Faction The Art of the Possible | THR Senators

[Verity Stuyveris]

LOCATION

THEED BOTANICAL GARDENS

RED CARPET

AFTERNOON • 2 WEEKS AFTER ALL THE BELLS SAY

♫ THE ART OF THE POSSIBLE — RICE & LLOYD WEBBER

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The Senate Garden Reception, held semi-annually at the Theed Botanical Garden, was designed as a low-pressure function where Senators could mingle with one another, get to know one another, and build interpersonal relationships that -- in theory -- could lead to a productive and constructive Senate session ahead. There were no motions, no votes, not even any speeches. Instead there was gossip, light refreshments, and a great deal of backroom dealings and horse-trading.

The red carpet was also a fixture; it was the only place and time during the afternoon's proceedings to which the political and society press had access. Like sharks circling blood in the water, they waited behind the low barriers that lined the walkway between the porte-cochère and the entrance to the botanical gardens. As each Senator and dignitary passed by, holocams strobed and reporters shouted questions. When her speeder eased to a halt, one of the liveried attendants stepped forward and opened the door for her.

Verity emerged, resplendent in a chic, structured powder-blue coat-dress, suitable for the cooling late-summer days. A matching fascinator was affixed to the twist of her golden hair. She wore flats, because she didn't necessarily love towering over her colleagues. Lucian Varencourt climbed out of the car on the other side and went to take her side as she stepped onto the red carpet.

"Senator Stuyveris, Ello Phin, The Standard. Scuttlebutt has you considering making a play for Chair of the Justice and Sentient Rights committee. Can you comment?"

"I have no immediate plans to seek an elected seat on the Senate Council of State," the Senator for Druckenwell answered. Some would say it was evasive, but it was true. "And I look forward to seeing who among my Senate colleagues can command the confidence of the Chamber."

"Senator! Trace Montaire, The Beacon. We've heard you're backing Smyth for Finance and Commerce. Is that true and is your mind made up?"

Verity glanced at Lucian, the ghost of a smirk on her lips before her gaze went back to the reporter. "Senator Smyth is an impressive candidate and would make a fine chairman of the Finance and Commerce committee, but he is not the only one among my Senate colleagues who I consider qualified. In other words, I could be convinced."

"Do you expect the elected chairs to be a major topic of conversation this afternoon?" Trace pressed, holding out her recorder to the Senator.

"I expect my colleagues to be, like myself, singularly focused on the intended purpose of this event: to build stronger collegial relations while we support the Republic Defense Bond subscription drive." Verity leaned close to receive a whisper from Lucian, then smiled apologetically. "That's all I have time for. Thank you, everyone."

She mounted the steps into the venue, snatched a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter. "Shall we divide and conquer, Senator?" asked Lucian before sipping his own champagne.

"Yes. See if the staff are telling more than their employers. If there's a consensus building, we need to get out ahead of it."

Her strategy wasn't complicated, though it was perhaps slightly counter-intuitive. Verity was known to be ambitious, known to be something of a zealous reformer, so for her to be so reticent about seeking a position on the Council she had championed would seem strange to an outsider. But she was painfully aware of the optics; creating the council and expecting her colleagues to place her on it was begging to be embarrassed. She half-expected Aurelian Veruna to be whipping hard against her if she declared.

So she didn't.

Besides, if all went to plan and Ravion Corvalis ever got his just deserts, Verity would have a seat on the Council as Magister, provided Dominique Vexx didn't change her mind. But washing her hands of the whole affair meant surrendering the political ground surrounding her most successful reform to date, and that was simply intolerable.

So the solution was to be seen as part of the process, but not mucking about in the trenches like others. Lucian used the term kingmaker but Verity didn't relish it, not least of all because if it was made public -- as these things had a tendency to do -- she would look arrogant and out of touch. So she walked a delicate line indeed.

"Find me when you know something useful," Verity told Lucian, and they touched the rims of their champagne glasses together before separating, with Verity heading into the central domed garden, the sweet perfume of native flowers wafting on the cool, humid air with the sound of the string quartet. Glacial eyes scanned those already assembled, and Verity mentally sorted allies, rivals, undecideds, and opportunities almost by instinct.

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WITH

The Senate

 

[Ayumi Pallopides]

"Oh my." The sights alone were beautiful she could admit and there was something to be said as walking through in the red dress gave her a more simple and sleek look. Towering form with the repulsor anklets on her feet so she could walk appearing barefoot. Long hair strraight and carefully done to look a lot more natural flowing down her back to her hips and framing like a small curtaain that covered her back. Even the lighting barely made the small scar on her lip as visible when she was roaming around and listened to some fo the others. A small smile forming though as she didn't need to drink and hoped that Feng Huang might show up... morale support and all that.

"Senator Pallopides?" There was a voice she knew and she offered a small look stopping only to stand there for a moment. "Any plans for a chair?" Sheremained still and looked at him for a moment with a small nod. "You never know but the Republic can always Depend on Denon to contribute. We are having a great interest in defense and finance. Our recent molecular conversion vessels for terrraforming damaged and dead worlds to support life or vast array of militarry contractors who use the worlds manufacturing facilities utalizing the newest in smart fabricators have proven effective for making our own defensive force and security. We would be remiss to not seek to share innovation and progress with the worlds of the Republic."

That got a look from the man. "As I said when we showed At-Avexxian and its vaults to you and the chancellor. Denon thrives when all of the Republic does and when we thrive it raises all leading to more innovation, more improvement and more chances." That seemed to get a small nod as she touched his shoulder and offered a larger smile. "But we are not entirely certain yet, SOme might prefer Denon not have one of the chairs senator Stuyveris helped get through and the chancellorship. A shame but should it come to it, Chancellor Vexx's agenda it more important then personal pride." She said it while finishing up for the moment while she could walk arround and see some fo the others.

 

[Jaun Smyth]

“Champagne?”

Jaun held up a hand to the waiter, “oh no thank you.”

He raised his cup of caf.

“Need my wits about me here.”

Smiling toothlessly, he took a sip of his caf and then looked about the venue. Another sordid, silk swaddled soirée.

 

[Rémiel Durevant]

Not one for dramatic entrances or ostentatious displays of power, Rémiel simply slipped into the event unnoticed, blending in behind another arriving group.

He had opted for attire that was simple yet practical, a crisp white button up shirt with the top three buttons left undone and the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. White suit trousers and polished black shoes completed the ensemble, while his usually windswept hairstyle had been left in a messier, more relaxed state, his blond hair falling in tousled waves around his face.

The first order of business was to acquire himself a drink from what he guessed was the bar. If he was expected to endure an entire evening of this, Rémiel had already decided that being at least somewhat intoxicated was probably the only sensible way to get through it.

 

[Ephram Pryce]

"Senator Pryce! Senator Pryce! Gia Caftle with Galactic Public Radio. Are you vying for Chair on any of the committees?"

Stopped while walking into the event, Ephram put on a brilliant white tooth smile and drew closer to the reporter. He wasn't one to shy away from them. Put an easy going attitude, smile and listen. Even if he didn't want to answer questions - and most days he hated reporters - Ephram knew the value of using the media to get his name out. All for free too, having his name in the news that wasn't a planet by his office was always beneficial. Especially when it was innocuous.

"Miss Caftle, a pleasure to speak with you again. I have no aspirations for a Chair, my focus is on Loronar and it's people. As you know given the advancement of the Sith current focus in the government is shipyard output and leveraging our planet's unique position to be valuable to the Republic while benefitting our citizens. However, I will be supporting Senator Smyth."

"Senator, can you tell me more of the shipyard initiative?"

"Not yet, but stay tuned."

With that, Ephram quickly left the reporter line and disappeared into the event. Some small shaking of hands, a few hellos. After that it was working his way to the bar for a drink before rubbing elbows.

TAGS : OPEN​

 

[Dominic Praxon]

When the universe had brought Ordon Trozky and Lenna Praxon together decades earlier, it most certainly was the cruelest trick of all. For taking both the most stubborn man, and the most singularly stubborn woman alive was surely never going to produce a child that would acquiesce.

And yet. That is exactly what Dominic had felt he had done. Beat down mentally by the imprisonment of the Ssi-Ruuk and then his mind rummaged through like a spy tearing a filing cabinet apart when they cared not to have been noticed. It had left him...afraid. Honestly, deeply, truly afraid. Perhaps for the first time in his life.

And that is why he had to come today. Despite not being able to convince his legs to support his weight — which he had been assured was purely psychosomatic, not that that helped — the Senator of Naboo was determined to show his face again.

Outbound Flight had been billed as the first, truly hope-filled endeavour of the High Republic era, and to see its figurehead captured and the ship almost destroyed had surely proven demoralising for the Republic. If his aides had been correct in their assessment, the whole matter had cast a pall upon entire news cycle.

Itz Faeran had complained almost non-stop about Dominic coming to the event. Not really in words, mind you. Just in her mannerisms, her short clipped sentences, and the way she rolled her eyes every time her boss asked her a question. Despite it all, he liked her. And trusted her — which was probably most important.

With the Senator's speeder being larger, and boxier, than the others that had arrived, the press were most curious to see who it was that would step out. Only a few recognised Itz when she stepped out — wearing her normal stiff, steal-blue jacket and pencil-skirt — but those that did immediately started throwing questions at her. Those that did not recognise her understood quickly enough that the chorus of questions erupted further.

"How is the Senator? Have you seen Senator Praxon lately? Any comment on the Senator's health? What of the rumours of the Ssi-ruuk not working alone?" All the questions blurred together as Itz ignored them all with a dismissive wave.

When Dominic finally floated into view from the back of the speeder, and Itz guided him into the open air, there was an audible gasp that shut the cacophony down.

With cheeks only just beginning to fill out again, eyes looking sunken and tired, and a face only just regaining its colour, Dominic had certainly looked worse a week ago — but he still looked like an entirely different man from the one who had been elected.

A single question broke the hush. "Senator Praxon, how do you feel?"

"Just fine, thank you for asking."

The torrent of questions began immediately, but none were answered as Itz escorted him into the event.

@Open​

 

[Ilsoon Jul]

Ilsoon adjusted the seal on his high collar, smoothing the heavy synth-silk cloak over his shoulders. The air in the porte-cochère was warm and humid, a stark contrast to the clean oxygen of his personal shuttle that he had departed just hours ago. He stepped down from the executive speeder slowly, allowing the attendant in formal attire to hold the door a moment longer than needed.

Behind the low barriers, the holocams flashed brightly. Reporters yelled names, trying to get his attention, but Ilsoon kept his chin up, his eyes fixed straight ahead. He ignored the press as a recorder was pushed over the barrier next to him; he simply stepped around it and walked into the open space of the walkway, causing the crowd to part slightly to let him through.

He was a newcomer in the Senate and needed to make his mark among its members. At least, that's what he told himself as he entered the dome, hearing the soft sounds of a nearby string quartet. Ilsoon walked past trays of champagne, opting for a simple glass of water from a side table instead. He chose a spot near a tall leafy plant along the main path, watching his fellow senators from a distance.
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