4th Post
-A PRELUDE TO THE TALES OF MASKS-
DREAMER_ONE
HIGH-MARSHAL OF THE FIREDANCE BRIGADES
CO-CHIEF JUSTICE OF THE CENTRAL COURT AUTHORITY
INDEPENDENT GA SENATOR OF ARCHAIS
Tags:
Ingrid L'lerim
Cannaugh Galloway
Jehlan Beidi
NEW DANCES, NEW ERAS II: CALM BEFORE THE STORM - PART 7
OPERA HOUSE, WULFNGARD,
KALIDAN, UNKNOWN REGIONS (903 ABY)
'Two more Cladhans, please. An' a coffee for the Senator if the machine's working.'
With a graceful nod of affirmation, the barkeep leaned a little closer toward Narratharr, keeping with the quiet ambience of the lounge-gig he was working as he replied,
'Coming right up, sir.... So, how is the Senator these days?', with little more than a whisper. A courteous inquiry, or at least, under other circumstances, it normally would be, prompting Kaskimson to study the barkeep's body-language for a moment or so, continuing even as he elaborated,
'Can't be an easy job in his position. I don't envy Archais one bit, if you don't mind the honesty.', and without so much as a single moment of averted eye-contact between them.
'You're right, and that's because it isn't.... So stop prying-'
Siyarr, however, sitting patiently at the jukebox,
(which was within earshot of the bar-counter at the time) would not even so much as bat an eyelid with concern, as there really weren't any security concerns of the sort so far away from the cutthroat games of the Corellian-controlled regions of the Deep-Core. Even in his quickness to interject,
'Its fine, Laras. He's only speaking his mind on home-turf, as we would on Archais.', the mystic with the red sunglasses would continue to embody the image of calm, collected serenity, and for the barkeep's sake as much as it was for that of his subordinates. Ever aware of the fact his hosts were of gracious, amiable dispositions toward Imperials and Novanians alike, even being
(at least, in-part-) responsible for the headway made to that diplomatic effect, choosing to serve as that example long before the Novanian entourage landed on Kalidan that night.
'As for you, Mr. Barkeep.... You answer your own question without knowing, as I personally find great difficulty in practicing statecraft to the betterment of my people. Making my path one of melancholic norm, as it always has been.... But its what we make from our circumstances that matters, lad. So we continue, shrugging off dismay as we go.'
As white irises stared across the counter to the barkeep, glaring at the blonde-haired human throughout the course of Siyarr's response, the Dreamer himself had kept his gaze firmly fixed on the jukebox and it's array of music from across the Galaxy, never once thinking to divert his red-tinted attention to face this most-unfortunate of misunderstandings. The only change in demeanour was that of mild irritation, but only at the fact he couldn't remember which pocket his cigarras were placed, but when the Senator finally lit and began to smoke his second of the night, his shoulders would lose their tension when he finally turned to address the barkeep with proper, due conversational decorum.
'On behalf of my associates, I express my humble apologies.... As you can see, they tend to forget their roles as representatives at times, so pay them no mind. They'll be tipping handsomely for the rest of the night.'
NEW DANCES, NEW ERAS II: CALM BEFORE THE STORM - PART 8
APPROACHING GROUND ZERO, SOUTHERN TUNDRA,
KALIDAN, UNKNOWN REGIONS (903 ABY)
Keeping in discernment-cadence with Edward, Vandrim would study the movements of the unidentified blips beyond the Eternals' static-line, making relatively-good use of the Data Slate's navigational features. Or at least, in the young Ferryman's case, good use of the Data Slate for a half-feral woodland dweller of his ilk, perhaps made evident in his stereotypically-cryptic admission as he continued,
'I trust your judgement, that and the - uh - weird to say, but - sincerity. Its an easy thing for someone like me to detect, and its probably why my lot are so comfortable around your forces here, goes a long way with Novanians.... But I digress, as it would appear the blips are adopting collective sallying-poise.', willingly slow to keep on track with the gist of his initial response.
Mostly out of his initial choice to find cohesion through general endearment with the Eternal contingent, but also in a bid to lend at least some understanding of the Novanians who dropped in to help, hoping it would be futile on what was increasingly likely to be a
night of nights. Still behaving as though it was a routine search-and-report by then, so as not to alarm anyone needlessly, but also in the deep-seated desire to let the whole endeavour pass by without it leading to something worse than ominous. But Mardimsom's gaze would find itself transfixing on increasingly-troubling developments beyond the search cordon, reasons to believe it would become a
night of nights after all.
'As you might be able to tell by their apparent need for space, our unidentified guests seemingly have no intention of fighting on the back-foot.... My guess? They're set to attack as soon as we start to move in on the rubble, an aggressive defence of something else entire-'
If it had not been for the mention of the rubble, perhaps the young Deathseer might have missed it, perhaps his inner-luddite might have glossed over in renewed focus on the unidentified-blips' open formation just beyond the cordon, but fate had other plans that night. Thus Vandrim would have nothing but the most-rotten luck of following his intuitive habits that night, forced to witness
(and soon, hear-) unfolding signs that the search-and-report operation had escalated far beyond the normative confines of routine classification. Secular minds were always slow to comprehend the meaning of gut-instincts, the training that was required to awaken early-detection to threats and the like, and despite the open minds of the collective on the ground for the endeavour, the urgency of the situation would not find articulation fitting enough for Mardimson to impart to his peers.
Not without sounding like a mental-asylum escapee in the process, not without diminishing morale. Seculars had to see to believe, rightly dealing only in tangibles until they were given reason to act accordingly -
such was the curse of strategic convention.
'-Ashcard.... These blips are increasing in number! We may need to ready up for a fight, my friend.'
Help....
Pleeeease....
Faint though the whisper was, and as much as it had sounded like the howling winds of the tundra, the young Ferryman's ears were quick to detect it without effort, troubling Vandrim enough that he was already beginning to feel unnerved. Already reaching into his pack for his casketwood mask, but before Mardimson could continue, strategic earnest would take precedence, thinking more of the Firedancers, the Mandalorians and Eternals in need of that last-second cautiousness. So the rucksack would remain unopened, even if only momentarily, and when Vandrim lifted his comm-link receiver to speak, he knew the right decision had been made.
<"Casketwood to Dreamer Four. Question me not - but I'll be needing our boys to fix bayonets now... Like, right fething now, Carvalho. There's something deeply wrong with this place, understand?">
You - are - not - alone.
<"More than you will ever know, lad. Dreamer Four - out!">
Sharing a knowing glance with his armoured peer, there would be no hiding his abilities any longer, and in the process of confessing
,'Sorry 'bout that, Ashcard. Its just a little drawback to the ol' - uh - Deathseer gig.... Still getting used to it, but if you start hearing voices on the wind, then I'll be the most-likely to believe it.', Vandrim found himself sensing that his spiritual-mediumship would likely unsettle Edward to some degree. Fortunately for Mardimson, however, the young Deathseer often had a humourous tone that showed his knack for deescalation and reassurance alike, though there would not be much room for such wonders beyond that point, taken as Vandrim's cue in his choice to refrain from rambling any further.