Private Tailored Intent

[Iandre Athlea]

The Diarchy's capital blended its order with quiet beauty — gardens climbing the faces of polished towers, narrow walkways lined with soft light, the murmur of fountains beneath the hum of airspeeders above. It reminded Iandre of Coruscant's upper levels, if Coruscant had ever learned to breathe.

She paused outside a glass-fronted atelier tucked between government spires, the sign above the door reading simply: Braze.

For a long moment, she hesitated.
She had faced the crucible of war, endured the collapse of an Order, and awakened in a time where the galaxy had changed beyond recognition — yet somehow, stepping into a place devoted to color and fabric made her uncertain.

The door opened with a soft hiss.

Inside, light played gently through suspended sheets of material — silks, armorweaves, something almost iridescent. Droids moved in slow rhythm, adjusting mannequins and measuring patterns projected in thin beams of blue light. The air smelled faintly of dye and metal polish, undercut by the warmth of creativity.

Iandre stepped inside, her dark cloak brushing the polished floor. Her usual attire — practical, spare, unmistakably utilitarian — stood in quiet contrast to the artistry around her.

"Braze?" she called softly, her tone calm but uncertain in its purpose. "Thank you for meeting me."

She paused near a display of pale blue fabric, tracing a fingertip along its edge. "I've… worn the same kind of robes for most of my life. Duty was the measure of what was right, not comfort — and certainly not expression."

Her lips quirked faintly, the smile more thoughtful than amused. "But I've been told that fashion can say things we don't have words for anymore. I want to learn what mine might say."

She glanced toward the workspace, open and patient, content to wait for the designer's response. The stillness of the atelier wrapped around her like a held breath — quiet, curious, and entirely new.

Braze

 

[Braze]

Tags: Iandre Athlea ​

Braze was on this side of the galaxy to source new materials. He set up a pop-up shop in the district easily enough and even sent some of his recent designs to a showcase competition alongside other well-known designers, featuring his company's newest fabrics. It was a multipurpose trip...hopefully, he'd find something new and exciting to bring back and decorate the Aerie with.

What he didn't see coming was that his first foray into the fashion world would draw such attention and high praise. His legal liaison, who also acted as his agent for all of Braze's bizarre business ventures, was soon overwhelmed with requests from people seeking private sessions with 'Braze the Designer.'

Sure enough, Braze handpicked a few individuals he personally wanted to meet.

He chose a dark outfit he had recently made himself, with dramatic sleeves that matched his eyes, for this meeting.


"Well," Braze began, a faint smile curling at his lips, "I think comfort and practical style help one focus a little better. That's part of why I've been spending so much time developing fine textiles, something that's both comfortable and functional."

He paused considering what else to say. "Clothes are an unspoken language," Braze offered, voice calm but thoughtful. "They tell others what you value at a glance… and remind you what you've chosen to become. So, let's start simple."

He gestured toward the suspended fabrics drifting lazily through the air. "You've carried duty your whole life. Maybe it's time to wear something that carries you instead."

After a pause, he folded his arms, studying her as if it were a riddle waiting to be solved. "Alright. I need to know a few things first." His tone softened into that practical kindness that came when he was in his element. "What's your range of motion like day to day? Do you prefer layers or minimal weight? Are you more comfortable covered... or do you like freedom of movement and air?"

He tilted his head slightly, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "And tell me what you hate first. That's usually where the real answers start."

 

[Iandre Athlea]

She wore what she felt comfortable in—a layered robe reminiscent of traditional Jedi attire. Her tunic was close to ivory, cinched at the waist with a brown belt, over an embroidered grey robe that matched the color of her eyes. Simple, understated, yet with a touch of distinction in the subtle embroidery.

Iandre listened, his questions measured. She lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug, more a gesture of body language than explanation.

"My normal outfit is armor, actually," she said. "Before that… well, it's been this."

Though the fabric had been updated, the style remained the same. It was what made her comfortable. She considered his next question carefully.

"When I train, I wear something minimal—a tank top and shorts—for mobility. But that's not what I'm looking for when off the station above the planet. I jog, so I need enough freedom of movement for arms and legs."

The thought of showing too much skin made her wrinkle her nose, though she didn't voice it.

"Hate is a strong word," she said slowly. "I don't truly hate anything. I dislike a few things… Kharnaz, my Sith adversary. But I don't think that's what you're asking."

She rubbed her chin thoughtfully, falling silent for a few moments.

"I'm not one for flashy colors," she continued. "Grey suits me, as you can see. If I need something brighter, I prefer singular, earthy tones. My lightsaber is emerald green, if that helps."

Her gaze drifted to the fabric offerings, but she didn't reach for any of them, letting her choice remain in thought rather than action.

Braze

 

[Braze]

Tags: Iandre Athlea ​

"Earth tones would work well with your palette. Gray is neutral and goes with anything, but it tends to make people look washed out. Greens and blues would harmonize with your eyes. From that, golds and coppers might work better than silvers. Raspberry, cherry, and chocolate browns would look good, as well as shell and ivory hues. Wine reds and red-violet shades would also complement your complexion and bring out your eyes more."

He looked her over. "Do you like elaborate designs or simple ones? It sounds to me like you're more interested in everyday wear or clothing suitable for physical activity. If that's what you want to focus on, we can do that."

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre tilted her head, letting the light catch the subtle angles of her face. "Gray has been my default for as long as I can remember—safe, neutral… almost like silver." She traced a fingertip over the layered folds of her tunic, each movement deliberate, almost ritualistic. "But maybe you're right. Golds and coppers could add warmth, without being loud or distracting. Something that lasts, that works as hard as I do—that's important."

Her hands smoothed over the fabric again, adjusting layers to sit just so, each fold purposeful. "Simplicity is key. Clothing should move with me, not slow me down. Layers work, they're functional, adaptable, but anything fussy or ornate? That's not for me. I've lived through enough chaos to know what matters isn't how flashy you look—it's how prepared you are."

Her grey eyes held his, steady and unflinching, as if weighing not just the colors and fabrics, but what they said about her: her priorities, her choices, her autonomy, and the history that shaped every decision she made. And somewhere beneath the careful attention to fabric and color, a thought lingered unspoken—how someone who mattered might notice the practicality first, and maybe, just maybe, understand why she wore the armor of her choices so naturally.

Braze

 

[Braze]

Tags: Iandre Athlea ​

"Well… are you sure you wouldn't be more comfortable in a military surplus store? They do have a certain charm for the no-nonsense types," Braze asked, thinking about how Ko Vuto always favored simple and, dare he say it, bland, boring robes that were practically standard issue.

"Clothing can certainly have ornate patterns on the fabric itself and still be perfectly functional. Most of my designs happen to be ornate but functional. I often employ layering and removable sections."

Braze moved to set out a large datapad and pulled up several variations of designs. He set out a few options and moved to start sketching a few things down with quick blocks of color palettes approximating her tones alongside the model on the screen. It was a large stand so she could see how he worked with the stylus.

"I lean toward artistry, flair, and emotional expression through design," he explained, "I blend artistry with armor and purpose. It was one of the few things I could control when I was in the NJO; how I dressed and how it suited me. It was a small exspression of freedom. Tell me... When was the last time you wore something that wasn't built to serve a purpose? Something that was simply for you?"

He glanced up from the datapad, stylus still in hand. "Because if we're designing for function, I can give you armor. But if we're designing for who you are now... well that is gonna take a little honesty."

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre's grey eyes lingered over the sketches, the soft light catching the lines and colors. She shifted slightly, her grey robes brushing the floor as she considered the options.


"Artistry," she murmured, almost to herself, "and function. I've always worn what serves a purpose. Protection, movement, concealment." Her gaze flicked up at him, steady, thoughtful. "Something just for me? That's… rare. Almost foreign."


A faint memory crossed her mind, a deep emerald outfit she had worn when visiting Rellik, the only time in years she had worn color that wasn't practical or muted. Another, an ivory formal at a gala, had seemed almost like another life entirely, and even that had been subdued, soft, understated. She shook the thought away gently, returning to the datapad.

"Drab clothing," she admitted softly, "is all I've known. Simple, layered, earth tones. But I can see how… freedom feels in something made to express who you are, rather than who you must be to survive."

Her lips curved into a subtle, quiet smile, no flirtation in it, only curiosity and resolve.

I could never give up function entirely, she thought, but perhaps there's room to remember color, to remember light. To carry a piece of who I am… even if it's just for me. Maybe even for him, silently, in the little choices I make.


"I suppose honesty is admitting I've mostly forgotten what that feels and what it looks like… but I want to remember. Show me what that looks like."

Braze

 

[Braze]

Tags: Iandre Athlea ​

"Well… let's try some dress-up then. I have a few options you can try on and take pictures in to see different styles. If you find something you try on that strikes your fancy, you'll learn from there. You'll have to trust me to help you shine," Braze chirped.

He stepped aside and went to collect some very vibrant green-hued clothes accented with golds.

"Let's start with something out of the ordinary. Try on a formal set with bold colors. See how it looks and how you feel," he said, bringing her a few sets over. He pulled out a rolling rack that had nothing on it and began putting the dresses on display.

"How about these?"

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre's grey eyes lingered on the vibrant fabrics, a flicker of curiosity stirring beneath her usual reserve. Her fingers traced the folds of green and gold, hesitant, almost reverent. This isn't anything I've worn before, she thought, the bright colors practically foreign to her practiced simplicity.

"I've mostly…worn things that serve a purpose," she murmured, quiet, almost to herself. Memories of drab robes, the emerald outfit from her visit with Rellik, even the ivory gown at a gala, passed through her mind. Even that ivory had been muted compared to this—this was alive, daring in a way she had rarely allowed herself to be.

She lifted one of the formal sets from the rack, letting the fabric flow through her hands. With a slow, measured breath, she began to step into it. "I'll try… one," she said softly, a note of uncertainty threading her words. "But I don't know if it'll feel like me."

The unfamiliar weight of the fabric brushed against her arms and shoulders as she adjusted the folds, layers settling comfortably. She turned slowly in front of the mirror, watching how the colors caught the light, how the gold accents traced the lines of the clothing. It felt strange, indulgent even, yet there was a faint thrill in the foreignness of it.

Her grey eyes studied her reflection, noting the difference from the drab robes she had worn for so long. I've always dressed for purpose. For duty. For survival. The thought pressed at her, heavy and familiar. But now…now she allowed herself to imagine what it might feel like to exist simply for herself, to let the colors and light and form reflect something more than function.

Even as a tentative spark of self-recognition flickered through her gaze, a quiet, almost forbidden thrill stirred inside her. Maybe this isn't just about clothes…maybe it's about remembering she exists for more than survival. For the first time in a long while, she breathed a little easier. Perhaps this is how it starts—learning to be seen, even just by myself.

Braze

 

[Braze]

Tags: Iandre Athlea ​

Braze let her step into a changing room with full-length mirrors behind the thick curtains as he selected a few different things he thought might suit her. "If you like anything and it feels a bit loose or tight, that's no problem. I can tailor it to your measurements," he called lightly.

After gathering a few different styles he thought might work for her, he hung them up on the rack next to the two green dresses that remained. After some time, he asked, "So... how does it make you feel?"

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre stepped behind the curtain, letting the soft folds of the green-and-gold dress slip over her shoulders. The unfamiliar weight of the fabric brushed against her arms, flowing and layered in ways that her drab, practical robes never had. She adjusted the folds carefully, feeling the gold accents catch the light, tracing lines that seemed to belong to someone she was only beginning to recognize.

"It feels…strange," she murmured, voice low, almost to herself. "But not wrong. More…alive. Lighter than I expected. Maybe even liberating."

She turned slowly in front of the mirror, her dark hair contrasting sharply with the green of the dress, gold highlights gleaming along the fabric. "It feels… free," she added softly, a flicker of quiet wonder in her tone. "Like this could be me, not just what I wear to survive."

For the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to linger in the reflection, imagining a self not bound by purpose alone, but by possibility.

Iandre took a steadying breath and drew the curtain aside. She stepped out of the changing room, letting the layered green-and-gold fabric move with her. The gold accents caught the light, tracing the lines of the dress as she shifted. Her dark hair framed her face, sharp against the vivid colors she was unaccustomed to wearing.

She met Braze's gaze through the mirrors, a quiet, tentative smile brushing her lips. "How does this look?" she asked softly, her voice carrying just enough curiosity to betray the cautious thrill she felt.

Even as she moved, she could feel the unfamiliar freedom of the clothing—a liberation from the drab, utilitarian robes she had always known. Her stance was lighter, more fluid, and for the first time in a long while, she felt like she could be seen as herself, not just as a survivor.

Braze