Faction The Coronation Ball [First Order | Invited Guests]

[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

​

For a moment that room of executives and board members seemed to rally, seemed to hold their breath in hope, in anticipation. Hopes that fell as the man gently shook his head, dark eyes and one hand gesturing over towards the crowded ballroom. Even from here the familiar faces were threading their way through the crowd, the pale Echani Exarch and her partner, the rock steady form of Darth Metus and his Dark Lady. He could see them moving through the crowd, could see the press of bodies about them, the loud murmur of conversation that filled the ballroom. Dark eyes met jade orbs, the curl of the man’s lips answering her own look with one of his own.

“I think the Confederacy is plenty represented and can spare me for one night. One night where I can just be John and enjoy myself.”

Even as they moved past the ballroom entrance John was aware of the weight of duty that lay across the room, the weight almost stronger than gravity. So many people representing something greater than themselves, each person in there an avatar for the beliefs and dreams of systems and planets beyond counting. The weight of a galaxy contained in a ballroom. Tonight deals could be made and feuds would explode, friendships would be renewed and enemies might bury the hatchet. Words spoken with the voice of millions, of a galaxy would spread. For a single night the galaxy rotated around Natasi Fortan.

And John didn’t envy her.

To be at the center of all those eyes and not be able to show a moment of weakness or indecision. Who in that room dared to reveal a crack, to reveal that moment of weakness of humanity in front of all those others, these gods and monsters of the galaxy. It was a role that some took to, some revelled in but that life in the spotlight, your every action dissected every look examined. There wasn’t room for true friendship, there wasn’t room for true connection, everyone you met was a competitor or an enemy. Someone out for your blood, the blood of all those you represented.

Everyone in that room was on show, bound by the chains of duty that connected them to corporations and nations.

Duty.

It was such a small word to carry such a heavy weight. It had become the by-word for all their lives, the word which had them running from planet to planet, ship to ship. A never ending struggle to fulfil the ideals of those who believed in you, who needed you. It had consumed John’s life, the demands of his company, of the Confederacy, and he’d risen to meet all of them. But the cost along the way. He’d sacrificed his dreams and hopes, his wishes for the future. He’d sacrificed the quiet life that he’d sought, to become the man that they needed him to be.

Yet there was a line he wouldn’t cross. A sacrifice he wouldn’t make.

He wouldn’t sacrifice her.

The truth was, as much as he thought Gianna needed a night away from everything, to just relax and loose herself, he needed the same. A night to just relax and loose themselves in the fairytale feeling of the castle and it’s grounds. A night without the Jedi and the Exarch. Just the two of them, just as they were. A soft smile touched the man’s face, twinkling in the corner of his eyes.

“Maybe, but I can’t think of anything more important than what I’m doing now.”

There was a truth to that, John had seen the consternation, the heaviness in the woman’s gaze. He’d heard about Nar Kreta, he could see it in her eyes, in her demeanour when she thought no-one was watching. He’d seen it before, that guilt that ate at the woman, that feeling that she could have done something different. Something better.

It was the look that haunted him when he looked in the mirror, he could remember Atrisia, could remember Eshan, every battle he’d fought in brought with it no end of regrets. But, perhaps Taanab was the worst, the planet where he’d almost lost everything, given into the darkness that lurked in the heart of every man. It was the planet that made him realise that he could hate someone with every fibre of his being. It was a truth that scared him to this day, what he might have done, what he might have become. It was a truth that drove him to be better.

He was still working on that, trying to chart the path between the call of his duty and responsibility, but he was trying. Maybe he’d be trying for the rest of his life. He might never obtain the purity of the Jedi next to him…but maybe he could be a good man.

A smile touched John’s lips, that was his fondest wish now, to be remembered as a good man. Not what one would really expect from the Exarch, the Buisnessman. A soft sigh, dark eyes noting the smile on the flame-haired woman’s face, the was it lacked the sparkle he had come to associate with her. More than anything that was the proof that there was something wrong, something that troubled the Jedi. Fingers tightened gently around hers, squeezing softly as he led Gianna away from the castle, the refrain of the orchestra hanging quietly in the air around them lending the scene and almost unworldly feel. The shadows thrown by the trees almost dancing on the ground around them, the breeze causing them to sway, covering them in shadow one moment and light the next.

“Well then Miss Aegis, follow me into the unknown. Now I was a garden, where would I hide.”

He could have found the floorplan to the castle, have found a guide but…that seemed a little unfair. It seemed wrong to cheat like that, the whole point of an adventure was a a step into the unkwon, that little bit of magic that could only exist on nights like this.

 

[Hazel Zanteres]

Red Rose Bar -> Ballroom
Dress
Heading Towards: Nora Lithos | Nylea Apollodor | Elisea Korrado

-x-​

Indeed, now was not quite the time to try and reconnect with Mishel. But the fact the young woman was here, led to the Hapan filing it away for a later date. Right now, she could feel a much older pair of presences, from a time Hazel had forgotten about.

Had moved on from.

The first; Nora Lithos, had been considered a protege of hers, someone she had taken under her wing during her time within the Sacred Lotus. One of a small group that was barely into their adulthood at the time, and saw the older Hapan as a mother figure. Someone approachable where the other teachers and staff were not.

But then one day, Nora had made the mistake of getting in Hazel’s way. At a time where she was breaking, fearing that she was going to die to something she no longer had control over.

She had tried to stop the Hapan, with no knowledge of the real reason why she was leaving. Had no idea of the disease that was killing Hazel, she had kept it a secret from everyone possible. The young Arkanian had confronted her over leaving the Order, and thus a convenient lie was left open for Hazel to manipulate to cover up the truth.

And Nora got a lightsaber to the stomach as a result of those actions.

The second was an Echani, by the name of Nylea Apollodor. Not as young as Nora, but someone that had looked up to Hazel during their time as part of the Sacred Lotus. She had been there at the time, likely drawn there by the shouting and darkening presence that had become increasingly pronounced. Nylea had condemned the Hapan as a monster, hurrying to her friend’s side as she let Hazel depart.

It had been the last time Hazel had seen either of the two women, somehow managing to avoid them for years. And now here they were, approaching a long overdue reunion.

Hazel threaded through the crowds of people, the density lessening the closer she got towards the ball room.

 

[Malikai Graush]

"What a wild world we live in." he mused audibly, leaning up against the rail once more.

"It is, isn't it?"

The young, but even so, scarred Sith said upon shuffling into place at the rail alongside the Tholonian Noble. Outside of the mans station, he didn't know much about him. Malikai hadn't been present in First Order politics or in places where it was easy for the Imperial populace to observe him. Like his father before him, he was a private, maybe even simpler man than the former Supreme Commander.

A smile flashed, the burning, yet muted corruption of the Dark Side in his orbs made it clear that the smile was ingenuous.

"This building has quickly turned into a den of snakes," his tone possessing nothing but the gentle politeness of any calm and measured delicately maneuvering person. His gaze shifted amongst the guests, unable to help the furrow of his dark brows as he seemingly found more and more guests that he wasn't as fond of. "It's disgusting. All smiles, drinking, as if it were all in good fun." His head shook, the platinum mop atop his head lightly bobbing as he raised his arms up to cross over his chest.

"How many Imperial lives do you think the Confederacy took when the Order crushed the Alliance? Too many, I think, to be welcomed in the heart of the First Order with smiles." That easy smile on his face gradually turned into a sneer when he eyed Darth Metus ' congregation arrive, just before the rest of his features transitioned into a grimace. It wasn't as if it had been decades, or even centuries. It was recent memory the Great Galactic War, and the false hopes and wishes of the First Order being different.

They were Imperials.

Time passed, but it was only a matter of time until the galaxy turned on them. Tensions rose in the Core, a new Galactic Alliance that had fought alongside their Imperial neighbors. Already, tension were rising if the respective statements from both of the leaders of their nations were anything to go by. "No one of import has even come from the Alliance. There is no change, just the same. At least they've the decency to not laugh in our face." This time, he shrugged, gaze lancing down onto Irveric Tavlar and Natasi Fortan . "How much longer would you wager till there is a Second Great Galactic War?" Nodding down to the duo that he looked upon, "I think he'll be at the head of it." He chuckled lowly, without mirth. "I'd fight side by side with him - even if..." The New Imperials slaughtered their very own Sith allies. Creating even more enemies did not seem like a worry the New Imperials had. But if what Malikai suggested was right, they need more friends than they had currently.

Eyeing the other Noble for what felt like the first time since he had begun speaking. "You'd do well to remember these things. The Alliance, Confederacy, even the Sith... They may have forgotten that it was a fledgling Imperial nation that shook the very foundations of the galaxy. They doubt we'll make it to such power again - It's up to us to remind them, and prove them wrong."

 

[Quinlan Reade]

Quin's attention had been garnered, another man joining him at the rail, a statement of affirmation. Another sip of his glass found him content to listen to the man's musings for the moment. Strangely, his own sentiments seemed to parallel.. the Sith's? Those eyes. It was a dead giveaway. Under normal circumstances the Tholonian might have felt himself recoil at the thought of being so close to one of those with the gift. Or curse. Depends on how you see it I guess. It must have been the alcohol for instead of concern, fear, or unease he found a blunt honesty in the man's words. A den of snakes, no doubt.

Tholon was a mere infant in terms of its provenance, a newcomer to the First Order. At least, this First Order. The galaxy had changed there could be no denying but there was much that remained the same. The players are different but the game is the same. What was it about history they said, it tended to repeat itself? Nothing new under the sun? Quinlan followed the man's gaze as he spoke, the grand scope of things escaping him somewhat but the man's words and his tone filled in the necessary bits to understand the sentiment. The weight of what was happening here tonight began to dawn on him, the moving pieces, the parties involved. There would be no protection from the future, no shelter when the brimstone began falling from the sky. When gods clashed, it was humanity that paid the price. The innocents.

Rising from his leaning position he met the man's eye, listening intently. Though a recent convert, Governor Reade knew that the man spoke truth. He could see it in their body language, their demeanor, even the fact that this event had been attended. The galaxy was watching, waiting, doubting and whispering in her corners but even that was confirmation enough - people of the galaxy were watching the First Order. "Do you know the Supreme Leader?" He queried the Sith. Extending a hand to the man he sought to introduce himself. "Quinlan Reade. Tholon." He avoided his official title, he very much doubted the Sith before him cared. "I don't know her well but under her leadership... I like the odds." The governor cast his gaze to the floor below. "A lot of power in this room, many with strength. Less, with the power to wield it. Lesser, those with the wisdom to wield it properly. I'm not properly sure whether to be struck with awe, or horror."

Malikai Graush​

 

[Elisea Apollodor]

​

The two walked along with the ballroom while they waited for the first waltz to start. "Mhmmm, we can drink later I think the bar will be open throughout the evening." Besides, she wanted to remember the night. "I'm glad," she looked at Nylea with a smile, "and yes, it is very easy to see everything in black and white. People are very quick to judge." As the music began to die and as the speech finished a waltz began to play. Nylea inquired and Elisea answered.​

​

"We shall."​

​

She would be glad to dance with the Echani. Notably, they along with the Chiss were a very large part of the First Order's return. A gesture she was sure would not be forgotten. The Masquerade Waltz played throughout the Ballroom and couples took to the dance floor. "I wish we got to do this more often." Dancing together in a ballroom such as this, being with one another in a crowded room but for Elisea the room seem to fade away. As she danced away with Nylea.​

​

It hadn't occured to her that anyone aside from Nora would be there but had she had known that Hazel had shown up. She might have reconsidered, even if Nylea was as insistant as she had been. ​

​

Nylea Apollodor | Nora Lithos | Hazel Zanteres ​

 

[Sila]

​

Only a once-in-a-lifetime occasion such as the rebirth of a nation as it enters a new era could possibly pull Sila from her affairs on Csilla. Luckily, this was just the occasion. The First Order had become a superpower once more and were planning to celebrate the new era they had ushered in. Sila had managed to make it on the invitation list due to her peoples' allegiance to the First Order over many, many years. She was both pleased and not surprised to receive her invite. The Chiss were an enigmatic people who, if seen in social gatherings, meant that it was a prestigious event.

The House Miurani Aristocra readied herself in her room several hours before the Coronation Ball. Crimson lipstick stained her lips and her hair was fine and straight, reaching down to her lower back. She was alone in her room so she readied herself in the nude. She peered over in the corner where her dress for the evening laid strewn across her bed. She then turned back to the mirror to finish her make up. She put on a pair of white gold and diamond earrings that perfectly matched her dress. She looked over herself once more in the mirror then rose from her seat and walked over to her dress. Before putting it on, she looked it over once more for anything out of the ordinary. Once it seemed as perfect as it was when she first purchased it, she began slipping into it delicately. Once it was mostly on, Sila called out to one of her House servants to enter the room and aid her in finishing up. The servant entered swiftly and walked to Sila's side.

"Just zip the back up. Thank you." Sila commanded the servant who then closed up the zipper. Sila walked back to her mirror and checked herself out briefly before leaving the room. She kept a black clutch in her hand to keep small things she might need for the outing, including her invitation.

​

Later that evening, Sila arrived just outside of the Rosewood Castle. It's beauty was magnificent and there was quite a commotion from indoors that she could hear from where she stood outside. She approached the castle smoothly and entered through the main doors which were opened for her. As she entered, she heard the announcer call out for her introduction.

"Sila Miurani of House Miurani, for The Chiss Ascendancy."
​

It was certainly a spectacular sight to see. So many unknown faces mingling with one another all in the name of celebrating the First Order. Sila walked further into the ball, narrowly avoiding the ballroom floor and finding herself a spot from where she could see much of hall without having to move too much. She could see the representatives of the Sith Empire off in the distance, but, as far as she could tell, those were the only faces she knew of. At least, the only ones she could remember or were worth remembering. Sila reached for a champagne glass, taking it off a silver dish carried by an attendant. The contents were somewhat clear with a gold tint. The bubbles tightly clung to the glass and the aroma was fruity with a slight alcohol scent beneath it. She took a quick sip as she continued lurking in the ball, eagerly searching for something or someone to occupy her time.

 

[Taeli Raaf]

​

"I agree," she said, smiling as she and Fiolette made their way through the crowd to the ballroom. She could sense her wife's... distaste for Madelyn Lowe , the new Grand Vizier for the Sith Empire, but Taeli held no such ill will. "We can speak at a later time, Madelyn. I have some outreach initiatives I would like the Moffs to examine."

Pleasure before business though, of course, and tonight was promising to be a mix of both with how many factions had been invited and how many prominent players in the current state of the galaxy were here. It almost made her nostalgic for the times before... almost.

"You and politicians just can never get along," she playfully chided, her smile widening at the compliment, "and it never hurts to mention it again and again. You cleaned up very nice for the occasion as well." The smile had a slightly smug tilt to it as she could tell her wife's distraction by the cut of her dress. The waltz began playing and Taeli allowed herself to be swept onto the floor.

"I just hope you're able to dance with two," she added.

 

[Dea]

She nodded in response to AMCO and his mention of judging the sentience of a being based on appearance alone. There was some truth to that. Although she wasn't so sure that she'd qualify as being much like a servant droid that only did as it was programmed to do. This must of been what many of her droid friends had feared when she had encountered them. And yet she treated them like any other person. She treated them like an equal. And for that she was treated well in return.

"I suppose that you are right in some respects. However I don't believe that any being that wasn't self aware would take to wearing an elegant dress to a ball, as opposed to nothing at all." She might not have the proper organs in the manner of which most living creatures did, but she still had all of her parts, still had the body of a woman and equally so, she needed to wear clothing.

And now she looked to Ingrid L'lerim as she spoke. Her voice was cold and neutral, yet there was still plenty of bite in them. She recognized it for what it was, a political game, one that she had been absent from for quite some time. That is until Onrai threw her into it. She hadn't planned on playing politics at all, especially in this form, and especially here among so many that she avoided in her previous life. Yet here she was.

To Ingrid's words, she could argue until she was blue in the face. She had been introduced by Vanessa and she had politely greeted the pair and asked on the state of their well being. But all of that had gone unnoticed and it made her wonder why. There was a heavy dislike there, so it seemed that everything that she did or said would be found to be wrong or out of order. Such an interaction would make her only want to leave and regret even going through with any of this, especially if it was a harbinger for the future.

Yet instead of arguing, she did the opposite and merely smiled with a deep bow of her head. "I do apologize as there are many conversations going on nearby that it's quite easy to mishear things. I am Dea and it's an absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance. I do hope that you are both well and are enjoying the festivities of our gracious hosts." There was no sarcasm in her voice or tone at all. She was just putting every step forward in being polite.

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

T H E _ W O L F
THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE
D A Z E D _ A N D _ C O N F U S E D
Loske Treicolt | Darth Prazutis | OPEN

Another bout of revelry in tyranny. The Galaxy seemed to be chalking up reason after reason to celebrate as it all threatened to explode around them. No concrete group, entity, faction or government could really claim they'd earned something like this. Even in that vein, it didn't feel all too unlike that night of the Starbird. Unity Day, Coruscant. The highs paled in comparison to that night, but there was that eerie air about it. That this was the calm before the storm.

On Unity Day, there was Muunilinst waiting in his mission docket to be mulled over and prepared for. Dubrillion, Bastion, Yinchorr had all come and past, there wasn't much of anything aligned for the near future. That was what scared Maynard the most. With all the Galactic powers present here, be it Darth Prazutis , the man whose wife he'd killed only for her to be resurgent as Darth Alekto and his Sith Empire. The New Imperial Order, once ally...now? Yet to be determined with the Confederacy climbing into the opposite boat and of course, the First Order resurgent.

With all these people cloistered into one place, it became clear just how starkly different each of them were and while they seemingly existed mostly in isolation before with a line or two of communication shared between them, there was something jarring about this event, force dampening aside. A trait which more than anything, he was grateful for. With so many Sith, so much darkness coallescing here, it profoundly muted that queasy feeling it gave off, recalling it in each battle with the Sith Empire in great intensity or even to mere ill at ease at the planning for Muunilinst on JanFathal. Then he remembered why he wasn't so quick to malign that great betrayal, Kyber Dark.

To feel that feeling all the time...he couldn't imagine the threshold of what it took not to do it earlier. He only could bank on the Jedi offering less of a persistent malfeasance than to provoke its own.

He'd let Loske off to her devices, clearly ill at ease. He wanted to ask why, what he could do to help but the answers were written in her expression and before long she was near to his side again only for Maynard's gaze to fixate on the man who was now the Dark Lord of the Sith, Braxus Zambrano.

He wondered if he'd felt that blood right sense of vengeance toward him, for undoing Braith Achlys. Regardless, even without the full breath of The Force bearing down onto him, he could sense that darkness.

"Feeling better?" He asked to his significant other with an arched brow, moving to offer a hand to her before wrapping an arm around her hip to keep her close to him protectively.

"I think people drew borders for a reason, not sure all these people are supposed to be in the same place. You have Darth Metus across from the First Order, Irveric Tavlar a few feet from Kaine Zambrano and here we are...Jedi. Never felt so...surrounded, even if they're pretty much ignoring us." Maynard pontificated.

HOUSE TREICOLT
THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE​

 

[Djorn Bline]

S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
AVALONIA | DOSUUN
INTERACTING | Ariel Yvarro
B L U E _ W O R L D

​

"They seem to be harkening back to an era where Imperialism is inherently evil." "So much for learning lessons of the past."

“Then it’s a lesson they’ll have to learn again if they continue that path, one I’ll personally see to it,” he said rather bluntly, nothing against Ariel though. He was a patriot, a zealous one; he took everything seriously when it came to beliefs and to his nation.

"No, on the contrary, Commissioner they are as enlightening as the actions of those on the dance floor." "I gather you are quite correct, there are certainly wolves here among us. The ones who smile to your face while wielding a dagger behind their back, and they wait for just the right moment." "And believe me when I say they are most welcome to walk these halls. For every moment, and every action they conduct here - tells a story, words whispered in the dark will reveal the light of their truths." "People are eager to smile and have you believe them, and that is no different here."

That was...an interesting approach. Something foreign to him despite his profession as an intelligence operative, skills honed into discovering information and knowing the truths of his enemies. By that method, it just made him to believe any dialogue outside of his peers and allies were just lies.

Although it was easy enough to know that anything spoken from the tongue of a Sith Lord was an immediate lie. They betrayed their own kind and manipulate those inferior to them in order to have their agendas realized, and there was plenty of Sith roaming the palace’s marble.

"It seems your Sovereign Imperator has been left alone with my Supreme Leader."

“So it seems,” and observed the dance floor, its participants almost in synchronization with each other along with the tune of the waltz; although he mostly focused on Irveric and Natasi. “I’m surprised no one has asked you to dance yet, Moff Yvarro. I would imagine a woman like yourself would have men filing up to ask your hand,” it was obvious the woman had gracing beauty, anyone could recognize that. Again, even though they aligned with the same ideals and principles, there was several differences between their Imperial nations. He imagined they followed regal customs, archaic yet noble traditions. Only downfall? Reputation and image was crucial to maintain, more so than their New Imperial counterparts.

His eyes then gazed at some individuals, specifically those from the Confederacy. A Galactic power they have yet to officially converse with at a table; however, it was one he hoped not for the simple reason he believed that it was another Sith dictated nation. At least there were other individuals who had their hands dirtier than his own.

“What are your thoughts about the Confederacy, Moff Yvarro?”

 

[Fiolette Fortan]

​

"Politicians ruin everything," Fiolette deadpanned not a heartbeat after her wife had chided her. "Well, thank you, I do try to remember that I can on occassion clean up." She remarked with a smile as the two took to the dancefloor. Fio held in a bit of laughter at her wife's smug look. A few moments had passed and the waltz played on, which would no doubt lead into the second waltz but for the moment the Galidraani enjoyed the music as it was. Then Taeli made the comment of dancing with two, and while admittedly she would have just thought it was the two of them. Her eyes wandered and noticed the curve of her wife's waist.​

"I am more than happy to dance with you both," the tone of her voice as warm as ever. The Galidraani and her wife danced in time to the music, she noticed the other couples including that of her niece Natasi Fortan perhaps playing the part of good host. She saw a few others as well Darth Carnifex and his wife Salara, a woman who had been Empress but now simply could enjoy something so beautiful as a waltz without much issue. Any others were missed by the retired Lord Admiral who enjoyed the atmosphere of the ball. ​

​

Taeli Raaf ​

 

[Daegon Corvinus]

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Seraphina Corvinus | Fevris Derzelas | Robogeber

"I suppose not tonight, Seraph. Regardless, you will enjoy this scientist I think," he answered with a soft smile.​

​

Yes, Daegon knew exactly what Sera meant. Tonight was not his night, nor was it a night to take away from the reason so many were in one room together. They were all their to celebrate Natasi Fortan. The Demon did not know the woman personally, but her reputation certainly preceded the invitation he had received. Daegon could only imagine it was due to the fact he was attempting to do business with a company loyal to the First Order. In truth, Daegon did not care where the scientist was from. There was an issue to be solved, and yes, while Daegon often saw things as a matter of profit, he also knew it was for a greater cause than coin.​

​

At least his attempts to bring a rouge to his bride's cheeks had not failed. The Demon knew how to bring a blush to the Angel's cheeks. Flattery was almost a sure fire way. Was it mean of him to make this attempt in a crowd, likely, especially when she was not one for public display's of affection. She would hold his hand, or lace an arm through his. A kiss on her forehead or cheek would be as risque as Daegon would be when not behind closed doors. Even with the paid staff in view, Daegon and Sera were not wanton to be carefree in their physical affections for one another. It was a rare thing what Daegon was doing in such a large gathering, but in the moment he could not help himself. The Demon was carried away by the memory.​

​

He would not push further. Daegon had gained his victory, and he would say nothing allowing his wife's dignity to remain intact. The Viceroy never did anything to diminish her, and he never would.​

​

"This room is full of people who would rather be killing each other on the field of battle than attending a party to celebrate the resurgence of the First Order."​

​

Daegon did not mean anything ill by his comment. It was simply a truth. Would the First Order prove to be relevant in the galaxy once more? Daegon was not sure. He had his hopes however. Business would be good, but his wishes were for more than simple profit.​

​

There might have been more to say had Seraphina not been run into. Deagon did his best to be gracious, and even though his anger did burn within him, the Demon controlled himself. In the same way the Angel could feel his angst and furry, he could feel her caution and desire for calmer head to prevail. They did not need the force to know each other so well, and the Demon was grateful for that. It had never been the force which stayed Daegon before, and it would not be now. A simple touch of his bride was all that had been required, in this case she had stumbled back into him.​

​

He was there to catch her.​

​

A brief reassuring squeeze was given to her before the propriety she had been trained to manifest took charge. Even in this she was the picture of grace, though a small frown tugged at Daegon's lips. This was the first time Seraphina had admitted her lack of vision in public. The wrap she wore about her eyes was a telltale sign, but neither of them had put it to words save for each other. In some ways the admission made it seem even more real than it already was. Words held power. Daegon knew this above anyone else.​

​

These words saddened him.​

​

The Grand Admiral was entertaining at least, in part. There was grief on his words as well. Loss had been experienced. Had the Demon been the type to feel empathy he would have expressed some sort of sentiment for the Admiral. Instead Daegon could only nod at first. It was the man's words at the last which caught Daegon with a bit of surprise. They did make him feel something.​

​

"I am sorry for your loss. Many see my dealings in the Bacta business as being for profit. After all it is quite the profitable endeavor. I suppose it is true that I find myself thinking about new ways to make credits, but Thyferra has much need. There are places our terraforming efforts have not reached, reminders that our world was devastated during the Sith Wars. I may not know what it is to lose those under my charge, but I do know the devastation of war."​

​

Daegon reached for Seraphina's hand.​

​

"You have our condolences."​

​

A waiter walked by, and with him a tray of several glasses of wine. Daegon reached for one. It was rare Daegon would be seen at an occasion such as this without one.​

​

"To those lost, and brighter futures to come," Daegon offered a small toast before taking a sip and squeezing his wife's hand. "I believe we were deciding where to head, if the gardens were on the agenda, or just some simple air on balcony. Crowds are... still a challenge."​

​

Now it was Daegon's turn to admit a truth.​

​

How he wished her sight could be restored.​

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
Natasi Fortan

​

"Certainly not as eventful as I'd ever assumed it to be, given we were...within a mile of another, on a battlefield. But I suppose it will have to be sufficient, given the circumstances." Zambrano was seemingly eager in moving past the interaction and with the Imperator's focus diverted unto Natasi, so we was he.

"My dance card is entirely blank. One wonders if they are too intimidated to ask. But yes, I'd be delighted."

"Of course they are. Most men...most anyone are insecure in their lot in life. Ironically, it leaves beautiful and brilliant women like you left all alone for men like me...men who aren't so weak willed as to let fear dictate them." Tavlar offers with a brief smirk in her direction. Given how the deck was stacked at the onset of the Third Imperial Civil War, or his outright declaration of treason to the Emperor and his Dark Council, fear was evidently not a trait Irveric processed in any palpable count.

Life as a Sith Imperial military officer or even as now, a head of state never saw him take up dancing form very often. The last he'd had any opportunity was Unity Day, in Coruscant with Lyra. He refused then, too much on his mind with his first great challenge, the bloodied schism, the Third Imperial Civil War about to make its horrid start into the Galaxy in the hell fires of war. The fall of Ravelin plucked that barrier separating his frigid nature from indulgence in the gesture, a weight lifted from his shoulders, even if the Galaxy was still persistent and keeping it bearing down unto him.

A hand clasped with hers, metallic fingers clasping against her own and another grasped her waist as they settled into the dance. He could...pass well enough to at least appear as if he knew how to conduct himself, what moves to make in the measured steps of the waltz.

To her remark of leading the dance, he offered a faint laugh, peering to her through a narrowed eye.

"I'd not let what anyone thinks ruin a night that is rightfully yours. All the same, the narratives are already being contrived I assure you. Nothing we can do about any of that but...enjoy the night as it is." Tavlar suggests, easing himself into the dance as he steals a glance to the others around them. Influential faces assuredly, some even familiar in his own retinue but even still, his unpracticed nature in the waltz shifted his gaze back to Fortan just as he was remarking the future of the Sith and New Imperial schism.

"The Sith etch into their code that...'Peace is a Lie' do they not? I'll not be holding my breath for their peace offering, if they decided losing their very seat of power wasn't enough to come to the table then..." He leaves the thought unfinished. To expect peace from an 'Imperial' entity which was dictated around a code venerating death to all their enemies and unlimited power would be a fool's errand. Though knowing from experience, the Sith Empire was drawn along more pragmatic lines in their 'Rule of Law'.

"Regardless...I'll keep that offer in mind. Though, with the condition that you visit New Imperial space for yourself. No doubt those grounds are familiar but...I think you might admire the state we've created, if my impressions of the First Order are anything to go off." Irveric offers. While built over the same grounds, the New imperial Order was pointedly divergent from the Sith Empire in most every way.

HOUSE TAVLAR
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER​

 

[Malikai Graush]

Quinlan Reade

Even as he had been speaking, he could see that the Tholonian was uneasy - at first. That uneasiness gradually transformed into a quiet understanding that allowed the Sith to continue his rambling. Was it unlike him? The man before him wouldn't know. In fact, Malikai himself wasn't even sure. Typically, he spent his time in solitude, engaging in his own activities that primarily revolved around the growth and nurturing of the planets that grew on the grounds of the Graush Estate.

"No." Came his initial answer when questioned about his personal experience with the Supreme Leader. His initial thoughts however, had drawn back to Sieger Ren, an aged old man - so they said, before he shook his head, this time in reference to the newly returned Natasi Fortan. Suppose his conversing partner wouldn't know that, but it was undoubtedly an important thing to remember considering where he was at. His lips curved into an amusing smile for seemingly no reason before he registered Quinlan's next words.

Bobbing his head up and down as the man introduced himself. He recognized him, if not faintly. The bringing of Tholon into the Order's fold was one that he had been following. "Malikai," he'd answer with a widening smile. Of course the man wasn't likely to recognize him. His family was mostly shrouded in mystery. Most didn't even know who his mother was, and that he was the heir to Empress Teta... Sort of. Had his mother not relinquished her grasp on the throne to be with his father. The thought of submission made his stomach twist and there was a resentment for it. But, there were times when he wondered what it would've been like growing up in the same halls as his mother had, rather than the rigid regimens of Imperial life and education. "Graush," he'd add a moment or two later, curious, to see if the man recognized the name before the conversation moved on.

"You're a proper servant of the First Order - Few things, let alone people, will impress you from now on. That, is something that I am certain of."

But still, something drew the young Sith to continue the verbal entrapment of conversation with Reade.

"What do you hope to achieve?"

 

[Freyu Molidias]

Tag: Adron Malvern | Alessandra Creed | Xobos Yakieer | Jaeger Harrsk

She'd sat on the floor of the transport with arms crossed over her broad chest and legs folded close, though the bottoms of her shoes still left imprints on the seat cushions in front of her. There had been no complaint of her cramped condition, the Pantoran giant more than used to her size being unaccounted for by mass-produced...everything. Keeping her attention on their journey to the castle Freyu remained quiet-- as if her spells of quiet were ever unusual.

But danger grew on the horizon.

The closer they came to their destination the more reserved she became. It was a place where an assassin could lurk behind every smile, sabotage unfasten a poorly placed stone or rig a step, or temptations to remove an enemy surpass the agreement of a short-lived truce. If a maniac decided a fleet would compliment the evening sky could there be any escape? A whisper burned in her ear, the old tutor's broken voice crackling like firewood.

"Many nobility have met their end in the presence of those who greet them as a friend. Be mindful of the ward, but more so of those who seek to enter their inner circle."

Freyu's brow furrowed as view of the castle rose from the hilly landscape. Her wards, the King and Queen of Illyria, were well within arms reach. Yet even with their intimate proximity it felt as if a rift had opened, threatening to expand with every inch of ground between the transport and the entry to the damnable château. Her sullen gaze lifted once Adron had begun addressing both her and the blind one, Xobos.

Freyu had wanted to refuse, remark that it would be best for he and Alessandra to remain together for her to protect. That was the thing about guarding a king: his word was law. She bowed her head, "As you wish."

After successfully removing all of herself from the vehicle Freyu took her place behind the royal couple with the queen in front of her. Wearing naught but a mauve suit and her Frost's Smile amulet Freyu had no need to dress to impress. Within the entry and further on there were scarce few that rivaled her size and presence. One in particular was subjected to her icy stare, a woman who carried herself with a confidence unmistakable ( Joycelyn Zambrano ). Though muted her aura still slipped into Freyu's sixth sense, Freyu then adding "giant Sith" to a fast growing list of threats.

Before Freyu had the chance to pull her aside Xobos dissappeared into the crowd, leaving only a faint scent the Pantoran could track if needed. Freyu huffed, hoping the Miraluka would remain largely unaffected by the Force dampeners clotting the environment.

As the king and queen made their way deeper into the party they were addressed by a stranger. Cigarette in one hand and alcohol in the other he seemed a man of simple vices, and Freyu observed him with neutral judgment. It wasn't until he put forth a hand in the direction of the king that Freyu gave a rumbling growl, warning him he was nearing a line crossed only with permission. Deep enough to be heard by those intended yet low enough to not cause a scene, it was punctuated with a stare so austere one might realize she meant to back up the warning if need be.

 

[Rurik Fel]

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​

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

Cara Dorniarn | Telis Taharin-Zambrano | Robogeber | Fiolette Raaf | Taeli Raaf​

Governor Lowe. It was almost pathetic the degree to which that affected her. She stalked off sure enough, maintained that haughty facade, but when she left Rausgeber behind she felt a stab in her gut, a reminder of a yawning emptiness she rarely allowed herself to feel. Perhaps, beyond appearances, both she and the Grand Admiral were not so different. It was a disturbing realisation.

And then there were the Raafs. Madelyn had herself fooled into thinking her freedom from the New Imperials and ascension to Grand Vizier would act as a balm on her relations with Fiolette. She was… Incorrect, it seemed she had not yet redeemed herself in the woman’s eyes, as was made clear when Fiolette stalked off after an icy exchange.

“I-Yes, of course.” She stammered, genuinely dumbstruck for a few moments. She blinked a few times as Fiolette turned her attention away from her and towards her wife. Taeli’s dress was indeed beautiful. Madelyn stood where she was, still strangely rocked. Taeli addressed her, and she snapped out of it, nodding at the woman politely and giving a strangled smile. They walked away.

Why did she care so much? She knew Fiolette hated her, was she so naive to think things would suddenly change? Stupid.

Madelyn clenched a fistful of her suit and sighed, downing the rest of her glass and slowly turning on the spot to see who to talk to next. Suddenly rather glum, she strolled into the ballroom, doing her best to pass off her melancholy as her usual regal detachment.

Strange, how fragile her ego had become, what years of unquestioned authority had done to her pride. So delicate was Madelyn she could now scarcely withstand the cold shoulder. She wondered if she ought to reach out to Fiolette’s office, begin to make amends. Madelyn shook her head.

A voice she didn’t first recognise caught her attention, and Madelyn was broken from her reverie again. She looked up and saw the figure of Cara Dorniarn , with Darth Aagenti, Telis Taharin-Zambrano in tow. Madelyn nodded in greeting to both, having lost the energy to smile politely. She perked up a little at Dorniarn’s words though, the woman didn’t come off as much of a charmer, with her reputation as a warrior and her cybernetics, but nevertheless Madelyn was disarmed by the comment.

“Cara Dorniarn.” She replied, holding out a black-manicured hand for the woman to take, a hint of a smirk touching her lips. “I would love to.”

She allowed herself to be steered out onto the dancefloor, waiting to gauge the woman’s confidence. Madelyn had been dancing at political events for more than a decade, where Cara was a soldier. Best not to begin with anything too intense.

Madelyn took the lead, moving smoothly to the rhythm, occasionally glancing at the other dancing pairs, but mostly focusing on her partner. After a few moments, she frowned slightly, and asked something that had been tugging at her since spotting Cara.

“You served with my sister on Moridinae, right Dorniarn? Karina Lowe.”

 

[Inanna Harth]

Inanna Hoole slowed her steps as she neared the entrance to the ballroom, endeavoring to look as if she had merely gone for an evening stroll in the gardens. Her hair rearranged itself neatly, and she smoothed the fabric of her dress with her trembling hands.

It was easy to avoid the ones whom Messala had called her enemies—the Force-dampening of the castle made her largely undetectable, and they were so entrenched in their exchanging of thinly-veiled barbs that they did not notice her passing by. Reaching the other end of the ballroom, she picked up the pace, determined to find the one she had risked so much to meet.

In the foyer she lingered, not close enough to clog the traffic, but within sight of the door. Her eyes scanned the steady stream of newcomers who were by now considered late to the party, her gaze traveling from face to face until she found one she knew.

A beautiful young woman entered the castle. Long blonde hair that shone as if it had been spun from gold trailed down her back. She looked like a princess in a fairytale, with a perfectly balanced feminine figure swathed in amber and violet silks, a complexion devoid of any visible flaws and flushed with warm color, and gray eyes framed by thick dark lashes. Among a crowd of filthy rich public figures with plenty of money to pay for medical and beautification procedures, she didn’t stand out too much. The Force dampeners certainly helped, too.

Perhaps that was why the herald looked so bewildered when she told him her name and chosen title: “Erictho, Witch Queen of Ambria.”

Inanna waited a moment longer, gathering her wits about her, then ventured out from her hiding spot. She kept her distance, following the Witch Queen into the Red Rose Bar. The smell of alcohol immediately turned Inanna’s stomach, the Sith poison working its malicious intent upon her body, but she pressed on anyway.

Erictho ordered absinthe. The green liquor was presented to her in the bottle, a glass with a sugar cube beside it. Taking the stool next to hers, Inanna watched her pour, the sugar dissolving, then fair hands with immaculately manicured nails closed around the drink and brought it to her mouth. After taking a sip and swallowing, the Witch Queen licked her lips and said, “I already know everything, child.”

Her voice had not a trace of beauty in it. She sounded like she had been gargling acid. Inanna froze at the sound of it. She tried to speak, but found she had no voice—and it wasn’t just nerves. Something had forced her into silence.

Smirking, Erichto gestured to her head. “These Empyrean Glands really are a wonder. If only you’d stayed just a step further away from me. Although you are very easy to read regardless…” The Witch Queen’s eyes swept over Inanna from head to toe. “You want my help, and you thought you could get away with asking for it here. Hm.” Her brow furrowed in what might’ve been sympathy, or a very good imitation of it. “Sith poison. A tank. Either drink it or pickle in the cocktail your master trapped you in. It’s for your own good. To get you off the alcohol, and keep you away from pheromones. Pheromones, why did it have to be pheromones? Your boyfriend’s a Zeltron… Oof. Poor thing.”

Inanna had quickly realized her command over the Force had also returned under the gland’s influence. She finally jerked free of the telekinetic grasp Erictho had clamped down over her body to hold her in place. In her scramble to get out of the gland’s radius, she quite literally fell off the bar stool, toppling to the floor with an unceremonious thud.

“Are you okay, miss?” an attendant asked, walking over to help her to her feet.

“I’m fine,” Inanna replied, making sure to stay well away from the bar. “Must’ve had a little too much to drink. Just give me a moment.” She waved away the attendant.

Erictho got up from her seat, appearing unbothered by this loss of control. She had already taken what she needed from Inanna’s mind. Her drink in hand, she walked out of the bar and toward the lift, gesturing for Inanna to follow.

Rather than permitting herself to be alone with the Witch Queen in the small space afforded by the lift, Inanna took the stairs, meeting up with Erictho in the third floor lounge.

“If you’ve come looking for me, you really are desperate,” Erictho said once Inanna was within sight. She had already taken a seat in a leather armchair. “Not many options left to choose from that I could see, anyway. Don’t want to have to resort to even more unpleasant ends—although you do realize that, compared to me, AMCO is just a lost little boy playing with the building blocks of life?”

“He doesn’t want to help me. We don’t like each other very much.”

Erictho swirled the contents of her glass. “Whatever. Not my problem. But if you want my help, what are you willing to give me in return?”

“An opportunity for revenge,” Inanna offered.

“If I wanted that, I could go out into the gardens right now and do what you couldn’t. It’s not like I’m afraid of the guards,” Erictho said with a snort. “If you really thought that I’d cure you because ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’, then you really are a fool…” Her eyes flashed. “Why not offer me anything I wish, like you did with Darth Prospero?”

“I can’t,” Inanna replied. “I don’t have anything left to give.”

“You could serve me,” Erictho suggested. “I’ve been badly in need of a personal assistant ever since my last one cut off my head and drove a stake through my heart. And that was decades ago...” Her eyebrows rising in disbelief, she took another sip of absinthe.

“That’s the one thing I can’t do.”

“Really? It wouldn’t be so bad. Sure, Ambria’s a wasteland, but there are some shepherds tending their flocks, and the occasional oasis. Nomi Sunrider trained there, you know. And Darth Bane died there. I’ll even let you bring your boyfriend along.”

“I can’t,” Inanna repeated. There were a lot of things she was willing to do, but serving the Witch Queen of Ambria wasn't one of them. For one, she had no interest in learning necromancy. For the other, she wanted to get the hell away from the Dark Side of the Force once this was all over, not embrace it fully.

Erictho rolled her eyes. “You’re never going to kill Messala, girlie, so you might as well forget about it. I can’t even kill him these days. I’ve already seen his future—he’ll die of old age, surrounded by his doting Children.”

“He’s killed children,” Inanna whispered. “Babies. All in the name of some twisted vision...”

“Who hasn’t killed a few babies in this business?” Erictho shrugged. “Point is, you can’t beat him. He’s smarter than you, stronger than you, and he’ll always be more experienced than you. You might as well give up this damn fool idealistic crusade and settle for getting an antidote to that poison. There’s more to life than seeking justice against a hideous child murderer, you know. Like being happy.”

Heaving a sigh, Inanna clutched her temples. “You know what? I think I’m going to go with Vandiir after all. Sorry for taking up your time, Your Majesty.”

“Not at all.” Erictho pressed her glass to her cheek. “If I were you, though, I’d get the hell out of here. Messala apparently told the bartender to inform him of anybody who orders absinthe. He was looking for you… but now he’s about to find me, and things may get a little messy.”

Taking her advice in stride, Inanna left the lounge without delay.

 

[Adron Malvern]

IMPERIAL​

Tags: Alessandra Creed | Xobos Yakieer | Freyu Molidias | Jaeger Harrsk ​

​

Alessandra's words were always a welcome sound to her King's ears. They were as much wise council as they were a sweet melody that could distract from the less pleasing aspects of the galaxy. As the two spoke the King took notice how Xobos Yakieer had split from the group to see her task to completion. The Sith Lord glanced down at the cane in his hand. The hand that was wrapped around it held the man's wedding band, an item that kept he and Alessandra bound to the others notice. It was silent. The Force dampeners that were promised seemed to be working well. A faction like the First Order who prioritize military might could utilize this moment to wipe away nearly half of the Galaxy's political leaders. It would hardly be a task.

When his beloved asked his opinion he leveled his eyes against the gathered crowd before simply speaking. "I haven't quite decided yet. This show is something akin to what you'd see in the halls of the nobility. When a new House stepped into play it would often hold any number of fine balls and events as a way to get its name into the world. We'll enjoy the night and reserve our judgements for now." He said, yet in such a manner that Alessandra could understand he was sincere about the thought.

No sooner than Adron had finished speaking to his wife was the party joined by a man clad in the clean-cut uniform of the New Imperial Order.

Now this was nostalgic. The New Imperial Order held several similarities to the now-fallen Galactic Empire. The galaxy was a dull place without two or three Empires floating around, after all. Still the man's approach was unexpected and the King was sure it would put his Bodyguard on edge. The man spoke of the woman's speech. A speech Adron had not heard nor cared to hear. "An event such as this, you're bound to hear a good speech or two." He responded with a welcoming smile. It was a social event. Seemed it was time to get social, something Adron actually excelled at when called upon it.

Commissioner Harrsk. The name would be thoroughly researched.

When the man stepped forward with a protruding hand, Adron's eyes turned to the source of a low, menacing growl. Freyu. As subtle as a thermal detonator. Adron held a hand up towards the White Wolf of House Malvern. She was eccentric and completely lacking in the art of the Nobility...but she was loyal and trustworthy. "It's fine." He told Freyu pointedly before turning back to Harrsk and taking his hand. "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."

"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?" He said in a curiously challenging tone. His eyes turned to Freyu for a spare moment as if ensuring that the Guardian was on her toes. She was. She always was. Freyu was a being of singular vision, pure focus. There would be no one who could harm the Royal Couple without first going through her. As he led the group to the bar, he would begin to speak once more. "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.
​

​

 

[Arctus Silmar]

The Shaper

Voice Sample

The Shaper drew in a slow, steadying breathe as steel-grey eyes swept over the entrance to this gathering of the galaxies most powerful, most influential, and his body sung with energy as he felt right at home. In stark contrast to the moldering tomb he had sat in for uncounted years this setting hummed with life and he was all the more grateful for it. To be out, among the galaxy, pulling it's strings and shaping it's fate once again.... a small smile did crease his lips at this as he strode forth. For this occasion he had a small change of costume, to say the least, from his usual attire while handling his normal business for the Sith Empire.

From his head gone was The Iron Crown and, with it, the Whilstones that it ever bore in it's surface. The Shaper may be a supremely proud individual, and removing his artifice from himself may have been something he detested, but even he could see the potential issues with wearing a crown to someone else's coronation. Instead he opted for a simple, elegant band of silver links, tucked neatly under the hairline of his raven locks, spilling down over his shoulders like liquid shadow to frame his shoulders. On his person he wore an ensemble of both fine make and high expense, like most everyone present, being a dark, rich black robe with a fur mantle that helped broaden his shoulders and define his stature. Making him seem just the slightest bit more imposing than his smoldering grey eyes and deep, resonant voice already did. Of his voice, speaking of, he removed the resonating, echoing quality he normally applied, leaving it with the quality of a rich, deep purr. Fit to the grace the ears of any Lord, Lady, Master or Captain that wished to be enthralled. It would not, perhaps, be inaccurate to refer to such a tone as sensual, but would be more accurate to say the Shaper was all but incapable of truly projecting said emotion, even through a voice meant for such things.

As he made his entrance the Shaper neglected an announced presence from those so diligently working to keep this presentation of power operating smoothly, and instead opted to move his way further inside with a purpose to his stride.

Stepping into the foyer with a touch bemusement on his features the Shaper cast his gaze about, unable to restrain his nature, in that his eyes drunk in the presence of many individuals of note. Those more familiar to him, such as the former Emperor Darth Carnifex or even those he knew of by appearance and reputation from the Empire such as the lovely Madelyn Lowe and the woman he mused must have felt the most out of place at this gathering Cara Dorniarn caught his eye before any others. Even so the Shaper had busied himself, as of late, in preparation for this gathering in familiarizing himself with some of the names and faces present tonight. Most pressing and, he had to admit interesting, to him was the Supreme Leader herself Natasi Fortan who seemed to already have a dance. A pity.

Even so the Shaper could see many other notable, powerful or influential individuals present. Such as Darth Metus who was looking very dashing in comparison to the images the Shaper had found of the man. As well as his apprentice and Exarch Srina Talon who looked... uncomfortable. Perhaps she and Dornian would be able to express their mutual discomfort together tonight? Only the night would tell. Though the dampening effects of the location prevented him from effectively extending his senses, a wise precaution for such a gathering, the Shaper knew Salamander was also present for this event and did not need the Force to tell him that the half-Bothan was likely ingratiating himself to quite a bit of trouble already.

Among the other movers and shakers from the CIS he could see Adron Malvern dancing with his Queen, 'guarded' by a cute little thing in a mask which made the Shaper nearly chuckle ( Xobos Yakieer ). Were he feeling particularly impish then disrupting a poor Miraluka doing her duty would be a good way to, at least, amuse himself. However he had to remind himself, as he hardly gave the little Miraluka more than a small check in his 'perhaps' column of attention, his true focus was far from what one may expect it to be. Indeed as unlikely as one might think it the Shaper did not wish to consort with his fellows in the Empire this night. No. Let Taeli Raaf and her Fiolette Raaf show the Empire as together, let Lady Ingrid L'lerim and AMCO show the opportunities for those brought into the fold. No. The Shaper sought something more interesting. An interesting he was intent to find.

As the Shaper continued to observe he couldn't help a small smirk at seeing Madelyn Lowe and Cara Dornian go out to dance. 'How adorable.' He thought passively. The Shaper, taking up a small drink more for show than anything else from an attendant, idly sipped at it for a moment. Still walking the ballroom before making his way up the ambulatory, and spying Moff Ariel Yvarro with a man he only vaguely recognized from his studies Djorn Bline . Sighing and deciding that it did not seem the night would be one for dancing just yet the Shaper approached the two, drink cradled gently in hand, only when it seemed a polite break had occurred in their conversation. After all, contrary to the belief of some, he was not a monster. Civility could be kept, at least. Giving the two of them a small, polite smile the Shaper would incline his head ever so slightly to Ariel before speaking. "Apologies, I do hope I am not intruding? Arctus Silmar, Lord of Corbos and Sith Lord of the Sith Eternal, a pleasure."

The Shaper hardly expected the two to know who he was, yet. A fact that would normally cause him an aggravation served as a social boon in such a circumstance. One he suspected was invaluable, and nearly irreplaceable, in such a setting. Even so he could only wonder if the Moff would respond negatively to his approach.