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

[Sovereign Echoes]

OOC Thread: Here
Invitation: Here
City Information: Here
Planet Information: Here
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The boats came in one by one in the late morning, the golden reflection along the sea, made it feel as if one had been brought across a sea of gold.

That was the thing about Gilaria at this hour, the way the light didn't so much fall as pour, thick and warm as honey, across the black-sand shallows and the long wooden jetty that reached out from the Vaimana's shoulder into the bright water. The Waihokai sun hung low and unhurried, and everything it touched it gilded: the lacquered hulls of the outriggers ferrying guests in from the orbital shuttles, the brass fittings of the resort rising terraced and pale-gold behind the palms, the foam where the tide turned over itself against the pilings. Somewhere a reef bird called. Closer, the water knocked gently at the dock, patient as a heartbeat.

It had been made easy to come here. That was the Commonwealth's way, and more particularly it was her way the Grand Vizier did not extend an invitation so much as remove every reason to decline one. Passage had been arranged. Codes had been issued, quiet and discreet, so that no guest need trouble themselves with the tedium of how they had come to be standing on a jetty, on a world at the edge of the Unknown Regions with sand already working its way into expensive shoes. They had simply been brought, as if they had been lifted from wherever they'd come from and set down here, in the warm, in the gold, with a cool drink finding its way into their hands before they'd quite found their footing. And for some, the ones who knew who they were, even the drink and the suite and the long bright days to come had been seen to entirely. Their expenses had been covered, and for those select few they'd see no bill for the week. That, too, was the point: hospitality so complete it became a kind of statement, generosity worn as lightly as the linen.

Down the shore, where the jetty gave way to the black-sand beach proper, the music had already started.

It came up under everything else, bright and buoyant, a tropical pulse that seemed to rise off the warm sand itself, bead-strung head-tresses catching the light behind a gold-trimmed booth, a Nautolan grin flashing as he leaned into the mix. DJ Koa Rel, Namadii's own, reading the shore like a tide table and finding it ready. The track he'd opened on was an old Gilari favorite given new shine, all sunlit synth and a chorus that didn't bother with cleverness because it didn't need to, a simple, stubborn, joyful insistence that whatever the galaxy took, this remained: the warm water, the good company, the light. A world that had been broken and rebuilt more times than it cared to count knew the value of a day like this one. So did the woman who'd arranged it.

The beach was filling. Loungers and cabanas in cream and coral stood open along the sand; the Reef Bar's lanterns waited, unlit, for a dusk still hours off. Servers moved through the gathering crowd with trays of something cold and bright and faintly impossible-looking. The day stretched ahead, long and golden and entirely without obligation, and beyond it, when the light finally turned, the terraces above promised lanterns, an orchestra, and an evening of an altogether finer sort.

But that was later. For now there was only the jetty, the gold on the water, the music on the wind, and the warm and open invitation in it:

Come ashore. Stay a while. You're among friends here.

The Grand Vizier would receive her guests presently.

For now, Gilaria simply welcomed them.

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DJ Koa Rel is spinning up some of the Commonwealth's favorite tunes!

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[Ivalyn Yvarro]

Ivalyn had already found her way to the Black Shore.

Her feet dipped into the cool give of the dark sand, the water not yet close enough to reach her but present in the way Gilaria insisted on being present, salt in the air, gold on the water, the particular quality of light that made everything feel slightly more permanent than it was. Merryn was at her side. And today, for the length of this day, neither of them wore their titles. She was not the Grand Vizier. Merryn was not the Chief of Operations for Aurora Industries. They were simply Ivalyn and Merryn, which was, she had decided, more than sufficient.

It had been some time since their honeymoon. Longer than she had intended. The calendar had a way of filling itself, and Ivalyn had a way of letting it. This trip had required a degree of arrangement which was to say, she had applied a certain quiet pressure to Merryn's assistant until the time had materialized on the schedule with the inevitability of a well-drafted treaty. Ivalyn maintained, with complete composure, that she had done no such thing.

Merryn had only rolled her eyes and agreed to come, contingent on one condition: no rescuing wayward creatures.

"I do not know why you would assume," Ivalyn had said, two weeks prior, with great conviction, "that I would rescue any more wayward creatures."

She had been, at that moment, concealing a dog she had acquired on Baralou. The dog had required concealment for approximately four hours before Merryn found it. Ivalyn remained of the view that this was not relevant to the terms of the agreement.

Now Merryn glanced over at her, unhurried, the ease of someone genuinely at rest settling across her features in a way that Ivalyn found, privately, without intending to, rather wonderful to witness.

"Relaxation looks good on you, Ives."

"Mhm." Ivalyn considered this with appropriate gravity. "I would argue many things look good on me, but I will accept the observation." She leaned over and kissed her briefly, light and uncomplicated, the kind of kiss that required nothing of either of them.

The Vaimana had not taken long to arrange the gathering, few establishments did, when the Grand Vizier arrived with sufficient sovereigns and a particular expression. The Black Shore had been prepared with the kind of quiet attentiveness that good hospitality produced without announcing itself. Music carried across the sand, unhurried, catching in the warm coastal air.

Merryn caught her hand and turned her, a neat, playful thing, the beat giving them an excuse.

"Humble and modest as always," she teased.

"A consistent virtue," Ivalyn agreed without missing a beat.

Merryn tilted her head, the smile doing something specific at its edges. "So. Would you care to explain how you've managed to gather members of the High Republic, the Mandalorian Empire, and the Sith Order on a single world?"

Ivalyn affected mild surprise, as though this were an unremarkable logistical observation rather than a reasonable question about something that had required considerable engineering. "A Grand Vizier cannot kiss and tell." She settled her arms around Merryn's shoulders, easy, unguarded in the way she was unguarded here. "Besides, let us not worry about the how. Let us enjoy the beach. The water is close." A pause, weighted with the particular gravity of a confidence about to be entrusted. "And tell no one I said this, but Maravaila's beaches are better than Vizcano Bay."

Merryn drew a finger across her lips. "Your secret is safe with me." She then leaned and whispered into Ivalyn's ear. "For now."

Ivalyn gasped, the performance of it deliberate and fond. "Scandalous. I would never be compelled to make such a comparison. It would be like asking me which child is my favorite."

"Darling." Merryn raised an eyebrow. "You only have your nephew."

"In theory," Ivalyn said, with the patience of someone making a point that did not require defending, "if we had children, and you asked me which was my favorite, I would not tell you. The same principle applies to planets and cities. They are all my favorites. It is merely a matter of when I visit."

"Or how often," Merryn said, perfectly flat.

Ivalyn opened her mouth. Closed it. Elected not to pursue the line of reasoning.

The sea glittered ahead of them, dark sand warm beneath her feet, the gold of Gilaria's morning doing what Gilaria's morning apparently always did making everything feel, just briefly, like it might last.

Merryn Sellek ​

 

[Lucette Raaf]

Viers Connory​

Lucy's hands found Viers', fingers threading through with the easy confidence of someone who had already decided how this day was going to go.

"Viers, I promise it's not hot," she said, soft and a little amused, her bare feet already settled in the black sand. It was cool underfoot, impossibly so for something that had been drinking in that much sun, she'd been surprised by it herself when they first stepped off the jetty, and the memory of her own expression made her want to laugh. "It's actually quite soft. You'll like it."

She tugged her gently closer, turning just enough to look up at her.

"They're making steak. Specifically for you." She said softly just low enough for Viers to hear. "I may have mentioned it once or twice in the planning messages."

The rest of it hung in the warm air between them the wedding that had apparently sent a quiet tremor through every branch of the family tree, the fact that Lucy was young by almost anyone's measure to be making this kind of decision, the planning that had colonized most of their recent mornings and several of their evenings. All of that was real and ongoing and would be waiting for them faithfully when they got home.

But today was Ivalyn's gift. Today had nothing to do with seating charts.

"No plans today," Lucy added, squeezing her hand. "Ivalyn paid for everything. We're just here."

Her gaze drifted down the shore, catching on a familiar silhouette her cousin, standing with her wife in the gold-drenched morning light, easy and unhurried in the way Ivalyn always managed to be when she was somewhere she'd built herself.

"There she is." Lucy nodded toward her with a small smile. "And I think that's Kai and Iskey coming up to the jetty now."

She glanced back at Viers.

"Come along, Viers."

 

[Balun Dashiell]

SUN & STARLIGHT
LOCATION: Gilaria, Maravaila Beachfront
WEARING: Beach Apparel
NPC: Luna (Merqaal)
TAGS: Ivalyn Yvarro , Lucette Raaf , +Others.

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Balun Dashiell was not typically one to attend social gatherings such as this, beach activities that he would typically reserve for only his family, keeping himself from such casual and carefree leisure within the public spotlight; However, the Dashiell's had been cordially invited, and though he had come to Gilaria also as a Jedi Knight, he had been making a greater effort to widen his social circle.

Frankly, it was astonishing to see the High Republic invited so deep into the Sith sphere, access beyond the blackwall typically reserved for those of the Darkside and the fortunate few who had the clearance to travel undisturbed. As a Jedi, Balun had seen this as an opportunity for potential diplomacy and study of the other Galactic Powers that be, particularly those who were often at odds with the High Republic. Taking up the invitation was something of a risk for the Jedi, unlike his father or brother, who were strictly corporate-focused; however, when offered a chance to encourage peace even among the Order's opposition, someone with his ideals could not decline. Too easily were wars started between the governing giants of the Galaxy, and too few were times such as this, where the Jedi ought to see promise in the prospect of peace, temporary as it were.

Throughout the journey to Gilaria, Balun had shared transit with others, using the public fareway for the sake of the affair. When they had neared their destination, the Jedi Knight had moved to his private quarters of the ship and changed out of his formal wear, reserving the white and gold robes of the Order for the Gala to be held later that evening. What he wore now was much better suited to the tropics, light tan shorts and an undershirt of the same tone worn beneath a pale summer tabard-robe, still bearing a fairly close resemblance to his everyday Jedi wear.

And he was not alone, for the small critter that shot up and around his leg, scrambling her way up his torso and onto his left shoulder, was Luna, his Merqaal friend who had come along to experience the new world. It had been quite some time since she had left the residence on Jhaessa Prime, and she was rather agile and resilient when it came to fieldwork; thus, Balun had anticipated her enjoyment of a more peaceful and luxurious time in the sun. The two shared an uncanny bond unlike anything Balun had found in other creatures. She was loyal and able to understand his commands, incredibly intelligent for what some might have considered a house pet, and, truthfully, the Jedi Knight could not have overcome past struggles during his independent years without her.

Their arrival at the Black Shore would see the Jedi Knight step onto the dock, appearing entirely underdressed for his station, and yet, as he glanced skyward beneath the rays of sunshine, he could not help but smile to himself, enjoying the warmth and salt air of the seaside. "This is certainly a change from our norm...", he spoke to his perched friend atop his shoulder, Luna, who turned away from the many people passing them by to regard Balun with a gruff chirp and deep clicks of her throat.

His first stop would be the bar, and from there, Balun would look to see who would join the crowd gathering for the rare and beautiful occasion.

Former Mentor: Ala Quin
Jedi Apprentice: Cerys Dyn
Major Faction: The High Republic
Sub-Faction: Jhaessa Prime
Conglomerate: Dashiell Incorporated™
Subsidiary Company: Dashiell Retrofit™​

"Speech"
'Thought'​

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Outfit

The shore had changed color beneath Him.

From above, Gilaria had been a jewel set in dark water, all turquoise shallows and volcanic black arcs, the resort rising from the coast in terraces of pale gold and sun-warmed stone. From the boat, it became something stranger. The sea itself seemed molten, every slow roll of the tide catching the low Waihokai sun until the world between vessel and shore was not water at all, but hammered gold. The outriggers cut through it in silence, lacquered hulls whispering over the glittering skin of the bay, ferrying guests toward warmth, music, and the polite fiction that power could set its burdens down for an afternoon.

The Dark Lord of the Sith didn't believe in such fictions.

He sat near the rear of the boat, vast and still beneath the shade of a dark canopy, one arm resting along the polished rail as the resort drew closer. The others aboard spoke softly, or not at all. Some because they knew Him. Others because instinct had taken them by the throat before knowledge could. He was dressed for the shore, though even stripped of warplate and court regalia he didn't look diminished. Black swim trunks, cut clean and severe, bore deep crimson panels along the sides and narrow gold edging that caught the light only when He moved. Across His bare torso the sun revealed what armor usually concealed: A body built like a siege engine given flesh, powerfully muscled, scarred across chest, shoulders, arms, ribs, and legs by more years of violence than most dynasties survived. Sith tattoo markings wound over him like old vows burned into skin.

A black towel lay over one shoulder, heavy and fine, its underside a deep shade of crimson. It wasn't casual, despite its purpose. Nothing about Him ever truly was. The boatman kept his eyes forward. Prazutis didn't fault him. On the jetty, the welcome had already begun. Resort attendants waited in linen and gold, bearing cold drinks on polished trays. Music drifted over the sand from farther down the beach, buoyant and bright, some local rhythm turned festive beneath the hands of the Nautolan DJ whose grin seemed designed to disarm an entire coastline. Guests laughed. Sandals struck wood. Somewhere, someone had already decided this would be a story told fondly later, when the galaxy once again remembered how cruel it was.

The Sith Lord stepped from the boat onto the jetty, and for a moment the mood around Him bent.

It wasn't dramatic. No thunder cracked, the gulls didn't scatter and the music didn't stop. Yet the space nearest Him seemed to remember weight. A server approaching with a tray slowed by half a step, then recovered with admirable professionalism. A pair of dignitaries from some distant system paused mid-conversation, their smiles faltering before they learned to wear them again. The sun gilded everyone equally, but on the Shadow Hand it looked less like warmth and more like tribute. He accepted a drink because it was offered well. Dark red, cold, bitter beneath the fruit. Suitable.

The Vaimana rose behind the palms, graceful and immaculate, all terraces, shaded balconies, and polished hospitality. The Grand Vizier's hand was evident in every detail: The smoothness of arrival, the absence of inconvenience, the generosity so complete it became undeniable. No ostentation was wasted. No slight was permitted. Even leisure had been made efficient. Prazutis could respect that. Power didn't always need to announce itself with fleets, armies, or fire. Sometimes it revealed itself in the quiet removal of obstacles. He walked from the jetty down onto the black sand. It gave beneath His bare feet, warm from the morning sun. The sensation was almost absurdly ordinary.

The hiss of foam crawling up the shore and withdrawing again. His shadow stretched long across the beach as He moved past cream cabanas and coral umbrellas, past guests who tried not to stare and failed in various degrees of politeness. He didn't look toward them. Their curiosity was natural. Their caution was wiser.

A place had been prepared, not ostentatious, not private in the manner of a fortress, but appropriate for an honored guest. A luxurious resort lounger of dark polished wood and charcoal cushions stood beneath a black parasol whose crimson underside stained the shade faintly red. Beside it waited a simple side table, tasteful and ordinary, bearing a second glass, a small bowl of cut fruit, and enough empty space for the things He carried with Him even to paradise. From within the fold of the towel He withdrew a compact case and set it down. It was a rectangular case of blackened metal. The surface was marked by faint red lines like cracks through volcanic stone, and at its center rested a subdued Sith sigil, not bright enough to call attention from across the beach, but unmistakable to anyone near enough to matter. He opened it with his thumb. Inside lay the Ashes of Malachor, arranged in two precise rows, each wrapped in charcoal-dark paper with a thin crimson band near the end.

The scent rose dry and mineral. It smelled like ash, bitter spice, and scorched herbs. Prazutis took one of the long cigarillos, then the matte-black plasma igniter beside the case. A red stud clicked beneath His finger. The narrow flame that answered was crimson. The first draw burned dark. For several seconds the smoke coiled almost black from the end, then thinned into gray-red ribbons that drifted low before the ocean wind took them apart. He settled into the lounger beneath the parasol, one arm laid along the cushion, the other holding the smoke between two fingers. The towel was positioned over the back of the chair. The drink rested close at hand. Sunlight burned gold beyond the shade while music moved over the beach in bright, careless waves.

He looked, for all the galaxy, like a man at rest.

Those who knew better understood the difference. A blade in its sheath did not cease being a blade. Prazutis watched the boats continue to arrive one by one across the golden water, watched guests step laughing into the Grand Vizier's invitation, watched the shoreline accept them all with warmth enough to make lesser beings forget themselves. His eyes, faintly red beneath the parasol's shadow, followed the movement of the crowd with calm and ancient patience. For now, the Sith Lord allowed Himself the shore, the smoke, the drink, and the sun, and took a long drag of the cigarillo, blowing rings of smoke into the air.

Lucette Raaf | Ivalyn Yvarro | Balun Dashiell | Open​

 

[Dreidi Xeraic]

Outfit: Beachwear
Tags: OPEN

Dreidi had been recommended taking a few days break. Something that takes her away from Dathomir, where she had been pooling her focus, the attention of her being the rescue of her mother. However, things were taking time. Longer than Dreidi would have liked, but she decided that having time away and relaxing on a planet so very different to the one that she belonged to would do her good. Dreidi breathed in deeply as she inhaled the salty seawater, a beach location had not been where Dreidi intended to find herself during her attempts to relax but it was something that Dreidi realised that she had not found herself enjoying before today. At least not in a relaxing manner, Aileni had always been too eager to play and explore for Dreidi to have a moment rest when he was a young child at the beach.

Humming along to the songs, Dreidi was curious in the type of music that the DJ was playing, she was not looking to dance. Not yet at least, but she did enjoy some of the songs that were being played. Dreidi was in line for a drink and it was amazing that anyone could not lose their mind in queues. They moved far too slow and the boredom was insufferable. The witch was far too adjusted to fast pace life, action around the corners and danger lurking in the shadows. Standing patiently seemed the complete opposite of what a person should do.

The line did move enough eventually that Dreidi could place her order in. "Glass of red wine." Dreidi stated, taking her drink to the lounge chair that Dreidi had secured and settled into her spot. Reclining in the chair, her golden eyes scanned around to see who else was coming to a spot like this. Taking a slow sip of her wine, Dreidi smirked to herself a little.

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Tags: Open
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Extravangant, incredible, phenomenal....Elian couldn't quite figure out which word could be used to explain the place he was in. Elian had been exploring, not for fun, but knowledge. The engineer corps of the Commonwealth on Dosunn had piqued his interest, pretty greatly. He made a stop, not even a week ago before he found himself here on Gilaria.

The Commonwealth had stuck out to him for various reasons, the primary being the Engineering field. He felt if he could get some ground here, he could learn so much more than what he knew already. Yet the learning for now had been put to the side, as he wondered the beach, shorelines, and the ocean. The wind was just right, it was everything one could have wanted for a vacation, or even a place to relax. So he walked, drink in his hand. He managed to persuade the Abrantes Guard to take an evening off, if he got stolen or kidnapped like his brother did. Well, at least they had the good Abrantes left.

Elian raised the glass up and took a small sip, the wind whipping around him. Was there really any place better to be?

 

[Cali Ziiva]

Friends! Open | Kasir Dorran
Objective: Have a Good Time

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First came the fingers. Then the tufts of hair. Lastly, the face-splitting grin. Cali had 'hupped' herself up the front of DJ-man's booth to peek over the edge at the setup. Her eyes darted all around the gear present. And, yes, she could have used the back stairs the Nautolan used, but where was the fun in that? This was a pa~r~ty!

Two fingers popped up a second before the Pink Zeltron dropped out of view.

Neat setup. She'd already scoped out the speakers.

She danced from one foot to the next as Cali made her way back through the crowd. Arms in the air, her pink mane of hair swayed to the beat. There were countless giggles as she bounced and danced up along other guests. Nothing lewd, but there were a few that got down and dirty with their bad selves. Naturally, the Zeltron pointed at them with nodded with laughter at such displays. Why shouldn't people cut loose? This was a party. People were going to get so wasted they might actually let go of their inhibitions.

It wasn't Zeltros, but it was pretty good for not being Zeltros. Always nice to see other people getting the message to not work so much. Entertainment venues were as important as shipyards!

With a twirl, Cali swiped a drink and downed a healthy portion. Bright eyes swept over the area. She was caught between the idea of playing more with those in desperate need for company, and those that totally didn't want any (but that just showed how much they needed it). Just Zeltron things.

 

[Helena Cross]

An incredible feeling of déja vu came over Helena Cross as the boat approached the jetty, sea spray occasionally misting her olive complexion. Her dark hair was tucked up into a neat bun under a wide-brimmed white hat that matched the white linen of her sleeveless day dress. Not that she had been to this resort before -- she had not -- or even to Gilaria before. But she had definitely been to this sort of place before, the kind of resort where the exclusivity was a feature that they couldn't quite come out and state.

It would be bad press to say tired of mingling with the poors? Come here! They're not allowed!

Helena was not troubled by the exclusion. Moralizing was hardly in her job description, and hypocrisy even less.

She spent a frustrating few moments trying to remember what Gilaria reminded her off before the boat arced gracefully toward the jetty's dock, and momentarily Helena was taking the hand of an attendant who helped her off the boat. Not that she required the aid, but she knew better than most how to blend at a place like this. Her hand slipped into the nude leather of her handbag and offered a few crisp bills for the man who greeted her and would arrange for her luggage to be delivered to the appropriate room.

"Thank you," she murmured once the bills changed hands, and then she was turned loose to the black shore.

The first order of business was the bar. She approached, waited her turn, and then slipped off her sunglasses. "May I have a club soda and lime, please?" She glanced at her room key and showed the bartender the number, then stood to one side to wait, absently fingering a dark pendant hanging around her neck as she surveyed the scene: people arriving, settling in, getting drinks, wandering the beach.

It felt like a bit of a motley crew. That suited her purposes just fine.

She slid her sunglasses back on.

Alistair Sterling​

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Cali Ziiva | Open
Objective: Why am I here? I shouldn't be.​

Salty air clung to pale skin as Kasir arrived onto Gilaria's beach, with much regret coiling through every muscle. First mistake? An invitation sent by his own hand. That little impulse should've told him he was already in trouble. Events like this weren't his element. They had never been. A sensory assault to be certain. The crowds, music, all of it a grating cacophony. Fortunately, Sangnir biology could handle sunlight; preference simply lied.. elsewhere. Like Mustafar. Volcanic ash and shadows, with enough Dark to stir ancient veins alive. The fact he actually enjoyed that volcanic hellscape with its rivers of fire should've said plenty about how he felt now.

Black tunic, black shorts, obsidian hair drifting like spilled ink across sharp cheekbones. Most passerby were in vibrant colors; only he appeared draped in midnight. Even so, this was the closest thing he owned to 'beachwear.'

A chill slithered down the spine, heralding a Sith Lord's presence nearby. Something pressed at the scar across his chest, a memoir of the banner on Alvaria of which he'd been impaled upon. No need to look though.

Posture was rigid and he moved.. too quietly. People instinctively shifted out of his path. A pair of dancers swerved close; reflexes of predation coaxed a lithe sidestep. That was when he saw her, the Pink One hauling herself up a booth like some sugar-high loth-cat. The DJ may have not blinked, but Kasir certainly did.

With time dilating, his final stride stopped a few feet short, safely out of hugging range, of course. Words fell from dry lips. ".. Hello, Cali." The assassin's veneer softened in fragments before return to a mask made of marble. Eyebrows flicked toward familiar wild curls. Next, a hesitant murmur. "You're very bright today." Meaning the Zeltron's full and overwhelming spectrum he tried repelling back on New Cov.

Head tilting, courtesy veiled curiosity. "I think you have sand in your hair?"

 

[Katherine Holt]

Location: Beachside Bar
Objective: Soak in the Sun & Enjoy Some Drinks
Outfit: Link
Tags: Colette​

“You sure you can’t join me?”

“Positive I’m afraid. I’m not even at the village right now, heading off-world to help an old acquaintance.”

“And this acquaintance can’t rain check? So you can enjoy some sun and cocktails? And I chose such a lovely outfit too.”

Even through the portable holo-link, Katherine could feel the rumbling chuckle Torin let out. “Oh, I’ve no doubt you’re looking gorgeous right now. But alas, no this isn’t something I can just put a pause on.”

“Well, keep me updated if anything happens. I will drop this all in a moment’s notice if you need help.”

“I know, but it shouldn’t come to that. I’ll see you back home, love you Kat.”

“Love you too, you silly bear.” Katherine replied, her choice of words eliciting a small laugh from Torin.

Katherine let out a soft sigh as the holo-link disconnected. Much as she was going to enjoy the sun and cocktails, she would’ve much preferred doing so with Torin at her side. That and seeing that man in a pair of trunks.

“Ma’am? Your drink is ready.”

The redhead blinked as the bartender approached, sliding over the colourful drink so it was before her. “Ahh, thank you very much.” Without missing a beat, Katherine scooped up the glass and examined the contents. The drink in question was a ‘Crown & Cinder’ according to the drink menu they had on offer today. It had been a while since Katherine had indulged in some alcoholic drinks, and the bartender’s description of this one had caught the winged redhead’s attention.

“I guess this is the first of quite a few today.” She said, amusement clear in her voice. Katherine took a sip, letting the taste settle for a moment. But before she could appreciate it much, a familiar presence approached.

“You know, I figured you’d be as bad as me at times; too much of a workaholic to attend these kinds of things.” Katherine turned around on the stool she was sitting on, a bright smile on her face as she greeted the person. “It’s good to see you Colette.”

 

[Taiia Mataan]

//: Allyson Locke //:​

The journey from shuttle to boat and from boat to shore had been entirely pleasant. That, unfortunately, was part of the problem. Seris stood near the rail as the shoreline of Gilaria grew larger, arms folded tightly across her chest while she stared out toward the black-sand beaches and glittering water. The view was beautiful. The weather was beautiful. The music drifting across the waves was beautiful. None of that was what occupied her attention. Seris tried very hard to focus on the scenery. She failed.

"...Really?" she finally muttered.

A few meters away, Allyson was standing well within her mother's personal space, despite an entire boat being available to her. One arm was resting comfortably around Taiia's waist, her lips dangerously close to her ear as she whispered something that caused her mother's face to flush while her free hand absently stroked her mother's side. Caelan, meanwhile, had abandoned any pretense of helping. The red-haired man lounged comfortably against a crate, drink in hand, watching the entire exchange unfold with the contentment of someone observing a particularly entertaining holodrama.

"You know," he said casually, "you could just stop paying attention."

Seris slowly turned her head toward him.

"I am not paying attention."

"Mm."

"I'm not."

"Of course not."

The expression on Caelan's face made it abundantly clear he believed none of that. Seris resisted the urge to throw him overboard. Fortunately for everyone involved, the boat finally reached the jetty. The moment the gangplank lowered, Seris moved. She was halfway down the ramp before Taiia even stepped onto the dock.

"Well," Seris announced without looking back, "I'm going to find Quinn." Caelan immediately straightened.

"Oh? Going to spend the day with the Queen of Eshan?"

Seris stopped and turned toward him slowly; if looks could kill, her brother would be dust. The expression, however, only caused Caelan's grin to widen.

"Ooh. Listen to that. 'Excuse me, everyone, I have plans with royalty.'"

"Caelan."

"'Sorry, Mother, Allyson. I would stay, but I have a date with the Queen.'"

"It is not a date."

"Right."

"It isn't."

"Of course it isn't."

Seris pointed a finger at him.

"Do not start."

"I haven't started."

"You have absolutely started."

Caelan looked entirely too proud of himself. Behind them, Taiia's smile had become suspiciously amused. Seris immediately regretted everything."Enjoy your vacation," she informed all three of them.

Then she turned and marched away down the jetty toward the resort before anyone could say another word. Caelan watched her go. Waited until she was almost out of earshot, then he burst out laughing.

"Oh, that was definitely a date."

"It was not," came Seris's distant shout from somewhere further down the dock. His laughter only grew; a moment later he pushed away from the railing.

"Well. She's gone to see her queen. Mother, Allyson, enjoy your vacation." he pushed his sunglasses up his nose and with a rogueish smile. "I'm going to go entertain myself. Don't get into too much trouble, you two." Caelan called back as he too started down the Jetty. "Take good care of her, Allyson."

Taiia turned her eyes from Allyson, long enough to watch the twins go back and forth. An amused smile touched her lips, with a gentle shake of her head as she watched them both walk away, and she called after both of them. “Both of you stay out of trouble.” Her voice carried toward them, making sure they heard before she turned her attention back to Allyson. “You are incorrigible; you know that, right. Come on, let's go see what the Commonwealth has to offer.” Taiia offered her hand toward her Wife before she started walking toward the jetty.


Text Color Key:
Seris
Caelan
Taiia


​

 

[Reina Daival]

//:Tags: None //:
//: Objective: The Black Shore - Beach Day //:
//: Outfit //:

Hm. Cake seemed to be much more enjoyable when ate by the ocean. She ate away, her gaze focused on the horizon past the waves in thought. There were a handful of familiar presences she could feel through the Force, presences that she didn't want to focus on in this moment. No, today was for herself. To enjoy herself, whilst the fun lasted. It was only inevitable that there would be some form of dancing or polite society shenanigans going on that she'd stick out like a sore thumb in, but that would come later. For now? She was in her element, breathing in and out with the tide.

A sigh escaped her lips as the Siren let herself fall down onto the sand, gripping onto it to anchor herself in the here and now. No thoughts about the future, nor the past. A rare smile flickering on her face, before she took her sun hat and placed it over her face to hide her visage. As much as she was about to enjoy her moments of sunbathing, she didn't want to fry herself. Specks of sand sticking away to both her dress and skin as she closed her eyes and hummed a gentle tune to herself.


​

 

[Seris Mataan]

Finding Quinn wasn't difficult; truthfully, it would have been difficult to miss her. The beach was crowded enough, full of visitors enjoying the sun, the water, and the promise of a day free from obligations. Yet Quinn somehow managed to stand apart from all of it without drawing attention to herself. She sat beneath the shade of a beach umbrella not far from the waterline, a book resting open in her hands.

A single armored trooper ( CT-312 ) stood watch nearby, close enough to intervene if necessary but far enough away to avoid intruding on the Queen's peace. The guard's attention swept the shoreline in practiced intervals before settling briefly on the approaching redhead. Seris offered a small nod. She did not recognize the trooper, though that was hardly surprising; she'd paid remarkably little attention to anyone except Quinn during their meeting on Mandalore and Coronet.

Her attention had already drifted back toward Quinn; for a moment, she slowed her pace, just taking in the sight ahead of her. The sunlight glimmered across the water behind her. Waves rolled lazily onto the black sand. Around them, the beach buzzed with distant conversations and music, yet Quinn appeared entirely absorbed in whatever story occupied the pages before her. Seris found herself smiling. The irritation she'd been carrying since the boat ride suddenly felt very far away.

Caelan was going to be unbearable about this. She could practically hear him already.

"Look at me. Going to spend the day with the Queen of Eshan."

Seris resisted the urge to groan aloud; then, with the silent resignation of someone already planning how many ways she could threaten her brother later, she continued across the sand toward Quinn. "Quinn." Her smile softened as she drew close enough to be heard. "Either that's a very good book, or you've discovered a way to ignore an entire beach." She tilted her head slightly. "If it's the latter, is it effective against brothers?"

TAG: Quinn Varanin
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[Persephone Dashiell]

THE BEACH

Stretched out underneath a stand of trees, Persephone held a book in one hand as she lounged on her towel in the sand. She had zero ability to swim. Walking around drinking didn't appeal to her. A wayward cousin who should be on Jedi duty was somewhere looking like a lost monk on vacation. A little too many of those hanging around for her liking.

Persephone was here out of pure obligation and a change of scenery.

Page flipped on the Lady Velvet novel, The Three Times I Escaped My Bounty (and the One Time I Didn't), a tale of a bounty target falling in love with a mysterious Mandalorian foundling. Currently she was in the middle of the female romantic interest escaping the third bounty, Persephone assumed the dashing foundling would be the one time this woman didn't.

Scoffing at a lame and incredibly cheesy double entendre, the teenager reached for the fruity drink her droid had brought, little umbrella poking out of the top.

"I need to stop reading this drivel. No one is like this in real life." Persephone muttered before turning her head to the bodyguard droid. "Zee, remind me to seek an arranged marriage in ten years. Seems an easier option."

"Noted, Miss Persephone. Perhaps a Senator's son?"

"No. All of those are slimy weasels. Minor nobility could be a viable option."

 

[Cali Ziiva]

Friends! Open | Kasir Dorran
Objective: Have a Good Time

​

"Oh, hiya, Kas," the Zeltron woman replied cheerfully when he appeared next to her. Drink in hand, she extended it out toward him. "Thirsty?"

Dressed in a bright blue halter top with bikini bottoms, the equally vibrant pink woman would be the easiest person to find on the beach. Fortunately, she had no plans to play hide-and-seek today. "Thanks," she replied cheerfully with a big grin. "Zeltrons like wearing bright colors. Though some like really dark colors too for the contrast, and to 'fit in,' ya know?" Lots of species didn't like their sense of cheerful aesthetic. Nothing Cali could do for it though. She liked being bright.

Then the blink. Cali tipped her chin up and then shook her head side to side. Her free hand reached up to rustle her unmanaged curls.

Suddenly she froze and then looked straight at Kas. "Hey, ya weren't trying to get me to knock chocolate loose, were ya? It's too hot for a chocolate stash in my hair, big guy. Not having chocolate is bad. Wasting chocolate as it turns into liquid and gets everywhere is worse. Oh," she hopped slightly, "but there's chocolate at the bar. They got shade to keep the sun from making it all goo."

Cali would try to get his hand to lead the way though Kas would probably evade the effort. "Enjoying it so far? Have ya met many people? Do ya dance, Kas?" With a thousand questions to pick from he should be able to find one worth answering.

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

Where I have passed, grass will never grow again.

For now, the Sith Lord allowed Himself the shore, the smoke, the drink, and the sun, and took a long drag of the cigarillo, blowing rings of smoke into the air.

"Prazutis," a great booming voice rumbled from a figure of a height with the Sith Lord.

Hither came Gerra, hair red as fire, eyes like solar flares, and body sculpted as though from granite. The scars of battle lay upon his muscled form and he wore them proudly - spidering fractals upon his shoulder and chest showing where he had taken a thunderbolt from Quinn Varanin on Coruscant. Another scar bisected the corner of his brow from a fight long past.

He had not forgiven the Zambranos for their involvement in Ansisa 's butchering, but he had put it aside. For now.

Gerra drank in the smell of the sea spray, the sun upon his bare chest, and the breeze in his hair. This was living.

"I trust you found the latest shipment of chattel to your liking? I hear Dromund Kaas needed replenishing after some foolish Jedi attack."


Darth Prazutis

 

[Caelan Mataan]

Caelan watched Seris disappear into the crowd for several seconds before finally taking a drink and shaking his head.

"Not beating the allegations, Seris."

He knew she couldn't hear him anymore; the grin remained firmly in place as he turned away from the jetty and headed down the beach. Poor Seris. She was formidable when it came to the force, or of the mind, or even the blade. But when it came to the heart, she was an open book, at least to him.

The warm sand shifted beneath his feet as he wandered along the shoreline, hands tucked casually into his swim trunk pockets. Music drifted over the beach from somewhere ahead while waves rolled lazily onto the black sand beside him. Vacationers moved between the water and the resort terraces, laughter carried on the sea breeze, and everywhere he looked people seemed determined to enjoy themselves.

A sensible approach, really; his gaze drifted toward the collection of bars scattered along the waterfront. A smile immediately followed. Now that looked promising; a few minutes later he found himself settling onto a stool overlooking the water. The bartender slid a drink his way, and after taking a sip, Caelan gave an approving nod.

Excellent. This place was already earning high marks. Leaning comfortably against the bar, he let his attention wander across the beach. People played in the surf, couples occupied shaded loungers, and groups of friends gathered beneath colorful umbrellas while music carried across the shoreline. Somewhere farther down the beach, a collection of guests had already begun making questionable decisions despite it still being relatively early in the day.

Caelan lifted his glass slightly toward them, kindred spirits. For the moment, he was content to simply enjoy the atmosphere. Seris had gone to find her queen; his mother found herself well distracted, and the day stretched pleasantly ahead of him with no particular destination in mind, so he settled back in his seat, drink in hand, and watched the beach unfold around him. If trouble, adventure, or interesting company happened to find him along the way, well... he certainly wasn't going to complain.


TAG: OPEN
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​

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Taiia Mataan //:

The words she whispered in Taiia's ear were things that were meant for later that evening — under the stars and the cool breeze. Of course, she knew she probably should have waited till they were away from the woman's children, but they were pretty much grown. So it didn't stop Allyson from teasing her wife as they traveled to the beach.

From her understanding, Taiia hadn't allowed herself much of a vacation since she had built and opened the school. To Allyson, this made sense… sometimes work was easier than relaxing when things were on your mind. She wasn't one for vacation either, but she wanted to try — especially with Taiia.

They docked, and the two teenagers had their interaction. Allyson watched, amused but also a little concerned, at the way Seris was responding to Allyson being near her mother. She wondered if this was normal… in reality, she had expected more resistance from Caelan, but he seemed fine.

Allyson watched, wondering how in chaos she was going to navigate this. Maybe it was a good thing that they weren't hers… adding abandonment to this kind of behavior would just make things messier.

Thankfully, Taiia spoke, pulling Allyson from her thoughts. The Corellian smirked and then pulled her wife into an embrace and kissed her gently.
"But you adore me this way," another mischievous little chuckle, and she released her wife, allowing her to drag her along.

"Mm, do you think she hates me…?" Allyson inquired as they wandered slowly along the sands towards where others were gathering. "Seris that is,"

Allyson clarified for her wife as they continued to walk. Unlike before, the Corellian wore her wedding ring. At the same time, Taiia continued to don the former pilot's dog tags and her wedding ring. Being back with the Eldorai felt like they hadn't missed a step, if she didn't think about the kids and the past decades apart.

Sighing, she squinted as Seris continued to walk off. "Hate to say it, but when she storms off like that, she reminds me of you."

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Srina Talon

That was the simple answer as to why the Shadow Hand of the Kainate, Dark Lord of the Sith, and Former Sith Emperor was lounging at an Imperial Commonwealth beach. It wasn't an order so much as a request, but after Alvaria? After an accumulation of individuals who wound up close to the Blackwall Empress had found themselves annihilated, torn apart by the Mortarch's wrath, He'd seemingly run afoul of the Echani. "You've continually broken things that belong to me." While they all deserved what they'd been given, especially both Kasir Dorran and Ansisa , they'd confronted Him, they dared stand before Him and think they could withstand His storm. It was His families words after all, a creed both He and Darth Carnifex both shared: "The strong do what they will, and the weak suffer what they must." But the Shadow Hand wasn't about to argue the point with the Echani, it would've fouled her mood even more, she was close with His nephew, their families had grown very close, and it was in his interests to turn the page on His relations with Srina. The request genuinely took the Dark Lord off guard when she'd made it. The Dark Lord didn't argue. Instead?​

​

The giant showed up.​

​

That was what drew him into the huge lounger the Epicanthix found himself situated in. One of the staff brought Him an ashtray with a soft bow, without even requesting one. Prazutis took a sip of the drink they'd made, if He liked or disliked it, there was no reaction on the Mortarchs face when He put it down. He drew up the long cigarillo and slid it into His mouth, the end of the reddish black paper bloomed a deep crimson as its blackish smoke transfigured in the air. He could feel it flow through every cell in His form, it supercharged the darkness that brewed in Him like a storm of malevolence. It was very rare the Dark Lord of the Sith imbibed in narcotics, and typically it occurred on the eve of great victory, or death of staggering numbers. He'd smoked when Operation Endgame saw the Galactic Alliance fell, when His deceptions saw the energy shields around Commenor's capital city fall and the Sith's occupation begin, and He smoked when Operation Hammerfall came down and the genocide of the Mandalorians began.​

​

"Prazutis."​

​

The Dark Lord felt the Vahlan Colossus approach long before he neared Him. Hasuras Na-Gerra stood as the Qhan of Qhans, the Tyrant of the Vahlan Horde. Wherever they tread worlds burned and entire populations shackled by the warriors who swore to die for the Barbarian Warlord. Business deals had been struck with the man and the Kainate provided an ideal partner to offload the overflowing holds of flesh into the Kainate's grinding engine of industry. While He held reservations for the man He could approve of Hasuras's methods, the Colossus laid to waste everything he touched, the totality of destruction he inflicted was something the Mortarch could respect. Unburdened by morality or restraint. "Gerra." The Dark Lord rumbled, blowing a ring of smoke so it wouldn't collide with Hasuras's face. ​

​

"A trivial event swiftly cast aside. Losses were minimal and any holes were plugged with force." The Dark Lord spun the cigarillo around "Care to try?" The Ashes of Malachor had been specially prepared for a being of His stature, a smoke for giants who could withstand the titanic flow of dark energy into their bodies. "Your shipments exceed expectations. We will take any shipments of flesh the Vahlan Horde acquires. The engines of industry are greased with the blood, and bone of the weak." ​

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Hasuras Na-Gerra​