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

[Alistair Sterling]

Helena Cross

He tried to pinpoint her accent and found it practically impossible. It seemed to be a combination of several regions, which all came together into a nice blend that was both easy on the ears and difficult to pin down.

Interesting.

But then "Gunn" smiled when Cross indicated that they were in adjacent fields. Acquisition wasn't exactly the same as interfacing, but they were like partners in spirit. Alistair had often needed to make contact and maintain relationships with people in her field of work. It was the only way to get a good suit or a speed boat in the field.

The Heirate's reach ran far but not wide.

Some things you needed to figure out for yourself.

"Oh, truly? So if I ever wanted to get my hands on an original Debauché, then I could give you a call?" Eyebrows went up there in articulated interest. Debauché was not as well known of an artist as your Celebré or your Monchant. But if she truly was in Acquisition she'd be aware of the artist.

He was all the rage within ancien riche circles.

His interest was piqued by her vagueness however.

"I do enjoy a spirited competition... anything you can tell me about this... collection, miss Cross?"

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Cali Ziiva​

Kasir stared down at the tropic drink in his hand, almost tipping it up once more, then thinking better of it. A survival shirt? He suppressed a grimace, shoulders locked into a more defensive frame. In truth, he wasn’t so sure what she was referencing; this was nothing he’d ever really heard of or seen before. "A beach isn’t exactly a kill zone," murmured thoughtfully, "but apparently, by your standards, I'm surviving it."." Not that he actually wanted a t-shirt.

Rough start Cali warned. Rough sounded like dancing on the edge of oblivion, or testing one’s mettle against a worthy Sith Lord. The grin was familiar though; he wondered if that was some Zeltron trademark. The same one from New Cov.

One brow would crescent skyward, the only hunkering down. “Collateral damage risk remains high, still,” he muttered, though he followed her toward the mass of bodies anyway. Besides, she’d mentioned chocolate sundaes. Or she was just using that as leverage. Easy leverage. Either way, there was no denying that helped make this worth the investment. One problem however, considering he didn't sweat. Not since the metamorphosis had rewritten his biology. It hadn’t been long, but long enough to notice. Maybe that’s why Mustafar’s magma bath didn’t faze him.

A tiny, barely audible exhale escaped him as he scanned others near him. One accidental bump was all it’d take to treat them as hostiles. And those didn’t last long around him. So Kasir angled a few paces to his left, giving his position to secure a 'safer; buffer of space. Not different than widening one's radius in combat.

He attempted a twist, movements rigid, eyes darting to others as well for reference. But he was still missing the rhythm. Behind the Sangnir’s stoic expression, agitation hummed.

"Controlled flailing makes no sense. I’m attempting to follow your instructions, Cali, but they lack clarity." He’d been to noble galas, court dances; those were structured and more predictable. Even his preferred saber forms were more graceful than this.

Once more he moved side to side, though it was more mechanical than anything else. “This footwork is too evasive. That's not dancing.” Of course he bit his tongue on the last part; the logic fit a Jedi far too well, and he still suspected that's what she was. "I don’t understand why this is so complicated." He was painfully aware of every failure "My training doesn't accommodate.. whatever this is. Because there's no clear objective. Which also makes it suspicious. Is this some kind of trap?" Or an ambush. Just sway sounded more like prepare for impact.

 

[Persephone Dashiell]

If looks could kill, the bastard in front of her would be not only dead but incinerated. Charred dust.

Snapping the book closed, Persephone deposited it in her beach bag beside her. Sunglasses were removed and folded into into the neck of her oversized tee. She was pissed, and rightfully so.

"So you not only come over here to sh!t on my reading choices but also ruin the novel for me? You must be real popular. Its so surprising to hear your only company is tomes upon tomes of novels."

Arms crossed against her chest. At this point Persephone was debating third-wheeling with her adoptive parents or returning to her resort room and hide away from the weirdo infestation that had taken over the beach. Maybe relocating to the resort pool was a better idea. Kept out a certain amount of riff-raff compared to a public beach.

It was decided, resort pool. Standing, Persephone grabbed her beach bag and gestured to Zee, indicating he should grab her chair.

"Care to ruin anything else for me before I get out of here?"

Kaivaan Raaf​

 

[Kaivaan Raaf]

​

Persephone Dashiell​

The book snapped shut like a verdict, and Kai felt the precise moment the situation slid entirely out of his hands.

"No-" he started, and that was already wrong, because no implied she'd asked a question, and she had not. She'd delivered a sentence. "That's not-I wasn't-"

He stopped. Regrouped. Made it worse.


"I didn't ruin it. The ending's," Don't say it. "I shouldn't have said the foundling part. That was. Yes. That was poorly done." A breath. The accent was thickening now, the way it did when the careful composure started coming apart at the seams. "And I wasn't- 'shiting on your reading choices,' I genuinely wasn't, I was- it's a good book. That's the- that's rather the problem, I've read it, which I would not have done if it were-"

He gestured, helplessly, at the bag the book had vanished into, as though it might testify on his behalf.

"You came over here to relax," he said, and it came out quieter, and oddly more honest for it. "And I arrived smelling like an overpriced fragrance counter and immediately told you how your novel ends. I'm aware. I heard myself do it." He dragged a hand back through his black hair. "That wasn't- that's not me being popular, that's the opposite of that, that's a man who lives on an island with his grandmothers and has clearly forgotten how to speak to people." Smooth... Kai, real smooth he could almost hear his cousin say. By the Balance this is exactly why he didn't like leaving home.

She was already standing, bag in hand, gesturing for her companion to grab her chair. Leaving. Of course she was leaving. He'd have left, too.

"Right," he said, to no one, to himself, muttering to the grapefruit scent. "Marvelous work, Kaivaan."

 

[Ria the Cat]

[open to interactions, and uh... anyone can say the cat ran by them, leaped over them, go for it - her ultimate destination is noted at the end of the post]​

Ria yawned as she stretched out her body, slow and luxurious, the way only a cat could. Where in the Gods had she ended up now? She really needed to stop falling asleep on random transports. Cracking one eye open, the feline found herself on a boat, in the middle of a vast, glittering body of golden water, with no shore in sight that she cared for.

The cat screamed.

It startled the driver, who responded by gunning the engine harder toward the distant jetty. Ria clung to the gunwale with all nine, eight, seven of whatever lives she had left to her name. She wanted to demand answers in Galactic Basic, but her transponder wasn't working, and she couldn't for the life of her figure out why while dangling over open water at speed. The feline, summoning every ounce of her body strength, which, to be honest, was not much, hauled herself over the lip and flopped onto the deck like a thoroughly miserable wet mammal. Spray slashed over the side. Ria yelped and scrambled toward the bow, but between the speed and the sheer wetness of the deck it was rather like trying to gain traction on a treadmill set to the speed of life. Paws spinning, going nowhere, dignity already overboard.

When the boat finally kissed the jetty, the driver scooped her up in two enormous hands and, quite literally, yeeted the poor creature toward the black sand.

The black sand was Ria's undoing. At the sight of it, whatever few thoughts rattled around in her small skull simply evacuated. She flinched when she should have run, then ran when she should have flinched, a streaking blur of fur tearing through the gathering crowd, dodging legs and loungers, scampering directly over Adelle Bastiel at least once, whipping past Elian Abrantes , then weaving between Seris Mataan and Quinn Varanin before very nearly braining herself against a palm. Sheer mortification did the rest. Out of pure embarrassment, she flung herself into the nearest available transport.

"Transport" was generous. It was an open cooler, empty, being trundled toward the bar by a pair of patient service droids. Ria sat in the bottom of it, soaked and panting, riding in disgraced silence the whole way there.

Once delivered, she climbed out, ascended the bar top in a single fluid leap, and as if absolutely none of that had just happened settled down to wash herself with enormous composure. From this superior vantage she could survey the humans. One in particular caught her eye, Helena Cross and then so did her companion. Partner? Partners? [ Alistair Sterling ] The cat could not be bothered to work it out. What interested Ria far more were the drinks.

And then she remembered the transponder. She lifted a paw to check it, and was reminded, immediately and with some irritation, that paws are a deeply inadequate diagnostic tool. There was simply no way to tell whether the sea had gunked up the mechanism or not. Not without hands.

She glared at her own paw, betrayed.

 

[Naniti]

Leaned back against the bar, Naniti looked across the crowd. The Togruta woman was dressed in modest, dark swim wear. Just because she had violet skin didn't mean a little sun would hurt. Even she could 'tan.' Alright, and because it was a new experience. What kind of fighter wore something so pointless? It was nothing but decorative. Which wasn't a problem for someone like her; she hadn't been brought up to depend on armor. Still, this was a bit more aesthetically-focused than her Master would have approved of.

A lone finger tapped on the edge of the bar.

Her blue eyes regarded the faces of those nearest. The Force could beguile many an eye and even some trained in its use, but Naniti knew there were those not so easily misled. Similar to Lysander, she'd begun wearing half a mask to obscure her face so she wasn't so easily fingered, but some knew her true appearance. Some knew a violet Togruta anywhere near Lysander was an once-and-future Sith Lady. His sister, for instance. Be just her luck Cora was there too.

Two drinks were set down atop the wooden bar. Quietly. Naniti smirked as she turned and just as carefully picked them up in both hands.

Now all she had to do was find where they were lurking. Careful not to get jostled by some party-goer heedless of danger, Naniti wove her way through the bodies toward the waves. She could feel him out there.

It wouldn't be hard to see a violet woman slowly crossing the swept sands of the shore drawing closer to the gaggle of nefarious do-evilers. Naniti smiled despite the heat transfers up through her bare feet. Her hips swayed with each step taken of sure footing to not spill a single drop.

"Not too hot out here, is it?" Her eyes swept over the group, but stopped on Lysander with a knowing smirk.

Lysander von Ascania | Seren Gwyn | Varin Mortifer | Mercy

 

[Persephone Dashiell]

"Yes, that's right. A little late with the self-awareness but nice to see it finally kicked in."

Lived on an island? The man in front of her was the palest person she had ever seen live on an island. She was well aware island homes could not have basements due to the water table but if they could, this guy certainly lived in it and never emerged. Yet here he was on another beach, smelling like someone's grandmother, ruining books.

"Next time your grandma kicks you out of the house to get some fresh air, you might want to rethink your approach in general. Sorry you had to come and mingle with regular folk but....next time a 'hello' would suffice. Something to think about. If you'll excuse me."

Bag slung over her shoulder, the teenager went off towards the resort pool. A small hike from the beach but given the party going on in the sands perhaps her luck would change. Guests would be more interested in skipping out on a resort day, hopefully leaving the space blissfully quiet. Maybe. If luck was on her side.

Kaivaan Raaf​

THREAD EXIT

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Guinevere Cavello
Indirect: Ria the Cat
​

"Kat....kitty cat.....tiger?" Elian whisphered as he watched the cat wonder about, and he couldn't help but be distracted few a few brief moments. He almost completey forgot what he was going to do.

"Oh yes...." Elian turned back and caught glimpse of Guin giving Taza this slip. Which was pretty awesome to see, he wondered how many times she had done this before, or was a distraction always necessary. Either way, it was still fun. Elian chuckled lightly, making his way to her, area was secluded, but not so much. Some were still around, but not enough to warrant any direct attention on them. It would still give them complete privacy if it was needed.

"You know, there are other ways to get someone's attention." Elian teased, then raised his glass to take a small sip. "You look beautiful. I'm sure Taza is in a fit right now."

 

[Guinevere Cavello]

​

Gwen felt her heart flutter at the sight of him. She had been so worried with some of the tales the gossip mill picked up, but here he was in front of her, unharmed. Well physically perhaps. She could see a difference in his eyes that wasn’t there before, but she was just so relieved he was okay that she was grinning from ear to ear.

“Yes well, she almost didn’t let me out of the house. I told her it was a beach party though and it would be bad manners to insult the host by not wearing beach attire.”

She hugged him then, so happy to see him alive and well that she didn’t care such things weren’t allowed.

“I’ve missed you. It’s so good to see you.”

Elian Abrantes

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Outfit: x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x | Tag: Open

The beach was busy.

A few years ago, that fact alone would have had Myra turning around with a panic attack before she ever reached the sand.

Crowds had once been a battlefield all their own. Too many voices. Too many bodies. Too many things she couldn't predict. It had taken more therapist appointments than she cared to count, countless grounding exercises, and an embarrassing number of breathing techniques before she'd finally reached a point where she could sit among hundreds of strangers without feeling her heart try to climb out of her chest.

Now? Now she could enjoy it. Well, mostly.

If something chaotic happened, all bets were off. But for the moment, the surf rolled lazily against the shore, the air smelled faintly of salt and sunscreen, and a cold lemonade rested comfortably in her hands.

Myra leaned back in her chair and watched the world go by about to start her favorite game -- People-watching. That was what she called it.

A man jogging along the shoreline became a retired smuggler trying desperately to reclaim his youth. A family wrestling with an umbrella was clearly engaged in a long-running feud over proper beach engineering. A woman reading beneath a sunshade was obviously a secret spy waiting for a coded transmission hidden in the pages of her novel. The stories amused her, and it was a fun way to spend the time outside of a good book.

Stormy grey eyes drifted farther down the beach until they settled on a couple.

Oooom interesting.

They were too far out to hear them, but body language spoke its own language. The way one kept glancing toward the other. The slight tension in their shoulders. The careful spacing between them.

Either they had just fallen in love...or they were about to break up.

Myra took another sip of lemonade, contemplating both possibilities with equal interest. Whatever their story was, it was certainly entertaining pretending what they could be in her head.

A small smile tugged at her lips as she stretched her legs out into the warm sand. She'd have to tell Makai about this place later. Maybe bring him and Phoebe out here when their schedules finally stopped trying to murder them.

For now, however, she was content to sit, listen to the waves, and quietly wonder what chapter the distant couple was currently living through.

 

[Lily Decoria]

Outfit: Beachwear
Tag: Open

Lily was glad that she had applied the necessary sunscreen before departing for the beach this day. Her pale skin only seemed to shine brighter in the sunlight and she could feel the intense warmth radiating from the sun. It was definitely a necessary day for protection, especially since she felt like wearing something a little bolder. The beach was bound to have some physical activities and Lily felt that was a great chance to spend the day. Burn some energy playing some games and enjoying the sea. When Lily arrived at the black sand beach, the Echani was surprised, it was actually black sand. Lily wasn't sure what she was expecting when they called it black sand, but it was really black and it was sand.

"Gothic. In a way, I guess." Lily commented as she scanned the beach area. There was some hesitation as she felt in the Force the presence of some she considered not so favourably. Sith. A lot of them. But today was not the day for fighting and as long as Lily maintained a firm distance, she figured things would go well. Then Lily started to spot faces she enjoyed seeing more. There was Quinn Varanin , her queen who seemed to be preoccupied so talking with her would have to be another time.

There was Colette and Katherine Holt which seemed to be nice, Lily did hope that it was a date between them and perhaps a successful one. However, she also didn't want to just jump the gun. Other Jedi and High Republic members were spotted around the location and Lily noted all of them as she moved deeper into the beach. Servers were offering drinks and Lily shook her head, there was going to be plenty of drinking this evening. Her main focus was to find some fun and see if anyone was interested in playing some beach games. If not then the music was certainly playing some great beats to dance to.

 

[Helena Cross]

"You would need to do much more than that," Helena said. "But calling me would be a good start. I know where about a dozen are -- or recently were. Six in private collections -- Coronet, Aldera, Denon, Druckenwell, Calavar and one belongs to the Duke of Foxfield and hangs, unless it has recently moved, in the music room. As for public view? One in the Renascent Gallery on Aegis, on loan from the Reed family. Two were recently shown at a gallery on Fondor. There are two on Naboo -- four if you count copies by talented forgers. The final one is being assessed by the firm I work for, Tallis Risk Partners."

She rattled them off with such poise that it was clear she was either conversant in the matter, or very good at faking it. But of course, Gunn would be in a position to know which.

Helena set her drink down and reached into her handbag, producing a platinum business card case, from which she produced a sturdy business card. It had limited embellishments -- a line of silver around the edges, about a quarter of a centimeter from the edges; a simple black serif font that read Helena Cross and then, beneath it, Senior Consultant, Provenance & Acquisitions. The reverse had a similarly simple layout: the same silver line, the same black serif font that read Tallis Risk Partners and then, beneath it, a communications number.

"If you're serious," she said, holding the card out to him between two fingers. "I should warn you, the cost will be eyewatering -- and that's just for my fee." There was a hint of humor to her voice, but her face remained almost deadpan, except for the almost-smirk.

She tucked her case back away in her purse and picked up her drink when he asked about the collection. Helena inclined her head. "Certainly. These are objects of cultural and historical significance, dating to the late First Order period or older. Some are not exactly vintage, yet, but what they lack in a satisfying patina it more than makes up for in utility. They shed light on the inner workings of a society and a government that took great pains not to allow light being shed. Fascinating stuff."

Helena took another sip of her drink and regarded the funny little cat. She nodded with her chin. "Do you think it's trying to tell us to enjoy the sun and sand, Mr. Gunn?"

Alistair Sterling | Ria the Cat​