision!!

Tempest has gotten her hands on a full party tray of assorted cookies and a whole pitcher of cold milk...and she would share if Zak joined her, after he is finished with his set that is. At some point he will need a refreshing break. Younglings need their energy to stay up late, you know! Tempest sat down on the steps that lead to the stage. She picked up one chocolate chip cookie and after dipping it into the milk until it soaked through, she put it into her mouth and sucked out all the milk before she bit into it.

‘By the power of the Fanged God!’ a phrase she always hears the Mandragora Nightsisters exclaim, ‘What phenomenal delectability!!!’ “Mmm-MMM-MMMMMMMMMMMM!!!”

Tempest then grabbed a second cookie and made a cookie sandwich and double dipped into the milk before scarfing the cookies down in a few huge soul satisfying bites.

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Objective: Be true to oneself
Tags: Mandragora Adults Only



Pom was not witnessed to have been anywhere near the CDF Commander. It was not atypical for Pom to be standing amidst a crowd of people and be the ever present wall flower, in this case a wallflower without a wall. Outside the Mandragora it’s just a treatment she has learned to expect. She doesn’t however, like it one bit, and expects it with a grain of salt! Pom was raised under the umbrella of freedom, one of reckless abandonment that poured over into her adult personality. The vast cultural differences across this vast galaxy still perplex her after being away from her homeworld a whole year.

But above all of it, Pom Stych Tivé harbors no desire to alter her personality to please the masses by conforming to their droll traditions. Maybe someday her mind will change about them, but it would require actually being befriended by an outsider to the Mandragora, which doesn’t seem to be something anyone cares to attempt any time soon!

The Darkness Sorceress turned away from the popular scene and stepped off the beaten path. She walked into the forest where she belongs. As she went along she extended her fingers and through her own power, drug along behind her the downed limbs intended for her bonfire.

 

[Josiah]

[member="Amity Khoury"]​

Above all, there was excitement.

Though the vibrations of merrymaking rumbled underneath the Jedi's form, he felt something far greater reach into the air. Whilst the music was indeed palpable - even at this distance - what the Lightbearer could hear more than anything was the excitement of his students. As the flames of war had died down in the present, peace had afforded an opportunity to learn without the looming threat or a battlefield. Josiah could teach at his own pace, rather than hastily tutor in the hopes of seeing his charges survive. In the moment, he deposited three flawless crystals into the hands of his apprentices and posed to them a telling question. The one who spoke up first - [member="Amity Khoury"] - was the newest to come under Josiah's wing. Yet, despite their brief time together, she answered with a wisdom that made the man beam.

To say that Josiah was proud was an understatement. Amidst his toothy smile, the Jedi clasped his hands together and began with: "You are correct! There are numerous orders who tie their philosophies to the construction of their lightsabers. Even within the Jedi, lightsaber colors hold special significance." To illustrate this point, the man reached for his own lightsaber. The weapon was of a simple design with function being at the forefront. A mere touch of the ignition caused a golden blade to erupt into being. And, as its radiance filled their immediate vicinity, the presence of the Light would become vastly apparent. The weapon was brimming with the positive side of the spectrum.

"However." he said, before offering his lightsaber for Amity to hold. "What I will be teaching you is the simplest reality of lightsabers. They are an extension of you. Not just your philosophies, bit your essence as a being. When you hold a lightsaber, it will not just be an immediate symbol of what you believe - it will be a beacon of who you are. This will carry over into how you wield the lightsaber itself in battle. Now. Lightsaber construction does have multiple steps, but the most pivotal is that of the crystal."

He paused, motioning towards the crystals that he had pressed into their palms. "These were recovered from an adversary some time ago. They once served admirable Masters, but were made to slumber. The intent was to break them...to make them bleed red and to empower blades of Darkness. But. You will now restore them. And, in doing so, you will attune each crystal to you. The resulting color and traits will be a reflection of who you are. Now."

The Jedi briefly retrieved his lightsaber and extinguished the blade before setting it upon the verdant ground. His hands them folded about Amity's as he nodded, bidding her to do as he. "Empty your mind and breathe. Let the music fade away. The feeling of the grass. Let it all fade. Focus solely on the crystal. Feel that slumbering Light. And once you can...call out to it. Ready?"

 

[Kalporra Djacq]

// [member="Quint Salis"] \\​

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Kal pursed her lips.

Indeed, things looked to be in order, from the man's card to his equipment. But the location, a stall on the canal, seemed anything but. Something just had to be wrong...right? Parting her lips again, Kal whetted them quickly with her tongue.

Gross, she thought with exasperation upon realizing the rearing head of her forced self-righteousness. As if she needed to resent her Masters any more than she already did for warping her into their squire, obedient if not jaded.

An effortless but clearly faked smile appeared on Kalporra's face as her eyes flicked back up to meet her unfortunate target's. "You're right," she said. No way was she going to apologize; that was the closest phrase he would hear. "Absolute least I can do." But she dropped a hand to dig around in her robes' various pockets. It surfaced finally with a credit chit in shades of iconic purple. She resisted the urge to toss it and instead extended her hand out to him gracefully.

More of this fake.

If it was possible, Kal's smile began to glow. "But I'll pay for those two."

As for hers; she thought a minute. The Chaleydonia police had taken all of her trophies into evidence when they had finally arrested her and, if you could believe it, hadn't the decency to give them back when she had been released into CIS custody. Her skin was bare as far as tattoos went - though not scars - but she had a high enough pain tolerance to handle it she was sure and it altogether seemed too good of an idea and opportunity to pass up.

To reclaim a little of what had been hers.

Maybe the KO were hellbent on rewriting her personality, but she could at least sit back and have some fun on the ride.

And lo and behold, but there was a beautiful little piece projected towards the back. A skull with crystals. A perfect little reminder of both her homeworld and just what she had done there.

She pointed at it.

 

[Kerstan Blackmoore]

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w. [member="Áine"]​

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She was honest, at least when it suited her to be. Naturally Kerstan had already known the answer to the question he asked before it left his lips. The man had a habit of asking question he already knew the answer to. It was one of several ways to know if a person was lying to him. Áine did not. If anything, she was brutally honest, honest to the point it often wounded Kerstan. It seemed in line with their odd relationship as it was. The two often wounded each other only to be the ones to mend them later. The game, or nature, of that they played at was both complicated and simple. She was his, and he was hers, simple. They did not belong to anyone and refused to be possessed by no other, complicated. The tension of who they were in relation to how they behaved when around each other was strikingly obvious to Kerstan every time he was with her, and yet, Kerstan knew he could not live without it.

The gondola pulled along the wall which acted as the boundary for the markets and the river which ran through the capital. Kerstan exited first, having yet to respond to anything his alluring creation had stated. His hand was offered to assist her from the position she reclined in, and then to help her out of the boat. Once again his eyes wandered over the figure she boasted, and the way the loose fitting fabric draped over her body. He could not help but see her as he did the day his hand lifted her out pod she had needed to keep her alive until she woke and took her first breath. She was his creation, and yet a deep desire burned in his bones for her, enough that he almost ached inside.

"Always wanting more and more. If my debt will not be satisfied until morning then I would suggest we do not linger here too long," Kerstan said as he leaned in to whisper something highly suggestible and inappropriate in her ear.

He wore a smirk as his arm was offered to the woman before leading her to the first of several vendors. A dress and a pair of shoes were at the top of the list of what he owed Áine. They would be leaving with five complete sets at the minimum. Kerstan knew she was going to take full advantage of what was in his accounts, and he was prepared to spend a fair amount of credits in appeasing his debt to her. As they entered the small, yet excessively elegant, boutique, Kerstan took in a deep breath. Everything was going to be far more expensive than it was actually worth. It was just as Áine would have it.

"Anything you want," he said as he motioned toward the racks. While he could pick out what she would likely want, Kerstan wanted to watch. This would be a good testament to how much she had changed without him to guide her.

 

[Quint Salis]

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w. [member="Kalporra Flynn"]​

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As a criminal, Quint had learned to spot a fake, and as a person who spent most of his life getting to know people while drawing his art on their skin, Quint had learned when people were hiding something. The woman interacting with him checked both boxes. Whatever she was, she was not a Knight Obsidian. She dressed like them, wore their crest, spoke for them, but she was not one of them. Did that mean she wasn't among their ranks, no, but Quint knew there was something else beneath the surface. Kalporra was hiding. Whether it was from Quint, herself, or others, the woman was hiding who she really was, and Quint, though he knew better, was going to draw whatever he could out of the woman.

He was surprised when she paid for the others and the smile was genuine. Quint canted is head.

"Interesting." he said. "I didn't see that coming, and I am good at reading people."

It was offered as a statement of fact, because it was.

His eyes followed her finger after he caught the credit in his hand. A small nod of thanks was offered as his eyes settled on where her finger had landed. A skull with crystals. This was interesting, but not too far out there for someone belonging to a group that were literally black knights who did the bidding of the Confederacy's senior leaders. Another nod was offered as he motioned for the woman to sit. A quick press of a button and a couple of swipes to find the right print, and Quint had the transfer he needed to lay the pattern on her skin ready to go.

"Where are we putting it," the question came as he looked the woman over. "I am Quint by the way. In case you wanted the name of the guy permanently altering your skin today..."

Hopefully she had a sense of humor.

 

[Kalporra Djacq]

// [member="Quint Salis"] \\​

​

Again, Kal paused, thinking over her answer before she sat. Mentally running through her numerous occupational scars, she wondered where was the best place. The most unmarred place.

Then she shrugged off her outer robe and sat where she had been beckoned. "Right upper arm, I guess," she muttered, situating herself comfortably, though, if her tone was any clue, she wasn't at all. Her right arm was mostly scar-less, unlike her left, but the ends of a couple angry, healed over gashed poked out from under her tunic, probably reaching across her back.

But her persona morphed once again when the man introduced himself. She glanced over at Quint, moving her head back, and wrinkling her nose. The playful glint in her dark eyes was enough to gather that she did, in fact, have a sense of humor. If it fit with his had yet to be seen. "That sounded a lil' malicious. Like I'll need to give it to the police." But she laughed, shaking her head. Maybe, just maybe, she found that a little funnier than someone else might, because of the joke's unique double entendre regarding what she used to do.

Regardless, she collected herself before too much had possibly been given away. A red flag risen, if you would. "Kalporra. Kal's fine, though."

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

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w. [member="Srina Talon"] | wolfie​

​

Broken.

Mended.

The two words were different, and yet they went together. Gerwald had truly known the meaning of those two words until recently. Ignoring all advice he took it upon himself personally to face [member="Naedira Darcrath"]'s killer, a Sith Lord who had baited Gerwald into finding him. The meeting had gone how everyone who knew Gerwald sait it would go. He should have been dead many times over, but the sick and twisted Sith had left Gerwald broken and in the open for the Confederacy, or someone, to eventually find him.

Everything had been black for too long. Most of the event had been wiped from Gerwald's mind simply because of the brain's natural reaction to the trauma it had suffered. days, maybe weeks, of memories were missing from Gerwald's mind. He remembered meeting the Mountain, and the next he remembered waking up to the face of Exarch Srina Talon. They had never met before that moment, not that Gerwald could remember, and as soon he came to Gerwald knew he had been healed. He had been healed enough to shift at least, and not wanting to answer to anyone for anything, Gerwald shifted on the spot. That was weeks ago.

Since the incident, Gerwald had not shifted back. He had seen his sister, yes. She finally knew he was safe, but Gerwald refused to change back. Telepathy was tricky because of whatever damage Gerwald had suffered, but he was certain it was just a defence mechanism. Naedira had taught Gerwald to guard his mind, and from Gerwald could tell he had involuntarily done so. The barrier which Gerwald had erected was not one he could bring down quite yet even if he wanted to. He had tried. Until such a time, Ger was content to be a wolf, and follow the exarch around as though he were a pet. It seemed the one thing he could not mess up.

Several sets of eyes were on the larger than average wolf as he followed along side the Exarch. As a wolf he did not care, and nothing bothered him, really. It was an odd site to be seen along the promenade as those there were meant to enjoy their walks, which was what Gerwald was doing himself. Whatever the Exarch found to do, Gerwald would be right there beside her. Whether she had claimed him as part of her collection of exotic things or not, Gerwald was her for the moment. His body was healing, and his mind was mending. Soon he would feel again, and when he did, he knew the pain of loss would once again haunt him. At least the wolf was stronger than the man.

 

[Damien Van-Derveld]

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w. [member="Kaia Verd"]​

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There were two things Damien thought he would never have enough of in life, music and dancing. Both had been something which was ingrained in him from a young age. Granted being the grandson of his clan's Nightmother had a way of ensuring the music and dancing also had a ritualistic purpose to it. The music was nothing like what he had gown with, and neither were the dances. Still, Damien had learned to enjoy all kinds of music and movement. It was part of him after all.

The crowds fluctuated from being heavier or lighter, but none of that mattered to Damien. All he cared about was enjoying the celebration. There was a lot to celebrate, freedom being the chief among them. It was going to be a night many remembered, so Damien ensured it would be a night for himself to remember as well. Nothing screamed memories like meeting people on a dance floor. Whatever happened, the young wolf was going to have some fun.

His body moved with the music as he danced with no one in particular. He just moved about the floor enjoying himself and pretending to enjoy the company of others when it suited him. Perhaps if he had been paying more attention to who he was around rather than putting on the show for those who were watching, Damien would not have run into the girl he just knocked onto the floor.

A sheepish grin was offered as his hand was extended.

"Sorry," he said as he helped the lady up. "Guess I wasn't paying attention there."

 

[Quint Salis]

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w. [member="Kalporra Flynn"]​

​

Quint had seen women shed clothing for ink many times, well, he had seen them shed clothing for more than just ink, but this was certainly not about that. Still, Quint could not help but look to see what the outer robe and cloak was hiding. The first look was natural and could not be helped, at least that was what Quint always told himself even when the first look was incredibly deliberate.

"Right arm," he said as he cleared his throat and added the ink transfer. Quint offered the woman a mirror to get her approval. The last thing he needed was to get the work done and find out he messed it up. Quint took pride in his work, and that meant taking care of the details others might overlook. He had not earned the reputation of being the best on Zeltros by simply slapping anything on anyone.

Once again the woman surprised him with her response to her humor. Quint laughed. While did not know anything about her past as a serial killer, Quint could appreciate the direction of her humor. There were a couple of ways it could have gone. Either way Quint found the joke to be in good taste. The scars were noticeable. It made Quint wonder if the tattoo he was putting on her arm had more of a meaning than simple appeal. Most people did get ink for a reason, especially if it was a first tattoo. Want was much a reason, but most had meaning. Quint would get to the bottom of this one.

"Kal it is then," he answered. "It is going to sting at first, which I'm sure won't be an issue for you. Just let me know if you start getting queasy for some reason."

With that, Quint got to work keeping the conversation going as he did.

"So did you get all those scars working for the Knights, or..."

It was the obvious question.