Faction Naboo Cultural Exchange

[Cybelle Sal-Soren]

CYBELLE SAL-SOREN

LOCATION: E'Eeverwest Estate • TAGS: Brandyn Sal-Soren • STATUS: Waiting

Cybelle the Wicked:

Her little one stirred.

Cybelle looked down immediately, and one hand slipped into the cradle to rest protectively against the infant's stomach. It wasn’t enough to wake her, thankfully. Just a tiny squirm, a wrinkle of her nose, before she settled again beneath the familiar touch of her mother. The darkness that lingered in this place didn’t seem to bother her. “Shh…I’m here.”

She adjusted the soft blanket and, without thinking, started to hum. It was all of these stomping boots and fancy high heels all over the E'Eeverwest Estate that was making her little one cranky. The thought had crossed her mind just to kill them so that her baby could sleep uninterrupted, but a bloodbath would draw too much attention. And of course, none of them would just politely keel over and die themselves. Rude.

The melody that left her was an old habit that she had picked up while pregnant. It was the same lullaby that her adoptive mother had sung, much more on key, when she was small and frightened of her own shadow. How very, pathetic. But she supposed that younglings had earned the right to be terrified. They started life surrounded by their mother, safe and warm, without a care…Only to be ejected into this hellish existence?

No wonder babies cried.

The Cybelle that lived on the surface hadn’t sung this song since waking up in the maternal intensive care ward. It was easier for her. The first few notes came out uncertain, but practice and memory filled in the rest. The song came out surprisingly sweet as it filled the air and rolled through the vents, echoing in hallways, giving life to a place that most assumed was dead.

Cybelle heard something and paused, topaz eyes lifting, and for a moment…There was nothing.

No sound. Not even the echo of her own voice.

“Mommy thinks that a mouse has come to play with us…Don’t you think?”

The faint whisper was coupled with a red-lipped smirk before she went right back to singing the same haunting, melancholy tune. It was hard to feel through the Force in this dungeon. It shielded her from outside discovery, but it also blunted her senses. Who would be brave or stupid enough to venture into Baros Sal-Soren’s house of horrors? Who would think to creep into her home when there was a gala, a party, calling to them on the heels of a war zone?

Did they really want to forget failure that badly?

Part of her hoped that it was Brandyn. Part of her longed for him, his face, his touch…More than air. The rest of her knew that her child was not safe with him. He was angry and lashed out without thinking. It pleased her when he lashed out at her other half, if only because it meant she could claim his rage when he least expected. Anger…Could be so much sweeter than dopey, starry-eyed love. She would not forgive him. But…

Brandyn Sal-Soren belonged to her.​

If it was him…He would find her or he wouldn’t. There was no point in running from him, now. Not when he was so close to being even more perfect. Her shoulders moved up and down while she breathed, her dark hair shifting with a certain amount of enjoyment. Her lilting voice kept going…Keeping their sweet, precious angel asleep.

But also—Luring in the uninvited guest. She rather hoped, it was the father of her child.

If it wasn’t?

Blood on her hands, pain in the eyes of an intruder, was an acceptable door prize.

Cybelle the Good:

Something was…Just not right. Cybelle had been following the ghostly traces that her husband left behind, weaving through guests, offering apologies whenever she came too close to someone. It wasn’t until the music started to fade that she realized exactly where her feet were taking her. Toward…The place his father had hidden things? The repository beneath the estate?

Her expression worked itself into an expression of confusion.

Not for the first time, she tried to reach Bran over comms, but the signal was terrible. Probably from so many people crammed into one place.

The auburn-haired Hapani hesitated.

Why would he go there?

Cybelle had tried to respect his need for distance in the last few days, weeks, but it wasn’t like him not to keep in touch when they were meant to see each other. If he wanted to be alone, there were easier places to brood, safer places, for some peace and quiet. She glanced toward the guarded positions and momentarily relaxed.

They wouldn’t let anyone in, right?

But…That wasn’t the only way. She bit her lip sweetly, still worrying, wishing that she could reach him either with telepathy or her comm to find some sort of reassurance that he was all right. This area was just wreaking havoc on the Force… On everything.

Cybelle waited beneath a large decorative light, hoping it might make her easier to find. He was definitely in the area. Somewhere.

Maybe he hadn’t gone inside… Maybe he’d lost track of time…

Maybe… She hadn’t annoyed her husband so much that he didn’t want to be around her.

Maybe…The man she loved hadn’t forgotten about her.

Maybe.

— There are pieces of me that know things I do not. —​

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Cerys Dyn


​

"I don't think you're doing anything wrong," she said quickly, though her voice came out thinner than she intended. She swallowed again, forcing the next words past her lips. "I think I am."

Elian looked at her for a moment before he said anything. "I don't think you are doing anything wrong. This is a dance between friends." Granted, Elian hadn't exactly met her prior to this, but still. He'd say after everything they've been through in the span of a few minutes. Or even more so, everything she was putting herself through in the span of a few minutes. It would be wrong to not call her his friend.

"Could we just..." She exhaled shakily, her mouth twitching into a small, embarrassed smile. "...stand here for a moment? I appear to have underestimated how difficult being normal is."

The young Abrantes nodded his head, showing a smile. "Of course, you just let me know when you are ready."

Considering majority of his life had been on the move, one thing to another, after almost losing his life, losing his hand, losing his friends. He knew better than most, that the best you could do was to just...stand still for a moment. It had a deeper meaning, at least to Elian anyway.

​

 

[Kitt Solo]

Adon Sol

Myrtle ellipses squinted at the sudden light that wasn’t her own. She certainly did not stop. She could take him. It was only a single mook. Even in her state. Even as she felt one of her feet begin to go numb.

Then that voice locked smoothly in place. As did his face and her own name upon his tongue.

“Eh-on,” his name on numb tongue. “Wha de ark r ewe oin ere?” (What the kark are you doing here). He might never know what she was saying.

“Oison,” poison she tried to say. She staggered. Swallowed down the pride of hers and took that offered arm of support.

So embarrassing.

Hand fumbled in her purse and took out that dart to show him. Now she was limping. Dragging that foot as the numbness began creeping up her leg. The rogue master had to focus on the steps. Turning that corner then the next.

“Uhder arker.”

Mother marker.

Poison dart level: 7/10 current symptoms: numb tongue. Numb foot/leg. Spreading.

 

[Sophelia Ardemark]

Isar du Vain

Miss him.

“What if I did?”

It took her a moment too long to recognize what she felt. She hadn’t felt it so profoundly for awhile. As she danced and enjoyed the closeness of Isar. Even those blown out pupils suspended within pools of mischievous lilac. Even his quips and jabs that made him so distinctly him.

She was happy.

She wasn’t fighting a war. Wasn’t hosting political meetings. Wasn’t on some mission. She could just be. Swept up in the arms of someone who was beginning to see all her parts. Including the cracks and ugly things. Though, he didn’t know everything yet.

That bubbling wine in her system kept her present instead of letting her mind wander down the harder things that would need to be considered when it came to Isar. Easy to blame the wine for not thinking straight.

Eyes rolled at his comment.

The music stopped and she found herself lingering in his arms. The closeness of him. “I want to show you something.” She stepped back, but kept her fingers entwined with the one she’d been holding for dancing. She’d lead him out. Ignoring the glances and whispers of others.

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

Taera 'Calypso' ​

“Well, I’m sure you heard the reports from Thyferra,”

"Oh yes, I heard." He voiced. He wasn't sure if it was regret, spite, or something else in regard to that. He had been ordered to stay home by his superior, Damos Rennar, and of course, that was followed by whatever power Sibylla and their family held over him. He understood, but it still tasted bitter, and he hated it. As stubborn as he was, his moments on the range at their home had proven he needed to stay away more than anything. You couldn't help someone who was drowning if you were drowning yourself. He could've gotten someone hurt, or worse, killed.

"That's very brave of you, Calypso. I sure hope that brother-in-law of yours appreciates what you did to ensure a safe return."

If he remembered, though it seemed like a lifetime ago, when he had offered to assist in training this group of hers. The soldier inside him wanted to offer once more, but he knew that it wasn't the right time. Right now, he had to take care of himself, and truthfully, he wasn't even doing that well.

"I'd like to come see this Aurodium Guard." Cassian spoke, waving off the offer for another shot. "If you would be okay with that? There's not much I can do anymore to help train them, just to see something else would be nice"

 

[Persephone Dashiell]

"Yeah, guess I missed seeing your brooding presence around."

Leaning against his side as his arm wrapped around her, Persephone shrugged. Naboo society was not quite her scene. Too many force users. Too many old monied noble families relying on family name and nothing else. Those type that were only popular on Naboo and practically unknown elsewhere. Overall she found the planet a little odd, always had. Now that the Core was under Sith rule, she felt it was trying too hard to be the cosmopolitan center of the High Republic.

"No, I haven't been having a good time. " If she was being honest, it felt as if she had gotten ready and dressed up for absolutely no reason. Carefully she started to steer Tavian Djo through the gardens. "Which does not matter since I was leaving anyway. Ordering Yum Bunnies, kicking my feet up. I'm not too far from here actually."

She had planned on just heading straight back to Kalinda but now that Tavian was here, her plans only slightly deviated.

"Come on, we can catch up. It would be impossible to talk here, someone would find out you're the Prince Djo and my limit for droll conversation is at it's limit."

THREAD EXIT

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

"Yes. Of course, of course."

A subtle wave of relief washed over him as she revealed the postponement of her resignation. He kept his expression carefully neutral, avoiding any outward display of victory. A triumph it certainly was not, considering his own failures had driven them to this precipice. All he could hope was that the time she granted him professionally would be enough to prove how vital her counsel remained, and that they could still forge a meaningful path forward.

Nodding along as she insisted he meet with the Chancellor, Aurelian conceded the point. A face-to-face was unavoidable, though letting tempers cool across the board seemed wiser first. Word of an upcoming major address on the Senate docket had already spread across the galaxy, with political factions clamoring to secure their place on Naboo for the event. Waiting until after the speech offered a strategic buffer. Insubordination might pale in comparison to whatever sweeping declarations Dominique had prepared. Then again, he might easily find himself publicly condemned from her speech as a rogue agent undermining Republic unity. Waiting to see how the cards fell was the only sensible play.

Her insistent questions regarding further medical scans snapped him out of his tactical reverie. "No," he replied softly, shaking his head. "No need to worry them. They have enough on their plates without my issues cluttering their schedules."

The truth was far darker. Adelle was buried under her usual duties, and Cora had suffered injuries on Thyferra severe enough to require an emergency evacuation. He had not yet summoned the courage to visit Cora. Guilt gnawed at his conscience; stripping the Force away during an active battle might have been the direct cause of her near-fatal plight. Leaving Lucy motherless because of his own reckless hubris was a thought he could barely stomach. He felt like a coward, hiding behind the soft light of this suite and using this stolen time with Sibylla as a shield against the public judgment waiting outside.

"They will come for the Mid Rim," he murmured, straightening his spine on the sofa as a cold focus replaced his shame. "I've seen it."

Glancing at her, he laid out his immediate vision. "We must bolster our planetary defense forces, accelerate combat training, and expand our own domestic fleet production. We need absolute self-reliance should the Republic prove incapable of shielding us forever."

Though his faith in the Republic endured, Naboo was no longer the sole priority of a galactic government now forced to defend vast territories. Turning his amber eyes to hers, a quiet question surfaced. "Did Quinn give any indication toward their future plans?"

| Tag: Sibylla Abrantes |​