Private Sparkling Cyanide | Invite

[Natasi Fortan]

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The black limousine eased to a halt at the curb of the Maldonado Hotel on the outskirts of Avalonia's Garden District. The front passenger door opened and a man in a black suit and earpiece emerged, glancing around the sidewalk. He then proceeded to the rear of the car and opened the back door, extending a hand to help a slender, hooded figure out of the rear of the car. The doorman pulled the door open to let her into the lobby, escorted by the man in the black suit. They entered a turbolift and were soon rocketing to the penthouse floor. The man touched the door signal and after a few moments, the door opened and the man in the black suit entered.

Another man in a white shirt stood in the doorway and looked at the cloaked woman. He deliberately rolled his sleeves up, exposing a low-profile but expensive wristwatch, but said nothing. A few moments later, just as he was finishing his other sleeve, the man in the black suit emerged and gave the hooded woman a curt nod. The man with the white shirt turned and walked into the penthouse. When the door closed, she pulled the hood down to expose that she was, indeed, Natasi Fortan, Supreme Leader of the First Order. Her chestnut locks were bound up in a tidy braided bun, and her delicate neck was ringed with a necklace of jet beads.

Natasi was glad to be out of the penthouse at the Avalonia Grand, even if she was just in another hotel penthouse. The axiom that it was lonely at the top was axiomatic because it was true. Before, Natasi had Talbot, but even after he died her beloved cousin Pierce was just a comlink call away. True, she had other cousins, but the one she was closest to, Ariel, didn't seem like herself these days. More importantly, she seemed to have positioned herself as the de facto head of the Moff Council, which meant that the two worked together often, and it was also axiomatic that familiarity bred contempt, and Natasi didn't want their relationship to take that turn. It wouldn't do to vent about work to the one you worked with.

So she had reached out to another old friend, a former suitor, a fellow Galidraani with whom she had enjoyed a close friendship. Their hands met and they leaned in to exchange a pair of cheek kisses before he led her through the foyer, taking her further into the suite. She cast her gaze around the entryway, all white walls and vaulted ceilings. "It's... very modern," said Natasi pleasantly as she followed him in, her gaze climbing to the angled ceiling before falling back to rest on Henry. "Thank you for having me over. I can't tell you how nice it is to get out and see someone other than the hotel staff or government officials."

Natasi paused, admiring an abstract painting in an alcove as Henry went to the sidebar. "How have you been, Henry? I can't tell you how relieved I was to hear that you and Lydia made it through the Sacking."

 

[Hector Finn-Camden]

Henry was marginally annoyed as Natasi's bodyguard darted past him into the hotel suite. He understood the necessity of it, he supposed. He could very well be hosting a party of rebels or Ssi-Ruuk inside, after all, but still something rankled. She had called him and the fact that he had to endure the indignity of having his quarters searched still rankled. At least she had the good grace to look apologetic. When the man left the hotel room, Henry stepped back to let Natasi in. He offered a deep bow. "Your Majesty," he said demurely. He shut the door behind her and gathered her cloak, exposing a modest but moden black cocktail dress, knee-length with sheer sleeves. Not her usual fare.

"Yes, it is," Henry agreed as he led her through the foyer. "My country house is very Galidraani in nature, but when I'm in town I don't mind. Have a seat... if you like," he said, the smirk apparent in his voice. "You're welcome anytime, of course, but I didn't feel I could refuse a direct request from the Supreme Leader. Not that I'm not delighted to see you. I just thought you might be too busy." He went over to the sideboard and opened the mini-fridge. "Something to drink? If I'd known you were coming I'd have bought in some good gin. As it is all I've got is bubbly."

Henry went through the process of opening the champagne and poured some into a pair of flutes before setting the bottle in a high hat cooler. He presented one to her and kept the other. "Your good health, ma'am," said Henry, and they touched the glasses, causing a pleasant chime. "Oh, me? All right, I suppose. As you know I was married, but I think she passed while you were... away." He smirked, partially because it was funny, but partially to cover the pang of regret he felt at the death of his Duchess. "Motoring accident back home," he said gruffly. "On the West-Central Expressway."

He took a long draught from his champagne flute and took a seat in the armchair across from Natasi. They sat in companionable silence for a few moments before he tilted his glass towards her and said, "If you'll permit me, ma'am, that's a very unusual style of dress for you. It looks almost modern. I almost didn't recognize you. Is that by design?"

Natasi Fortan​