Faction Naboo Cultural Exchange

[Kameron Angellus]

Oh, the things that I do for my family… and by my family, I mean myself, for my own pleasure, of course. Of course there IS, Auntie Alyksandra, she holds the purse strings, and I have to make sure I keep her happy, or else… well, you know how it is. Events like these can be fun, but I have to actually talk to people who I would normally point and laugh at. I mean, it's not like I'm a monster, I just like to keep to my kind of people, you know? LIke myself. I'm not a bad person, I just have to make sure I don't get caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, you know.

Maybe the people around me are nice, that is not the issue, they are just so “flavor of the month” and BORING.

… but Auntie Alyksandra would have my head on a plate if I didn't show up, so here I am, wishing I was anywhere else but here and being the good little nephew I am so that I get the inheritance I am due. Unlike her little miscreant son Michael Angellus . I mean LOOK at him, he’s actually trying to fine himself a girl here. HERE. I miss the Core, they had better girls down there, and they were actually worth talking to and not just showing up to get my inheritance.

The things I have to do for family indeed.

| Outfit: xxx | Tag: OPEN |​

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Sophelia Ardemark Cerys Dyn Persephone Dashiell
​

"Okay, nice to meet you!" Elian voiced, giving a small wave, as Persephone moved along, and he watched Cerys move down the stairs, clearly she didn't do stuff like this very often. Elian had spent enough time in these sorts of things to read behavior, either the word lovely struck her wrong. Or she was incredibly anti social.

Elian shrugged his shoulders, the hug from Soph was a welcome one. She began talking about the memoria, and Elian found himself speaking up quickly. "Oh yes! It's coming along, the uh....." He trailed off, catching his excitement, and ceasing that notion. "Well, we can talk about that later."

Elian followed down the stairs, moving towards the bar. It was going to be one of those nights he though, best get some whiskey in him. Requesting one before making his way back to their group. He looked over to Cerys with a small nod. "Music is nice, what do you think?" Elian inquired, light and polite. He raised the glass to his lips, taking a small sip.

​

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

Tags: Open​

Cassian remained at the docks for a few moments longer, watching the last traces of evening light dance across the water. Eventually, he pushed himself away from the railing and slipped his hands into his pockets. The distant sound of music and laughter carried across the evening air, drawing his attention toward the warm glow of the bonfire.

He started toward it at an unhurried pace, following the growing light as more people gathered for the celebration of Set and Vere. Cassian still wasn't entirely certain he belonged among them tonight, but standing alone on the docks wasn't going to provide him with any answers either. He just had to remind himself if things got to heavy, that he needed to vacate immediately.

As he drew closer, the warmth of the bonfire reached him, accompanied by laughter, conversation. The corner of Cassian's mouth lifted into the faintest smirk. "A drink first." he murmured quietly to himself. He noted a few people there already, in particular Sibylla, and Aurelian. He gave a faint smile and wave before he moved towards the bar.

"Administrator." Cassian was a little taken back, for the moment. Realizing whom it was, and whom was serving him. His names was Bren Talor "No, just Cassian, the rest of that stuff is in question." Cassian voiced easily enough as he requested a shot of whiskey. "Regardless, whatever it may be, its good to see you." Cassian had to ask. "Are you still at our old Intelligence joint?"

"Oh yes! My bartending skills are so good, they hired me here for the evening. I'm glad you are well, many in the Intelligence department were relieved to find out that you are okay."

Cassian raised the glass to him. "Thank you, truly. And, well if you are serving drinks, then everyone is in good hands then." He lightly tapped it on the bar top before downing the shot.

 

[Derek Dib]

Naboo. A planet of affluent elegance and a facade of sympathetic care. Was it always so? He couldn't remember a time it wasn't. It was easy to remain separate, aloof, in the throng of extravagantly attired and politically encumbered individuals. His brother had his battlefield. He had his. This fit better with his skill set. However, he wasn't inclined to rub proverbial elbows this evening. If anything, it was a fact-finding mission. While he knew his brother, and by extension Rin, was alive, there was a lack of information about their whereabouts at the moment. And so, Derek Dib chose to leave Olanet within the Siskeen System and search out answers amidst the decadently depraved upper echelon of High Republic society.

One thing he enjoyed about events as extravagant as this was the ability to blend in and become incognito. Unless you were grandstanding, abasing yourself as you maneuvered for position, or one of the faces of the aristocracy, you could remain inconspicuous. He took full advantage of this and watched the interactions as he eased through the crowd. The days of recognition were as distant as the Confederacy. Instead, he was only a visitor and sojourner in the lavish surroundings of Naboo.

The crimson tie accented the midnight black suit and shirt. Black hair contrasted with his pale skin, while the glowing ruby eyes drew more than one concerned glance, especially after Thyferra. Normally, the man would take the time to assuage first impressions and introduce himself. But tonight was not that night. Instead, he wore the cloak of mystique and an ominous aura as a shield from casual encounters. There was no desire for superflucious chit-chat or lets get to know one another introductory conversations. The polished sheen of his boots carried him around the room, left hand sheathed in his pants pocket while the other carried a flute of emerald wine of Alderaanian origin.

From the corner of one crimson eye, he spotted a figure familiar to him and to others close to the man. The Jedi, Master Katarine Ryiah , who stood in an elegant gown, looking more than a little out of sorts. He knew her as a Jedi investigator, someone who felt deep compassion for those caught in the grip of criminals, underworld organizations, and the Sith. Briefly, he wondered when she had reemerged from where she had disappeared to. He considered going to greet her, but their relationship was fraught with the circumstances of their shared involvement with Muad Dib. It was a delicate situation, especially when you considered her former paramour. No, he chose to allow her to slip away onto one of the balconies before moving on.

As he moved through the Cultral Exchange, as the event was being lauded, he watched an echani Jedi in a shimmering dress move across the room, a thigh and hip revealing pale flesh in the intentionally desinged evening wear. She was young, certainly in comparison to his lifespan. There was no desire to approach her for conversation. And by the looks of many of the opposite sex, she wouldn't remain solitary for long. Long strides carried him from room to room, the marble floor absorbing the sounds of footfalls and dancing partners as music threaded through the event.

Royalty entered, diplomats mingled, politicians laughed over drinks, and Jedi in various forms of formal evening wear socialized with one another. He found he had no taste for the gala's stifling atmosphere and left. The market bustled with stalls selling baubles, clothing, trinkets, and food. The press of the crowd was unpleasant this evening, so he moved off the beaten path and followed one of the stone walkways, letting the cool breeze ease the fevered skin that was the only external sign of his discomfort and annoyance at having decided to attend.

Ahead, a large bonfire grew in his approach. A crowd gathered around the offered warmth and light. Not pressed together, the loose gathering afforded less intimate accommodations while remaining easily approachable and cordial. To the side, a cleared area held couples and strangers dancing to the music filling the evening air. The ambiance was comforting and less refined than the interior of the party, and he allowed himself to near the crowd while staying removed from the libations. A sigh escaped as he realized the likelihood of him gleaning any information about his brother's whereabouts was infinitesimally small.

In no mood to partake of the revelry, he decided to finish his drink, maybe allow another, and then to find an innocuous exit. Fire dancers moved to the left of the bonfire and began their intricate dance, weaving flaming rods around their bodies to the crowd's excited response. Crimson-hued eyes scanned the crowd as he took a sip of his wine, his gaze finding a woman who almost startled him out of his resigned reverie. Pointed ears and amber eyes with an internal glow, as brown hair fell in waves. A furred tail slitting a tastefully elaborate dress that shimmered from blue to black beneath the lamp lights, firelight, and stars. A small frown momentarily creased his lips, only to smooth away in disappointment. For a moment, he thought it was Rin, but this woman stood taller, with refined elegance and bearing. The pointed ears were more defined, and the tail was thicker and shorter. A zorren, certainly. But not the one he met on Olanet.

A brow arched as he appreciated the vision in front of him before he shook his head lightly and turned away. She was young. That seemed to be the story of his life. A very long life, filled with more turbulent relationships than a holo series. Not that he was unhappy. His position rarely allowed him to interact deeply with family or friends. No, he was perfectly content remaining exactly as he was. And his purpose here wasn't for frivolous encounters, catching up with the few people he knew, or searching out new business endeavors. Since the reason for his being here seemed to have come to an abrupt end, he would enjoy his drink and maybe another. Then he would depart for more fortuitous avenues of information.

Rhea Taal

 

[Isar du Vain]

Spoiler

“I’ll have a whiskey and a glass of the golden-bubbled wine.”

“Double fisting this early in the evening?”

The voice came from right behind Sophelia, slightly muffled by a mask.

Notes of lavender and sage drifted through the air around her.

A clucking noise like a tsk, tsk came from behind the mask.

Viscount Idris Tel Idros stood behind her, his own drink in his gloved hand. Mischief glinted in his violet eyes which stared out from within the depths of his mask, the only visible part of his face beyond his locks of red-streaked wine-dark hair.

“What will the other gentry think?”

Sophelia Ardemark

 

[Katarine Ryiah]

"Never Hide Your Heart"

​

Katarine spotted Connel Vanagor almost as soon as he entered the gala, his wife at his side and Buster trailing along with them.

For a moment, she stayed exactly where she was.

There was no anger in the hesitation, only the faint discomfort of old history resurfacing at an inconveniently formal occasion. Their breakup had been long enough ago that it should not have mattered, but Katarine knew better than most that time did not always make things less awkward.

Still, Connel looked happy.

That realization softened something in her. Whatever had existed between them belonged to another chapter now, and avoiding each other forever seemed considerably more ridiculous than simply saying hello. They were bound to cross paths eventually. Perhaps it was better to break the ice here, surrounded by music, expensive clothing, and enough people to make a quick escape if things became painfully uncomfortable.

Katarine took a breath, smoothed a hand over her dress, and crossed the room toward them.

"The Vanagor Family."

A small, cautious smile touched her lips before her attention shifted politely to his wife and then Buster, a brilliant smiling lighting her face at the sight of the pup dressed for the occasion.

"It's nice to see you all here."

Outfit: x | Tags: Rik Perris Connel Vanagor​

 

[Connel Vanagor]

”She’s here…”

I sensed her a half a second before you saw her…

”I hate you, one day I’m going to see something before you sense it.” They were mad, not that she was here walking towards them. They were mad that she was here… okay that made no sense, but context… the history between her and Connel is just that. A part of both of their lives, no shame. Well the rest? We’ll let them enlighten everyone…

“... and you’re here… alive… like you didn’t just disappear and cause a massive search…” It was an anger out of worry, yes, worry.

I pressed every C.I. (confidential informant) I had. Searched every lead, even burned several failsafes and nothing…

“I pulled strings… my father used his old Mandalorian strings… and here you are…” It was an anger out of worry, and an anger that she is just… here…

… at least Buster is happy.

Yeah, go ahead… Buster did that little backwards headbob he does.

“You heard him, baby boy.”

| Outfit: is here | Tag: Katarine Ryiah |​

 

[Katarine Ryiah]

"Never Hide Your Heart"
​

Katarine stopped short.

For a moment she simply stared at them, dark eyes moving from Connel to his wife and back again. The anger caught her completely off guard. Of all the reactions she had prepared herself for when she crossed the room, this had not been one of them.

"Massive search?"

The words came quietly, confusion pulling her brows together.

She had thought no one had looked. It was an ugly little truth she had carried with her since returning, the quiet assumption that she had vanished and the Jedi had simply... continued on. People disappeared. People died. People fell through the cracks between wars and crises and whatever catastrophe happened to be threatening the galaxy that week. This was especially true of Jedi who didn't even fit in the order like her. Katarine Ryiah had simply become another name nobody bothered asking about.

Except apparently she hadn't.

Her gaze flicked toward Connel as he spoke of informants and burned failsafes. Then toward his wife as she mentioned pulling strings. Mandalorian strings, no less. Something inside Katarine shifted. The surprise softened first. Then came something warmer, dangerously close to gratitude, followed almost immediately by a sharp stab of guilt.

"You... looked for me?"

There was no sarcasm in the question. No clever remark waiting behind it. For once Katarine looked almost completely disarmed.

"I didn't know."

She swallowed and glanced away, suddenly finding the floor considerably easier to look at than either of them.

How was she supposed to explain it?

That while they were pressing informants and calling in favors, she had been inside the Black Pyramid? That she had been held prisoner by Darth Carnifex , one of the most dangerous, monstrous men the galaxy had ever produced? There were no strings to pull there. No informant clever enough. No trail to follow.

If Carnifex didn't want someone found, they weren't found.

Not until he was finished with them.

"I'm sorry." The apology seemed difficult for her, but sincere. "I didn't know anyone was worried. If I'd known..." She stopped herself. There hadn't been anything she could have done. That was perhaps the worst part.

Her attention dropped toward Buster instead, and at last something familiar returned to her expression. A genuine little smile appeared as she crouched slightly toward him.

"At least somebody's happy to see me."

She reached toward Buster and scratched his ears, genuinely happy to see the little pup.

Outfit: x | Tags: Rik Perris Connel Vanagor​

 

[Connel Vanagor]

”Neither of us are angry, Ryiah… I mean… I still hate you but…”

Just one of those things is all… it’s actually good to see you’re “okay”.

Maybe it was the influence of his “once” Sith mother, but Connel sensed something in her, something that he couldn’t put his finger on and frankly did not want to. If she wanted anyone to know, she would tell, Kat was like that, and the Kat he knew was a good person so he would not press.

“How are you getting along, do you need anything?” Connel just looked at her surprised.

She doesn’t hate you…

“Yes I do, but more for how you drove him nuts… that doesn’t mean I like seeing people suffer. ” It was the truth. She didn’t like what was done to her husband, but was she supposed to?

Buster was of course circling Kat, he sniffed something he didn’t like, but it was still her. Lira noticed Buster’s shift.

You’re alive… you’re here… that’s it…

| Outfit: is here | Tag: Katarine Ryiah Rik Perris |​

 

[Persephone Dashiell]

Waiting in line for her miniature powdered donuts, Persephone was busy watching the little circles of dough fry. Part of the experience was watching the 'show' as it was if the conveyor belt of fattening treats get made.

Lost in her own world, the socialite nearly jumped when someone just started speaking to her with no real introduction. Head turned to find a boy speaking to her with some of meat on a stick. Slowly she blinked, a little stunned.

Persephone had not brought her bodyguard droid with her, he was waiting outside the perimeter of the event. Now she wished she had.

Instantly she felt a little annoyed. All she had wanted to do was buy some greasy little donuts, find a bench, and wolf down the treats in the most unladylike manner. Maybe do a little people watching.

Nevermind her donuts, he was also uncomfortably close. Especially for a stranger.

"Do you have a condition that requires you to be this close to me?"

Rathir​

 

[Rhea Taal]

The drink in Rhea's hand had lasted considerably longer than she had expected it to. She had taken the occasional sip, but most of her attention remained upon the celebration unfolding around the bonfire. The fire dancers had proven particularly interesting, their movements possessing a precision beneath the spectacle that appealed to someone who had spent much of her life learning exactly what a body could accomplish when movement became discipline rather than conscious thought. She found herself wondering how much of the performance was choreography and how much depended upon adjusting to one another in the moment, following familiar movements while remaining aware of every shift made by those around them.

Her attention shifted when something else brushed against the edges of her awareness. Rhea had long ago stopped attempting to decide where ordinary instinct ended, and her faint sensitivity to the emotions of others began. After more than two centuries of watching people, reading rooms, and negotiating with individuals who sometimes worked very hard to conceal what they were feeling, separating experience from the Force had become nearly impossible. Whatever its source, she knew the sensation of being watched, and while that was hardly remarkable in itself, there was something about this particular attention that caught hers in return. She was a Zorren standing six feet and an inch tall in a gathering where her ears and tail made anonymity unlikely. Curiosity followed her often enough when she traveled away from Veradune that she rarely thought much of it. This felt different.

Rhea's golden-amber eyes moved across the gathering without any abrupt turn of her head, following the direction from which the impression had come until they settled upon a man standing apart with a glass in hand. Black suit, crimson tie, pale skin, and eyes whose ruby glow would have been difficult to overlook even amid the firelight. He had already turned his attention elsewhere by the time she found him, but she let her gaze remain upon him for another moment. There had been surprise there, she thought, and perhaps something fleeting beneath it, though she would not insult a stranger by pretending she could name an emotion from across a gathering merely because the Force occasionally whispered louder than ordinary observation.

He did not carry himself like someone who had come to lose himself in a festival. The distance he maintained from the revelry was familiar enough to Rhea, though perhaps for different reasons than her own. He seemed more observer than participant, despite being dressed appropriately for the company around him, and whatever had brought him to the bonfire did not seem to include much enthusiasm for the dance. The corner of Rhea's mouth lifted almost imperceptibly at the thought that perhaps she was not the only person content to let everyone else do the dancing for the moment.

She looked back toward the performers, allowing the stranger whatever privacy he had attempted to reclaim by turning away. A diplomat learned quickly that noticing someone did not entitle her to demand an explanation for what she noticed, and Rhea had no intention of marching across the gathering simply to ask why a man had looked at her. Still, she found herself aware of where he stood afterward, and the realization amused her more than it probably should have.

Rhea finally raised her glass and took another small sip, her tail shifting once behind the midnight blue of her gown before settling again. She had come expecting an evening of unfamiliar music, Naboo tradition, and perhaps eventually allowing someone to teach her the steps of the dance. She had not expected a mystery, however minor it might ultimately prove. After more than two centuries, unexpected things had become sufficiently rare that she was inclined to appreciate one when it presented itself.

Her eyes drifted toward the dark-haired stranger once more, this time without disguising the glance quite so carefully. If he happened to look back, he would find her watching him in return, neither suspicious nor demanding an introduction, but openly curious enough that she made no effort to pretend otherwise. Perhaps just enough of that curiosity showed in the faint smile touching her lips before her attention returned to the fire dancers and the music surrounding them.

Derek Dib

 

[Katarine Ryiah]

"Never Hide Your Heart"​

She doesn't hate you…

"Yes I do, but more for how you drove him nuts…

​

Katarine thought this was a bit unfair. Their relationship had been full of complications sure, but she wasn’t the only person to take the blame. Connel had been a moody grump who didn’t know how to open up and communicate his feelings.

That wasn’t a conversation Kat wanted to have with his wife however. The other woman was, and rightfully should be, on Connel’s side so the point was moot. It was best to let it go, and for Kat that meant using sarcasm and wit when things got a little too real.

“Is this the part where I am supposed to say let the hate flow through you and laugh manically?”

The corners of her lips turned up in the hint of a smile as she continued to love on Buster. He was sniffing her and acting off. She frowned and wondered if the dog could smell the Siths blood inside her. She swallowed hard, suddenly feeling contaminated again.

For a desperate second she wanted to tell them both what had happened, just so someone knew and she could ease the burden she was carrying, but she wasn’t sure what to say. She had no idea what Carnifex wanted with her, but she was certain he wasn’t just doing her a good deed and putting her addiction at rest. Especially since he had replaced one craving for another. Whatever his plans were it was probably best not to get anybody else involved. She didn’t want anybody to get hurt.

“I am glad you are both doing well too, and Buster of course.”

Outfit: x | Tags: Rik Perris Connel Vanagor​

 

[Connel Vanagor]

She was different, but Connel knew that look. She had an argument to make, but thankfully she let it go. Probably something about him being at fault or driving her nuts or something. Again, it was good she didn’t press because what would it serve? Lira was going to be on his side.

Then she said something troubling, uncharacteristic for her. “Don’t give me ideas, babe.”

Is it? Buster was being Buster, which was always good.

Glad you’re back. Even if it’s just to be weird.

| Outfit: is here | Tag: Katarine Ryiah Rik Perris |​

 

[Katarine Ryiah]

"Never Hide Your Heart"​

Connel certainly knew how to pick women.

Lira struck Katarine as rude and more than a little cocky, particularly with the mocking little babe tacked onto her reply. Then again, considering Mikhail Shorn could have decided to rip the throats out of half the guests in attendance if the mood struck him, Katarine supposed Lira was practically charming by comparison.

The thought of Mikhail brought with it a familiar twist of guilt.

Coruscant still weighed on her. She should have stopped him. It didn't matter that the men he had hurt were crime lords, or that none of them could exactly claim innocence. Katarine had known what Mikhail was capable of, and she had stood by while he crossed lines she should never have allowed him to cross.

Anyone with eyes could probably understand why she cared for the dark man. There had always been something about him that pulled at her despite every warning instinct she possessed.

But affection wasn't absolution.

Caring for him didn't excuse the fact that she had let him get away with literal murder.

Even now, after they had agreed to go their separate ways, her thoughts still found their way back to him. She hoped he was alright, wherever he had wandered off to, though she knew better than to imagine him settled somewhere peacefully. The self-loathing, the drifting, the refusal to stay anywhere long enough to belong, those things were woven too deeply into who Mikhail was.

He wasn't someone you could tie down, and he certainly wasn't someone you could control.

Katarine glanced back toward Lira. By comparison, Kat supposed the woman was perfectly lovely.

Kat still preferred the Sith.

"I read about your new nobility on the holonet. Congratulations."


Awkward.....

Outfit: x | Tags: Rik Perris Connel Vanagor​

 

[Connel Vanagor]

Huh?

Lira just looped her arm in his which seemed to ground his social anxiety for the moment, Connel sucked and small talk and Kat would know it was because he was just socially awkward, something he worked on when he could but often he just let himself be alone or with her when not in a fight. “Midvinter… Uncle Thurion…” Perhaps this was one of the sides as to why he married her, she grounded him.

Oh, yeah. Thank you. I thought you were referring to Naboo. Buster was sitting next to Lira now, thoroughly betrayed by the lack of loving attention and affection his masterful displaying of adorability and overall awesomeness always drew until now.

“Sorry, he hates wearing formal clothes. I do too, but it’s nice to get out once in a while, you know?”

We could have just went to a nice restaurant…

“You think McYoda’s is nice.”

So do you.

“Not for heels that should never be walked in.”

| Outfit: is here | Tag: Katarine Ryiah Rik Perris​

 

[Cerys Dyn]

Cerys watched Sophelia disappear toward the drinks table, the slow, cold realization dawning on her that her friend had, quite deliberately, abandoned her with a stranger. It was a betrayal of the highest order.

Swallowing her panic, she turned back toward Elian, trying desperately to mask the fact that she had just been calculating the quickest route for an immediate withdrawal.

"The music is..." Cerys hesitated, actually listening to the melody filtering through the courtyard. "Structurally sound. The rhythm is consistent, and the tempo appears entirely appropriate for coordinated movement."

A subtle twitch of her montrals betrayed her immediate regret. That is not how normal people talk about music, she chided herself.

"I mean...yes. It is nice." "Brilliant" save.

They continued down the stone steps together, Cerys acutely aware of the agonizing mechanics of social interaction. Conversation, it seemed, required more than simply answering whatever was asked of her. She was supposed to contribute, to ask questions and...show interest.

The sheer effort of it was exhausting.

Her gaze drifted toward the gathering near the roaring bonfire, where couples and groups were beginning to organize themselves in anticipation of the midnight countdown. Seeking any valid distraction, she let her thoughts slip out loud.

"Do you intend to dance?"

Cerys froze. Her eyes widened slightly as the words lingered in the moment. That had sounded entirely different inside her head.

"I mean generally," she added in a frantic rush. "Not specifically with me. Unless you wanted to. Which is also not an invitation."

She stopped. Her lekku curled tight against her shoulders in mortification.

"...I should have stopped speaking several sentences ago."

CERYS SOCIAL DISASTER PREDICTOR: 7/10
Immediate retreat remains a statistically significant possibility.

| Outfit: xxx | Tag: Rix Braji Sophelia Ardemark Elian Abrantes |​

 

[Dominic Praxon]

Skilch wore the exhausted expression of an aide who had already lost an argument.

"I really don't think this is a good idea," the Rodian whispered. "You're stronger, yes. But you're not ready."

Dominic didn't look at him. He knew what the holo-feeds would say tomorrow. A Senator of Naboo, rising from his chair to walk among his people...it was political gold. But as his gaze swept the crowd, seeking a certain blonde woman. "I need to do this."

Tatiana came into view, the firelight catching the rich red of her dress. Dominic watched her, his usual swagger melting the moment her eyes began searching the crowd for him.

He placed both hands on the armrests.

"Senator," Skilch warned.

Dominic waved him off and pushed himself upright.

The first step was rough. The second was worse. His legs trembled like an honest assessment of his folly, strength had returned everywhere except where he needed it most. Skilch caught his arm.

"Thank you," Dominic murmured, gently but firmly prying the Rodian's hand away. "But no thank you."

He forced himself forward, slowly and painfully, letting the gathering onlookers see their senator standing. Finally, he found Tatiana's eyes, as they looked his way.

Dominic straightened as much as his body permitted. Instead of embarrassment, that familiar, crooked, infuriating little smile broke across his face. Was it for her? For the crowd? Or was it just the way he was? Dominic could not tell where the lines were.

He took another step. His knee buckled.

Dominic hit the stone hard, catching himself on his hands. The crowd gasped, but the scoundrel didn't care about the optics anymore. He didn't look at the murmuring constituents, and he didn't look back at Skilch. Instead, looking up — apologetically — at Tatiana.

| Outfit: xxx | Tag: Tatiana Sah |​

 

[Lancel Atria]

One moment Guinevere stood alone amidst the shifting lantern-light and the strains of the music. The next, Lancel had established himself at her side with an easy, uninvited familiarity, his hand settling upon her hip with all the confidence of a gentleman who had never once entertained the notion that he might be unwelcome.

"Dear Princess," he murmured, delivering a glance of the most profound appreciation. "You look positively ravishing."

There was, perhaps, a fraction more relief in his countenance than etiquette strictly required.

"My apologies for vanishing so thoroughly. Thyferra proved rather more complicated than anticipated. A horrid affair...truly horrid."

His smile remained perfectly in place, though it did not quite extend to the troubled depths beneath it. The impossible truth of Calypso buried beneath a veneer of flawless charm as he turned his attention toward the celebration unfolding around them.

"Fortunately," he continued, "Naboo has conspired to provide us with lighter fare."

His gaze drifted toward the dancers, observing the figures with a practiced detachment.

"The story of Set and Veré," Lancel remarked. "Lovers parted by cruel circumstance, only to be granted eternity among the heavens. One rises while the other falls. Forever together, and yet forever denied one another." His thumb shifted absently against her hip, a gesture entirely too familiar for the public eye. "A romantic tale, I am assured by those who care for such things."

He looked back to Guinevere, amusement warming his expression even as a cold curiosity lingered beneath it.

"An awful fate, would you not agree, Princess?" His smile took on a decidedly wicked edge.

| Outfit: xxx | Tag: Guinevere Cavello |​

 

[Tatiana Sah]

Tatiana smiled at the sight of so many people enjoying themselves around the fire. Then through the flowing sea of people she saw him. Bright blue eyes batted. There was no chance her eyes deceived her, but it didn't hurt to make sure. Dominic had managed to attend the Dance? But he should still be recovering. She took a step in his direction with a smile and a hand extended out toward him as Dominic took his own step toward her. He was well enough to walk!

After Dominic then collapsed, he'd find the blonde woman crouching down before him with a slight fuss of her dress to keep it from tripping her up in the process. She reached out to offer the man her hand. "It's not whether we fall, but if we dare to stand up once more." Tatiana smiled. He'd pushed himself too hard to be there. He wasn't ready. But he had done it for her, hadn't he? For them. That and a little arrogance, but that only meant his sense of self had returned.

"I'm so happy you're here, Dominic." Soon they'd explore the stars together once more -- if he chose. There were still plenty of sights to see. Tatiana hoped he looked forward to it as much as she did. All because Dominic had managed to pull himself out of that traumatic moment that'd nearly consumed him. Because he was strong.

She'd express how proud she was in private when the crowd wasn't gawking.

Dominic Praxon​

 

[Guinevere Cavello]

Guinevere had been lost somewhere in her own thoughts and failed to notice his approach until a hand suddenly settled against her hip and a familiar voice sounded near her ear.

"Lancel!"

She startled, turning toward him with wide green eyes. Surprise at his unexpected appearance was quickly followed by another realization, perhaps even more unsettling.

She had called him Lancel.

Never once had she addressed him by his given name. It had always been his title or surname, the careful formality providing a comfortable distance between them.

Apparently that distance had just become considerably smaller.

He began apologizing for his absence, and something knotted tightly inside her chest finally loosened. She had worried about him more than she cared to admit.

That relief was quickly eclipsed by awareness of precisely where his hand remained.

Gwen went very still.

She had never been touched like this before. Certainly not by him, and having not been allowed to date before engaged not by any man either. The familiarity of it felt almost scandalous, particularly surrounded by half the nobility of Naboo.

Her gaze darted toward Taza, silently searching for some indication that her chaperone intended to rescue her from the situation.

The older woman looked positively delighted. There might even have been something smug in her expression.

Traitor.

Lancel, meanwhile, seemed entirely unbothered. He began recounting the tale of the two lovers in that grand, overly dramatic manner Gwen had come to recognize. There was always something beneath that pompous delivery, usually mischief, and more often than not amusement at someone else's expense.

At present, she strongly suspected that someone was her.

His fingers shifted almost imperceptibly against her hip.

Then his thumb brushed bare skin.

The ridiculous dress was to blame, of course. Entirely. Whoever had designed the thing had apparently decided fabric was optional in several places.

Heat rushed into Gwen's cheeks.

She was relieved he was safe.

She was pleased to see him.

She was also becoming increasingly irritated that he possessed the infuriating ability to reduce her carefully cultivated composure to ashes simply by standing too close.

And worse, he probably knew it.

"Um… yes." She cleared her throat softly. "I learned the tale after I moved to Naboo. It is quite tragic."

Her fingers had begun worrying nervously against her palms. The moment she noticed, she forced them still.

That would not do. She was perfectly capable of behaving like a dignified woman of her station.

Even if Lancel's thumb was still touching her skin.

Her gaze slipped toward him again despite herself. The irritation she felt toward his arrogance, and his apparent determination to fluster her, softened as she studied him.

He was here.

He was alive.

"I am so relieved you are all right."

The confession escaped before she could stop it. Gwen immediately regretted the naked sincerity of the words. Her eyes dropped from his, and she cleared her throat again, softer this time, attempting to recover some fragment of dignity.

Of course he had come tonight. Such appearances were expected of men in his position. Given their arrangement, it was only sensible that they should occasionally be seen together in public.

That was undoubtedly why he had approached her.

When she spoke again, her voice had regained some of its usual composure, even if the warmth lingering across her cheeks betrayed her.


"I mean, I am pleased you were able to attend tonight." She managed a small, proper smile. "The gala is beautiful, and I would have hated for you to miss the opportunity to relax after everything that happened on Thyferra."

There. Perfectly respectable.

Much safer than admitting how frightened she had been that she might never see him again.





Wearing: X | Tags: Lancel Atria