Moments in the Woods [Fortans/Iranis]

[Natasi Fortan]

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​

For Pierce, being back at Chiltenham meant coming face to face with a host of emotions, chief among them grief. He was Baron Chiltenham now, which meant that his father was dead. He had been dead for some time now, but they had always had a close bond, and so the title and income and position that came with being Baron Chiltenham was no consolation to Pierce, who wanted nothing more than to sit with his father in the small library and discuss the day -- or the future -- or the past -- or that week's cricket -- or anything at all over a glass of scotch. But he also felt joy and nostalgia in equal measures. He had grown up at Chiltenham, traversed its winding staircases and its twisting halls, played at bowls in its broad courtyard, built a tree house in the woods that surrounded it, skated and swam across the lake that sat placidly to the north of the castle.

In a word, it was home. But it was slightly more complicated than that. It was also the symbol of power in the Baronetcy, and he owned the land that the tenant farmers farmed and lived upon. He was responsible for their protection as well as their wellness. So far, things seemed to be doing well, but it was early winter on Galidraan, and winters here were harsh. And now he had his first major social test -- his cousin, Lady [member="Natasi Fortan"] would be visiting with her suitor, [member="Darell Irani"]. In order to round out the party, Pierce had invited [member="Decima Fortan"], the wayward half-sister of Natasi, and upon hearing that, his mother [member="Hyacinth Fortan"] had invited herself, unable to resist the lure of juicy gossip.

Even with all the visitors, the place had thirteen bedrooms that weren't filled. With three women to two men, Pierce had been tempted to invite his friend and commanding officer Roderik von Brinkerhoff. Hell, he'd have been tempted to invite von Brinkerhoff even if the numbers were even, because that's what besties did, but he knew that Roderik had a -- shall we say, lack of enthusiasm -- for the folderol that came with this sort of thing. He probably would have hated dressing for dinner, playing bridge, etc., and so that thought had died on the vine. We'll do cigars and cricket next time we get leave, Pierce told himself. Or perhaps just cigars.

The appointed hour had come, and Pierce found himself pacing the front hall. His mother had arrived with him, of course, and was acting as his hostess -- thank heaven. The point of the visit was several-fold: he wanted to get to know this Irani character more, if things were getting serious between he and Natasi; he knew that Natasi was unhappy -- likely tired from her exhausting tour schedule, and homesick for the destroyed Herevan -- and wanted to give her the opportunity to relax in her own skin; he also wanted to heal the walking human rift in the family relationship that was Decima; and, though he wouldn't admit it and spoil his suave, debonair image, he wanted to spend time with his mother, who had had the stuffing knocked out of her by the death of her husband, Pierce's father. So when the chance for some liberty had come up, he had known exactly where he'd spend it.

"My lord," said the butler, approaching with a tray, upon which a folded card stood. "Priority signal for you, from the spaceport." He bowed over the tray and Pierce picked up the card and read it aloud: Orbital delay of Lady Natasi Fortan's shuttle at customs inspection. Expected by air transport 1640.

"And Decima is still coming on the four o'clock train?" asked Hyacinth, sweeping into the room in a dark, floral day dress. Pierce nodded. "Oh good. I do hate that ancient style of drama -- you know, where all the action takes place offstage."

"Don't stir," Pierce cautioned her. "And try to be nice to Mr. Irani. He is a Duke you know."

"I'm nice to everyone, sweetheart," said Hyacinth in a saccharine sing-song. "But why, particularly? You said yourself you weren't sure about him."

Pierce hesitated, turning to the butler and then nodding towards the coat closet. "Yes, I did," he said, turning to take his mother's fur coat from the butler, then turning back to help her into it. "And so I'm not sure of him. I've only met him once and he seemed ... well, all right," said Pierce uncertainly, adjusting the collar of his mother's coat before handing her her hat. "But I don't know. There was something about the look in his eyes when he spoke of Tasi..." His voice trailed off as he tried to picture the moment again; he couldn't, not precisely, but he certainly knew that he had felt uneasy, and still did.

"Might you have been witnessing young love?" asked Hyacinth as she adjusted her hat to just the right angle. It sat attractively upon her silver-white finger waves.

Snorting, Pierce allowed the butler to help him on with his own coat -- a long, woolen peacoat with fur at the collar. "Neither of them are exactly young, mother. And I'm not sure I'd say it was love, come to that."

"Not that you'd know," smirked Hyacinth. "Carrying on with a different woman every two weeks."

"Yes, but I love them all, in my way," Pierce returned. "Anyway. I'd like to know him better, is that wrong? If his intentions for Natasi are serious, someone ought to look him over, don't you think?"

"Pierce -- and, don't go off on me, but ought we to consider Natasi's intentions in all this?" Hyacinth met Pierce's grey gaze with her own darker one. "You know how people talk. He's rich, well-connected, a Duke. There's nothing he gets out of this match except access to power in the First Order. But she stands to gain rather a lot. Is there some element here -- some -- I don't know, gold-digging? Does she care for the man?"

"You know how it is with her," said Pierce, working his fingers into his gloves. "She always hides these things so terribly well. Sometimes I wonder whether she even cares for us. But on the whole, I should think so. They seem to get on well... enough. Anyway, that's not the point, mother. We're stuck with Natasi -- she is blood, and she is the Grand Moff, so there's nothing to be done about that." He sighed. "But if he is a bounder, we may be able to talk some sense into her before -- "

A footman entered unceremoniously from below stairs. "My lord, my lady: transport approaching."

"Thank you, Henry." Pierce turned back to Hyacinth and pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. "Speak of the devil, eh?" He offered his arm to his mother and they strolled out into the courtyard, standing near the vast, open door to the vast, columned hall, where they were flanked on both sides -- on their left by a line of maids, and on their right by a line of footmen. The butler and housekeeper stood on either side; it was a dignified affair, like Chiltenham in its prime, and Pierce put any suspicion out of his mind for the moment, ready to greet [member="Darell Irani"] as a friend, per the customs of Galdraani society.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

The four o'clock train that was referenced by [member="Hyacinth Fortan"] was speeding across the continent, with Decima Fortan sitting comfortable in the first class car, staring at the countryside as it whizzed past her window. Galidraan was beautiful this time of year, and though she had never been to Chiltenham or near it, she recognized the idyllic environment that was not unlike where she grew up, at the Strallan family seat. Snow had fallen, covering everything in a charming white blanket, and the train pushed along. Gone were the old coal-powered steam engines -- this was a magnetic pulse drive, clean, efficient, and fast -- but the old-world charm and elegance of train travel was the same. The seats were plush, the drinks were served efficiently, and the ride was quiet and comfortable -- at least in first class.

The young woman was wrapped in a maroon-and-ivory patterned day dress, black stockings and maroon shoes, with a maroon hat perched elegantly upon her dark brown hair. Over all of this, except perhaps the hat, she had donned a dark brown cape/cloak. It was nice to be wearing real clothes again; after her time with the Knights of Ren, she felt like she might never get out of black leggings, tunics, and hooded cloaks.

The visit was of some concern to Decima. She had nothing against [member="Pierce Fortan III"], and she didn't know that he had anything against her, but [member="Natasi Fortan"] was another story. Grand Moff or not, the woman's petulant refusal to recognize Decima as her half-sister had blown up in her face when Decima had chosen to allow her proper name used in the Galactic Games announcements. Now the genie was out of the bottle, for better or worse. Decima knew nothing of Hyacinth or [member="Darell Irani"], although Pierce's description of him as Natasi's beau led Decima to believe he must be deranged. Anyone that would want to willingly associate with that frigid witch, that ice block of a woman needed his head examined. Possibly other parts of him, too.

Perhaps they were planning to kill her and bury her under Chiltenham. Perhaps they were trying to integrate her into the family. Perhaps she was reading too much into it.

She gathered it didn't really matter; she was going, and she doubted whether they would even get to anything important. At least there would be decent food and decent drink, most likely. As she opened her book on ancient Sith philosophy -- borrowed from her master Darth Veles -- and wondered, not for the first time, what [member="Ciardha Ren"] was doing with himself at that moment. "Ladies and Gentlemen, please be advised, we are on final approach to the Chiltenham County station." Jolly good. Decima drained her scotch and set the glass down on the table between her seat and the aisle seat, then stood and gathered her belongings. They were playing her song.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Pierce Fortan III"] | [member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="Decima Fortan"]​

---​

'And they are said to be silver tongued,' he said. The Sith leaned back in his chair. 'Only silver?'​

---​

There was much Irani could have said to Natasi right about now, but in truth he preferred this amicable silence. She leaned against his shoulder, reading some paperwork addressed to the Office of the Grand Moff, whilst his eyes briefly scanned the eternal companion that was his datapad - in truth there wasn't much to read this time.

It was merely there, as a reminder to him that the work would always be there. Even if he stepped away from it for a moment.

"When was the last time we simply... sat and relaxed?" Darell mumbled out, putting away the datapad and putting his arm on her shoulder. The businessman knew he wasn't... exactly the traditional image of the perfect suitor.

Life had thrown far too many spanners in his works, for him to truly... allow himself to get invested in something. But the time he spent with Natasi was slowly chipping away at the iron forged around himself- very slowly, but just for this vacation Darell was going to allow himself to simply push away the eternal reservations.

"Feels like a lifetime."

Probably because they hadn't been able to do any of it in the first place. His business, her business, the assassination attacks and the constant balls they had to attend - the balls, obviously being the bigger threat to his sanity.

It all took away from their private time.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Technically they were called Official Ministry Attaches, but to Natasi Fortan, they were simply called the red boxes. They were a modernized throwback to the parliament on Galidraan, except the First Order's version were shielded against all manner of surveillance and had a dual biometric lock. Natasi's box was sitting open on the table in front of them. She had kicked her shoes off and curled her legs under herself, and had a pair of reading glasses perched, slightly crooked, on her nose as she leaned against [member="Darell Irani"]'s shoulder. She was half-listening to him as she reviewed a report on the First Order's official declaration against slavery in its territories. The costs would be significant at first -- despite official First Order policy being against slavery, it wasn't technically illegal, and so people had always found ways. As a sop to the industries and cultures that had used slave labor, the Finance Ministry was contemplating deferred payroll taxes for First Order citizens to encourage their employment.

"Never," Natasi said after a moment of contemplation. She straightened her glasses. "We've never done that."

It was true. He spent most of his time away from Dosuun, and since her ascension to Grand Moff, Natasi had spent less than a fortnight in total time on the capital. They had met a few times in the several weeks since her tour had begun, but a dinner, a night at a theater, a night at a five star hotel did not a relaxing time make, especially when both had to return to their taxing schedules shortly thereafter. But this visit to Chiltenham seemed like a different animal. Natasi was looking forward to some time spent among her own people, and she wanted Darell to know them, as well. He seemed to be in it for the long haul, as was she. It couldn't hurt for him to get to know some of her only surviving family.

"Pierce will take care of you," she murmured fondly as his arm encircled her shoulders, picking up her pen. She unscrewed the cap and initialed the document she had been reviewing, adding her notes in the margin before putting the document into the red box and shutting the lid. "That's the last of it. I won't open it again the whole trip. Sioux can take care of almost anything that comes up; that's why I pay her the medium credits, right?" She screwed her pen lid back on and shifted, tugging his arm more firmly around her frame. "Aunt Hyacinth says he's been saving a fourteen-point stag for you. He must sense you like to be in at the kill."

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Natasi Fortan"]

He leaned back against the seat; leather, soft, it formed itself perfectly towards his design. It made him relax and Force knew that if there was one thing that Irani almost never did it was truly relax- not these days, not since he had taken it upon himself to be the man that he had always been meant to be. Difficult, some old habits die hard, but Darell managed to suppress more often than not and they only returned when necessary.

Like when his woman was being assailed by idiot assassins and/or abductors.

"Oh?" The first time he had been near a horse... why, yes, it was on Derilium after all. The desire to discover and explore his own estates after buying them had been strong; the suggestion to use a shuttle was quickly discarded.

Irani had always been a man of action- his ass had hurt like nobody's business after the long day in the saddle.

But since that time he had taken the time to practice at least once a week, no matter his schedule. Sometimes you had to make time for things... like this meeting with the family.

"He must have a fine grasp of character then, how amusing."

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi closed her eyes to suppress them rolling so hard into their sockets that they got stuck.

This was the problem with being with a man like [member="Darell Irani"] -- he was entirely beyond being impressed. Perhaps Pierce pulling out the stops wasn't particularly impressive to someone of Irani's standing, but -- while Nastasi was not one to give participation trophies either, she felt that the Fortan family had already been weighed, judged, and found wanting before they even had a chance to make an impression. She heaved a sigh and disengaged from his half-embrace, standing up from the seat and gathering her case. She stowed it in the luggage compartments and then went to the little bar in their compartment, pulling out a travel-sized bottle of gin and a travel-sized bottle of tonic, then sat opposite Irani across the table on which she had been working.

"He wants to show you a good time," Natasi said coolly as she unsealed the first bottle, emptying it over ice into her chilled glass. She did not look at her suitor. "Galidraan may be so much more provincial than Derilium, but that's no reason -- " She paused just as she had finished pouring the second bottle into the glass, as her comlink chimed. She instantly snatched it off the table and examined the data screen, which read: Miles Penneford, M.D. This time she couldn't suppress the eye roll, and she declined the call, sending it to the office line. She irritably dropped a stir-stick into the glass and swirled the contents before leaning back in her seat and taking a long sip. Natasi gave a contented sigh and closed her eyes.

"You don't have to do the stalking," Natasi said quietly after she set the drink down. "You don't have to do the stalking, or the dinners, or the after-dinner port, or bridge. You don't have to do any of it. The last thing I want is for you to feel obligated. Especially where Pierce and Decima are concerned."

 

[Jairus Starvald]

Irani leaned back against the seat, yet it wasn't a sign of retreat or even the public display of hunkering down before a fight. It was simply the gesture of man shifting his position to accommodate further comfort, before the coming of the metaphorical storm. It was no secret to him that [member="Natasi Fortan"] was stretching herself thin, exposing herself to horrors in the line of duty for the Order and working non-stop to further expand the nation in her image while contending with malcontents and the stupid.

In this light he opted not to go for the blunt and short-handed approach in this instance.

Instead, her suitor simple raised both hands in a gesture of peace, palms facing forward.

"I meant no disrespect, my dear." That silky low voice dripped, syllable by syllable towards her ears. It was a talent of his; one of the few, to seem at once confident, compromising and utterly at peace with where he was in that moment. "I am looking forward towards this, you know that."

His head cocked slightly, in something akin to confusion.

"What ever did I do to make you think I would ever feel obliged to anything?" It was a genuine question. They both knew that Darell Irani, did what Darell Irani wanted- nothing more, nothing less. "If I didn't want to be here; we wouldn't be here. Yet, we are, because I want to get to know your family better."

I have none of my own. Maybe, getting to know yours, will change something for me.

Yet, he would never say that out-loud. Hardly proper.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi Fortan knew when she was being cajoled, and in this instance, she found that she didn't mind. She softened almost immediately, offering an apologetic smirk across the rim of her glass, and lifted her stocking feet (her shoes still lay discarded by where she had been sitting before) under the table and onto Irani's lap, crossed ankles resting on his knees. "You say that now," she teased. Natasi set the cup down on the table between them, cupping it between her two immaculately manicured hands, and looked fondly over at [member="Darell Irani"].

"Whatever your motivations," Natasi said quietly. "I'm so pleased we're going to get some time away together. I feel like I've seen less of you since -- " She paused, her mind flashing back to the grisly events that had caused her to clandestinely move in with Irani, for safety as much as to pursue their growing relationship. The specter of Arandil still haunted her, even knowing as she did that he was dead and gone. " -- ah -- since I moved in -- than before."

Natasi brushed a hair out of her face, tucking it in with its fellows until her bob was perfectly neat again, and she studied Irani over the table, the fingers on her other hand anxiously tapping the gin and tonic glass. "Darell," she said quietly. "Do you suppose when this is all over -- the tour, I mean, and my extra assignments -- that we might try to do it -- you know, properly? I could travel with you, and I'll always have the Frontrunner to take me where I need to go, or work from. Everything on it is secure." She hesitated and traced her finger around the rim of the glass, clearly anxious. With their schedules, despite technically sharing a residence on Dosuun, they saw each other infrequently. Perhaps that was the way it ought to have been, but Natasi couldn't help but think that there was more.

Then again, they might discover after being in close quarters for a longer period of time on this trip, that they annoyed the stuffing out of one another and that to pursue closer co-habitation would be a mistake. Only the Balance knew.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

His hands rested easily on her resting legs.

Part of him was scared how easy he had become comfortable with her, how fast his guard was letting down -- oh, [member="Natasi Fortan"] probably thought it was slow, but for him... after what had happened with Nephthys and Sinistra... the fact that that heart was opening up yet again. If it surprised anyone it was him. -- and how there weren't any regrets to be felt. Yet, the other part of him, the Sith part, the one who constantly searched and looked for challenges:

Carach welcomed it.

Once again someone who was a match for him, in one way or another, and the Sith Lord in him would never have settled for anything less than that.

"I have... actually been thinking about that, Natasi." Darell responded after another moment of thought. "No decision has been made yet, but, I have been pondering about taking a step back from Iron Crown."

A smile and a shrug followed in response to her, probably perplexed, expression.

"Not selling ownership, of course, but perhaps let the daily business be run by trusted individuals. It would give me more time for... other, perhaps more important business?"

The last portion of the sentence was inclined into a raise, a question inflected in the meaning.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

For all their differences, they were in many ways a matched set. Natasi, too, had found herself somewhat surprised by the ease with which she and Irani got on. What had started as a business arrangement had developed rather naturally into a friendship. Their relationship was indeed founded on an enthusiasm for politics and economics, business and industry, but it was more than that now. He had thrown her a life line and taken a risk on her when no one else in the galaxy would. He was there for her in the immediate aftermath of the inquiry into the Imogen affair -- when none of her other friends was anywhere to be seen. He had unknowingly distracted her from the significant heartache of watching the man she loved love someone else. He had saved her life, not just from the assassins who had attempted to strike at her that fateful evening, but also in those weeks following the Bespin summit when she thought that there wasn't enough left in life to bother with the trouble of it.

And every time he distracted her from the specter of Captain Arandil, whose face and voice, hands and instruments of torture still haunted her dreams. She suppressed a shiver as the shuttle cut through the atmosphere, standing up to get her coat, pulling it around her slender frame without putting her arms through the sleeves, so it sat like a cape, all this while he answered her. As she settled back into her seat across from him and again put her feet up on his lap. It was an intimate motion, one that Natasi couldn't have imagined doing before she had done, once, on an affectionate impulse, and had liked his response.

His answer took her by surprise. Natasi's eyes widened a little, her eyebrows lifting with surprise. A step back from Iron Crown? Natasi looked up at him, perplexed, across the table. "What -- ?" she asked, but fell silent when he continued. "What other business are you thinking of pursuing?" Natasi asked, her eyes narrowing a little. "Or aren't I allowed to ask that?" she amended, furrowing her eyebrows. He could be secretive, at times; perhaps this was an instance when she needed to mind her own business.

[member="Darell Irani"]

 

[Jairus Starvald]

It was a foreign thought to him, truly.

But every moment Irani found himself occupied with Iron Crown was a moment he wasn't occupied with [member="Natasi Fortan"] and her little, amusing peculiarities. The way she cared about the little things, the funny things, from anyone else it would have been a joke and, yet, it only endeared her more to him. Perhaps that was exactly what Darell needed, having someone around him that cared about things he had never even thought about.

His head cocked slightly, puzzlement apparent, before a smile broke through.

Sometimes it amazed the Sith how clueless-

No, not clueless, never that. It was simply a lack of awareness when it came to herself, she did not think herself worthy, so she could not even consider that others did.

"Us." Irani finally said, matter-of-factly as always, like it was the most obvious thing in the world for him. "The more I time spend with ICE, the less time I can spend with you."

A shrug followed.

"I figured you would like it, if I stepped back and paid more attention to us."

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi sensed a trap.

She studied [member="Darell Irani"] over the rim of her glass, her dark eyes probing but -- hopefully -- not suspicious-looking. She set her glass down and pulled her cloak tighter around her slender frame. Outside, the windows were beginning to collect frost and snowflakes; they were entering the wintry atmosphere. It was hard to keep her face stoic, because what he said was actually quite touching, in its way. He had seemed content to let 'us' develop at its own pace, with minimal interference or nurturing.

Like wildflower.

Which was better, she supposed, than actively trying to kill it.

Like an out-of-control ivy or weed.

She had tried hard to avoid being seen as needy, to put too much pressure on him, to be a woman without being too much of a woman. The Grand Moff glanced to the window, her dark eyes searching the clouds beyond, her lips turning up at the edges. "Before I answer that -- and I will -- you don't think you'd be bored, without a business empire to run in your day-to-day?" She sat up and reached across the table, placing her hand in his larger one. "I mean, I'm quite something," she said impishly, a little smirk crawling onto her lips as she mimed primping her bobbed hair with her free hand. "But I'm not sure you'd find it an equal trade-off."

Natasi paused. "But of course I'd love if we could spend more time together. It's been awhile since I moved in and I know we talked before -- before everything got so busy -- about perhaps looking for a place of our own, instead of living in an hotel all our lives." She smirked at this; it was quite scandalous to be living in a hotel with a man -- even if it did have a second bedroom. But her discussing actually getting a house together -- more realistically, a flat, but still -- seemed to be even more scandalous.

Even so; Natasi's blind obedience to tradition and Galidraani cultural mores had cost her rather a lot. She would let it guide her, but not force her. It was like a parent and Natasi, now a grown woman, could remember its lessons but let go of its hand and choose her own path. She would make mistakes, to be sure, but she would make her own mistakes.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

It was quite easy to simply follow her look outside and avoid to read her expression.

As easy as it was for a mentalist who had to become quite proficient at, at least, not seeming to read someone's mind when he knew exactly what was playing directly opposite from him. She wasn't unlike him in many ways -- guarded and always looking for a reason behind a reason, to find the inner workings of a word or a sentence or even an action played out. He couldn't fault [member="Natasi Fortan"] for that, as it would be quite hypocritical. So patience was all that remained, while Darell waited for her to speak her... mind, quite literally.

And there it came.

It was, once again, carefully laid out and expressed in such a way as to avoid any needless needling. Natasi was good at that, diplomacy... when she wanted to, at least.

"Oh, I am sure I will find something to do." He replied with a smile, before shrugging and looking out the window once again. His hand curled around hers, and tightened just slightly there.

"I have been playing around with setting up a charity within the First Order space, maybe. A foundation to support the civilian population?"

Of course it was never as simple as that, especially not with a Sith Lord. There would be ulterior motives, plots circling around other plots, but the beautiful PR expressed by trying to aid the civilians of the First Order was not to be understated.

"Hmm... yes, I think it's time to find us a pretty place to settle, any ideas on that front?"

 

[Natasi Fortan]

"I thought I was your only charity case," said Natasi with a smirk. She liked to think that their business arrangement, negotiated all those months ago at Bespin, had resulted in a net benefit to Iron Crown Enterprises, but even so, he had taken a chance on her, when he would have been more than justified in telling her where to put her proposed business plan.

"But if you like. There's going to be a war, one way or another, with some galactic power or another. It's just the nature of a successful empire. A charitable organization to help provide assistance with the aftermath of conflict would be helpful, and even if there isn't a war, some sort of gesture to the working classes wouldn't go amiss." She paused for a moment, her gaze thoughtful as she looked at [member="Darell Irani"] without really looking at him. After a few moments she blinked herself back into focus.

On an impulse, Natasi stood and moved to sit next to him on the bench, where she wrapped her arms around his shoulders in an awkward sitting embrace. "You wouldn't mind living in Avalonia, or nearby? We could get an apartment or penthouse, off the ground floor, and upgrade the security." She let her arms unwind and rested her hands in her lap, fingers clenching anxiously. She did not want to remember that horrible attack, but it reared its ugly head every so often, like a reminder of her mortality.

"Perhaps the Park District," she said, forcing a note of cheer into her voice to combat memories of Arandil and that night.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

"I suppose Annaj is a little bit too far away from the Order's seat of power." Irani mused to himself, before extending his hand and curling it around hers. She had small hands - at least compared to his - and that equally amused and concerned him. It was her fragility which was of concern, he was used to dealing with Sith Lords... the occasional Jedi Master, but [member="Natasi Fortan"] was quite mortal compared to all of that.

Difficult and Darell wondered if there wasn't anything they could do about it.

Or rather, if she would accept him doing something about it.

"A penthouse on Avalonia sounds excellent, dear, I have never been much for ground-level houses, honestly. One floor, up in the skies and looking over the skyline." He continued, a dreamy pitch entering the tone. "It always felt quite exhilarating to be able to watch over everyone, in a metaphorical sense."

"Let's look for a good place after this perhaps?"

If there was one thing you could say about Irani, it was that he didn't wait for very long. If he saw something, he took it and if his mind was made up on a course of action... he simply did it.

No waits, no confusion or doubts.

Just plain action with all his force behind it.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

As his hand enveloped hers, Natasi couldn't help but feel -- not for the first time, and probably not for the last -- that she was breakable, like spun glass. It was an unusual, unsettling feeling for Natasi Fortan, a Grand Moff who was used to being the most powerful person in any room. [member="Darell Irani"] was not just larger than she in terms of size, but there was something about him, about his presence. He had always been a dynamic presence, but since Natasi's discovery of his status as a Sith, there had been something changed between them. Her religion was inherently distrustful of those gifted with sensitivity to the Force; they were offensive to the Balance because they had their thumbs on the scale.

He was dangerous. She knew that because she had seen the bodies he left on the floor of her flat, the remains of the assassination team sent by the Resistance. Natasi didn't feel personally threatened by him, exactly, but there was something odd about sitting calmly with her hand in the hand of a man who could crush her with his hands or his mind. She wasn't afraid that he would but her view of the Sith indicated that their loyalties were fleeting. He seemed to have separated his Sith...ness... from himself as a man. Or perhaps she had simply been exposed to the wrong kind of Sith before Irani.

Natasi stared sightlessly out the viewport. If she had been paying attention, she'd have seen the shuttle emerging from the cloud cover into a swirling snowstorm, then seen the trees and cityscape emerge from the fog as the shuttle approached the spaceport. She realized after two minutes of silence that she had not answered. She blinked herself back into the present and smiled. "I'd like that," she answered in a hoarse whisper. She cleared her throat and went on: "I'll have Sioux start pulling options. The Security Bureau will need to vet whatever options we have for security. Don't worry," she said, holding up a hand. "I'll ask them to keep their security measures to the absolute least-intrusive."

With a slight bump, the shuttle touched down and Natasi glanced at her watch. "Oh, have we arrived already?" She worked her feet back into her shoes. "I'm suddenly rather excited about all this."

 

[Jairus Starvald]

His mind was already on the apartment they were going to get.

It was strange, how easy this had come to him after a period of acclimatization, yet it felt right. There was still the whine at the back of his mind, the scratch that itched once his mind was unfocused and left drifting. Faces rising up from the shadows and reminding him of other possibilities. Of things that could have been, but were left unsaid or which fate had deemed necessary to cut out completely. Names on his tongue, but never spoken anymore. They were the past, weren't they?

"I have full confidence in Sioux and her taste." Darell responded absent-mindedly, before slowly rising as the their destination was slowly coming into view. He loomed only for a moment. Then she was pulled up and against him, the embrace was tender and delicately short.

A peck on the cheek followed soon after.

"This will be fun, dare I say it." The whisper concluded in her ear and then the Sith detached himself. Instead reaching for his coat, to put it on and readying himself for what was to come.

It mattered little that this was [member="Natasi Fortan"]'s family and that they were not the enemy. Because his instincts were at work here and currently they were whispering to him -- entering the lion's den without backup of any kind, he had even left his forcesaber behind. Still had his mind, Darell supposed, but it was the principle of the matter. You could never be too cautio- well, unless you were dining with your soon-to-be relatives.

"Shall we?" He offered his arm.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Natasi lifted a scarf off the chair and tossed it over [member="Darell Irani"]'s head, winding it around his neck and then fashioning it into a stylish knot. "You must be careful, dearheart, winters at Chiltenham might be on the mild side, but here in the city it gets positively bitter." She wound her own scarf around her neck and tied it fashionably before allowing Irani to help her into her fur, a stylish black fur coat that made her shoulders appear much broader, dwarfing her slender frame. She then placed a brimmed hat on, pinning it in place with a hat pin. "Sometimes I envy you men. Put on your jacket and you're ready. Meanwhile we women have got to reinvent the wheel." She peered into a mirror on the back of the private cabin's door, then sighed. "That will have to do."

The Grand Moff picked up her handbag with one hand, holding it in the crook of her elbow as she picked up the red box with her other hand.

Luckily, since they were not in First Order space, they were not harassed by photographers and well-wishers. By now, the public and the press had put two and two together where it regarded Natasi and Irani's relationship. There had been rumblings in the First Order government establishment, who were suspicious of an outsider like Irani. He had done the First Order a good turn, to be sure, but he could not be considered an insider by any means, despite his connection to the Grand Moff. There would be tears before bedtime, Natasi suspected, but as far as she was concerned, she had worked for the First Order hard enough and long enough to have earned the ability to please herself in her personal life. She would not, after all, propose to offer Irani an official position in the First Order.

She emerged from the cabin and descended the steps to the landing pad, shivering violently and watching while a set of porters carrying their luggage out of the shuttle. As they settled into the back of the hired car, Natasi turned to Darell. "Don't worry, Sioux will be coordinating with my security detail. I've seen her apartment, you wouldn't want her involved in any, shall we say, aesthetic decisions." She paused, looking out the window. "Come to think of it, you lived in a hotel. I assume they handled the interior decor, so how do I know I can trust your aesthetic decisions?"