Faction The Coronation Ball [First Order | Invited Guests]

[Jaeger Harrsk]

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
AVALONIA | DOSUUN
T A L K I N _ H A W K I N
THE_BOYS | Irveric Tavlar | Tyrell Paxxus | Djorn Bline | Lucien Dooku | Robogeber
INTERACTING | Adron Malvern | Alessandra Creed | Xobos Yakieer | Freyu Molidias | Valessia Brentioch
​

Harrsk instinctively raised his eyebrows at the unexpected animalistic growl from one of the tallest beings he had ever seen. It looked...Pantoran, yet he wondered whether it was a semi-sentient born and bred to protect its masters to the death. Perhaps, perhaps not. The lengths to which influential figures went to maximize their security were infinite; and, the Commissioner believed to an extent, it made a lot of sense.

"Adron Malvern, Exarch of The Confederacy and King of Illyria. The pleasure is mine, Commissioner. However, it is your pleasure to be introduced to my beautiful wife, Alessandra. Minister of Commerce for The Confederacy and Queen-Consort of Illyria."

"Certainly, Exarch." the commissioner replied with a slight smirk across his scarred face as he offered his greeting to the Queen-Consort of Illyria.

“Charmed.”, she responded, lightly, though not without a certain smooth edge. “The Outer Rim has been less than stable since the OPA collapsed. Perhaps, the First Order will begin to reign in the lawless.”

The King's wife was certainly beautiful, perhaps even that was an understatement. He'd never seen an unattractive noble before, the clean streak continued; even improved. Jaeger's scanning eyes beneath the sunglasses caught something familiar across her features, he couldn't put the fledgling memories of intelligence reports, verbal accounts and semi-hearsay flashing across his mind to it. He finally drew his sights off the Queen with a reminder for later and followed the King's direction towards the nearest bar.

"It had been my displeasure to never meet a delegate from your Order, we can begin correcting that immediately." The King enthused, however before saying too much more he brought his cane up, gesturing towards the closest bar that his eyes could spy. "At events such as these I find a need to partake in two things. Dance and drink. Would you care to join us for something a little more potent than wine, Commissioner?" He asked the man. "Unless Imperials are shy to drink these days?"

Jaeger chuckled at the Exarch's question, "Not yet." the King, unlike most of the few nobles he had ever come close to socialize with before, brought a fresh air of hospitality rather than the usual snot-nosed arrogance. Whether honest, a ploy or a grey eminence, Jaeger welcomed it. It was a good change of pace from the turbulent, hostile and fruitless negotiations with the Sith Empire after the fall of their capital. "We get a few breaks here and there for a sip in between liberating worlds from the Sith and, I guess, trying to stand out less in coronation balls." the latter comment was a humorous self-irony at the New Imperials' exaggerating militant looks and manners. A glance at the dance floor saw him adjust his sunglasses at the sight of the Supreme Leader and Sovereign Imperator locked in a waltz.

"Commissioner." He stated, as if testing the man's rank upon his tongue to see where it measures. "So tell me, are you placed within the standard military or do you do something a bit more specialized?" The art of a Ball such as this was to gain as much pertinent information as possible. Of course, Imperials were often difficult to drain information from, but not impossible. He found a proper Bourbon or Whiskey would usually do the trick.
"Whiskey? Or maybe scotch?" He looked to the Commissioner questioningly as they found themselves placed before the bartender droid.

"Vodka." he replied with the smirk still on his face as he nodded to the server. "Ice cold."

“I’m going to assume this means that I’ll be the sober one between us tonight. I warn you Commissioner Harrsk…My husband can put the those with the heartiest of gills beneath the table.”

An audible grin escaped Jaeger at the Queen's observation. He was a drinker, in the sense that a glass of vodka entertained him after sunset almost every day, but he knew well his limits. He knew no ex-mil that did not indulge in alcohol one way or another. When it came to Kings and Queens and nobles altogether, Harrsk saw himself agreeing with the Queen. This was certainly not a race he'd volunteer into.

The commissioner shifted his focus back on the Exarch, "To answer your previous question - the latter." he paused deliberately, then, "I work for the so-called Commission for the Preservation of the New Order." COMPNOR, as it was usually known as, was no secret information. "The name itself is self-explanatory for my... desk job." he said with a downplaying tone. Let them perceive it as they willed. Jaeger raised his glass at his unexpected socialites, "To your health." and took a gulp of the crystal clear liquid.

"We've certainly not had any official between our two States." the commissioner reiterated the Exarch's earlier observation. "What I hear about the Southern Systems mostly comes from second hand information, half-true, half-not." that, in itself, was half-true and half-not. The Confederacy and the New Imperials were still further away from each other and both had their own perils to solve. "I am curious what general views flow across the Confederacy over our war with the Sith."

He reached for his pack of cigarettes, slid one out and put it methodically parallel to his glass of vodka.

 

[AMCO]

Location: Grand Dining Hall
Wearing: Ever-shifting Polyweave Suit
Writing With: Ingrid L'lerim | [OPEN]
---

Just like that, they were called elsewhere - such was the nature of these events, especially the more organised ones, though he would personally have opted to send in everyone at once... and to purposefully seat known enemies next to each other.

It was always fun seeing if anyone would be unrefined enough to pick a fight in a social event.

Having adopted a much more casual personage than his militarily-minded lover, Adrian snickered audibly at her telepathic fears. Their goddess? What did she think they were, tribals dancing around a totem pole. <You're serious, aren't you? I wouldn't worry overmuch, to those who matter this newfound religiosity is but another tool of control. Spice for the masses. I doubt the new Diarchs will be interesting in bowing to "gods".>

No, he would be quite surprised if any entity was elevated above the highest of them, though the Dark Side as an abstract concept was different.

Eying the seating arrangements with something resembling boredom, he was reminded of the numerous dinners he had attended coming into adulthood amongst the nobility of Serenno. A real shame about the Force suppression, he might have been able to make things interesting.

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Lady Ingrid L’lerim-Ragal
Empress Regent of the Eternal Empire, Overlord of the Eternal Empire, the Emperor's hand, Lord Commander
The Red Witch; The Night Queen; Director of Blackwatch; Baroness of Vengard, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium​

Location: Rosewood Castle, South of Avalonia, Dosuun, First Order Space
Attire: Polyweave Elegant dress | Soul
Tag: AMCO | Open

Oh! Her lover seemed to misunderstand her a little. Ingrid did not approach this issue from a religious and theological point of view, even if it may have “sounded” that way. No, she was much more practical than that. Even if she used to be cursed that “gods” didn’t believe in them. It was just a comment, a sentence left over from her childhood. Nothing more.

~ You know I don't consider the woman I defeated or Vanessa to be a goddess, nor to god the man who became the god of the Sith Empire. I don't believe in gods. I mean… we know Vanessa is a Sith. And I fear what effect this may have on the Eternal Empire. Or rather to the relationship between the two Empires if she might reveal to religious fanatics what I did. ~

She had worked in the shadows before, as she had been trained to do so, no one ever knew of her existence or what she was doing. This had changed a few years ago, but for the Emperor she still did countless work in secret. Her actions were never revealed, they were not affected by anything, at most the consequences. But now, enough to speak, it has an impact on the entire Empire and, worse, the Galaxy. She was now a ruler, not just a military commander or an intelligence director.

~ Because of the political implications, I am concerned about when they could be used against the Eternal Empire. I don't care about me. I worry about my people and the Eternal Empire and you! ~

That might have sounded a lot more serious to her than anything she had said so far. She looked around the room, having previously seen the man, Djorn Bline , whom she had already seen on Coruscant. There was still something in the man that she found familiar, but she didn’t know from where and why. However, she didn’t want topics that were too serious to affect their mood, so the red-haired woman preferred to bring up another topic.

”Which factions do you think will go to war after tonight and against who?” she asked softly, with an evil smile.

​

 

[Djorn Bline]

S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
AVALONIA | DOSUUN
INTERACTING | Arctus Silmar

​

"Commissioner Bline, perhaps our conversation can continue later on? I'll meet with you in the gardens after the next song, if you're up for it." "If you'll both excuse me."​

“Certainly, ma'am, I look forward to it," stepping aside from Ariel Yvarro as the woman departed from their conversation in order to tie up any loose ends she had to attend to. Snake's gaze then went on to the Sith Lord that intruded their party before the Moff left. A deep inhale of air filled his lungs before letting it escape with an obvious exhale Silmar could hear. Certainly the man would understand Bline's opinions towards the Sith. He didn't had to ask just to know, the tensions between the Sith and the New Imperials was more than enough evidence for the Sith Lord. Of course, every New Imperial personnel was instructed to kill on sight any Sith disciple they encountered, but not tonight. Tonight belonged to the First Order Imperials.

"Arctus Silmar," a short silence followed between the two, Djorn letting it filled the air momentarily, "I'm assuming you've come with your merry band of Sith from Dromud Kaas? How are things faring for the Empire?"

He didn't bother addressing the man by any titles, those days were over. He remembered all the times he had to call a Sith "my lord" or "my lady" when approaching them. A subtle gesture of superiority over their subordinates; the same subordinates that revolted and through guts and sheer will toppled the Sith, destroying that delusion of the Sith being on par with powerful deities. Gods were created by the hand of man, and they could simply be destroyed by the same creators.

"I hope things have turned for the better...for the sake of your ilk," the ceasefire between their states was enacted, yet many New Imperials wished nothing more than to see another campaign against their former overseers. Not for the sake of glory and meaningless conflict, but to bring order and security to their society from potential threats such as the Sith.

A good Sith was a dead one.

 

[Malikai Graush]

Quinlan Reade

Abruptly seeming to blank the Sith Lord looked away from the Governor of Tholon. His family's name had fallen on deaf ears. Par for the course, he imagined. Staring out over the guests, a hand drummed along the side of his ribs, where his hand rested, arms crossed over his torso. There was a chance for him to carve out his own name, outside of the shadow his great name cast across the Order.

But I'm sure you know that.

"Mm," he'd intone as Quinlan went on to answer his question.

A believable answer, but one that spoke too humbly. Dark brows being drawn into the slightest of frowns as if he tried to discern the true hidden intent behind the mans words. But... Nothing. Perhaps he truly was humble. Among so many world leaders in that very same building, Malikai was too cautious to believe it.

"Make yourself useful," his voice suddenly lowering in volume as if it were some secret to share between the two of them alone. "Dangerous... You, and your people will be forgotten if you stay tamed. Every action you take, must be unforgettable." It must've been odd, to receive words of wisdom from a younger being, one that didn't even operate in the same realm of existence. The young Graush wasn't apart of the military, the government, or even Intelligence. He just... Was.

For now.

The Governor was right however. The taste of power was... Enticing.

"Don't forget that." Nodding to the aforementioned snake pit below them. "They won't."

Ariel Yvarro

 

[Xander Blackmoore]

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Sigrid Adair

"And he did not tell me of your uncanny resemblance to another of his relatives I once knew..." came the reply from Xander as he took in the fact she did not offer the sad little curtsey most would have on discovering he was royal.​

​

Good. Xander liked independence and confidence.​

​

"Knowing Luc, it is the later. When does the man not have designs for those within his circle or outside of it?"​

​

If she knew the man well, she would only be able to agree. For his part Xander was neither bothered by it, or thrilled. His position was one met with indifference and acceptance. This was how his friend, brother, truly was, and there would be no changing him. While Xander may have come in a favor to his friend, the King knew in short order his decision to remain would be his own, and for himself.​

​

"Lady Sigrid Eronde Astris Adair," he tried the name out on his tongue, "Sigrid," Xander settled upon. "Let us avoid the fanciful titles this evening. Most days in this galaxy I am simply Xander Blackmoore, not even the name Darth Vizios strikes the fear it once did. ​

​

Xander gestured toward the wine/​

​

"And naturally I have good taste," he came quickly with a response. "Notice here on the corner of the label... this is the royal seal of the Induparan Crown Worlds. The only wine from my world which bare this symbol are in bottles from my personal vineyard. If you enjoy this, my private collection has wine so old, your lips would not know how to respond."​

​

Naturally the woman was cautious and undecided about the man. Xander could not blame her for being such. As she walked off, the King smirked. He followed as she led, after all he was her escort for the evening. Xander was also genuinely curious about the woman, and where the events of the evening may lead. Of course Xander was never one to be quiet or shy about his curiosities when it came to the opposite sex, and he was not about to begin now.​

​

"And what of these tastes of yours... how might one go about satisfying them?"​

 

[Daegon Corvinus]

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Seraphina Corvinus | Robogeber

It would be Seraphina that would remind her beloved that she would rather not be killing anyone. Of course she knew what Daegon had mean by the comment, the words which followed indicated as much. Where he was quick to make her blush, she was quick with her own quips and ways to turn the table on the Demon. They were opposites in many ways, an odd couple to many, one most did not understand. Their dynamic, however, made them a perfect match, and their devotion to each other even moreso. He was dangerous, she was not, at least it appeared that way. Seraphina had stood her own ground in many a negotiations for the Demon to know that his Angel would never be one to be taken advantage of. She was much smarter, and had more business and political acumen than most gave her credit for. It worked to their advantage.​

​

"It has been quite successful. Likely because no one in this room is ready to cause a galactic war that would involve every major faction that claims any sort of power... it would only need but a spark."​

​

Daegon's lips twisted in a teasing smirk as he kissed the forehead of his Seraph.​

​

"A spark that I will not be igniting."​

​

The other gentleman however, Daegon could not guarantee. He seemed intent on something, a thing the Bacta mogul had yet to decipher. There were always those with ulterior motives, and for a moment, Daegon was beginning wonder if he had knocked into Serpahina as an excuse to meet them. He would not put such a thing past anyone. It would not be the first time anyone had done anything so rash for just five minutes of conversation.​

​

His voice had been genuine in regards to the losses he suffered. It tugged at the heart of the Demon. Yes, even Daegon could be moved by emotion, though it was rare. It was the sadness which Daegon could sense from the diathim next to him which caused him to pause. They had been married long enough to know each other well. Her sadness would also be his, and as Daegon offered a toast, the woman gave her condolences. Once again the pair showing how they moved and worked as one.​

​

It was only natural that Seraphina would invite the Admiral to join them on the way to the gardens or a place less crowded. Daegon did nod his head in agreement.​

​

"Less crowded would be beneficial for several reasons."​

​

Daegon motioned toward the gardens with the hand holding the glass of wine as his arm was presented for Seraphina. A brush of his arm against hers would indicate where he had placed it, though it was likely she would naturally fall into it as they had so many times even before the loss of her site. Without the force, he would not be able to lend her his eyes, so the Demon was sure to be extra careful.​

​

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as the man asked about business.​

​

"My wife had just been telling me such things before you found us. This may not be the venue for such discussions. Though currently Xucphra Corporation is willing to entertain business from anywhere in the galaxy."​

​

The Demon looked the Angel as he continued toward the green and vibrant colors of the palace gardens. She would no doubt interject if he took too long to divert the subject away from any talk of business.​

​

"Tell me, Admiral Rausgeber, of all the flora you have seen in your travels, what is your favorite?"​

​

The man certainly seemed to have an opinion or view on many things. Daegon hoped he would about this. He knew Seraphina would much rather enjoy discussing the beauty of nature than business, and tonight Daegon had promised her a night off from such things.​

 

[Sigrid Adair]

Tags: Xander Blackmoore | Open

The walk over to the tables was a mental dance of subduing her near-constant frustrations, in favour of giving deeper consideration to the replies he had supplied to her words thus far. That he was a Darth she simply took in stride, as if he was saying the sky was (usually) blue, the denizens of her house being party to such ways, the Mecrosa Order employing the darkness with deft precision in their works; their methods were passed on to her without the intangible gift in her possession, without its reach at her fingertips, but knowing how it functioned still did much to enhance her own learning and application. Enough to trust instinct, to properly interpret a 'gut feeling'.

"Xander it is, then," she'd agreed, amenable to dispensing with the pleasantries, for an entire evening of it was always tiring; proper respect and the sheen of unfamiliarity be damned, on this at least. It stunted the flow of conversation, which at first blush appeared as if it might do well even without the wine... wine which was purported to be more dear in his own personal stores. Far from being a lush, the fact still piqued a mote of her interest, tucked away for another time, if there was to ever be another time, that matter being one unknown amongst many. One of her station was given to acquiring many hobbies to prevent becoming idle, and one such of these, to some small extent, was wine. But as for her lips not knowing how to respond? Well, now. Put that on ice.

"One begins to go about satisfying my particular desires by not making assumptions," she needled, not looking back at him as they reached the tables. Sigrid selected a table a ways away from the nearest party, and set the glasses down with care, removing her clutch from its place under her arm thereafter; only once this was done did she look on the royal, as he joined her at the table, "I think you will find my lips rarely without a response."

That could, as ever, mean any number of things. She graced him with a pleasant smile, her expression otherwise writ with mild subtext - whether it be daring or cautioning was reserved in her mind alone. Her gaze held much of the warmth as before, sans feu.

"But bold of you to ask, Xander," she further pressed, gaze held steady on his face, bare, pale shoulders held back, "I pray you'll continue to."

417

 

[Adhira Chandra]

DIRTY SECRETS
​

Adhira was midway through a deep drink of the amber-colored and quite acrid liquid when something registered that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. It had been many years ago and deep into her tenure as a servant of what would eventually be the revived Galactic Alliance, but the words 'kyber dark' still haunted her. Adhira Chandra, former Jedi, Chancellor of the Alliance, hated the Sith as much as anyone in her position should have, but the images of the people slaughtered as a result of kyber dark were still unsettling to think about. It was the culmination of Irveric Tavlar's role in the rebellion against the Sith Empire and her government had helped him along the way.​

"I am..." she began, hesitantly, the rim of the crystal hovering near her maroon lips, "familiar with it." Under normal circumstances, Adhira was a master at concealing her emotions. However, at this particular moment, as her boney jeweled fingers lingered at the lobes of her ears before hastily tucking her ebony-colored hair behind them, she looked rather pale. "It was Irveric Tavlar's answer to -- Order Sixty Six."​

Anyone who took a Galactic History course knew what Order 66 was and the impact it had on the galaxy. The poetic way that Adhira described the slaughter of dozens of sith or... suspected sith made the act almost sound benign. However, she knew better.​

"Irveric Tavlar... is a beast," she said bitterly, quietly to herself, her dark eyes turned once again in the Imperator's direction. The Chancellor watched as he twirled with the new leader of the First Order. "And he will stop at nothing to realize his goals... whatever they may be," she continued, before turning her gaze back upon the former Emperor. "Did you lose many?" Adhira hardly needed to clarify what she was talking about. A number of sith died during the kyber dark operation. It was almost certain that Carnifex knew a few of them.​

Darth Carnifex Irveric Tavlar ​

 

[Elisea Apollodor]

​

"We do, and I think that's a good thing," Elisea replied but was a little unsure, even so, she mentioned it with a smile. There was a small lull between the two waltzes. She looked upward toward one of the balconies on the second floor. "Hey is it okay if we break from the dance and just relax?" Elisea motioned in the direction of the said balconies. "Just you and me?" Not that she didn't enjoy the crowd or the political scheming, the analytical minds that overworked themselves, or people trying to show just how much more of whatever they were than the next person. It was that she wanted to spend just a moment or two with her girlfriend in what was a beautiful evening, on such a wonderful occasion. ​

​

The coronation of a monarch didn't happen very often in this part of the galaxy, at least for the First Order. Let alone a monarch that had seemingly resurrected themselves from the dead, however; far fetched that seemed. When Nylea had agreed, Elisea slid her hand into the Echani's and led her up toward the second floor. Not giving another look to the crowd below, but only to the woman she loved. When they had reached a balcony and closed the glass doors behind them. She took the moment to just breathe, "felt awfully crowded down there, don't you think?"​

​

"Get a look at this view, Nylea." Elisea simply seemed breathless at the stunning view of the Avalonian countryside. There was a moment where Nylea mentioned she was going to get something, Elisea turned over her shoulder and nodded. "Oh, alright well, I'll be here."​

​

Nylea Apollodor | Nora Lithos | Hazel Zanteres ​

 

[Xander Blackmoore]

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Sigrid Adair

Xander nodded at the answer. It seemed they were both amenable to casting off the cumbersome dictates of formality when it came to each other's company for the evening. The King was all too happy for this. There was a time and place to abide by the demands of propriety, and tonight was not one of them. They were meant to accompany each other on an equal footing. In such cases, there was no need for them to address each other by Lord or Lady, always being careful to not insult the other's position. In truth, Xander simply wanted to be Xander. It was rare he found the occasion to simply be himself. If Sigrid gave him the room to be himself, she would find a more than amiable companion to return the favor.​

​

Her quip elicited a chuckle from the Sith as he followed along to the tables. The banter had began, a spar of words and wit which Xander loved all too well. His silver tongue was up for the task, as was his quick mind. The artist was the creative sort, and never one for an idle mind.​

​

"Yet, witty banter is rarely possible without at least one assumption... and as you can see... it has begun."​

​

The bottle, and his own glass, of wine were set on the table following the actions of the red haired mistress. Naturally his lips curved at her own retort.​

​

Good. Xander did not like a woman that could not think for herself or fail to have some kind of response to his teasing. He was not one for dull company, and Sigrid was proving to be anything but. As though she had wished it, Xander's eyes dipped briefly to look at the woman's full lips. He could only imagine that they would be full of various responses and retorts to anything Xander could offer.​

​

"Fortune favors the bold, my dear. I would not be the Lion of Ec Pand without it."​

​

Xander topped off their wine glasses without a word. Whether it was his intention to lower their inhibitions with the red liquid or not, the Sith would not signal. In truth, he did not feel either of them needed the help. As his gaze shifted to hers, Xander could see the invitation written in her eyes. Certainly this was a game they both wished to play.​

​

So play they would.​

​

"No assumptions then. At least you know a good wine when you taste it, something we both have in common. I wonder what other fine tastes this one has developed? Perhaps an affinity for pretty and handsome things, or does she prefer to move across the floor in time with music?"​

​

Xander took a step around the table in a move to close some of the distance between them. His voice brought low, almost to a whisper.​

​

"Perhaps she is one that is a bit more hand on in her approach than others might expect?"​

 

[Nylea Apollodor]

As enchanting as this moment was, when Elisea asked her to take a break somewhere Nylea quickly agreed with a nod. It didn't matter much where she would go tonight as long as it was together with her love, but more importantly, it provided her opportunity to do what she had been planning for this evening. All those nerves that had been building up over the course of the evening reached their peak as she was led up the second floor, past the mass of people, and towards one of the balconies.

Just the two of them. This was it. There was no better time than now.

"It did," the echani replied as she took a deep breath while still standing in front of the now-closed door. For a minute she stepped up next to Elisea to take in the view with her, sharing a moment of calming silence as the both of them looked out to the countryside. What her girlfriend didn't know was that Nylea was also gathering her courage.

"Just one second, I need to get something."

She took a step backwards and turned her back towards the balcony railing, opening up her clutch to take out a small box. No turning back anymore. One last deep breath.

Nylea stepped back up, but instead of facing the railing, she went to face Elisea, her hands behind her back. "Elisea, I need to tell you something." And so, she began.

"Everyday when I see your smile, I am reminded just how lucky I am." One hand appeared from her back, and with it she took one of Elisea's. "Despite everything that is now in the past, I now stand here, a better woman. Because of you."

The realization of what she was doing truly hit her now. Her hands were shaking and feelings of anxiety nearly drowned her, but she found the strength to keep going.

"You are my rock and my light. You are the most wonderful woman the galaxy has the pleasure of knowing, and I want to be there by your side, be the one you can depend on for as long as the Force allows."

Nylea let go of Elisea's hand, going down to one knee.

From behind her back, she revealed the ring box, opening it to reveal what was inside.

"Elisea Cathryn Korrado, will you marry me?"

Elisea Korrado ​

 

[Salamander]

Before the conversation with the lovely vampiress could really get started, a servant appeared with a note from a certain bartender. Someone, a young woman, had ordered absinthe at the bar.

It could easily have been Inanna Harth … roughly six months ago, that is. Nowadays she couldn’t stand even a drop of the true. But he had bribed the bartender out of curiosity anyway, to see if she had either recovered from the restrictions foisted upon her, or if he could net any other Shi’ido that might happen to be attending the party.

“My apologies,” he told Kassandra Distorith . “It seems I’m needed elsewhere. But I’m sure you can enjoy yourself without me.”

With a slight bow, he backed away, then turned and headed into the castle. Entering the ballroom, he passed by Nylea Apollodor ardently proposing to Elisea Korrado and a whole host of strange discussions germinating among some of the most powerful people in the galaxy. The sight of Darth Carnifex chatting with Adhira Chandra was especially heartwarming, with the elderly couple looking like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. The rest looked more like a broad family portrait of an entire royal clan, right down to the stiff poses and awkward atmosphere that comes with grouping relatives together that don’t see each other except maybe once a year around the holidays.

From the ballroom to the bar, he was directed up to the lounge, where the mysterious young woman was (surprise) lounging. It was located on the third floor, a bit far from the library where he was supposed to be meeting with Nefretiri in... damn. Not much time left.

He caught the attention of a passing servant droid. “Would you mind delivering a message for me? Here—find the young woman with the absinthe in the lounge and tell her to meet me in the library as soon as she can.”

The droid rolled away to complete its mission. Messala checked his chrono again, swore, and booked it to the library.

Nefretiri was standing before one of the informational plaques in the mini-museum which had been set up for the occasion, a magnificent jackal-headed goddess statue posed in profile. She turned her head when he entered, her clawed hands resting on her hips. “Ah, there you are. I was beginning to think you’d never show up.”

“Have I ever broken a vow I made to you before?” he asked.

“No.” Her hands dropped to her sides. “But you’ve always been a strange man.” Lips pulling back in a toothy smile, she crossed the room in order to sit down in a leather armchair, idly stroking the gold studs holding the skins in place with her fingers. “I remember years ago, when you suddenly disappeared without a word. I went looking for you and found you in the slave pits, covered in mud… I had to lie in order to save face, and said I wanted you as one of my retainers.”

“You lied to save face? And here I thought you did it just to amuse yourself.” Messala followed her but stopped short of taking a seat, preferring to stand on the library’s woven rug. “You were laughing at me, after all.”

“It was nervous laughter. I had no idea what you were doing there. I was afraid you had been mistaken for an escaped slave, captured and thrown in there by force.” She cast a sidelong glance at him with black canine eyes. “When I brought you to my barge, you stood before me reeking of sweat and dirt and blood from the taskmaster’s whip and said you had become a slave willingly, because you were trying to ‘get back to your roots’. I didn’t understand even then.”

“Yes, I remember. You gave me an evil grin and told me that if I wanted to be a slave, I could’ve simply asked and you would’ve made me serve you.” Messala chuckled, but his laughter died swiftly. Nefretiri was looking at him very seriously, all trace of humor having left her. “Do you understand now?”

“No. I understand less now than I did before.” She cast her eyes down, pursing her lips grimly. “I suspected you were once a slave from the moment we met. It was something about your stance, your walk. You were always hunched over, and you rarely looked anyone in the eye. Why you would ever want to return to such a miserable life, I don’t know. Especially after I raised you up to the level of prince in all but name.”

“Much to the anger and shame of the courtiers and the high priests.”

“I could care less about the courtiers. As for the priests, that was because you opened the temple granaries and stole from the stores meant as an offering to the gods.”

Messala scoffed. “A wise man once said ‘What the gods can digest will not sour in the belly of a slave’.”

“It would have been noble if you had taken it for the slaves,” she admitted. “They were left to starve during the attack. But you didn’t distribute the grain among them. You used it to feed an army.”

He shrugged. “You hired me to defend your world. I did.”

“I also asked you to stay. You didn’t.”

“I refused.” He smiled. “No promise was made. But enough about the past. I said I would give you a demonstration of Anubian spells translated into High Sith.” He gestured vaguely. “This place will nullify the effects of any sorcery we concoct in here, so it isn’t exactly ideal, but it also means we can go for the really juicy ones that would wreak untold havoc otherwise.”

“You know, I didn’t think I would be performing black magic in the library this evening, but I suppose I have nothing better to do.” Nefretiri sighed. “And it is good to see you again, Arrius.”

Messala briefly glanced at his chrono, wondering how long it would take for their third guest to arrive. “It’s good to see you again, too.”

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Only familiar?"​

​

Carnifex fully understood that Chandra wasn't being entirely honest with him, he could smell the stench of perspiration that unconsciously began to emanate from her body at the mere mention of 'kyber dark'. It was an imperceivable odor to the majority of most people, but the former Dark Lord of the Sith had a fine-tuned sense for the smell of fear. She tucked her hair behind her ear, the blood seeming to drain from her facial features. For a moment, the illustrious Chancellor of the Galactic Alliance lost her composure.​

​

He almost salivated at the thought.​

​

"The majority of the Sith who died at the hands of Tavlar and his ilk were traitors, they should have known better to throw their lot in with a man like Irveric. He had been tutored by Sith hand, his mind sharpened by Sith rhetoric. Regardless of whether he believes it or not, he has adopted many of our ideals and applied them to a purely Imperial mindset. It was not a matter of if, but a matter of when, he would turn his sights upon the Sith who had foolishly rushed to his side in a bid for power. The fate they suffered was far more generous than I would have allowed them, but death is death." Undoubtedly they were all swallowed by Voracitos' hungering maw in the end, as Carnifex had engineered it so that those that died in battle with the Sith Empire were swallowed by Voracitos in the Netherworld of the Force.​

​

And Voracitos had grown fat on so many souls.​

​

"But yes, I knew all of them. Their faces, their names, the sound of their voices. I remember every Sith that has come and gone throughout the years I have been among them. Heroes and fools alike." He threw back his drink, downing it all in a single gulp. "It is humorous. I had told Allyson Locke that Tavlar's band would turn on the Jedi and the Alliance the moment it became advantageous for them. She didn't believe me then, I wonder if she believes me now."​

​

His eyes seemed to glow for a moment as he shifted his gaze back to Chandra, "Do you?"​

​

Adhira Chandra ​

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Tag: Loske Treicolt ​

Pom glowed and blushed at the same time. "Thank you," she returned. The little woman thought her first Epicanthix offspring would deal her the death card. She learned to her dismay, that there truly isn't a Potion to alter to her benefit every situation the cosmos can deal out to womenkind; but this Mistress of the night sure does attempt to appease those whom she may. She pat Loske's hand gently before withdrawn.

Times have changed. Pom's life has changed since that insane year of struggling to understand the forces that sought to acquire her allegiance. Until this moment she too would have believed that while her place in the galaxy shifted, she had not changed along with the many series of developments she encountered. This very moment however, she realized just how much she had changed indeed, in her accepted beliefs, her practices, her love and loyalties.

Pom is very proud of her family and the legacy she has been accepted into. She imagines however, that some take issue with this choice. She realized for the first time the answer to the question she finds herself wondering about. That being, 'Why is it that the members of her distant coven had gone out of their way to fall silent towards her? Vytal most of all, her lifelong sister, the one who claims that everyone is welcome regardless of their alignment or study. None would be shunned, she says; the hypocrite.' Pom is always upfront with her stance with those around her, even as her views evolve. The person in front of her today is a testament to a past self who no longer exists. But still a bond is between her and Loske, and it deserves honor.

The Matriarch might prefer to fancy that nostalgia is strong because Loske is in possession of her Amulet. Spasa dug the grave for Pom by handing out such powerful Magick, like it were nothing more than a throat lozenge. The damn thing left Pom obligated to fulfill the will of one long gone. A while ago, the unique relationship she had with Loske made sense; as the years grew on however, it all grew to seem far more unusual than ever. But Pom honors a promise she made, only within the past year, that she would not abandon any sister over issues of dogma, and she is always open to rational discussion.

Cool…
Calculated…

'Loske married?' The Nightsister returned a bright smile to the younger Jedi. Happy to learn it was not to the Jedi Master who disrespected them both. She returned the greeting which Loske initiated to the woman's husband.

"I'm happy," she said in response to the first question posed regarding her wellbeing. As to the second asking who she is with here tonight, she replied, "I am sure this entire facility is bugged far beyond what's actually necessary." Pom is not one to put the life of her unborn in jeopardy by discussing openly her lifestyle in public places.

"You've been all over the galaxy, I know. Even to more systems than I have ever visited. How come you never came to Dathomir to study under my tutelage?" she asked. "I can take your knowledge to the next level," she promises, hoping to entice the Jedi to dabble in her far darker ways.
​

​

​

 

[Inanna Harth]

Inanna didn’t know when she entered the lift, in a hurry to escape before Messala came looking for her again, that a mechanical issue had developed following the massive influx of guests to the castle. Guests who, while not unable to walk, were frequently clad in ridiculous high fashion that hindered their ability to take the stairs, and so abused the elevator.

It had taken many trips up and down and between the floors without any sign of issue, but this particular trip was the unlucky one.

There were three orchestra musicians already inside the lift when Inanna got in, their instruments balanced on the floor. She checked to be sure the second floor button was lit up, then took a place in an abandoned corner, giving her plenty of room to breathe and her frilly pink dress space to flounce.

The doors slid closed, the lift lurched downward… and then came to a jarring stop.

One of the musicians asked the others if they were all right. No injuries were apparent. But the lift still wasn’t moving.

Inanna blinked, looking around. The realization of the situation was slow to dawn on her.

“...oh, you’ve got to be fething kidding me.”

They were stuck.

She was the first person to press the help button. “Hey! We’re trapped in here. The lift isn’t moving.”

“We are aware of the issue and have dispatched maintenance droids to resolve it,” replied a cheerful computerized voice. “Please remain calm. Do not attempt to force open the doors. Help is on the way.”

Well, that was that. Within a few minutes, the occupants of the stalled elevator were all sitting on the floor in silence. The air was still being filtered, so they weren’t exactly uncomfortable, but the yawning jaws of crushing boredom were gnashing before them.

Inanna sighed and glanced at the other three. The musicians consisted of a Quarren, a Zabrak, and a Wookiee, of all things. “So, you guys come here often?”

The Quarren and Wookiee each gave shrugging answers in their own languages. “Sometimes we work here, yeah,” the Zabrak said, speaking for all of them.

“Do you mainly do huge events like this?”

More Wookiee grunts and Quarren squelches. “Not always,” the Zabrak replied sadly. “This was a rare opportunity. Now it’s going to waste.”

“Aw,” Inanna muttered, sharing their disappointment. “If I had a big thing going on, I’d certainly hire you…” She trailed off, her eyebrows rising. “You know what—I may actually be getting married soon. If everything works out, I’ll hire you guys to play at my wedding.”

All three looked at her with renewed interest. “Uh, wouldn’t you like to hear us play first?”

“Oh yeah. Hm…” She paused, thinking. “... Can you play the song ‘I’ll Never Find Another You’?” The selection came to her not out of the blue, but marching down the long road of memory. She had picked that song out when she was just a teenager, deciding that it must be her wedding song in all its sappy, heartfelt, sentimental glory. The memory had lain dormant in the century or so since her girlhood innocence had faded, only now resurfacing at the thought of a possible promise fulfilled.

The Quarren protested, pointing out that they weren’t supposed to deviate from the planned selection of music for the evening. The Wookiee countered with a guttural utterance roughly translated to “Isn’t that a pop song? We’re part of an orchestra, not a band.”

“But we’re trapped inside an elevator, in a transitional space. The rules don’t apply here.” The Zabrak replied, already reaching for his instrument. The others followed suit. Cases were cracked open, revealing smooth polished wood and shining metal keys resting amid green velvet lining. “...Lowie is right, though. We’re not used to playing that kind of music.”

Inanna shrugged. “I’d still like to hear you try to play it, if you can. I’ll sing along for you, although I won’t be as good as the lady who sang it first.” Hell, she might even sing it at the wedding. Or maybe not. What a terrifying thought.

The musicians exchanged glances, but decided the possibility of getting a new job mattered more than the improbability of their playing an old folksy pop hit with instruments that weren’t even used in the original song. When they did strike up the tune, it came out much less corny and far more serious than she had anticipated. She liked it. It was fragile and lovely, and when she started singing it felt right.

“There's a new world somewhere
They call the promised land
And I'll be there someday
If you could hold my hand
I still need you there beside me
No matter what I do
For I know I'll never find another you...”

Natasi Fortan Ariel Yvarro​

 

[John Locke]

​

Location: Dosuun | South of Avalonia | Rosewood Castle
Wearing: Wait for it...a tuxedo
Accompanying: Gianna Aegis
Also as part of invite: Allyson Locke

​

The cyborg’s head bowed in acknowledgement to the flame-haired Jedi’s quip.

“Touché. Although I used to be on the swim team, I can hold my breath for a long time, and with the right implant…”

He let his voice trail off as he offered the woman a smile, an olive branch almost, accepting her attempt to steer the conversation onto a more light-hearted footing.

Life’s experiences had forged a mask for the cyborg, a stillness of his face and emotions he could drop into place in the space of a heartbeat. It was the face of the Exarch, of the businessman. It was judgment and logic, cold and unbreakable. The face of the man who wouldn’t bend or break, who would force the galaxy to bend to his will, who could face death without blinking.

It was the mask that had never worked on her.

From the day he’d met her Gianna had found a way to slip past the mask, to see the emotions and thoughts underneath it as if there was nothing in the way. He couldn’t lie to her, couldn’t hide anything from her. There was a safety in that, a singular person he didn’t have to hide from, who he could just be John with.

The cyborg wasn’t nearly as empathic as the Jedi was, couldn’t see emotions and thoughts as clearly but…he found himself understanding, sensing her thoughts and emotions. Maybe not as well as she was able, but enough to see the brittle smile on Gianna’s face. A smile without the usual weight of her emotion, of her personality behind it. It was that single smile more than anything that she’d said, that he’d read that told John that there was something wrong. There was a positivity, a sense of confidence and light that normally surrounded Gianna which seemed to flicker and thin for a moment. It was only the space of a heartbeat or two as she retreated into her thoughts, into the memories of whatever was troubling her.

The man’s hand tightened gently around Gianna’s for a moment, that soft squeeze all he could do, all he could provide. John wished that he could lift the burden from her, reach out and wipe out whatever it was that ailed her away. He knew that he couldn’t. Couldn’t do more than be there, offering his acceptance and support.

There weren’t many times John regretted that he couldn’t use the force, he could stand in a room of Sith and Jedi, of masters who could use that energy to reshape reality around them and feel no less.

This was one of those times.

He wished he could project that same aura that she did, could provide her with the warmth and comfort that she provided for so many people every day. Instead, all he could offer was his care, his acceptance and support. Hopefully that would be enough.

Dark eyes swept the path ahead, pondering a route into the castle’s vast grounds, he’d heard once that people could get lost in a place like this. Looking out over the shadowed landscape that stretched out in front of them, he could believe it. There was a part of the man that couldn’t believe that places like this still existed, a castle out a fairytale, that people still lived in a place like this. It must get so lonely at times, just yourself and the empty rooms and empty grounds.

It was that little tug on his hand that drew back his attention, the return of that bright smile that sense of warmth that normally filled the air around her. The aura that had infused the Sprite Gate Shore, filling it with that sense of warmth and kindness that made it more than just an estate but made it a home, a sanctuary that pulled people in and set them at ease. In that moment the grounds didn’t seem so empty anymore as the man felt his lips curling up into an answering smile.

“An expedition into the unknown, facing all sorts of dangers and mysteries? Sounds like the kind of trip I could get into, sign me up fearless leader.”

The further into the grounds, away from the crowd they got, the more relaxed she seemed to get. As if the world was falling away around them, and they were stepping into the fairytale. The shadows dancing on the grass gave the world around them an ethereal look and the pong with the bioluminescent flowers were almost otherworldly in their beauty.

The dark-haired man moved up to stand besides Gianna, watching the reflections in the water, the way the wind stirred up waves that distorted the image slightly, making it seem as if the flowers were dancing. Yet, in the middle of all of this, he found his eyes drawn back to the reflection of the red-haired woman standing next to him, filled with an internal light that seemed to shine out of her skin.

“It really is beautiful.”

 

[AMCO]

Location: A state of quantum uncertainty that solidifies into certainty if approached.
Wearing: Ever-shifting Polyweave Suit | Obscenely Expensive OnniLink.
Writing With: Ingrid L'lerim | [OPEN]
---

He could not help but smile, at her privately expressed concerns. In his eyes, she seemed to be mistaking faith for loyalty.

<I suppose my reassurances that the fanatical are mere tools wouldn't be enough? Then consider the following: What are gods but the unattainable, the inexplicable? They do not worship the so-called Night Spirit, they never have, and to start now would be to admit that their precious deities are nothing but a mirage. Powerful spirits, yes, but spirits nonetheless - killable or bindable, if one has the strength.>

No, he imagined they would stick to the abstract. The inexplicable. The purest expressions of the Dark Side itself.

Perhaps with some ancestral spirits sprinkled on top, but "gods" that interacted directly with the world? A risky thing to believe in.

Chuckling wickedly in response to their out-loud conversation, he looked around the room speculatively. "Not the First Order, they will want to gather their strength, rebuild their planets. The New Imperials have been pushing outward at a rapid rate, but they are beginning to encroach upon the territory of others. It is an open question whether they intend to let that stop them."

"Of course, they might well not have much choice in the matter."

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Lady Ingrid L’lerim-Ragal
Empress Regent of the Eternal Empire, Overlord of the Eternal Empire, the Emperor's hand, Lord Commander
The Red Witch; The Night Queen; Director of Blackwatch; Baroness of Vengard, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium​

Location: Rosewood Castle, South of Avalonia, Dosuun, First Order Space
Attire: Polyweave Elegant dress | Soul
Tag: AMCO | Open

There were few things in her life that could scare the woman, or even scare her to death. One of these was exactly what happened to her on Endor, or the consequences of that. Even if she hid these feelings as best she could, she was still worried and scared, just no one could sense it. She hid it even before Adrian, not just because she was sure the man would laugh on this or think she was stupid. Ingrid simply hated it when anyone saw her as weak and fear as weakness. Even though she showed her emotional half to Adrian more often, she never wanted the weakness. Even so, the man saw it too many times.

~ Yes, that's perfectly enough from you, handsome! But don’t try to abuse this power! ~

She answered honestly and then ended playfully. She was forced to admit this one thing, like Tubrok, Adrian was able to reassure her in almost any situation, even with his mere presence, no words needed. But in their situation, it might have been natural. Regardless, she listened intently to what the Sith Lord had said. She could only agree with these all along; she loved that her lover could be so logical-minded.

~ Yes, you’re right, I’m just aware of how dangerous blinded fanatics can be. This is also why it was strange to me that the Sith Empire had turned more seriously to religion lately. I thought they were more enlightened than that… ~

She dared to “say” this only because she knew exactly that they thought the same about religion with Adrian. In the meantime, they set out to play a little game. Satisfied and happy, her fiancé listened wickedly chuckling. Anyway, she loved it when the man was thinking or considering, she had mentioned to the Sith Lord before, on Zeltros, that she was especially handsome at such times. Better than usual. Nodded in response.

”I agree, they are expanding too fast and slowly stepping on everyone’s feet in the process. I wouldn’t be surprised if the people of the Galaxy didn’t tolerate this for long. First Order, I hope you are right, at least they are trying to rebuild the planets they have access to. On the other planets, we did this favour.”

She also looked through the crowd, the only significant factor missing. But she wasn't surprised they weren't invited here.

”I would love to instigate a war between the NIO and the Bryn’adûl, watching from the sidelines waiting to see how it ends. Just occupy each other and leave the rest of the galaxy alone.” now she smiled and chuckled wickedly.

​

 

[Noelle Varanin]

Tags | Rurik Fel | Open.

Spoiler: The story

Tags | Open.


Noel walked in alone, a silk dress of silver clinging to her like a shift. In her hands was her mother's diadem, an ornament she had nearly not brought with her today. Her mother's death still felt so fresh. The rumors of her sister's affiliations-- Ashin's return and reveal inside their family's kitchen...

The time for mourning had come and gone. She had things she needed to do.

She slipped the crown into her golden locks and stepped out of a shadowed archway. Observing would only get her so far. It was time to fetch a drink.

E X E C U T O R
KNIGHT OF THE EMPIRE
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
B R E A T H E
Noelle Varanin | Quinn Varanin | Vesta

Revelry. An Empire resurgent, wrought to life in this perilous Galaxy of disorder and chaos. Rurik, of course, never one for these events in spite of his origins born in the purple as a noble in-exile on Serenno, blood right to the throne of the Fel Empire, Bastion. A seat which he'd since reclaimed.

In the rightful claim of the joyous tone of the event, Rurik made his best attempt at appearing endearing, in spite of his otherwise gruesome (sparing his 'Iron Skin') or foreboding (donning his 'Iron Skin') appearance. There was no uplifting himself to the aesthetic standards of the rest present here, donning ensembles likely worth more than he'd seen since his exile from home.

There was no aim in his mind of indulging in the chemical pleasures of bitter liquor and sweet herbs as they let unclasp their desires in favor of a supposed night of no judgement. He could only truly be content in idle observation of the Galaxy's most fascinating figures assembled in one venue.

In the silver, gold and purple not too unlike the rainment donned by his ancestor Roan Fel, Rurik entered the venue, his marred and disfigured face concealed by the metallic visage clasped over his face, the usual smooth steel replaced with ornate engravings into the masque. As he entered the Castle proper his gaze fell idly on those around him before a glint piercing his gaze from an ornate crown captured his attention.

He recognized the ornament, belonging to none other than Spencer Varanin , but not the woman donning it tonight. Though the resemblance was clear, uncanny. More resemblance of the late Queen than his primary disciple in Errant. No doubt she was truly born in the purple to the Empress Varanin herself.

He approached, warily that is.

"Your grace." He offered, addressing Noel by her assumed title as Queen of Eshan, offering a nod of his head in acknowledgement to her royalty.

"I am Rurik Fel...of the New Imperial Order, but the politics are irrelevant. How fares Eshan, its people?" Rurik inquires of genuine curiousity, treading lightly as not to mention his Varanin apprentice.

HOUSE FEL
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER

Tags | Rurik Fel | Open.


Noelle turned in place, leaving the bar behind her as she addressed the voice with a measured smile. She didn't bother to correct the title. She was wearing the crown for a reason. Her gaze skimmed past him, searching beyond him for something unstated. Her attention returned to him, the measured smile deepening.

"They fair well; it is a harsh winter but they endure on. As always." A drink was placed down for her at the bar. She turned, plucking it up and gingerly sipping to prevent a spill. She studied him as she did so, unphased by his appearance. A spark of amusement crossed her features. She lowered the glass from her lips.

"I take it you don't drink then." She gestured subtly to the mask.

M A N _ O F _ I R O N
KNIGHT OF THE EMPIRE
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
B R E A T H E
Noelle Varanin

The immediately cordial response was a refreshing alteration of what his first impression from a Concordian aristocrat might be, but this was a night free of those political bonds as much as it had everything to do with who and why people chose to speak to one another. His connection to Eshan was second hand, Errant. Though he would be smarter than to mention him here, knowing how the world fared was useful information to take. As far as he could tell, business as usual. Harsh winters, an opportunity to prove their endurance and mettle again, to forge another piece of that vaunted legacy.

"Good. I wish them my best." He remarked in response. To the question of his drinking, he offered a rare laugh beneath his steel visage, tilting his hooded head in consideration.

"It isn't that I don't...or that I can't but I'd rather do my part in sparing everyone the displeasure of seeing my true face." Rurik admits, though the mask by now was a face all its own. The Lord Executor himself was made manifest in it.

"I'd wish for you not to contrive my motives for speaking with you but it is curious that the Queen of Eshan would be here, alone when the Galaxy's finest and most elite fraternize in the Ball Room. All the same, I take it the crowded air and bustling noise isn't anything you'd care to partake in?" Fel inquired curiously.

HOUSE FEL
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER

Tags | Rurik Fel | Open.

"Well when you put it in such flattering terms," she laughed. "No. I find it frivolous." She sipped again at the drink, unabashed. "Though others would disagree, I suppose. There's a certain dance to politics that one would be remiss to overlook... Tonight wouldn't be the first time alliances were formed or broken under the sway of music and champaign..."

She fell quiet... then looked up, dismissing her poetic musing with a sweeping gesture, "Politicians do love their parties."

Her friendly air turned on dime, her gaze sharpening on the mask that belayed no expression. "Why?" She shot back, deadpan. If he was looking for small talk, he would be disappointed. Noelle was every bit as direct as the two Matriarchs she hailed from.

It was he who mentioned his motives first. She was simply following up.

M A N _ O F _ I R O N
KNIGHT OF THE EMPIRE
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
Noelle Varanin

In spite of him making his motive as clear as he might've been able to, the metallic visage clasped over his face certainly made it difficult to convey his sentiment genuinely. Revealing the horrid gaze beneath would've aligned himself in another quagmire of issues.

"It certainly wouldn't..." He remarks in reply to her comments of alliances, deals and wars all being brokered over revelry. His gaze set away from her and unto the ballroom where men and women of nations strewn divided by bloodshed were eager to fraternize under a quaint waltz and dance. A certain amusement about it.

Her sudden snap and change of tone shifted his attention back, his weary eyes buried beneath the metallic gaze looking to take her into view once more at her short but telling inquiry.

"Why what?" Was all he mustered initially before he continued. He'd seen that line of behavior before, in her mother, Spencer. Her half-brother. There seemed to be a connection in it. One he admired.

"Why any of it? The Galaxy is aflame...near the brink. Tonight is one of those rare and fleeting moments we can each...forget. Forget about weighing obligations, existential crises and simply observe and commune with one another as the flailing sentients we are, even if nearly everyone here is peacocking some appearance, some virtue to another. Such is nature. I'd think under no other circumstance you nor anyone else non aligned with the New Imperial Order would see fit to have a conversation with me, the reasoning why should be obvious. It's a rare opportunity, one I couldn't let slip." Rurik states, his voice bathed in that cold placidity, even if he lets slip the shroud of coldness in favor for an aura of humor, seemingly self aware of his wholly foreboding appearance.

"One thing I should impart on you...as another 'born in the purple' if you will, royalty. It is best to see more perspectives than that which those around you allow you see. As powerful as you or I might be...it can dangerously fall in the hands of those who'd rather take advantage of it than see the goodness that could arise summit to its full potential." The son of Fel imparts.

"Regardless...I need air, if you'd care to join me." He offers.

HOUSE FEL
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER

Noelle's expression remained cool, unreadable behind the glass she sipped on in frequent intervals. She was more than use to others imparting advice her way. Parent, mentor, friend, foe-- the act of giving was as much for her benefit as it was for his own. It felt good to feel as if your experience measured up to something useful.

Noelle was always content to hear it. Better someone else make that mistake than her. She tilted her head in gracious acknowledgement, lowering the glass from her lips.

"Regardless...I need air, if you'd care to join me."

"Thank you, but I am waiting for someone." Her eyes left his again, skimming the landscape behind him before jumping back to his steel visage. Her glass clinked onto the bar, left there for retrieval. She smoothed her hands over the silk shift, then curtsied ever so slightly. "Until the next one."

Her lips quirked.

"You'll know where to find me."

With no further ado, the Varanin slipped away, leaving a hint of vanilla in her wake.