Faction Naboo Cultural Exchange

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Tag: Cybelle Sal-Soren Briana Sal-Soren
Attire: Link​

Brandyn remained among the trees until he was certain help was coming.

Below, through the fading awareness of his other self, he could feel movement approaching across the estate. Distant minds were drawing nearer, and with them came the certainty that neither Cybelle would be left alone for long. The doppelgänger shifted carefully and lowered both women to the ground with a gentleness that seemed almost obscene after everything that had happened. The darker of the two received little more than that, but his attention lingered upon the other. Pale, bloodied, breathing shallowly, she looked impossibly small beneath him.

His hand hovered above her before his fingers slipped gently into her hair. There was no apology in the gesture and nothing remotely large enough to repair what he had done. It was only the smallest crack in whatever had hardened inside him, an old tenderness reaching for her before he could think better of it. His fingers never completed the motion. The doppelgänger faded beneath the touch, dissolving into nothing before the action could be completed

Among the trees, Brandyn exhaled as the strain vanished with it. Freed from sustaining another body, he drew the Force around himself and Gianna instead. Light bent strangely across his outline, flowing around them rather than striking them, while his presence in the Force narrowed and folded inward until even his grief became difficult to sense.

But Gianna refused to cooperate.

She cried against his chest with everything her tiny lungs possessed, and Brandyn stared down at her with a helplessness that would have been almost comical anywhere else. "Please," he whispered, shifting her awkwardly and attempting the sort of gentle bounce he had seen his mother perform a hundred times. It accomplished nothing. He tried murmuring something soothing, but he could not remember any of the songs she used, and his hands suddenly seemed absurdly large around his daughter.

At last he touched one finger to the side of her face. Gianna continued crying, though her eyes found his and remained there. Brandyn froze beneath that tiny, unwavering stare.

He saw Cybelle gasping beneath his hand. He saw the blood beneath her fingernails, Bastila recoiling from him, Velda suffering pain that had never belonged to her. Every righteous certainty he had carried into that moment suddenly looked small and filthy beneath the eyes of his daughter. Gradually, her crying softened and then ceased altogether. Gianna simply watched him, and Brandyn could not decide whether the judgment in her eyes was real or whether he had finally begun judging himself.

─────────────── ⟡ ◈ ⟡ ───────────────​

The workshop was dark when he entered later that morning, though Briana had left enough of herself behind to make its ownership obvious. A half-disassembled component sat beside a precision tool, a datapad had been abandoned beneath a stack of schematics, and one of her gloves had been tossed carelessly across the corner of a workbench.

Brandyn moved past them and found what he wanted beneath a dust cover at the rear of the room.

For several minutes he worked in silence, restoring connections and coaxing power back into dormant systems. Then the machine moved. Its head lifted and blue light awakened behind its eyes. "State your directive."

Brandyn looked down at Gianna. "Protect Gianna Sal-Soren at all costs. You answer to me and me alone."

The machine regarded him calmly. "Directive received."

 

[Devi Jyn-tal]

​

L O C A T I O N:
Interacting with: Rathir
Mikkian

Remind me to reread common conversational topics when meeting new people, Diva told herself as she walked away, chiding herself with the proper amount of internal aghast at what she had brought up in discussion.

At least, until the Mikkian heard someone call her name -- wait that actually happens and not just in holomovies? -- and she gave a half turn to look back at who it was --

Oh, it was the kid.

Her golden eyes went wide, and she half wondered for half a second if it would be worse to dart off and try to hide or if she should just brace herself to take it.

She didn't get enough time to decide because Rathir was quick! Before the Jedi Vanguard knew it, the Firrerreo had already caught up to her, and now she was stuck socializing again after embarrassing herself.

Nek take it!

"Aye, I am fine." She finally replied with a half sigh, waving it off with a hand gesture. "Sometimes my mouth runs away before my brain vetts whatever I am saying." she admitted.

However hearing that Rathir thought it was rather funny what she said was enough to have the Mikkian flash the kid an amused incredulous look.

"You don't get out much do you?" It was a rather blunt question, mainly because like recognized like and she was from a distant Outer Rim backwater world, and she also didn't get out much.

"I apologize, I don't tend to have the best social skills with other sapients."

 

[Addison Porte]

YOUR_STORY
​

"See ya!" Addy voiced as Devi Jyn-tal was the first to peel away from the little impromptu group formed, then Rathir also excused himself rather quickly to follow after the Mikkian. That left her and the lovebirds just standing there. Awkward.

Addison could sense that her brother was deeply in love with his girlfriend and the sibling did not want to spoil their reunion. Being a third wheel was not a good position to be in so letting them just enjoy their company would be the best thing at this point.

Hazel-brown eyes looked over to where Lira was still having fun with her friends, then the brandy gaze went down to the Taanabian's wrist chrono before setting them back onto Aiden Porte and Alina Grayson .

The brunette downed the rest of her cold brew before speaking up. "Seems I need to get going as well... I'm seeing an old friend here tonight."

What?... It was the truth from a certain point of view. Addison wasn't just ditching them, well kinda but there was truly someone that deserved her attention this night of all nights. Belated.

"Again it was a pleasure to meet you, Alina," Addy smiled warmly at the other female Jedi, then nodded to her twin. "I'll catch you later, Aiden. Say goodnight to Lira for me."

And with that, Addison gave a farewell wave as she strolled off further into the market, then the Porte turned right to take a path that would lead her to the Monument of the Fallen...

It was time to pay her respects to their father, who had sacrificed himself to save Naboo.

{Exit - Thanks for the interaction.}

 

[Rathir]

THE HIGH REPUBLIC

RATHIR
JEDI INITIATE • LIVING FORCE

LOCATION E'EEVERWEST ESTATE ◆ OBJECTIVE THE NIGHT MARKET

────────────────────────────────────────────​

"Yeah, I get what you mean," Rathir muttered.

Devi's comment sounded familiar enough that Rathir gave a quiet laugh as he kept pace beside her, his attention wandering across the food stalls ahead. The smells were still amazing, despite the amount he had eaten earlier; he could definitely still fit more meat sticks. He glanced to Devi when she made her blunt observation.

"Not much, no. It's basically been the temple or Theed since I got here," he admitted. "Oh, I've only been with the Jedi about a year. Before that I was mostly on Denon."

Rathir glanced down for a moment after that, though the quiet didn't last. He offered Devi a smile as he shook his head. "Why apologise? You seem alright to me. You walked up to a bunch of strangers at a toy stall and started talking to us. And if I didn't think you were nice, I'd still be over there."

Rathir began angling toward a nearby stall serving something roasted as they walked. "Where are you from?"

────────────────────────────────────────────​

TAGS
Devi Jyn-tal ​

FIRRERREO • FORM V • JEDI INITIATE​

 

[Devi Jyn-tal]

​

L O C A T I O N:
Interacting with: Rathir
Mikkian

So he was almost the same as me?

The dark brows rose in intrigue, the violet sigil painted in between them gently rising.

"Denon?" Honestly, the name did not ring a bell, and it showed in her expression. She gave a slight grimace in apology even as Rathir told her there was no need to. The subsequent praise only seemed to make a darker, ruddy golden hue grow over her cheeks.

"Ah... well. Things tend to be different here than out in Wild Space or the farther reaches of the Outer Rim." She admitted, her free hand coming up to rub the back of her neck.

"Oh, I was born on Mikkia, but I was also brought into the temple at a young age -- but I spent most of my training with my Master traveling. She is a Wayseeker, so that meant more rural interactions. Not really used to big fancy worlds like these." She admitted, although as they continued their walk, it was the scent of roasting, savory meat that prompted Devi's head tendrils to give a sort of perky sway, almost as if one could visually see how they were sensing the area around her and processing that information.

And while certainly scent wasn't a function of them, the Mikkian's stomach and nose had already decided they were on the hunt for some food. A closer observation would reveal that they were grilled nuna-chunks and bantha cubes with root vegetables paired with alliums.

Definitely the sort of smell that made one's mouth water.

"Want some skewers? On me." she offered Rathir. "Figured talking would be easier if we both have the excuse of eating when we feel as if the awkward pauses are too much."

It was a joke... but then again, not really.

 

[Aselia Verd]

The kiss against her hand stole a fraction of the smugness from Aselia's expression.

Her fingers curled lightly around Adelle's as she was led onto the floor, blue eyes following her with an unmistakable warmth that had very little to do with the crowded ballroom around them. Whatever answer she might have given to the warning about danger was momentarily lost when Adelle drew her closer, one hand settling beneath Aselia's shoulders as the opening notes of the waltz carried them into motion.

She fell easily into Adelle's rhythm, her free hand finding its place against her girlfriend while the space between them remained decidedly smaller than the dance demanded. The evening had already surprised her once by making formal clothes and diplomatic obligations seem almost enjoyable. Adelle apparently intended to make certain the trend continued.

"I was going to say you're perfectly safe," she murmured, amusement warming her voice as they moved through the first turn. "But apparently you enjoy thinking otherwise." Her gaze held Adelle's as the movement carried them past another pair, Aselia adjusting without much thought before settling comfortably back into the closeness Adelle had chosen.

"I don't know." Her hand shifted slightly against Adelle, fingertips resting with easy familiarity. "A dance seems like a suspiciously small payment after promising to make up the evening to me." There was no real demand behind it, just the same teasing they had been trading since arriving. If anything, Aselia seemed perfectly content with the arrangement exactly as it was. Her attention drifted briefly across Adelle's face before returning to her beautiful mismatched eyes, the rest of the room becoming little more than movement and music at the edges of her awareness.

Aselia said, her voice lowering a little as they continued through the waltz, "I'm starting to think being in your debt might not be the worst place to end up." Her expression softened after that, the teasing easing without disappearing entirely. "Though if you keep holding me this close, I may have to reassess who owes who."

TAG: Adelle Bastiel
Outfit: [X]
​

 

[Rathir]

THE HIGH REPUBLIC

RATHIR
JEDI INITIATE • LIVING FORCE

LOCATION E'EEVERWEST ESTATE ◆ OBJECTIVE THE NIGHT MARKET

────────────────────────────────────────────​

Rathir noticed the little lift of Devi's tendrils before the smell reached him properly, and the skewers ahead explained where her attention had gone. He was already drifting closer to the stall when she offered to pay.

"Definitely. Thanks." His grin returned at the suggestion. "And that's probably a good system. I can eat through a lot of awkward pauses."

While he looked over the skewers, Rathir remembered the uncertainty on her face when he'd mentioned Denon. "Denon's a Core world. Basically all city. It looks fancy, but it's really rough if you aren't up in the expensive towers."

He nodded toward one of the bantha skewers. "Bantha for me."

What she'd said about her training interested him more. Travelling from place to place with a Wayseeker sounded very different from the year Rathir had spent around Naboo.

"You travelled that much with your Master?" His eyebrows lifted as he looked back to Devi. "What was your favourite place?"

────────────────────────────────────────────​

TAGS
Devi Jyn-tal ​

FIRRERREO • FORM V • JEDI INITIATE​

 

[Derek Dib]

The young woman met his gaze for the second time, this time without the shifting demeanor honed by the highborn playing at their game of peek-a-boo. No, this woman openly met his gaze, not quite defiantly and definitely not wantonly, but there was an undertone of genteel sparring felt between the crimson and amber gazes. Almost as though the opening test had been performed between duelists or game masters. When she returned her gaze to the fire dancers, he almost considered his musings an overreaction from an overactive imagination.

And then he watched her lips curl ever so slightly, and his own face twitched in an equal sign of amusement. So he was not incorrect in his previous assessment. Especially as she chose not to react to his continued appreciation of the Zorren form before him. The woman had proven intuitive when she was watched. Her lack of response to his continued vigilance implied they were now engaged in the game. One that may amount to nothing of significance, or lead to an interaction that he may find favorably enjoyable. However, only time would tell.

For a moment he considered the odds of encountering another Zorren. Derek was not unfamiliar with the species; in the days of the Confederacy, he had met several integrated into the hierarchy. But that had been decades ago. His only recent interaction had been through his brother, and that was much more recent. The galaxy was a large place, and the Force worked in mysterious ways. Yet he didn't consider either a factor. Veradune was part of the High Republic, just as Siskeen, and this was a High Republic event after all.

His gaze continued to roam the gathering, though his attention never truly left the woman. As she raised her glass, he caught the faint crease in her brows and felt the twitch of his lips. Even a look of disconcertion did not affect her beauty. Her decision to move to the tables with an assortment of refreshments wasn't unanticipated. This was a festival with a plethora of libations. But when she exchanged her empty flute for another, he arched a brow. Several servers wandered the party with fresh beverages and trays for empty glasses; she chose the tables instead.

The woman still hadn't returned his semi-obvious gaze and moved to a point that separated them by a handful of meters. Unintentional or carefully orchestrated, he wasn't sure. And while it could have been mere chance, the thought that she had placed herself within a distance that offered an innocent encounter did not flee from consideration. Whatever their origins, the circumstances left him with a choice—one he chose not to act upon just yet.

His hearing picked up her murmur as she tasted the drink she had chosen. "Dangerously easy to underestimate." The words held another meaning to the President of the USC. Here he was, searching for answers, Intel, or even a hint of rumor about his brother, and his attention had strayed from the initial purpose of his attendance. It would be relatively easy to dismiss a woman as nothing more than a convenient, pleasurable distraction for a moment. Yet intuition told him the woman before him was anything but ordinary, which made any underestimation an unlikely outcome. Especially as his interest was piqued, few could capture his attention, yet this unknown woman had. For once, he was willing to allow curiosity to run its natural course.

When her cursory glance fell upon him again, he observed the slightly longer look register more details about him. As she recognized their shared choice of beverage, a slight tilt of her glass combined with an arched brow and smile earned a subdued smile and a raise of his own glass. Their eyes met again, and Derek found the subtle, unspoken invitation irresistibly charming. She turned away, deliberately angled in such a way as not to close the door at his potential approach.

Not to let a seemingly benign, fortuitous opportunity pass unclaimed, he walked over to stand beside her, his body angled toward her as he gazed at the smooth, glass-like surface of the lake.

"It would appear we are at an impasse. There are only so many nonverbal cues we can make before one of us has to commit to the first official greeting. My name is Derek Dib."

He turned his body ever so slightly in her direction and looked upon her from his new vantage point. His previous judgment of her beauty was clearly wrong. Upon closer inspection, he recategorized her as breathtaking. They were nearly the same height, which was an oddity for his height, but no less a pleasant discovery. Her eyes were mesmerizing up close, the soft golden-amber glow hard to break away from. However, given the circumstances of their meeting, he understood that the two, more than likely, came from completely different worlds, the terminology an unintentional pun.

With his introduction of the next move on the board, he waited patiently for her next move and response.

Rhea Taal

 

[Adon Sol]

Adon had considered leaving several times.

There was little reason to remain once the physicians assured him the antiserum had worked. Kitt was stable, the poison neutralised, and whatever had drawn her beneath the estate was decidedly none of his business. He certainly had no intention of asking. Still, walking away before she woke felt discourteous. So Adon remained beside the bed, hands clasped behind his back, watching the monitors and occasionally wondering why basic decency had such inconvenient consequences.

When she finally stirred, his attention shifted towards her. He watched in silence as she began tugging irritably at the monitoring leads. "Unfortunately."

The corner of his mouth twitched. There was something quietly satisfying about seeing Kitt Solo reduced, temporarily, to a hoarse voice, unruly hair, and limbs that apparently refused to cooperate. She had always possessed an extraordinary ability to enter a room and immediately behave as though she owned it.

Adon reached over and calmly returned one of the leads she had dislodged. "I wouldn't." His brow lifted. "You've been considerably less troublesome unconscious."

Kitt Solo

​

 

[Lancel Atria]

Anger held Lancel rigid while she spoke. It ought to have kept him where he stood, too, yet somewhere between one confession and the next he began to move.

He approached her slowly, almost resentfully, as though each step were an accusation against his better judgement. It was intolerable that even now, with distrust curdling everything between them, he should still feel that same base and ungovernable attraction which had plagued him from the beginning. He had known beautiful women, pursued them and been pursued by them, and generally found desire a remarkably obedient thing. Calypso alone had made it mutinous.

His eyes betrayed him once, passing over her before returning sternly to her face.

Yet the nearer he came, the less important that desire seemed, because finally...Lancel listened.

For perhaps the first time, he did not interrupt her. The anger remained upon his face, though gradually something in it faltered. She was not trying to win an argument. She was placing something breakable into his hands, and the spoiled young lord who had spent his life expecting the world to surrender whatever pleased him found, to his considerable discomfort, that he had no wish to take anything from her at all.

Whether her story was true or not, his expression softened with each revelation. Lancel, quite remarkably, read the moment for what it was. In the long time since they had met, he was finally seeing the woman beneath his obsession.

Quite suddenly, it hardened again. "Thyferra happened."

Something had risen in the place of his passion, and desire, something Lancel could not quite elucidate, but he would later understand it to be selflessness.

His gaze shifted past her, thoughts already racing far beyond the orchard. "There will be people asking questions about you which I cannot answer." He frowned, beginning to pace before her. "Mother cannot know of this. Not yet. Perhaps not ever."

Faustus intruded upon the thought. His brother. Her hand in his death. Lancel refused to think of it.

"Have you somewhere to go?" he asked instead, turning sharply back toward her. "If this becomes known, if someone should come for you, have you a ship, credits, another name? Anything?"

"Do we have a way to get you out, should the need arise?"

| Outfit: xxx | Tag: Taera 'Calypso' |​