Faction Naboo Cultural Exchange

[Taera 'Calypso']

“Brave?” Cal echoed. “My Lord Abrantes, I merely gave the order for the Guard to retrieve him. I did not go there myself. And good thing too, if the stories are true.”

The reports from the HoloNet news painted far better pictures of what exactly went down planetside than the reports did. There were no Aurodium Guard reports, but what little information was shared with them by the Republic chain of command was shared with her. And it was grisly.

“He and I haven’t spoken since then. I expect the situation was quite harrowing for him.” She took another sip of whiskey, feeling the smoky liquid burn all the way down.

She drifted further from the outstretched hand, silent explosions blooming orange across a Republic starship beyond Lancel, beyond the transport.

“No, Lady Seraphine, my mother in law, demanded that he rest for a few days before the demands of nobility called again.”

The man himself crossed her field of vision, an arm wrapped closely around his delicate betrothed. Her eyes flickered over to him before Cal returned her attention to Lord Abrantes. She didn’t like the look of tension in his face, the way he strode almost hurriedly out of the festivities.

They needed to talk before he blew this up in her face and got her killed.

"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"

“Your opinion would be appreciated,” Cal said. “I have limited military knowledge and my options for trusted expertise are few and far between. And do be brutally honest. I prefer competence over platitudes and the Aurodium Guard has suffered too much corruption in the past.”

The look on Lancel’s face bothered her. Cal took one last drink from her whiskey before setting the glass down on the bartop, a thin layer of whiskey darkening the bottom of the glass.

“I will have to look at my schedule when I return home and you will have an invitation to Epica when it’s convenient for you,” she said. “I do confess, I have some unfinished business elsewhere at this gala. You know how it is. Even parties aren’t exempt from House business. It was good to see you, Lord Abrantes. I’ll be in touch.”

Cal wove her way through the crowd, passing by smiling couples and jovial faces. It wasn’t until the talk and laughter died down to faint echoes that she let herself relax and look…

Concerned.

He had not been at the private VIP docks when she had checked. Cal had not been moving quickly since leaving the bonfire and dancing—she hardly wanted to look like she was chasing someone. For a moment, Cal had thought he had taken his yacht and left but no, it was still docked where it had been when she had arrived. So she wandered the rest of the estate-turned-public-park, the need to talk to him and the worry that he would open his big mouth and blab everything to a Jedi gnawing at her.

It was only when she walked around the outskirts of the Memorial to the Fallen that she finally caught sight of him. He caught her gaze from the other side of the memorial and then walked into the shadows of the nearby orchard. Cal took a deep breath and steeled her nerves. She had never been nervous talking to him before. Tonight should be no different.

“Lancel,” she said, loud enough for him to hear as she stepped into the darkness cast by the thick canopy of fruiting trees. Rays of silver moonlight shot through here and there, and the grass ran like a blue ribbon in the overgrown aisles between the trees.

“We need to talk.”

She sighed, hating the word about to come out of her mouth and how it made her sound.

“Please.”

| Tag: Cassian Abrantes | Lancel Atria |​

 

[Lancel Atria]

Moonlight filtered through the branches, imposing pale bars across Lancel's shoulders before surrendering him once more to the gloom. He did not check his pace when Calypso called his name. Instead, he slipped between the rows of fruit trees, obliging her to follow, and altered his course whenever the path threatened to bring them into too direct an encounter.

"I confess myself caught between two rather conflicting sentiments," he remarked at last, pausing though not turning, "regarding the extraordinary revelation that, at any point during our acquaintance, it was within your power to choke me from across a room with scarcely more than a thought."

He glanced back at her over his shoulder, his expression veiled.

Lancel moved slowly, the fallen leaves crunching beneath his boots, until a sudden shaft of moonlight illuminated his countenance. There had been a time when he looked upon Calypso and allowed himself to wonder what it might be to possess her. Now, he merely wondered what she was. Suspicion had taken quiet possession of all the quarters where desire had formerly resided, though neither impulse had yet succeeded in entirely destroying the other.

At length, he came to a standstill.

He did not draw near. Instead, he maintained a most deliberate distance. His gaze searched hers through the shifting shadows.

"Well," Lancel said, his voice dropping to a quieter, more resolute key. "Proceed. Deliver whatever explanation you deem necessary."

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

 

[Keppler Danvier]

// Temple of Shiraya
// Evenfall Estate

Without hesitation, Keppler responded with an affirming nod. His ship was indeed present, leading the medical recovery, after the Black Sun attacks on Sepan 8. Despite not having interacted with many of the recovered sick and injured, he was not surprised that someone of Lady Sal-Soren's prominence and well known heroism would be found on board.

"No congratulations necessary, when a sturdy "good luck" will suffice," he said through a slight smile.

At the mention of a fiancé's tardiness, Kepp felt a pang of the familiar wound in his own heart. The divorce was still fresh in his mind, the pain having not had time to properly heal — no matter how much time he spent distracting himself with work.

Arms behind his back, Kepp turned to walk further into the heart of the temple, though still keeping to a respectable distance from the engaged Lady of the Estate.

"I prefer history to parties. And if I must be completely honest...I am unaccustomed to anyone looking at me as the..."

He looked at her with wry discontent.

"...how did that one duchess say it? The hope of the Republic resting squarely upon my shoulders."

Again, a soft smile, hidden in the partially shadowed enrivonment.

"But I suspect I am preaching to the choir with that one."

| Outfit: xxx | Tag: Briana Sal-Soren |​

 

[Kitt Solo]

Adon Sol

“Ey!” She exclaimed. Protest swallowed by the darkness around his lamplight. And then she was in his arms. Her weight settled against the warmth of his chest. Her still functioning arm looped instinctively around the backs of his shoulders.

Kress he was strong.

He’d certainly grown up.

She still pouted. Like a nexu caught with a splinter in its paw. “ID ot unny.” A mild hiss against him. Followed up by an annoyed huff. The other arm not hanging onto him lost feeling and fell limp at her side. She could feel that numb sensation begin to spread in her other foot.

For once, Adon was right.

The force master was not going to announce this. She couldn’t help but look at that spark of mirth and smug satisfaction in his eyes. She hadnt seen him look like this since meeting. The look reminded her more of when they’d been kids together. More carefree. The old Adon.

A silent part of her realized she’d missed him. Missed that.

“Harumph,” a huff in response to him giving her orders. Per usual. She was curious, though. Why has he been down here, too? Then she felt the paralysis spread toward her neck. Head fell slowly onto his shoulder.

Poison Dart Level: 9/10 symptoms: numb tongue. Paralysis spreading.

 

[Aiden Porte]

Alina Grayson Addison Porte Devi Jyn-tal Rathir​

Aiden smiled as pleasantries were exchanged between them, which soon turned into idle small talk. He cast a smirk at his twin every now and again. He couldn't express in words what it meant to have her back. A part of his life, a part of his past, had returned, and he couldn't have been more grateful. Aiden raised a hand toward his chin, rubbing it lightly as conversation flowed between them. It was then that his lips curved into a broader smile as the very familiar aura and presence of Alina graced him.

Aiden looked around, taking a glance at those surrounding him. Then he heard her voice.

"There you are."

The Jedi Knight turned to face her, his smile widening as she approached. She looked incredible. Not that she didn't every day. Perhaps that was just him being biased, but then again, why shouldn't he be? She was perfect. Instinctively, as she neared him, his hand moved to her waist, holding her close as the warmth of her kiss lingered on his cheek.

"You look amazing, my love. I'm glad you made it." The mention of Lira caused a chuckle to escape him as he looked back at her, matching Alina's smile. "Yes, apparently I can be embarrassing at times."

He looked between Addison and Alina, as he cleared his throat, and thus came the formal introductions.

"Love, this is my twin sister, Addison Porte." Aiden said, glancing between the two. "Addison, this is my girlfriend, Alina Grayson."

He was sure he was going to catch some sort of flak for this. He hadn't mentioned Addison to Alina. Not once. Granted, Addison had been missing, and eventually, he had simply believed she was dead. In some ways, in many ways it was just to painful to bring up.

And yet here they were, together once more.

 

[Adon Sol]

When Kitt's head sagged against his shoulder, Adon stopped treating the matter as merely urgent and began treating it as critical.

He said her name once, sharply, to test for a response, then lengthened his stride. The lantern threw a wild, swinging arc of gold across the tunnel walls as he carried her out of the old passages and into the estate grounds, heading straight for one of the park's first-aid stations. There was no panic in him. Years of drills, field exercises, and emergency response training had long ago taught his body what to do before fear could make itself known.

He laid her down only long enough to tear open the medkit and run its scanner over her. Toxin. Obviously. Respiratory failure was likely imminent.

Adon did not waste a second cursing their luck. He found the recommended injector, pressed it hard against the outside of her thigh, and waited through the sharp hiss of delivery. His eyes remained on her face, measuring every small change.

"That buys us time," he said, more to himself than to her while packing the kit shut, before scooping her up again in one clean motion, lantern remaining on the ground, and made for the nearest speeder.

"Have to get you to a clinic, now," he muttered, already moving at a near run.

Kitt Solo

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