Junction Sun & Starlight [ME][TSO][THR] | [Empty Hex][Dahrtag][Iphigin]

[Kasir Dorran]

Cali Ziiva
Objective: Dancing maybe? Hoping for snacks. Prepared for violence.
​

Something instinctive bristled at the nickname, even if he still couldn’t articulate why. “Kasir,” came the correction. His tone was low enough the music probably swallowed it whole. Then again, raising his voice had never been necessary in his line of work.

Fingers closed around the chilled glass like another serrated ceremonial dagger. The examination of it was precise. One suspicious sniff brought summer.. syrupiness? Whatever it may be, this was also too bright, too foreign. The smallest sip imaginable followed, lips barely brushing the rim. “It’s.. kind of sweet.” Words floated on the breeze. Brows furrowed anyway; sweetness meant different pastries, things he actually understood. Perhaps his palate was calibrated solely from bitter dark chocolate and dry rations.

Either way, the cup remained in hand. Maybe that was one of the secrets of blending in when out in the open like this. Holding a drink. Pretending he belonged here, like camouflage in a way.

Memory dredged up their first encounter. It hadn’t really been that long since the Sith decided to jump the Black Wall again into Republic space. “I wasn’t trying to shake chocolate out of you, I just.." Another slow blink. "You hid things in your hair before. Or I thought you did. When you were smuggling things on New Cov. Most systems consider that illegal."

The winter chill of fingers twitched when her hand reached for his. Something nudged his spine. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t know how to resist at first. One finger, then another slipped, until his palm fell back into the air.

Questions were processed like a tactical assault. The Sangnir began to calculate the spatial awareness required for the dance floor before sighing. "Enjoying isn’t the word I’d use, but I’m managing." He looked out at a crowd swaying erratically, his gaze lost. Most could probably even appreciate the golden horizon. "I’ve survived far worse environments than this. So far."

The concept of idle chatter hadn't so much as grazed the Sangnir's consciousness. "Zero. Why should I generate data where none is required?" Then the final strike. "My instincts don’t translate into music. If I dance, someone will get hurt." Not that he’d ever been opposed to violence.

"So," barely a breath. "What did you want to do next?"

Clearing his throat, dark orbs darted down to her feet, then tentatively back up to her bright gaze. "Are you.. were you intending for me to join you? In the dancing?" The thought sounded more perilous than a room full of armed mercenaries. "If it involves chocolate afterwards, I suppose I wouldn't object. That would make it highly logical."

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber

It was the third time he had been on a tropical beach. But a first time he had witnessed black sands. It was quite different for him and the volcanic elements within the granular minerals seemed to speak to him. They were all standing upon the ground that had been destroyed and rebuilt over and over several times over the course of years.

But, it was not the only destructive force that would grace the presence of this beach.

Varin had his arm hooked with Seren’s as they walked the beach. The waves quietly crashed along the shoreline, various carrion called to one another as they waited for some poor soul to leave their food lying about.

Though they did not walk alone on this small trek to the party ahead. Joining with them were his battle brother, Lysander and the Empress of the Core herself, Mercy. The mountainous woman towered over the three of them practically blotting out the sun.

Varin was still not used to walking on shifting sands beneath his feet and the exposure of his legs just felt…wrong to him. He never liked shorts, but it would have been weird if he decided to wear his armor to a beach gathering.

He learned his lesson of wearing armor in sandy places like Korriban. It was…not optimal to put nicely.

Varin’s gaze pointed towards the mass gathering along the beach. Lounges, swimmers, small bars littered about the beach, familiar faces and unfamiliar faces alike all socializing in their own way.

Probably the most uncomfortable thing about the event for him was the fact he left his weapons. He always had them with him, and without his saber or his blade, he felt…further exposed. But he buried that feeling deep and remained focused on the upcoming events of the day and night.

The waves slowly ran up the sands, covering his feet with the oceanic chill of its natural temperature, the hissing of the waves grew once it came in contact with his flesh and a slight sigh left him when he realised it.

“Beaches tend to just not like me I see.”

He spoke more to himself than anyone else before a quiet chuckle left him. Oddly enough, he seemed more…upbeat for the day. Why, Mercy may have even seen him smile at one point before getting to the event.

Truth was, though he sometimes seemed to dislike the beach, he actually liked it. A lot.

Seren Gwyn | Mercy | Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

The beach was beautiful; Seren would admit that much without hesitation. The black sands glittered beneath the morning sun, each grain catching the golden light pouring across the shoreline until the entire coast seemed suspended somewhere between volcanic ruin and paradise. The contrast was striking, dark earth born from destruction meeting impossibly bright waters that stretched toward the horizon. Perhaps that was why she liked it; there was a certain honesty in landscapes that survived catastrophe.

Her arm remained comfortably linked through Varin's as they made their way along the shore, the rhythmic crash of the waves accompanying the distant music drifting from the gathering crowd. She could feel the subtle shifts of the sand beneath her bare feet and the unfamiliar warmth of the sun against her skin, a sensation she had spent enough years without to appreciate properly.

Unlike many of the guests, Seren had not dressed to attract attention. She never really knew how. Instead, she wore a flowing, sleeveless dress of deep sea-green that gradually faded to lighter shades near the hem, the fabric light enough to catch the ocean breeze while retaining an understated elegance. The open back revealed sun-kissed skin rarely visible beneath her usual heavy robes, while silver embroidery traced subtle patterns along the neckline and waist, reminiscent of curling waves and climbing vines. Her dark hair had been left mostly loose for once, with only a small portion gathered and pinned at the back by a simple silver clasp shaped like intertwined leaves. It allowed the rest to fall freely over her shoulders, the sea wind occasionally scattering stray strands across her face.

The overall effect was softer than the imposing image many associated with her.

It was less Sith and more simply Seren.

The atmosphere around them felt unusually light, elevated by the music, the setting, and the remarkably rare sight of Varin smiling. That alone felt noteworthy enough to warrant documentation. Her glowing amber eyes shifted toward him as another wave rushed up the shore, hissing against his feet before retreating back into the sea.

The reaction earned her a faint smile.

"I believe the beach is attempting to make your acquaintance," she observed, amusement threading gently through her voice. "Though judging by the steam, the relationship may be off to a complicated start."

As her smile lingered, her gaze drifted across the expanding party, taking in the easy laughter carried on the wind.

For once, there were no missions, no crises, and no looming disasters demanding their immediate attention.

There was just a beach, good friends, and a day she fully intended to enjoy, for however long the galaxy allowed such moments to last.

Varin Mortifer Lysander von Ascania Mercy

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Seris Mataan //: CT-312 //:
//: Attire //:

A vacation was something she desperately needed. To be away from the eyes of the High Republic Senate and their Jedi was a reprieve the Queen needed. Things had been turbulent, more so than she had wanted. In her mind she was just a visiting sovereign interested in the way the Republic functioned. Instead she was met with animosity and fast talking politicians. But at least for the most part it was behind her.

She had decided to not return home right away. Instead, she chose to make her way towards the Commonwealth — a place where she was able to indulge and relax. Here no one judged her for anything, no one followed her or tried to pin something on her. Here she was just able to be Quinn, the the Sith Princess, the Queen of Eshan — whatever she wanted.

Carefully she had laid out her towel, the umbrella tilted just enough so she could get some sun while avoiding any burning. CT-312 was close, despite being in Sith territory, the Commonwealth functioned on their own set of standards and rules. The last thing she needed was someone here wanting to drag her into the streets and call her a monster.

312, made her feel safe. She was enough.

Quinn leaned back on the small rest she had propped up, her legs long and her shoulders and arms exposed to the elements. A pair of dark sunglasses lingered on her nose as she read the pages of her favorite Lady Velvet novel. There was a time that she wondered if she could have a romance like the one in the book. A dangerous romance between a Jedi and a Sith, unfortunately, she found herself with something a little more one sided.

Her heart ached thinking about it, but she was doing her best to follow her mother’s advice. Guard her heart, and give it to someone that was worth it. Frowning, she didn’t fully understand the concept, but she was going to try.

At least the novels were substantial enough.

She heard her name in the distance, through the familiar pings of others that were connected to her. She hoped that they would reach out to her unlike the last time.

Eyes glanced up from the pages, after hearing her name. Looking up, over the top of the book she raised her brows over the sunglasses. “Oh?” She closed the book with a small smile as she let her eyes respectfully look at the copper haired Mandalorian. She felt a lump in her throat tighten, as she tried to swallow. Quinn let Seris talk as she let the moment pass her and when she found her voice she laughed.

“Brothers?” She echoed as she was thankful the sun made her skin flush with the heat.

“I’m unsure if it works on brothers, I only had sisters growing up.” Quinn stood carefully as she adjusted the swimsuit and pushed her sunglasses up the bridge of her small nose.

“I’m happy you came, I didn’t know if you were going to be able to with how far it was from home.” A smile as she stepped forward and hesitated wanting to lean in for a hug, but the young Queen was unsure if it was appropriate or if Seris wanted it. Either way, she smiled and offered a bit of the towel to sit.

 

[Aether Verd]

Wearing:
Armor - Darksaber - Mask of Mandalore
Beach Bum Attire
.​

BEACHFRONT, GILARIA

Officially, everything was per the usual.

If the prying eyes of the Galaxy dared to settle on Mandalore, the Sole Ruler would be widely visible on the capital. Within his Court of Iron, he would be attending meetings with the Clan Alors, organizing the Great Heathen Army, and overall preparing his people for the next conquest. There would be confirmed sightings of him. Numerous souls would be able to report that they personally rubbed elbows with him. Everything was, quite literally, as it should be.

Of course, that was the official story. Unofficially?

Mand'alor the Iron's beskar'gam was indeed being paraded about Sundari conducting business as usual. The meetings occurred without a hitch. His will was made manifest across his Empire. Yet the one in the driving seat was not Aether personally - but rather his sibling. The Mand'alor's will had been provided to him directly in advance, freeing Aether to make good on something that he desired. For this one day, he would follow the roar of his thundering heart. And where it led was somewhere...sandy.

The conversation leading up to now had been...nerve-wracking...

Aether didn't just decide to pop over to the other end of the Galaxy on a whim, mind. There was indeed a method to his madness. More specifically, there was a woman whose presence in his life was something he...wanted. As time moved ever forward, the seldom moments of tea breaks between great battles, or aiding their people together...they were beautiful, but he wanted more. It had taken months for him to come to terms with it. Even longer for him to put words to how and what he was feeling. Thus, he approached the Healer wearing his heart upon his sleeve.

He had never asked anyone on a date before. The word hadn't been part of his vocabulary until now. Yet he asked for her presence all the same. This wasn't to be like the time they spent together on Zeltros, as friends. Aether laid it clear, albeit nervously, that he was...very interested in her. And that this request? It wasn't coming from the throne of Mandalore. It was coming from the man she met in the caverns whilst taming a storm. It was coming from the man who defiled tea with copious amounts of sugar and honey.

Aether did not receive an answer right away...nor at all to be honest. The shock that claimed Persephone's face was so much that he cleared his throat and quietly excused himself. But, before leaving, he said simply that if she came, she would be with him - strictly off the clock. And he had a plan in mind to prove how serious he was about that fact. Thus, when the day arrived, the Mand'alor truly felt...naked. He sat upon the shining beach of a distant world, a small walk's distance away from the ongoing festivities.

He could hear the DJ's set faintly in the distance, rumbling apace with the soothing noise of the ocean. Aether almost couldn't hear either over the nerves which were running rampant. For one, he was metaphorically twiddling his thumbs, hoping that the platnium-haired woman decided to join him on the beach. For another...he had literally left his beskar'gam on Mandalore. True to the occasion, he wore a pair of teal swim trunks and nothing else. To say that he felt exposed without his armor was the understatement of the century.

Nonetheless, he was here.

Nonetheless, for her, he would wait.

Persephone Halcyon

 

[Kaivaan Raaf]

Kai pulled on a loose-fitting shirt, a Duraweave-and-cotton blend, and ran a hand through his black hair. He glanced toward his cousin Iskendyr, who was busy spritzing cologne. "By the Balance, cousin, do you intend to drown women in this—" He narrowed his gaze and swiped the bottle from the nearby table as the boat glided across the golden water, the surface so steeped in sunlight it seemed for the moment to be liquid gold. "—Barbarian Elixir?" He raised a brow, took in a deep breath of it, and exhaled with visible suffering.

"It's one of the best brands in the Commonwealth," Iskendyr stated smoothly, running a hand through his own blond hair. "Nutmeg, cinnamon, cardamom-"

"Grapefruit." Kai let his accent drawl the word out. "You're literally citrus and cinnamon."

Iskendyr grinned and, with a quick pull of the Force, plucked the bottle back from Kai's hand. A swift flick of his wrist, and he spritzed his cousin lightly.

Kai coughed and very nearly shoved him off the boat. "Hells, cousin. Do you wish for me to suffocate?"

"Suffocate? Have you gone absolutely daft? We're in the open air, and you will survive." Iskendyr struck him playfully on the shoulder, then hooked an arm around his neck and pulled him close. "Look at that. One of Maravaila's finest resorts, black sand, golden water. Better than those crowded Qosantyran beaches, if you ask me."

Kai sighed, reluctant, like a man resigned to his fate. "Cousin, I live on a tropical island with our grandmothers, where the sand, may I remind you, is actually sand."

"This is sand too. It can be different colors, you know. It was engineered to help with erosion and heat, given how bloody hot it gets here." Iskendyr caught his expression and lifted a finger before Kai could speak. "Don't look at me like that. I read, you know."

"You do?" Kai's shock was theatrical, entirely feigned. "Color me surprised."

Iskendyr opened his mouth to fire back, but the boat's driver cleared his throat and announced that they were approaching the jetty.

The jetty rose to meet them in pale weathered wood, stretching out from a shoreline that was every bit as absurd as Iskendyr had promised: black sand catching the light in flecks of mica, the water beyond it glassy and gold, and behind it all the low white sprawl of the resort tucked into the green. Staff in crisp linen waited at the end of the dock with cool towels and taller, colder drinks.

Kai regarded it the way another man might regard a firing squad.

The boat eased against the pilings with a soft bump, and Iskendyr was up and over the side before it had fully stilled, landing on the planks with the easy grace of a man who had never once in his life been uncertain of his welcome anywhere. He turned, arms spread, the sun catching him like it was on his payroll.

"Tell me this isn't paradise."

"It isn't." Kai stepped onto the jetty with rather more care, one hand braced on a piling, his expression that of a man testing ice for thickness. "It's a resort. Paradise wouldn't have a bar tab."

"You wound me." Iskendyr clapped a hand to his chest. "Genuinely. Here I am, dragging you out of that crypt you call a villa, into sunlight, fresh air, the company of people who do not exclusively converse with holocrons."

"The holocrons," Kai said gravely, "are better listeners."

"—and this is the thanks I get." Iskendyr fell into step beside him as they started down the jetty, and after a beat slung an arm around his shoulders again, steering him forward as though Kai might otherwise turn and swim home. "You'll thank me by sundown. I promise you."

"I will thank you," Kai allowed, "if I am not made to do anything. No watersports. No volleyball. No-" he gestured vaguely and with deep distaste at the shoreline, where someone had already produced a ball, "activities."

"You're going to get a tan whether you consent to it or not."

"Over my dead body."

"That can be arranged. You're very pale, cousin, it would be a mercy." Iskendyr grinned, ducking the half-hearted elbow Kai threw at his ribs. They had done this their whole lives, the shove, the jab, the dodge, and it landed now the way it always did, more brotherly than the family tree strictly accounted for. "Come on. I'll get you something with fruit in it and a little umbrella, and you can brood at the ocean like a tragic poet. You'll love it. It plays directly to your strengths."

Kai opened his mouth, found he had no real rebuttal to that, and closed it again.

"That's what I thought," Iskendyr said, entirely too pleased, and pulled him on toward the sand.

Persephone Dashiell | Caelan Mataan | Open​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Mercy Varin Mortifer Seren Gwyn Rayia Si​

The black sands of Gilaria fanned out before him. Each step pressed heat into the arches of his feet. Memories of pale beaches from years past felt like a different lifetime; this shore resembled the charred aftermath of a collapsed star.

Varin and Seren sauntered forward, their entwined limbs and effortless levity. That scene alone should have softened the edges around the horizon. Mercy's presence was at his other side, a reminder that even here, on a beach, in swimwear, power traveled with them akin to a shadow.

Stripped of armor, cloaks, and whatever regalia, only simple black trunks remained. Without those familiar alloys holding the frame in check, he could feel a phantom tension lining the trapezius muscles. The Sith's nervous system had not received the message for this calm premise, so he just kept scanning with a sharper gaze.

A persistent hitch lived in those relaxed stride. The blonde's internal frequency was still tuned toward commands. They always echoed somewhere in his mind. Whatever liberty this was felt like nothing more than illusion. Directly ahead, there was a riot of color and noise. A babel of vendors, bodies, and so many languages beyond one's comprehension.

Beneath everything, there was one specific shape missing from the peripheral. A presence he had grown used to check for, only to find the space beside him empty. As he had come to learn in the Core, duty and the shifts of politics were indeed the cruelest of masters. They scattered lives like chaff before a gale.

Still, the act of surrender was possible. Perhaps the warmth of the black earth could bleed into the soul, or perhaps the bass of the music might unspool weary knots.

When Seren's amusement touched the air, he stepped into it as well. "You always seem a little lost when the galaxy isn't actively on fire." Well, a partial truth. A glance slowly shifted toward Mercy. His former master had been back from Brosi for some time, but aside from that singular incident on Alderaan, their paths had rarely crossed. "You warned me about half the galaxy, but you never warned me about diplomats in swimwear. I feel unprepared," came the observation. Of course, the remark was trivial, a bridge to keep silence from taking root, as the bar drew near.

 

[Aerik Lechner]

Wearing: This | Weapons: Lightsaber | Knife
TAG: Skadi Lightbane​

Aerik stepped from the ferry onto the jetty and immediately understood why people traveled across the galaxy for places like this. The water stretched farther than he could see, broken only by distant reefs and the occasional white wake left behind by another vessel approaching the resort. Sunlight moved across the surface in shifting bands of gold, and the air carried warmth unlike anything found on Dromund Kaas. There was no rain, no oppressive humidity, and no scent of wet stone or ancient forests. Instead there was salt, flowers, and something sweet he could not identify. It felt strange more than unpleasant.

The warmth settled across his shoulders, and Aerik found himself reaching instinctively for the cloak he was not wearing. Most of his usual wardrobe had remained packed away. Skadi had already informed him that arriving dressed like a Sith apprentice would make them stand out more than either wanted, and the compromise left him in lighter clothing than he normally preferred. The loose shirt stirred in the ocean breeze, and Aerik still was not sure what to do with himself when no one expected him to train, fight, endure, or prove something.

His gaze moved over the beach while music drifted from farther down the shore. Guests laughed near the water, servers moved along the sand with trays of bright drinks, and no one seemed concerned with anything beyond the warmth of the day. Aerik looked back toward the ferry as Skadi appeared with the rest of the arriving guests, and his attention caught immediately on the fact she was not looking at the resort.

She was staring at the ocean.

The sight pulled a real smile from him before he could stop it. The Valkyri looked completely taken by it, and for once Aerik knew something she did not. He waited until she joined him, then looked back toward the water with her.

“It does not end,” he said, his voice matter-of-fact, as though explaining something practical. “That is the strange part. You keep thinking eventually you will see the other side, but you don’t.”

A breeze rolled across the water and lifted dark strands of hair from his forehead. Aerik watched another wave fold itself toward the shore before he looked back at Skadi.

“The first time I saw it, I thought there had to be land somewhere beyond the horizon. There is, but you just cannot see it.”

For all the battles they had survived together, and for all the complications they had somehow managed to create between them, this was the first time Aerik had seen Skadi experience something entirely new. There was no danger in it, no expectation, and no role either of them had to play. She was simply standing on a jetty in the sun, staring at the sea.

His expression softened.

“Come on,” Aerik said, nodding toward the beach below. “If we are staying here for a week, you should probably meet the ocean before it sneaks up on you.”

The warning sounded serious, but the amusement in his eyes gave him away.

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Darth Empyrean
Smol Tag: Darth Prazutis | Hasuras Na-Gerra
Wearing: .XoxoX.

The sea was objectively...beautiful.

Light spilled across the water in great molten sheets while warmth settled across pale skin. The breeze tasted of salt and something sweet, coupled with music, and the distant sound of laughter. It was idyllic, but none of it felt natural or normal, not to her, and she found herself looking for the lie. Were it not for the fact that she had always been on good terms with the Commonwealth, she might have left the invitation unread. They were…Openly, Imperial.

But…Srina did not count them among the Faithless nor had she raised any call for their destruction between the Sith Order or the Sith Covenant. They were productive and authoritative, held their ground, and fulfilled a necessary role. The pale woman was often the sword hanging unflinchingly over system after system…They had no room to breathe. They had no succor—Because the eye of the Eternal Mother was always upon them. The Commonwealth provided…Stability. Refuge. Grain.

All things the nation could not do without, especially given the hard disparity of the poverty line.

She walked along the black sand with her posture straight as a spear despite the casual setting. The civilians on the beach didn't look at her with revulsion, disgust, or fear. They smiled when she passed and enjoyed their activities. Invited her to play something called "chicken" though she politely declined…Not sure how she felt about being that close to strangers. Despite her respect for the Commonwealth…It could have been a trap. It could always be, a trap.

The silvery woman wore a black one-piece swimsuit that disappeared beneath a flowing wrap of sheer fabric that drifted around bare legs whenever the wind caught it. Gold embroidery traced elegant patterns across the garment, subtle enough to be tasteful, but indicative enough to remind anyone who glanced at her that beauty and authority were not mutually exclusive. Nothing was exposed that she did not wish to have exposed, elegant, rather than provocative. Distant rather than inviting…The sort of creature that inspired longing just because she was always out of reach.

Ivory hair had been gathered into an elaborate coif at the back of her head. It was secured with golden pins that had been worked into the shape of delicate stars and crescent moons. On theme, perhaps, but it was personal. The svelte style offered the graceful curve of her neck but ensured her appearance would remain austere, even, with the sea breeze pulling tendrils free. The longer one looked…The less she seemed like a tourist. Her unfathomable presence was Force Clouded through alchemical runes, but that didn't break the image of some ancient queen, briefly, permitting the ocean the privilege of existing near her. It had always been her way, Echani born, to keep her head held high.

To hold the unknown at a distance.

She had noticed Sith milling about in their own groups. Some from the Covenant and some from the Order…But it made no difference. They were all her children, in the end. Some seemed confused, and others were already finding drinks while they got neck-deep into trouble. She had decided to attend. Not because she particularly enjoyed the beach or desired leisure. Certainly…Not for the music. It was because the galaxy had a way of grinding people down until all they remembered was conflict.

War became routine, part of breathing, and power became the only thing they could see. Eventually…They began to forget everything else and a ruler who forgot what ordinary people lived for eventually became incapable of leading them. So…She had come. Not alone, but also with others that she had "suggested" might accept the invitation. Those that seemed…Lost, in their own way.

It was a chance to exist in the sunlight…Not the shadows they called home.

The black sand shifted beneath bare feet while she held a pair of shoes in her other hand. Gold-hewn eyes swept the crowd and eventually settled on two familiar figures. The imposing Darth Prazutis and the unmistakable Hasuras Na-Gerra were not entirely unexpected, but her expression smoothed. The Blackwall Empress had fully expected the proud Uncle of Darth Carnifex to ignore her forcefully worded request…But here he was. Sitting in a lounge chair and enjoying some kind of death stick…

Her head shook slowly…Men would be men.

They disagreed on many things; however, she was currently the one to whom he owed his allegiance. They both knew of the doctrine that the Butcher King subscribed to about the weak and the strong. Srina did not disagree, but there was a small caveat that he had yet to learn. Sometimes the weak had someone terrifying watching over them, and sometimes, that someone—Was her.

She approached the pair without haste and without attendants. That only drew more attention. Instead…She stopped by Darth Prazutis and placed a cool hand on his forehead before letting her fingers roll back to smooth down any windblown strands of black hair. It was as close as she had gotten to him in a decade without the potential of violence filling the room. This was…new. It was not the same as the open closeness she had with others, but it was something coming from an Echani.

"Do not forget the event tonight…I will see you?"

The soft inquiry was made in reference to the soiree she had heard buzzing about in the ether. Her touch fled the Shadow Hand as quickly as it arrived. It was not monetary…But it was a reward of a different kind. Her hawkish gaze drifted up toward the red-haired Vahla, and the small measure of warmth in her demeanor seemed to pause. She wasn't particularly angry with this man, nor was she overly fond. She had seen his actions on Coruscant through the lens of someone who had died for the sake of those she went to battle with. Who was the real Hasuras Na-Gerra?

The one who took her daughter away?

Or the one who gave her back?
​

"Both of you?"

She hadn't come to interrupt their business dealings and inclined her head to both of them…Likely losing the game of playing pretend to be human. Her lips parted to say something more, but it was then that she saw her partner for the evening. Her battle-sister had become a near constant companion, but there was one person who would always draw her eye. It was impossible not to notice the similarities between them. Similar sharp features, white hair, mirror images…Save for the fact that one presented as male and the other female. Pausing…Her mouth closed.

She was staring...How juvenile. She had the grace to glance down and feathery lashes dusted against the tops of pale cheeks. "Please…Forgive my interruption."

The wintry woman was already withdrawing, knowing that neither of them probably wanted her looking over their shoulders. If she could even see over them, given the height difference. Even still…It was the familiar presence, the same silhouette, that drew her across hot onyx sand. She floated where others trudged or slid until her fingers found the hand belonging to her husband.

"You are late."

It was a passive reprimand that was almost amused were it not for her frozen tone of voice. For the briefest moment, something dangerously human flickered in yellow-gold eyes, and the composure of the Sith Empress momentarily slipped. There was no anger in her, not like the last time, but it contained a multitude of things. Relief. Longing. Then…The mask settled back into place. She wasn't hiding his existence, but she wasn't announcing it either. The rest of the galaxy would discover him when he was ready. Their children…When he was ready. "I do not find the beach personally offensive…"

"But they—", she gestured toward the crowd, "—are very loud."

Her head tilted while she looked at the water.

"Would you prefer one room or two?"

Always…Giving him the chance to live a normal life. To let him be the farmer, the merchant, and not married to the Order that had destroyed him. He could still pull away if that was what he wanted. Though the thought did cause her expression to harden.

She would give Darth Empyrean what he asked for even if it ripped her heart out.

Again.

 

[Persephone Halcyon]

​

Direct Tag: Aether Verd
Swim-Jumper: Pretty
___________________________
_______​

Persephone had almost turned around several times.

The walk from the resort to the beach had become a battle all by itself. She would make it halfway down the path before stopping. Turning, walking, back. Convincing herself that this was impossible and ridiculous. That she had somehow misunderstood Aether Verd and that he probably wouldn't even show up. That she was making things harder for him than they already were.

Then…She remembered the look on his face. Earnest.

Just…Aether…And somehow that made it all so much worse. She had spent her entire life avoiding attention. She was comfortable kneeling beside the wounded, hands stained with blood and bacta, but this was something else entirely. She understood injuries. She understood pain. She understood how to mend broken things and make them good as new. This?

This was terrifying.

The white and gold swim-jumper she had on felt scandalously inadequate compared to the robes or armor she usually hid inside. Snug as a bug. A modest wrap of pale fabric draped around her waist and thighs, but it did little to calm the sensation of not having enough fabric that crawled around beneath her skin. Golden hair, kissed by endless sunlight, was pulled back in a messy bun with a small cluster of flowers tucked behind one ear. Were they too much? Were they dumb?

But they smelled nice and looked nice…Yeah, she nearly ran away. Because it wasn't a date. Aether was Mand'alor of the Mandalorian Empire. She was a Force healer…She was accepted within the Iron Wolves, but by and large, her presence was only tolerated. More than a few Clans likely viewed her as just one more space-sorcerer wrapped up in pretty packaging. Guilty, until proven innocent.

His relationship with the Sith Empress was already enough to challenge old expectations. Persephone understood that. But this? Standing beside him openly? Enough that he would remove his beskar'gam for a dalliance on a beach? They would think him mad, or possessed by the nonsense of a former Jedi or some such complicated witch hunt. She groaned, and her hands came up to her face to pull down…Why was this so hard? Why couldn't she just leave?

Because...

Despite all her well-thought-out arguments and efforts to convince herself otherwise, the tanned woman wanted to come. So…Eventually, Persephone found herself standing on the sand. Distant music drifted across the shoreline, and waves rolled in lazily. Sunlight danced, and the warmth made her turn her face up for a moment with her eyes closed. It felt nice. Peaceful in comparison to her heart, which was on a runaway train. When her eyes came down…She found him. For a moment, she just stared.

The image of the Mand'alor without his armor struck her unexpectedly hard. He was handsome, of course…But she already knew that. This was different. She hadn't really expected him to do it or even be where he was. Pale blue eyes, hazel in some light, swept over a sable-skinned man who looked as nervous as she felt and for longer than she might admit…She just watched him. The heels of her sandals dug into the sand when she approached. Slow and careful.

Like a deer that might dart away at any moment.

When she finally stopped beside him, the sunlight caught her hair as the breeze tried to sweep it across her face. Persephone had spent so long in the mirror practicing what she wanted to say, but she just…Lost it. Poof. Gone in an instant. Instead, the healer reached up and tucked her hair shyly back behind her ear as blue eyes found his. She bit her lip for a moment before slowly sinking to rest on her knees. Then, shifted to the side so that she sat down beside him—Knees tucked back.

Her fingers found the hem of her sarong and twisted just a little.

So soft, barely there, with her eyes on the sand.

"Hi."

 

[Colette]

Katherine Holt

The approach was subtle and the presence non-intrusive save for the errant glances along the woman's feathered wings. Katherine was talking to someone on the other end of the bar, or so it had seemed. A moment of hesitation gripped at Colette's body before she shrugged it off. Part of her wished she had been on the other end of the conversation but the more reasonable part of her knew that it wasn't for her to have.

Torin was a lucky man, and that was as far as Colette allowed her thoughts to wander.

"Hey, Kat." She smiled and extended an arm for a quick sidehug. "I don't know about that. Part of being a councilor is to see and be seen. So, technically I am still at work."

Her eyes wandered around the place and all the people that surrounded them. Under normal circumstances this would have been a blackened battlefield of fire and ash, but these weren't normal circumstances.

"Actually, I've been thinking a lot about you— It— The, uhh— The last time we met." Colette leaned in on the bar with an uneasy grin and pointed at a bottle of water that the 'tender was quick to provide. "It's almost funny how a simple talk led to a diplomatic incident, and now all of the ones involved on both sides of the argument are present right here on this beach. Mandalorians, Sith, Jedi, Republicans, just sitting awkward on a beach and pretending to get along."

Colette let out a genuine chuckle. "A single turbolaser, and someone could fix a majority of the galaxy's problems at the click of a button."

 

[Persephone Dashiell]

Head looked up as two very loud boys approached, heading from the bar judging from their argument. Brows furrowed in frustration, did they not know people were trying to read and relax? Partially her fault having set up a spot far from the shoreline and up on dry, sandy land underneath the trees. The foot traffic did not look any less near the 'action' zone of the ocean however.

Catching a whiff of them she coughed. Typical male activity where a washcloth was forbidden so drowning themselves in cologne was the alternative. Smelt like a mixture of an old woman's handbag and the fragrance store at the shopping mall.

Hopefully whomever they were going off to flirt with had a gas mask.

Once they had passed and their toxic cloud of cologne drifted off in the wind, gaze focused back on her book. The female main character had finally been captured, the one bounty she couldn't escape, by the handsome foundling. Trouble was the bounty seemed immoral to the foundling and the woman in peril, leaving a bit of a plot in between the romance story.

Kaivaan Raaf​

 

[Aiden Porte]

Dreidi Xeraic​

"This is awesome!" Lira's young and genuine happy voice, sounded off as she gave Aiden's hand a squeeze. "Can I go play, all my friends are over there!" Aiden chuckled and nodded his head. "Yes, go ahead. Don't wander to far though, stay within distance."

"Okay, I will!" She gave Aiden one last hug before she sprinted to the group of kids her age, as they played in the sand. She was having a good time so far, the tour of the Commonwealth was not lost on her, she was thoroughly impressed with everything they had seen so far. Naboo was still home though, there was no doubt about that.

Aiden simply smiled, and a laugh came to him, as he watched his daughter for a moment before he moved to the bar and ordered a Corellian Whiskey. He noticed Dreidi sitting down a distance a way. "I'll be sitting over there, thanks." Aiden motioned to the server before he made his way towards Dreidi.

"Hey you. I'm surprised you have time to relax." Aiden smiled as he took a seat next to her. "It's good to see you Dreidi."

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

Where I have passed, grass will never grow again.

The Dark Lord spun the cigarillo around "Care to try?"

The Vahlan gene warrior picked up the cigarillo and sniffed it, then placed it between his lips and took a long and hearty drag.

The pulverized bones of the dead rushed into Gerra’s lungs and he felt the swirling energies of the Dark Side igniting in his veins.

“Mmm,” he rumbled, eyes flaring wide with power, “Exquisite. I give them a choice you know. The slaves. Join me, or be sent to Dromund Kaas. Many chose Dromund.”

As he handed back the cigarillo, the Empress approached.

Or should he say, one of the empresses.

A Vahlan attendant brought Gerra his personal cup, the gold plated skull of a Mawite war chief refashioned into a goblet. He took a sip of the wine within, listening.

"Both of you?"

The giant Vahlan shrugged his scarred shoulder.

“Perhaps.”

She was staring..

Gerra raised an eyebrow at the lingering stare.

When she departed he turned to Prazutis and gave a booming chuckle.

Women.

He shook his head, thinking of skin in hues of palest white, blue as topaz, and warm as honey.

 

[Mercy]

MERCY

EMPRESS | WARLORD | STAR-ARM

Location: THE BLACK SHORE | Tags: Varin Mortifer | Seren Gwyn | Lysander von Ascania | Rayia Si​

It was strange to Mercy to be party to this sort of quiet revelry. Battle, she was accustomed to, as much as she felt natural among the drugged and boozed up press in grunged nightclubs. But these sort of events were still somewhat novel to her. A festive event, yes, but Mercy wouldn't call it a party... not enough people were being thrown out of windows for one.

Not that there were windows amidst the track of sand and the ocean beyond.

She had worn something a bit more casual today compared to her usual battle leathers or the more formal adornments of an Empress. Casual, but relaxed, something that offset the heat of the moment.

“Beaches tend to just not like me I see.”

"Don't let it phase you, Mortifer. I thought I just about saw a smile creeping up to your expression. Don't disappoint me by hiding it away again."

Even though this was novel to her, Mercy quickly found herself enjoying it regardless. She had a drink in hand. Said drink had a straw in it with an umbrella, the purpose of which eluded her, and Mercy was slurping the alcohol beverage with relish while her companions waltzed forwards. The Empress was not expecting to do much in the way of conversation. Let the youth have their moment, she thought, soon enough they'd have to return to the fields of battle and wage war.

A moment of revelry was fitting to unwind beforehand.

"You warned me about half the galaxy, but you never warned me about diplomats in swimwear. I feel unprepared,"

"Ah, some things you shouldn't be taught, Lysander." Mercy responded to her former apprentice with an amused chuckle. "Some things you must simply experience for yourself. Anything else defeats the point." Her voice a low pleasant tenor, while she noted two things. Varin had found himself a lady whereas Lysander seemed to have lost his.

"Where is that Togruta friend of yours anyway, my boy? I liked her, she was good for you." Mercy thought back to her actions during the Tapani campaign. Fearless, no hesitation to jump into the fray. Now that was a woman worthy of her apprentice.

Mercy slurped more from her beverage, not even considering the question might have been sensitive, but such was her way. She was like a mountainslide. This was to be expected.

Even while she watched the sea with them she felt the presence of others. Srina Talon somewhere in the crowd, her heart beat excited. Her lips curled into amusement. It was good that her battle-sister seemed to find some fire in her heart. Lest the ice would totally envelop her. She would have to find her later and get her a drink.

And the cadence of Quinn Varanin 's words carried to sharpened sight just as well. Perhaps they'd cross paths as well, if fortune had its will.

Tonight was a good night, Mercy decided. Revelry, fun umbrella drinks and friends she waged battle with in attendance.

She wondered if Arris Windrun was going to join them or if she was still grumbling on Coruscant.

.

ERASE THE PAST

 

[Aether Verd]

Wearing:
Armor - Darksaber - Mask of Mandalore
Beach Bum Attire
.​

BEACHFRONT, GILARIA

Aether's thoughts were a hurricane.

Each and every second that rolled by felt like a small eternity. And he had lost count of how many waves had slid over the sands whilst he sat. And as the sun moved ever closer to the horizon, a nagging thought grew louder in the back of his mind. Try as he might to banish it, time gave it strength - until he couldn't possibly ignore it. The thought? What if she never came? The very notion caused the butterflies in his stomach to multiply into a raging horde.

He took a breath to steady himself. A breath to say fethyou to the doubt in his mind. There was nothing about the platinum-haired woman's character that said she would leave him hanging on the shore. If she wasn't coming? She would have told him. A comm message would have rang through. Something. Persephone of Clan Halycon was many things, but a ghost certainly wasn't among them.

That...did beg the question though...

Aether was about to flip his wrist over to see if his personal comm had any new messages. But before he could even begin to move, motion caught the edge of his vision. He turned from where he sat...and his jaw fell. Now, he was raised in a civilized home (despite the reputation his people often held abroad). He was taught by his mother and the now-Sith Empress both that it was impolite to stare - especially at a pretty woman.

By the gods did that lesson fall by the wayside in that moment.

The sunlight painted a picture before him that ten thousand words couldn't possibly articulate. And he watched her, hopelessly enthralled, as she made her way closer on the beach. Aether couldn't hear the music from the distance any longer. He couldn't hear the waves rolling in either. All he could hear was the thumping of his heart. Finally, as Persephone drew near to where he sat, reason burned its way into the forefront again. Aether cleared his throat as she joined him on the sand before offering a genuine smile.

"Hey-uh-Hi-uh-H-Hello." he said, his words fumbling from his mouth as if Basic was a foreign language. He then drew another breath, this one to tell himself to pullitthefethtogether. "You look amazing," he began - which was indeed the truth. His mind was struggling not to short circuit with each passing second. The flowers? The way the fabric graced her-ahhhhhhh!

"I'm glad you came." That was the truth of it all. And those four words were uttered with that same, earnest smile he gave her when he vowed to show her how serious he was about this being different. Today it wasn't a king and a healer. Today it was just Aether and Persephone.

He reached out, then, finding her hand. It was just the lightest touch - the lightest connection. And it was there that his nerves cried out and he spoke again: "I...I brought something." His freehand motioned towards the basket that had been hidden behind his form. It was a modest thing, but within held the trappings of quality time spent on the shore. As his sister Aselia Verd called it: a sharkoochie board.

He didn't say anything else beyond that...Mostly due to the sun hitting her cheeks so well that an error occurred and Aether needed to restart.

Persephone Halcyon

 

[Alistair Sterling]

LOCATION: THE BLACK SHORE
ALIAS: DONOVAN GUNN
TAG: Helena Cross

The Commonwealth certainly knew how to throw a party. It was interesting to see how a smaller nation managed to punch so much farther than their belt was due. Dignitaries of so many nations, many of them opposing one another. From Mandalorians to Sith to dignitaries from the High Republic, it was a wonder they weren't at each other's throats.

This suited Mister Donovan Gunn just fine however.

The man, polished and slick, was a representative from one of the many Naboo noble houses. Mister, or as he preferred, Ser Donovan Gunn had made his fortune in the arms selling business. Several years ago when the wars in the Galaxy had heated up, Gunn was first on the scene and with several large transactions (fueled primarily from armament left behind by collapsed nations) had earned a small fortune.

Enough of a fortune that he slipped into a new business- liaison to the rich and wealthy. They paid him handsomely to serve as their representative, making sure their wishes were accurately portrayed. It was not about the money, of course. That he had plenty of. It was being able to rub elbows with the most powerful and continue his side-business.

Of course, Donovan Gunn did not actually exist. Not unless Alistair Sterling put on his particular pair of shoes and sunglasses. The Renaiscent Heirate had send one of their Cipher Agents to this event, because rumors were floating around about intelligence being out in the wild.

The kind that could prove embarrassing in certain circles.

Sitting at the bar he noticed a lot of shenanigans, but not a sign as of yet of the sort of leaks that could upturn a society. And then Helena Cross came walking to the bar, which distracted him. It took a moment to register she had ordered a drink. Sterling blinked and then put up his best smile.

"I am trying to figure out if you are a Sith, a Mandalorian or a secret third option." Sterling began, approaching but not so much as to invade her personal space too much. "Donovan Gunn, liaison from House Colba of Naboo." Offering a hand.

 

[Isobel Serraris]

LOCATION — Gilaria, Black Shore
TAGS — Open :>
ATTIRE — <33

With a warmth so contrary to the Zardossan atmosphere, Gilaria welcomed the Nabooan and her droid companion with ease. There had been little hesitation upon receiving the invitation--a fête? Amidst all the doom and gloom? It was a mercy and a half.

Ser Sprout, however, would love to disagree. The towering droid had spent the entirety of their brief stay lamenting safety risks, condemning her taste for adventure over her duty for flora, and every conceivable hazard one might dare to imagine. Not to mention the impassable sands, which had somehow become the magnum opus of his artistic protests voiced since their arrival. . . much to Isobel's delight.

"M'lady, must you be so irresponsible? It was not required of you to be here--We should have stayed on Zardossa Stix, had tea and taken care of the flowers instead of neglecting them for this 'social event'." The droid grumbled as its tall metal legs pranced through the black sands , its arm hovering in the air between them--a silent offer, that she should her balance waver, it would not fail in his duty.

"And missing the chance to live for once? For all your programming, Lys Lysander von Ascania has made you quite stubborn when it comes to feasts," Bel softly chimed in dismissal, a bemused smile painted upon her warm face as she cherished their playful back-and-forths. All the while her dark brown eyes peered over the flourishing crowd. . . So many faces, most of which unfamiliar, and even with familiarity lurking within, their presences were overshadowed by their peers--mayhaps it was all the swimwear that too made it vexingly impossible to identify them.

Though. . . she herself had donned a floral bikini adorned with numerous stitched-on patterns, paired with a slanted skirt on her lower half. . . surely one might still recognise her, non?

Whilst the swirl of people and the undeniable allure of revelry sought to draw her nearer, her droid's reluctance won her over, forcing the pair to remain on a quieter spot on the shore--if one might dare call it as such. She could already hear his grumbling about forgetting to water the Queen's Heart in the ship, and softly reassured the unit that it had been taken care of. For all his delightful habits and courtly manners, caring for Ser Sprout often felt more akin to tending to a stubborn pet.

After a moment, she halted beside one of the cabanas and gazed up at the droid. "All this walking has made me rather thirsty. Would you be a dear, and find me a drink, Ser?" The request earned a polite, if horribly stiff, bow, before the droid marched off proudly toward the crowded bar area. . .

Peace at last.

​

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber

A soft chuckle left him after they spoke to him, the pace of his steps keeping with their group as they drew closer to the people filled beach. The music was lively, the conversations loud, but still underlining it all were the calm waves that crashed like whispers along the sand. First he looked at Seren, the dress she wore complimented her in the best ways. To most it may have seemed simple, but to Varin, it was so much more, even the way that it flowed with the wind matched her grace. A near polar opposite of the man that had her arm.

“Most of us here know my rocky relationship with water. Eventually I get enough of it, but it can never get enough of me, that or I am just extremely talented at gaining complicated relationships.”

He flashed her small smirk.

“Theres also, to me at least, some form of order in chaos. I feel when it is too peaceful then something is certainly about to pounce. The quiet before a storm, you could say.”

He looked over to Lysander, noting that Naniti was not with him. It was a bit strange to him, they were nearly inseparable not so long ago. When Lys spoke to Mercy he tilted his head a bit with his words. To him, Lysander was probably the most prepared of the four of them in a social gathering. His sharp wit always sharpened his words further. Even under pressure, he seemed to be able to use diplomacy in some of those situations where Varin would have just crushed them.

But the game of diplomats was always something Varin was not good at. As he had noted before at many gatherings. The conversations were only smiles made to his carnivorous intent.

Before he could ask him about Naniti, Mercy spoke. Varin almost did not notice that he nearly smiled in front of her. He didn’t know why he preferred to keep such emotions under wraps, perhaps nervousness of them being used against him? But after she spoke, he seemed to relax a bit more, especially after she started slurping down a comically small drink in her hand with an even smaller umbrella.

It was certainly harder to keep a straight face after that.

She then asked Lysander about Naniti, and Varin waited silently, patiently for what Lysander would say.

Seren Gwyn | Lysander von Ascania | Mercy​

 

[Helena Cross]

Helena's eyes passed over Alistair Sterling and hesitated momentarily before continuing their scan. When they scanned back, he had stepped closer. Then he spoke.

"I am trying to figure out if you are a Sith, a Mandalorian or a secret third option. Donovan Gunn, liaison from House Colba of Naboo."

She tugged down the rim of her sunglasses minutely and allowed her gaze to dip down to his hand, then lifted her eyes back to Mr. Gunn's as she put her hand in his and gave him a shake. "Cross," she said. "Helena Cross. And I'm afraid I'm neither fish nor fowl." She turned to accept her drink from the bartender, offering him a crisp bill as a tip. She turned back, lifting her drink for a refreshing sip. "Nor good red herring," Helena added dryly.

Not exactly true, but Mr. Gunn, liaison from House Colba of Naboo didn't need to know every detail.

"You're a long way from home, Mr. Gunn. What's the occasion? Naboo has beaches."

She waited to see if he was going to order a drink for himself.

Alistair Sterling​