Faction Naboo Cultural Exchange

[Pillar of Freedom]

War leaves ripples, through families, worlds, and the strange mysteries left in its wake.

This year, Naboo's annual Cultural Exchange is held in the city of Velisia at the historic Evenfall Estate, now a public park dedicated to those lost in the Cataclysm and the wars that followed.

For refugees, travellers, and all who have come to call Naboo home, it is a night to share in Naboo's culture through food, music, dance, and tradition.

A night to rest. To hold close those you love. And to remember what, beneath all the loss, is still worth fighting for.

Spoiler: Map

1. Secret Entrance to Underground Atrium (Midnight Rendezvous)	7. Vineyard
2. Ruins of Ee'Everwest Mansion, destroyed in the Netherworld Cataclysm	8. Public ferry and dock
3. Temple to the Goddess Shiraya	9. Lakeside Bonfire (Dance of Set and Veré)
4. Guarded Entrance to Underground Atrium (Midnight Rendezvous)	10. Monument to the Fallen
5. The Market (Night Market)	11. Orchad
6. VIP Dock

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The Dance of Set and Veré is an ancient festival where a fire is lit at midnight, inviting the warmth of Set's radiance in the cool of Veré's domain. The dance is an ancient and sacred time when nobles and peasants alike mingle and celebrate the ancient of love between Naboo's sun and moon gods.

Vibe: Folk dancing, fancy outfits, and bonfires.

Spoiler: Objective Div, Should You Wish

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The once-pristine grounds of the E'Eeverwest Estate have found new life as a sprawling public park, its manicured gardens mingling with the picturesque remains of the old estate. Tonight, those ruins glow beneath strings of paper lanterns as the Night Market takes over. Makeshift stalls crowd the paths and lawns, offering handmade wares, clothing, food, curiosities, and local crafts. Music, conversation, and the scents of a dozen kitchens drift through the warm evening air. Come to browse, eat, barter, linger, or simply disappear into the crowd.

Vibe: Wandering, chilling, shopping.

Spoiler: Objective Div, Should You Wish

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Beneath the E'Eeverwest Estate is a vast, unused atrium. Once the secret storage facility for Sith and Jedi relics collected by the late terrorist Baros Sal-Soren, it is now a silent retreat of shadowed alcoves and forgotten corners. Those who find their way here will likely find privacy for a personal interlude.

Vibe: Secretive, exploration, discovery, spice.

Spoiler: Objective Div, Should You Wish

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Explore the rest of the Evenfall Estate Park and tell you tale of the night.


Vibe: Bring your own vibe.

Spoiler: Objective Div, Should You Wish

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| THR affiliated Characters Only |
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[Cerys Dyn]

The dress felt wrong.

Not because Sophelia had chosen poorly — quite the opposite, in fact. The midnight-blue fabric fell beautifully around Cerys, patterned with silver-threaded flowers so subtle they seemed to bloom only when the light caught them just right. It was elegant, tasteful, and entirely proper for an evening of this scale.

And Cerys desperately wanted her rough, familiar Jedi robes back.

She stood frozen atop the grand forum steps, her hands folded neatly before her as she looked down upon the gathering below. There were far too many people. Her montrals twitched, sensitive to the overwhelming swell of overlapping conversations, the sharp bursts of laughter, the bright, lilting music, and the constant chime of crystal glasses. Worst of all were the greetings — people embracing friends with a warmth and longevity that made her skin prickle.

Attachments, she thought, a knot tightening in her chest. Attachments everywhere.

Cerys swallowed hard against the rising anxiety. She knew why she was here. Sophelia had bought her the dress for a reason, and the Grandmaster had been equally insistent that she wear it. Apparently, advancing from a Padawan to a true Jedi Knight required more than just discipline, lightsaber skill, and an unwavering devotion to the Code. Apparently, it also required learning how to navigate a gala and speak to...shudder...people.

It was utterly ridiculous.

Below, the crowd grew denser and more vibrant as the midnight hour approached. With the striking of twelve would come the Dance of Set and Veré, the pinnacle of the evening's festivities. Cerys stared down at the swirling sea of silk and jewels, trying to summon the courage that had carried her through a dozen battlefields.

She could fight Sith. She could leap from damaged speeders. She could face death itself without a single tremor in her hands.

Yet, as she told herself to take the first step down into the crowd, her fingers merely tightened around one another. She remained exactly where she was, rooted to the stone, silently bargaining with the Force that perhaps she would begin socializing in another five minutes.

| Outfit: xxx | Tag: Rix Braji fyi, Sophelia Ardemark @Open |​

 

[Verity Stuyveris]

It was an important cultural event, one held annually. Such events couldn't simply be discarded because a war interceded. Well, perhaps if the war was on Naboo, but it was -- so far -- a border war. So that made this little soiree halfway defendable. Still, Verity thought it bordered on courting disaster. There she was, in a piece of Druckenwell couture that could probably have financed the purchase of, at the very least, a scout speeder for the Army, wearing enough gold and sapphires to pay the annual salary of its crew, just waiting for some reporter to pop out of the bushes and demand to know whether it wasn't all just too much?

Then again, if she stayed home, there was every chance she would be confronted with her absence, and why hadn't she felt it important to boost the national morale during these Difficult Times™?

To hell with it. She was doing her bit for the war effort. She'd launched a probable suicide attack on a Sith Lord on the bridge of the Grace of Theed and that was after putting her life at risk to try to help that demented little cretin, the King of Naboo. Verity had earned the champagne multiple times over. She wondered, as she took a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter, if he was going to make an appearance there that night. She supposed he must; Naboo was his world -- in every sense of the word his, at least if you asked him.

She lifted her glass in a sardonic toast. The King of Naboo. "May Shiraya bless and keep him -- far, far away from me," she mumbled into the champagne glass before taking a sip.

| Outfit: xxx | Tag: Helios Ardemark | CC: Aurelian Veruna​

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

PRIOR TO EVENT

​

"Father and Mother say you should take it easy, Brother." Elian voiced with concern as he leaned on the counter, only half ready for the occasion. "I know, it seems wrong to go, especially since I wasn't there on Thyferra...."

"You were told to stay put, to rest. You can't fault yourself for that. Besides, there isn't anything you could've done. You would've gotten yourself hurt, or worse." Elian buttoned up his shirt and reached for his tie, looping it around his neck, measuring it at half, and began the process. After a few moments, he was messing something up. "This is insufferable. I can build a ship, but can't work this tie."

Cassian smirked, nodding his head. He moved over, in front of Elian. "Here, let me see." Cassian reached forward and carefully undid the disaster Elian had created, pulling the tie loose before straightening it beneath the collar of his shirt. His movements were practiced and well, they came easy. He adjusted one end, brought the other across, and began working the fabric into a proper knot. He raised the knot until it rested comfortably against the front of his shirt and his neck. Cassian glanced at Elian's arm....

He placed his hands on his shoulders. "Hey, I'm sorry I wasn't there for...you know."

Elian looked at his arm and shrugged his shoulders. "It's okay, it's not like you had a choice. Besides, I think this makes me look more dashing." Elian raised his eyebrows a bit, which caused Cassian to smile and chuckle.

"Shiraya! Did you just smile?! And you just laughed?!" Elian raised his arm up triumphantly. "I did it!"

Cassian shook his head, giving his face a small, small pat. "Nicely done, brother." Cassian nodded his head. "Try to stay out of trouble this evening."

"Always!" Elian said with the world's biggest smile.

Destination: Bonfire
Location: Docks
Tags: Open
​

Cassian stood near the edge of the docks, his hands resting loosely against the railing as he stared across the water. The evening light stretched along the surface, broken only by the gentle waves rolling beneath the supports. Somewhere farther out, vessels moved across the horizon. More ships were making their way to the docks, shuttling more attendees to the event taking place. Cassian's hands tapped on the railing slightly as he took in the scent of the water.

He felt like he shouldn't be here. That guilt had been gnawing at him for the better part of the day. Perhaps a drink or two, and maybe even a dance, would provide the perfect distraction from his thoughts.

 

[Ra'a'mah]

Objective: Night Market

Ra'a'mah had wandered Naboo enough times over the years that being on the world was hardly a novelty anymore. Even so, there was something different about seeing it like this. Tonight wasn't about negotiations, supply lines, refugees, wars, or whatever crisis had most recently demanded the Protectorate's attention. The Cultural Exchange had filled the old Evenfall Estate with music, food, lantern light, and enough people wandering between the ruins and gardens to make the place feel considerably more alive than its history suggested.

She walked beside Vulpesen as they entered the Night Market, her attention moving from one stall to another while the crowd flowed around them. "You know," Ra observed, glancing toward him, "when we agreed to come here together, I was expecting considerably more ceremony." A faint smile touched her lips. "I'm beginning to think we chose wisely."

The market certainly suited her better. Handmade jewelry shared space with clothing and local crafts, while food stalls competed for attention with scents drifting along the lit paths. Ra slowed beside one display long enough to examine a collection of small mechanical curiosities before reluctantly continuing onward. She had accumulated more than enough unusual objects over the course of her life, but that had never been particularly effective at preventing her from acquiring another.

"I should probably warn you," she said as they continued deeper into the market, amusement creeping into her voice. "Leaving me unsupervised around merchants is generally a poor financial decision." Considering her profession, the statement was perhaps more ironic than she intended. Her gaze caught upon another stall, this one crowded with an assortment of locally made goods, and she changed direction almost immediately to investigate. "Though I suppose you're here, so technically I'm supervised."

Ra glanced over her shoulder at Vulpesen, the smile now unmistakable.

"Whether you're responsible enough to stop me is another question entirely."

Vulpesen

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen's tail flicked behind him as his own eyes went from beautiful craft to exquisite bobble. Naboo's artisans lacked the lethal elegance that he'd grown enamored with on his own home world, but there was till something to be said about the sleek profile of their jewelry and art. Of course, to his own appraising eyes, even the most diamond studded bauble paled in comparison to the woman who challenged him with her avaricious vices. "Stopping your from spending your credits will be as easy as running through the woods. Responsibility has nothing to do with it," he replied with a quiet laugh. If Ra'a'mah's impulses were as severe as she suggested, then perhaps he would have to have a few words with his treasurer in the morning. But that was a discussion for some time away from the present.

He stopped at one stand, his eyes moving between the necklaces and earrings which sparkled in the moonlight. "The pomp and ceremony is... tiresome. Veradune has sent more of its children to fight the sith than perhaps any other system can claim in its decades since its come onto the world state. Yet, few take notice of us, and fewer take us seriously. My reputation is built on my personal merits. Rather than face the losing battle of vying for favor from lords, senators, and chancellors who will hardly spare me a hello, I'd rather be here. In a place where my exploits have earned me the coin that will make me the center of these merchants' worlds."

Ra'a'mah

 

[Rhea Taal]

The glow of the bonfire was already visible before Rhea reached the lakeside, its light rising above the gathered celebrants and competing with the softer illumination scattered throughout Evenfall Estate. Music carried farther still. It threaded through conversation and laughter, accompanied by the rhythm of feet against the ground as strangers and companions alike joined the old Naboo dance. Rhea had attended enough cultural celebrations across enough worlds to know that invitations to understand another people were often offered more honestly through their music than through anything said across a diplomatic table.

Tonight, fortunately, she had no intention of sitting behind one.

At six feet and an inch, Rhea Taal possessed the sort of height that made disappearing into a gathering difficult even before taking her other features into account. She was slender and long-limbed, carrying herself with an effortless straightness that came less from courtly instruction than two centuries of knowing precisely where her body was in relation to everything around it. Warm, lightly sun-touched skin contrasted with the dark brown of her hair, which had been gathered away from her face and arranged into an elegant series of smooth twists at the back of her head. The rest descended in a controlled fall nearly to her waist, dark chestnut appearing among the brown whenever firelight caught it. Long pointed ears remained deliberately uncovered rather than hidden beneath her hair, and luminous golden-amber eyes regarded the celebration with quiet interest.

Her clothing belonged far more readily in a palace ballroom than on one of the roads her younger sister favored.

Rhea wore an ankle-length gown of deep midnight blue, tailored closely through the bodice and waist before opening into a fuller skirt designed specifically to move. The fabric possessed a subtle sheen rather than any elaborate pattern, changing from near-black to rich blue as she passed beneath lanterns and firelight. A squared neckline framed her collarbones without plunging excessively low, while fitted sleeves of the same material ended just below her elbows. Fine silver embroidery traced the neckline, cuffs, and narrow structured belt at her waist, geometric and precise rather than floral. Nothing about the gown evoked vines, leaves, feathers, or the wilderness. Its elegance came from cut, fabric, and craftsmanship rather than ornamentation.

A pair of small silver earrings and a slender bracelet provided the extent of her jewelry. Her shoes had been chosen with the dance in mind, formal enough for court but with heels low enough that she could actually move comfortably in them. Even her thick, fox-like tail had been accounted for by the gown's tailoring rather than awkwardly concealed, falling freely behind her and nearly reaching her lower calves.

There was something almost amusing about how much preparation could go into appearing as though one had made none.

Rhea slowed as she reached the edge of the gathering. For once there was no delegation waiting for her, no stack of proposals tucked beneath one arm, and no disagreement she had been asked to untangle before it became something worse. She was still here in part because Veradune did not send representatives to another world's cultural exchange merely to remain aboard their ships, but representation did not always require speeches.

Sometimes accepting what another culture offered was enough.

Her gaze settled upon the dancers around the fire, following them for a time as a small smile touched her lips. Two hundred and twelve years had given Rhea ample opportunity to learn dances from worlds other than her own, though this particular tradition was unfamiliar. There was pleasure in watching it unfold before trying to understand its steps, especially when those performing it had known the rhythm long enough that thought no longer seemed necessary.

Rhea made no immediate attempt to join them.

Instead, she found herself a comfortable place near the edge of the gathering where she could watch without withdrawing from the celebration altogether. She accepted a drink when the opportunity presented itself and held the glass loosely between her fingers, her attention moving between the dancers, the fire, and the many faces gathered beneath the evening lights. Her tail rested behind her with only the occasional measured movement betraying an interest her composed expression kept subtler.

She had spent much of her life entering rooms because someone expected something from her. An agreement. An answer. A concession. A solution to a problem that had already survived several other people attempting to solve it.

Tonight, no one had asked anything of her yet.

Rhea discovered she rather liked that.

So she remained beside the celebration instead of rushing into its center, content for the moment to listen to the music, learn the unfamiliar rhythm, and see what the evening chose to bring to her.

Derek Dib

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

The diamond caught the light first.

Sibylla watched its reflection glitter beneath the pale moonstone at her ear as she fastened the earring into place. Deep violet silk hugged close along her figure, patterned subtly enough that its detailing only emerged when the light found it. Short sleeves rested over her shoulders before giving way to matching opera gloves, while the gown itself swept downward into a long train behind her.

The back was another matter entirely. It was cut almost scandalously low by Nabooian standards, as it left nearly the whole of her smooth back bare before the violet fabric met again at the base of her spine.

Under other circumstances, Sibylla might have spent considerably longer questioning that particular decision, but tonight, she barely noticed. Instead, her fingers lingered, grazing the moonstone as she studied herself in the mirror.

And while she looked ready for a festival, Sibylla certainly didn't feel ready for one. Not after Thyferra.

There were still moments when Sibylla could smell it. Burning alazhi, the smoke, and the charred scent of blood. Could remember the dead rising again and Quinn standing amidst it all. The reports afterward had somehow been worse. Quarantines. Blight. Entire facilities lost. Casualty figures that seemed to climb every time another datapad found its way into her hand... then the bacta. That loss would travel far beyond Thyferra.

Part of her desperately wanted to believe they could still push the Sith back. That the Republic could recover, regroup, endure. But Thyferra had stripped something painfully abstract away from the word Sith.

Sibylla understood their brutality now. She had seen it herself, face to face, and through it all, Aurelian and Ace's words only made that sting all that much harder.

[ Five minutes until we arrive. ]

The shuttle announcement broke softly through the suite overhead, drawing Sibylla from her reverie and she drew in a slow breath. It was done with the mind that she knew very well her responsibilities not just for her people, but for the REpublic. Every bit of her actions and words would be scrutinized beyond measure by kin, House, and politicals across Naboo in more ways than one.

Part of her wondered if an entire evening dedicated to remembering that there remained beautiful things in the galaxy was in good taste. Another knew that this was what Naboo culture was -- the desire to think and look at pretty things, to believe in the sweet innocence of hope and love and what they are fought for.

Sibylla knew that was needed for morale, especially now.

She just wished she could feel it beyond the anger, confusion, and numbness Thyferra had left her with.

Hazel eyes drifted toward the door. Aurelian would be nearly finished. They had separate suites, naturally. Appearances demanded as much, even if those closest to the King and his Voice had long since learned that either could rather easily disappear into the other's chambers when privacy permitted.

After one last lingering look at the mirror, Sibylla smoothed her gloved hands over the violet gown and squared her shoulders.

Hope felt considerably more fragile after Thyferra... which meant that perhaps that meant that willingly choosing it was all the more important.

| Outfit: x x | Tag: Aurelian Veruna |​

 

[Katarine Ryiah]

"Never Hide Your Heart"

​

Katarine Ryiah had faced Sith, smugglers, murderers, and more than one criminal syndicate that would have happily put a price on her head.

Somehow, the dress was worse.

She resisted the urge to tug at the fabric again as she moved through the gathering, a glass of blossom wine held delicately between her fingers. There was nothing particularly wrong with the gown. In fact, she suspected it was probably quite lovely. Elegant enough for the occasion without attracting too much attention.

That was precisely the problem.

Katarine was accustomed to boots, jackets, hidden weapons, and clothing selected because it allowed her to disappear into whatever miserable corner of the galaxy an investigation required. Formal gatherings demanded an entirely different sort of disguise, and she had never been especially good at pretending she belonged among polished floors, soft music, and carefully exchanged pleasantries.

Around her, the cultural exchange carried on beneath the warm Naboo evening. Conversations drifted between diplomats, dignitaries, artists, and Jedi. Laughter rose here and there, mingling with the music.

Katarine recognized almost no one.

That realization bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

She had been gone for months.

Missing.

Captured, imprisoned, cut off from everything she had known, and apparently the galaxy had continued spinning without so much as a stumble.

Nobody had come looking.

Perhaps nobody had even noticed.

Her fingers tightened briefly around the stem of her glass.

It was an unfair thought, she knew. Her work had always required distance. An undercover investigator did not build much of a reputation by announcing where she was going or when she expected to return. She spent more time beside criminals than Jedi, more evenings in cantinas and back rooms than temples or council chambers. Somewhere along the way, the Order had changed around her while she had remained buried in the underworld.

These were the Jedi of this era.

And Katarine barely knew them.

She slipped quietly from the gathering before she could feel bad that nobody extended an invitation to make conversation.

The balcony beyond was blessedly empty.

Katarine stepped into the evening air and released a breath she had not realized she was holding. Velisia stretched beneath her, beautiful in that effortless way Naboo seemed determined to be. Lights shimmered against elegant architecture while the fading colors of sunset melted across the horizon. Somewhere below, water caught the last traces of light and scattered them like glass.

For a moment, she simply stared.

The blossom wine remained untouched in her hand.

She had spent so much of her life learning how to walk unnoticed through places she did not belong that perhaps she had accidentally made herself disappear entirely.

Katarine rested one hand against the balcony railing, her deep green eyes fixed upon the Naboo evening.

Maybe that was the trouble.

She wasn't certain where she belonged anymore.

Outfit: x | Tags: Rik Perris​

 

[Nyr Deyan]

Nyr had been told to relax, and for twelve minutes he made a respectable attempt at it.

He wandered through the Night Market with the remains of something fried in one hand, his beige and brown Jedi robes shifting around his boots as he moved wherever the crowd allowed while music carried between the old estate ruins. The Sanctuary had been quieter since the fighting, enough that the difference tonight was hard to miss. People were eating, laughing again, some already drifting towards the dancing, and Nyr saw little reason they shouldn't.

A row of pale scarves shifted above one stall as he passed. Most appeared white beneath the lanterns, though narrow bands of nusp had been worked through the fabric in a pattern that changed whenever the breeze turned it towards the light. Nyr slowed long enough to follow one of the lines with his silver-white eyes, nearly walked into somebody coming the other way, then stepped aside and continued eating.

He liked the colour.

Explaining why usually went poorly.

Nyr dropped the empty tray into a waste bin and was considering whether buying another counted as overindulgence when a faint rattle reached him beneath the surrounding conversation.

His attention shifted towards the nearest food stall.

The refrigeration unit beneath its counter hummed steadily for several seconds before the sound returned, accompanied by a slight vibration through the casing. Nyr slowed as he passed, glanced towards it, then continued walking.

He had been told to relax.

Another rattle.

Nyr stopped.

The vendor was serving someone else when he returned, giving him enough time to crouch beside the counter and lean towards the vent. Nothing blocked the intake, and the casing looked clean, though the compressor produced the same uneven vibration beneath his fingertips when he rested them against the side.

"Your cooler sounds wrong."

The vendor looked down at him. "It still works."

"So do most things before they stop." Nyr shifted lower, trying unsuccessfully to see through the grille before reaching towards the toolkit at his belt. "How long has it been doing that?"

"You're not taking it apart."

His hand stopped halfway to the pouch.

Nyr looked up.

"I wasn't."

A moment passed before his eyes dropped towards his hand.

"Yet."

The vendor folded their arms.

Nyr stood again and decided, perhaps correctly, that purchasing something might improve negotiations. He pointed towards one of the pastries on display while the refrigeration unit rattled beneath them again.

"I'll have one of those." He paused, listening to the compressor. "And if that noise gets worse, I'm going to become considerably less relaxed."

Open for interaction​