Private The Great Naboo Pub Crawl

[Isobel Serraris]

THE GREAT NABOO PUB CRAWL​

LOCATION — Theed, Naboo
TAGS — Varin Mortifer

The mockery of her constitution, as if she were truly some fragile flower to be drowned at the touch of a single rain droplet. The gall of him still burned furiously within her mind as she gazed into the transparisteel viewport of the limospeeder, studying her own reflection. Hand moved upward to her tightly braided curls to slide one lost strand back behind her ear, this was a formal occasion and as a Lady of House Serraris, Isobel would need to present the strength of her kin.

"To go over the details again, you are an associate of mine--a businessman from the Outer Rim interested in the wine from Naboo." Her hand slipped into her bag to grasp her floral lipgloss, before applying it to the dry pads of her lips. "Do not draw any," A sigh slipped from her lips as her gaze rolled over his appearance: "Any more attention to yourself than you usually do."

The die would be cast with each of their deeds, the odds were. . . in their favour for now, but it was a constant risk to remain here. A lethal pursuit into the heart of the High Republic. Should they risk discovery it would be shadowed by the looming diplomatic crisis for her house, and the reprecussions that the Covenant may bring upon them. Sigh, why had fireboy accused her of being a lightweight. . . It was a dare begging to be answered.

The soft stirring within the speeder announced the arrival at the exclusive lounge; the sandstone stairs outside were lit up by a number of silvery lights against the nighttime, and the buzz of nobles and corporates hummed within their vehicle. A busy night meant plenty of eyes would be drawn upon all of the tables, analysing them as allies or foes or blatantly exposing them to gossip.

"And do not lose your temper," followed as the limousine came to a halt before the carpeted walkway. "You are not among beasts now."

Her door slid open, and the Pantoran chauffeur offered a hand, which Isobel gladly accepted as she slipped from the seat. Straightening up as though the act of this 'noble's pretend' had already begun before they had entered the building; the formality may be viewed as an anomaly within her being, a behaviour that did not belong, but the Nabooan knew this game--as much as she feigned not to.

"One last thing," she mused, sliding her hand along the folds of her formal burgundy gown. A brief glare was cast Varin's way, sparkling with hidden stars of amusement and a future challenge.

"I am not a lightweight, mister."

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber

Varin tipped his glass back, drinking down the last of the bitter warm liquid. Its warmth spread throughout his chest and for a moment he felt great, until his body decided to burn it out of his system only seconds later.

He only half listened to what she was saying, something about being business associates and to behave himself. That last part made him arch his brow.

“You make it sound like I have never been to anything formal before.”

He set the glass down back into the holder from where it came.

“And I can't help that I draw certain attention to myself, you make that sound as if I do it on purpose.”

Her next phrase about not being among beasts drew a laugh from him.

“Look, I know how I look to people. But the truth of the matter is I know how to behave and control myself, not once have I ever accidentally lost my temper or lashed out. I had every bit of control doing that.”

The door opened and he watched her be assisted in leaving the vehicle before he opened his door and stood up towering over the man who came to assist him. He watched his eyes widen as Varin straightened up.

“You see? They can't even help themselves. Besides this is a night for drinking and doing whatever, quit being so uptight.”

He followed beside her before he mumbled under his breath in a small jest.

“Lightweight.”

His gaze flicked over the area, people dressed in more formal casual wear some dressed more fancy, Varin rather wore his more practical wear. In case things decided to get out of hand.

“I feel like 1313 would have been a better idea.”

Isobel Serraris​

 

[Isobel Serraris]

THE GREAT NABOO PUB CRAWL​

LOCATION — Theed, Naboo
TAGS — Varin Mortifer

A beast shackled then, it would not change the sharpness of its fangs nor the danger he could bring upon diplomatic allies and foes alike. An animal would be blindsighted to the intricacies of politics, of keeping up appearances even on a social outing such as these. It . . . lit a fire within her heart that scorched fragments of composure, threatening to turn all into ash for the simple sake of reprimand.

Breathe.

"Good, then you can control yourself during this." The tension within sparked off her with a snark so oft-unseen. . . It was not as if she frequented these events and mayhap that was what frightened the young noblewoman. A third child of a house known for its flowers as much as its deceit, it demanded a high toll.

Her low heels pressed against the maroon carpet laid out over the flights of stairs, ascending the steps alongside her much (and much) taller companion. To name him a friend would be a lie, to name him an acquaintance would be an injustice, so what would it be at the end of this wine tasting? Hand briefly swatted his arm at the jab: "You are only jinxing it for yourself, Fireboy." Her voice was sweeter now, glimmering with mischief.

Tall sandstone pillars met them at the top of the stairway, carved with numerous depictions of the Moon Goddess Shiraya and the ancient histories of Theed and its people. Not much further, an arched doorway greeted the two Sith, as well as a host clad in the most formal of clothes, eyeing the taller companion with a glance that practically made him out to be a fashion disaster. "Good. . . Evening, do you have an invitation?" The heavy Nabooan accent warmed Isobel's heart, reminding her of those many foolish soirees held at the family estate.

"If all is well, my brother, Florian Serraris, passed the invitation to my name. . ." Her fingers tapped idly on her handbag, as a flicker of worry passed through her expression. She had had to bargain with her older brother to acquire these tickets, and if he hadn't kept true to his word--oh she would ruin him. . . . "Did he not?"

The host's eyes skimmed his digital list, humming thoughtfully before nodding; "Isobel Serraris, , , the owner wishes to speak with you tonight. But I shall lead you and your," His eyes rolled suspiciously over the tall man. "Associate, to your seats. If you would follow me."

Led past the curtained archway, they manoeuvred around various round tables, each occupied by a wild arrangement of nobles. Rich laughs, conspiratorial whispers and looks that alluded to more than mere business--a noble's playground was never a place for boredom. The Lady kept her back up straight, counting steps beneath her breath as if to not trip over skirt nor her heels.

Within moments, they arrived at a table before a grand painting centred around the first Festival of Light. "Mister Serraris' favourite table," the man announced, whilst he pulled out a chair for each guest.

Once seated, they were welcomed by two flutes of a sparkling champagne, accompanied by a brief word of its Nabooan origin, before at last being left to their own devices. "You would prefer the slums of level 1313 over this? I suppose we all long for a place that feels like home." Bel mused sharply as her fingers twirled around the stem of the flute and tilted its glass to clink with his, seeking eye contact to avoid all the seven-year-long curses.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber

The slight smack of the arm and the voice of slight warmth from her drew a small smirk from him as they approached the man at the front. Walking past various pillars adorned with art that represented their Idol worship. Varin paid little attention to it.

His eyes then flicked to the man with the datapad. Noting the sass within his gaze and the silent judgement. Varin eyed him closely.

“Never seen a disabled veteran before?”

He then ignored any response the man would give, his gaze wandering around the area out of habit, always searching for ways an enemy could attack. It came with the lifestyle he was born into.

When he mentioned the owner his gaze flicked to Isobel as they were lead to their table.

“You did not mention we would be meeting another associate. Will they be a problem?”

Varin's ears picked up conversation and jovial laughs, the annoying nasaley laughs that most rich people tended to have when hiding true intentions. No matter what side of the galaxy you were from every rich person was the same.

The driving force behind it was never any different.

When they were seated he looked back at Isobel after her small jab.

“You think I grew up in slums?”

His eyes wandered again.

“1313 just happens to be far more honest than places like these. And if I had not promised to keep my temper down, that bus boy at the front would already be disfigured.”

He picked up his glass looking her intently in the eye, almost sarcastically so before the soft clink of glasses rung out between them.

“So, Mr.Serraris' favorite table?”

He took a small sip.

“No view of the exits, people block most entryways and it resides in the very back. Did he always have poor taste in security?”

He set the glass down a soft clink ringing from the glass from the soft impact.

Isobel Serraris​

 

[Isobel Serraris]

THE GREAT NABOO PUB CRAWL​

LOCATION — Theed, Naboo
TAGS — Varin Mortifer

The notion of the establishment's owner wanting to see her was a surprise to her as well, what business would Lord Tharvecko have with her? Even through the association within her house, she was but a daughter--only third-in-line until her brothers would inevitably produce heirs. Her brown eyes wandered to Varin's and tensed lightly, trying to bring across that she was as lost as he in this game of political Shah-Tezh.

"That was wrong of me," Bel confessed in the wake of her 'slums' remark. Level 1313 was as dishonest and corrupt as one might have it, and the light irritation from her encounter with Arris Windrun had not improved what little good she had to say about that place--or the entire planet at that. "He is merely on guard, the Republic faces a constant threat from the Sith around it, and. . . pardon me," Her hands moved up defensively: "But you do not have the kindest, most trustworthy face. Which- Which. . . a Sith must not have, obvious...ly,"

A crisis averted as their eyes locked for a brief, awkward, second, before she retracted the flute and brought it to her lips.

The taste of champagne upon her tongue was a strange sensation, prickling her senses and forcing her to lightly wince as it went down. Isobel's favourite had always been Blossom wine, a Nabooan recipe consisting primarily of flowers and having a much sweeter and softer taste than this.

Her gaze followed his path, noting how difficult it may be to slip away from this place should matters go south. Oh Florian, you fool, no doubt being more interested in his secretive conversations with Ashla knows who--"My brother's interests were never with security, I suppose it is a flaw many nobility have." That glimmer of bashfulness on her lips, the downcast eyes, she knew she was among that crowd.

The light amount of champagne was gone as soon as it had arrived; fuelled by their earlier challenges, she would not be the first to throw in the towel. "So, Mister Mortifer," A blatantly fake business tone overwhelmed her voice, as she placed the glass on the table. "What has occurred in your life since Korriban, or. . . Humbarine?" The planet's names were soft, as if to not draw attention to their Sith-like nature.

Another interruption followed suit, as a waiter clad in dark blue, white and maroon, practically spawned at their table; a boy no older than either of them, with a quick and easy smile. He set down two wide glasses on the table, before gathering the empty flutes and placing them on a nearby stand. "Good evening, and welcome to the Golden Vine, my name is Malek and I shall be your sommelier on this fine eve," the man then began to uncork a crystalline bottle of white wine, before pouring a small base within the deep bowl.

The two glasses were gently nudged over to the two guests; "To start this of, this is a Crème D'Infame, a light and fruity wine that should be sweet upon the tongue. The specific blend of grapes gives it its glow, as though it were 'blessed by the sun'." the stranger was trying its hardest to sell the wine to them. He skimmed over how it would taste best when compared with cheeses or salads, Isobel was moreover amused by Varin's expressions to it all.

Once he had finally left them, she gestured toward him; "You heard him, now. . . tell me if any of it is true," The girl chuckled behind her other hand.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber

His brow arched at her defensive movement and her comment about his face before he finished his glass and set it aside. Varin was not an expert on wines or champagnes. Simply to him if it just tasted good then he liked it, he cared not where it came from or how it was made.

Taste was all that mattered.

“I suppose you are right. But I have seen far more questionable people on republic alignment.”

A slight shrug before their eyes locked for that awkward moment before Varin cleared his throat.

He took a deep breath remembering where he was before he simply picked up another glass with his pinky out.

“Nobles still do the pinky thing right?”

He casually looked around before answering her question in a fake serious tone.

“Well Miss Serraris, if you must know, I have not really been up to much. I went to a gala, did some more training, tended to some plants and well…that’s practically it.”

When their server came by and began to speak Varin's gaze flicked over to him, keeping a more neutral expression. He could tell the boy was likely new as he talked about the history of the wine and a soft chuckle left him.

“Blessed by the Sun, you say?”

He picked up his glass and eyed the glowing liquid, his hand moving his glass in small circles.

“If I remember correctly, this is quite a long lasting brand. Surely a wine such as this is likely to taste like an experience.”

He took a small sip and dwelled on its taste. Giving it a moment to build and then dissolve over his senses.

“Hm.”

A small hum escaped him.

“I do not know wines very well.”

A soft huff left him as he processed her request.

“Now is it all true? My bet is if it sells the product then it has to be, speaking from a corporate view I guess.”

He caught the boy before he fully left.

“I will take two bottles.”

He gave him a soft smile and a quick nod.

Isobel Serraris​

 

[Isobel Serraris]

THE GREAT NABOO PUB CRAWL​

LOCATION — Theed, Naboo
TAGS — Varin Mortifer

His verdict was as useless as she had anticipated it to be, though her own take may not have shed more light on the liquid's properties. The artistry of knowing and moreover controlling one's liquor was a craft far beyond the young noblewoman. In her youth (though she was still only nineteen), she was only permitted teas at public gatherings. Wine would scramble the senses, as her father had always 'lovingly' insisted. . . how wrong and how right they were.

The move of his pinky did force a stifled laugh to once more land against the palm of her hand, as Varin busied himself with this horrid façade. Though the waiter may not seem to buy it, he was overjoyed to hear the plea for two bottles of the expensive wine. Those words fell upon her with the force of a tsunami, forcing an immediate shake of the head.

"No--just the one is sufficient. . ." Her jaw shifted back and forth as teeth grit against one another, eyes drew toward her companion, who seemed far too eager to enjoy and test the limits of their 'lightweightedness'. Eh. . . why not? "Alongside one bottle of Blossom wine," A faint, uncertain simper formed itself onto her soft lips.

Silence lingered between them as the sommelier swiftly ensured the table received everything they required; one bottle of Blossom wine for her, and the Crème D'Infame for her fiery associate. Isobel slid her glass of the white toward his side, having left it untouched, but preferring to stick to her rigid drinking habits.

The floral taste upon her tongue of her own wine delighted her, a warm embrace by a familiar figure--one oft-sought for in recent moons. His words still echoed within her mind, left unanswered, even if they dared not impress: "It is not often that I hear someone say they--too--tend to plants. Most find them outrageously dull," All her life had consisted of botany, of the art of cultivation and preservation of these intricate pieces of flora throughout the galaxy. "Is the Blood-flower still in bloom?" A softer query, accompanied by a genuine smile, echoing of their introduction on Korriban.

The more alcohol was poured into her system, the more the nerves began to fade, making the Nabooan seem almost at ease amid their formal and tense environment. Her posture relaxed nigh on imperceptibly, her shoulders loosened and her hands were no longer gripping her handbag as though she wandered some crime-filled planet.

"They just do not get it, the beauty! The art! The value tied to each coloured petal. . . Even syndicates understand their worth," Thoughts ran over the usage of millaflowers for sedative drugs in illegal spheres~ A snort left her at that. "Not advocating for crime, never."

The woman poured another dash of wine into her glass--this was destined to be one long and tumultuous evening. . .

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber​

“Two of each.”

He called out on the last second causing the boy to pause for a moment as if waiting for another change in the order. Varin gave Isobel a small smirk after that.

“One of those bottles is coming home with me. If it survives the night.”

When she mentioned the blood flower he took a small breath as he looked at his glass. Picturing the small flower from their first meeting.

“Gardening is only dull to others because they lack the drive for responsibility.”

He took a small sip.

“The Blood Flower still grows thankfully. Though it has been some time since I went back to it. I was preoccupied with some things. I do get eyes on it from time to time.”

He remembered their first meeting very clearly. He remembered her frustrations and the way she lashed out. But he also remembered how she simply talked with him. Their connection through plants seemed to have embedded a seed of sorts, and it brought him some joy to know she cared enough for it that she wished to check in.

He would never admit that though.

Conversation continued for some time, he began to notice the ease in her as well as the more drinks she kept sipping down. Varin had a very high tolerance to alcohol but he could not resist to match her energy.

“Ya know..”

He started off before pausing for a long moment, staring at his glass.

“My thought seems to have escaped me.”

He thought for a moment.

“Oh yes!”

His voice was a bit louder than anticipated causing eyes to wander their direction.

“One thing that always amazed me about Millflowers is they look so good and yet are so deadly.”

His hand waved accidentally knocking his glass over on the table spilling what little of wine contents was left in his glass.

“Erm….oops…”

A small laugh escaped him.

“Oh and don’t get me started on those who pretend to know what the flower is. One time I bought some spice off a guy, it was my first time.”

His voice had dropped to a whisper albeit a loud whisper.

“It ended up being food spices!”

A groan left him as he leaned back on his chair.

“Five hundred credits down the drain!”

Isobel Serraris​

 

[Isobel Serraris]

THE GREAT NABOO PUB CRAWL​

LOCATION — Theed, Naboo
TAGS — Varin Mortifer

Eyes sought to trail his movement, though wandered endlessly toward the laughter from other tables or the gossiping set of waiters. . . How might one remain focused amid a violent storm like this? Or had the alcohol poisoned her veins more than she had previously imagined. No, she was not a lightweight! The Nabooan rose again in her seat, pressing her straight line of her back against the backrest, feigning a sense of. . . control, when it was ever-slipping.

"You got something to celebrate?" A softened tease slipped past loose lips as hand gestured toward the wrapped bottle he sought to take home with him. While the other rose up to drink from the third set of her glass' contents; the blossom wine becoming a constant bittersweet touch upon her tongue. "Ooh--" Bel began, breathing into the hollow of the cup, barely comprehensible: "Is it for a girl? Or boy, if your fancy lies there," Her smile turned slanted and almost giddy.

A droplet of white wine fell down the slope of her chin as the wide glass was placed back on the table, before she leaned over toward him. "Tell me, tell me, tell me!" All restraint from being at a formal place had left her being, leaving only the youthful spirit beneath.

The spill of his drink upon the table forced her back with a flinch, her chair sliding slightly as she sought to avoid the disaster reaching her expensive gown. Their waiter rushed over with a fresh glass and a cloth to clean up the mess left behind, a hushed sigh escaping beneath his breath as the wooden surface was tidied once more, before the figure disappeared back into the clamour of their surroundings.

The tale about the spice was. . . less than relatable to the woman, as her lips shifted left and right along with her brow. Spice, some petty indulgence of some to make themselves feel much better about themselves--ridiculous! Though a faint, forced, smile eventually settled upon her mouth, to not appear disinterested.

"Ouch. . ." Isobel murmured as she poured another bit of wine in her cup, the more she drank, the more her body craved it. . . a perilous urge. It at least numbed the myriad of thoughts poisoning her mind, and made all the defenses crumble.

She observed the way he sat, unable to dismiss the fact the 'Giant' seemed the odd one out among these 'normal' humans. All of a sudden, her arm shot up to flex her--lack of--muscle, trying to keep it still amid the ever-increasing alcohol. "I don't even possess a percent of the strength you have!" A manic giggle followed the comment, ending in an embarrassingly loud snort.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber​

Varin’s brow arched as she questioned him for the extra bottle of wine. She seemed genuinely curious as to what it was for and Varin simply relented. Especially after asking if it was for someone.

“She has been an anchor for me for a long while now. Seren Gwyn .”

He gently sat his datapad on the table flicking through some images before he stopped on a picture of them together.

The pitiful display of her flexing her muscle drew a genuine laugh from him, his voice carrying over the rest of the people trying to enjoy their evening as his hand slapped the table causing it to shake.

“We need to get you into the gym, I have a feeling you could be an absolute monster if you start lifting. The shorter ones tend to build muscle mass faster than taller people.”

Varin watched as the waiter cleaned up the mess he had made before he slipped the datapad back into his satchel and slowly stood up.

“Your host is certainly taking a while. I feel if he has made us wait, why don’t we do the same and find another bar. Go on a small adventure get into trouble maybe?”

He picked up the untouched bottle placing it into his satchel as well, shifting the bag so the bottle stayed upright.

“Besides, I’m sure these fine people have sticks way too far up their-”

“Sir, mind your language please.”

The waiter cut him off causing Varin to look over to him in a serious way at first before chuckling and placing some credits in his suit pocket.

“Don’t spend it all in one place.”

Isobel Serraris​

 

[Isobel Serraris]

THE GREAT NABOO PUB CRAWL​

LOCATION — Theed, Naboo
TAGS — Varin Mortifer

The bluely hued flickers of light emitted from the datapad proved a sharp contrast against the warm glow of candles and chandeliers within the exquisite establishment. Nigh on spurring her sight into a whirlwind of colours and shape that long persisted when her eyes fluttered closed. Though it was not the only fragment of insanity driving her senses into madness; the collective effort of the alcohol and the clamour of nobles stung in the corners of her mind without a glimpse of remorse.

Once the gaze had adjusted to the bright shades upon the datapad, a soft 'Aww' slipped past her lips as grabby hands reached out to seize the device. An inquisitive pair of eyes drew over every sliver of the picture, noting Seren Gwyn 's midnight waves, the budding affection in their midst that nigh on sung through a still life. "You two look so very happy!" A delighted squeal escaped her, drawing the eyes of one or two nobles, as the pad was handed back. "She is so pretty, I wonder," A loud hic "How you did that." A smile was plastered on her face, not sparkling with any mockery at that.

Fingers curled around her cup again, as she emptied it in her system. Whilst once filled to the neck, the bottle had been reduced to mere drops in its crystallite base, naught more than a gentle reminder of why her vision suddenly began to feel so... blurry.

Nigh on imperceptible, the Nabooan's intricately kept updo began to sway back and forth, following the cadence of the head as she grinned and hiccuped at the notion of exercising. "I am a woman of the flowers!" Her index twirled around in the air, accompanying the words. "Me need no muscles. . . 'tis not as if the plants fight back," An ecstatic huff entered the air, as she got up with 'ease', noting how he wished to leave. "Mm, except the flesh-eating sort. Hmph, least favourite plants." Isobel nearly stumbled against her chair, holding onto the table for dear life.

She offered a drunken wink to an elder noble sitting at another table, eyeing her with evident traces of disdain. Before grabbing Varin's arm and stumbling out of the bar.

"Not a lightweight--" a murmur before the tilt of the head seemed to indicate the rusty gears within the mind turning. "Hm. . . my kin are lightweighted, the delicate sort. . . schemeing, gossiping, ehhhh." The trail had long been lost as she fixed all attention on the stairs leading toward the plaza.

As though they were the steps to the Hells, Bel drew a small step away from her companion; this was an obstacle, a wild one for one already so befuddled by the floral taste of blossom wine upon the tongue. Mm, she wanted more already.

"What if you carry me!? Like a sack of, , ," A pause as eyes darted around for an example: "Flower bulbs! Wait no-- my dress is too expensive to get folds in them. . ."

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber

A laugh escaped him as she took hold of the datapad, her eyes taking in the image of the moment now preserved in time.

“Truth be told…I have no idea. I think more than anything she caught me.”

He gently took the device back, setting it into his bag.

His gaze taken back to her as she spoke of her lack of muscles and the fact she was a lady of the flowers.

“Ah, but what if you do find one that prefers flesh? My first official class I had to dissect such a creature and take samples of its venom.”

He remembered the class clearly. The first time he met Lysander, back when they shared the same master. They were inseparable ever since.

He listened to her speak as they drew nearer to the steps. At the offer of being carried he did not hesitate, while she was in mid sentence he simply hoisted her onto his shoulder and began his way down the steps.

“Come on flower queen, we have adventures ahead of us, and you have to prove to me you are not a lightweight.”

Each step had a slight purposeful bounce to them, jostling her body a bit to help shake loose the inebriation within her head.

He looked at their driver.

“Next bar please and I will pay you extra if you do not ask questions.”

Isobel Serraris​

 

[Isobel Serraris]

THE GREAT NABOO PUB CRAWL​

LOCATION — Theed, Naboo
TAGS — Varin Mortifer

A drunken, ecstatic squeal slipped past the hiccuping lips as Isobel felt two firm arms hoist her up and dragged her along. By Ashla, he was strong but not uncomfortably so--or mayhaps it was just his abhorrent clothing providing enough of a cushion as he wandered. Each bolt around, forced either a giggle or an awkward hiccup from her side, before one hand shifted to rest over her mouth. "Getting--sick!" The Nabooan complained and prayed to the Force that her torment was almost at an end.

Though in spite of the torture, the evening had proven surprisingly thrilling, far better than their first meeting within those dark catacombs. He was a weird man still, but all the Sith were in her book, though not. . . standard evil, not entirely so.

As she was hauled into the limospeeder, deep, controlled breaths entered and left her, seeking to find the control over her senses once more. One in, one out, as to hopefully not expunge that tasty wine all over the expensive interior of the speeder. "We. . . ought to--" The hand upon her mouth shifted as she pressed two fingers against her forehead. "Mm, what's the pub Seb frequents. . ? Shiraya's Parlour I think?"

The moment those words were uttered, the limo began to move once more, and a miserable noise left her. "Should have stayed home, drank water. . . Oh this was a bad idea." A full-body shiver ran through her as Bel sought to jolt herself awake again, to not drift off in this intoxicated slumber.

Her eyes wandered to the unaffected form of Varin, how did his constitution not mind an entire bottle? Whilst hers struggled to stand upright or walk the stairs. Ashla she was horrendous at this. . . beyond horrendous! Wait, did that mean she was a lightweight? No, no, she could not prove that to him, could not allow him to mock her for being as such.

In a sudden move, Bel sat up straighter, allowing herself to appear more composed then before--more in the moment. Trying her hardest to feign sobriety, even if the sparkle in her eyes alluded to the opposite.

"I can go for another few rounds, promise. . ." She smiled, and gestured to the holopad. "Just. . . call ehm... someone to pick me up and bring me to Zardossa." A blush graced her cheeks at that.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber​

“You better not vomit on my clothes Bel. I will make you hand wash them.”

After placing her in the seat he took his just across from her, already pouring her a glass of water. Though his aim was to get her to indulge in alcohol for the night, water was still something he made sure she had. Hangovers were never fun in the morning, and just in case the water did not work he had another trick up his sleeve just in case.

“Shiraya’s Parlor?”

The name pulled from his lips with a deep sense of unfamiliarity.

“Sounds fancy.”

He offered her the glass before he sat back in his seat. The limospeeder already making its way to the next destination, Varin simply sat back as she spoke. She had already been feeling the effects and he could tell. The more sober you act, the more obvious that you have overindulged became evident.

A small laugh left him as she rambled about staying home.

“You’re going to be fine. There are plenty of worse people to be stuck with on evenings like this.”

After she gestured to the holopad Varin quirked a brow at her.

“What’s on Zardossa? If I may ask.”

He spoke as he poured himself another glass of what was in the limo.

Isobel Serraris​

 

[Isobel Serraris]

THE GREAT NABOO PUB CRAWL​

LOCATION — Theed, Naboo
TAGS — Varin Mortifer

Water was but a temporary reprieve from the burning sensation in her throat, the remnants of alcohol still festering in her system. By Ashla, Bel could not fathom this tasting so sweetly. And though the balm may not find a lasting effect, it was the bliss she required at once on this fast-descending eve. But as all things, it did not linger for long, and the bottom of the cup was reached in a matter of seconds, making space for the nausea to kick back in.

The threat of making her wash his clothes was met with a manic giggle: "I-- am not your kriffing servant, Varin," She tried to point at him, but it never attained steadiness. "Mortifer!" A snort left her as she settled back against the seat, trying her best to remain composed, even when it had long withered.

The limospeeder made a constant humming noise as it glided over the streets of Theed, guiding the pair to the next destination on this rather. . . embarrassing travel. The chauffeur glanced through the mirror once or twice, eyeing the taller Sith with some suspicion, though borne out of a protection and allegiance to the House Serraris--no different than the other individuals presented throughout this tumultuous night.

"Naboo is known for its fancy... things. They-- they even make assassinating others seem like an art-" Her shoulders lifted for a moment before sagging; fashion, wine, religion, economy, all things belonging to Naboo were destined to be fancy, to adhere to high standards and sharp critiques. The family Serraris had been no exclusion to this rule, quite the contrary, they relished the discipline instilled upon them through their position in society. The secrecy, the lying, the façades. . . Such fun. "Makes me glad I am stuck with you and not some stuck-up lordling assessing me for an alliance... like I'm a shaak waiting to be sold!" Isobel's eyes were hazy from inebriation: "Am I a shaak, Fireboy?"

The question did not linger long in the air as the echo of Zardossa Stix reappeared in her mindscape, and the redness brightened upon her cheeks. "Who," A thoughtless correction, as nails poked at her beds, trying to stop herself from daydreaming once more--to no avail. "I s'ppose-- He's blonde, handsome. . . gallant--makes me happy, like- like your Seren." A merry smile touched her soft lips as the head swayed in tune with the speeder's movement.

The hands stilled their movement, as one reached into her handbag to grab her own datapad, and typing frantically to Lysander von Ascania : "Mossing yoiu xxxxx" and: "no lgihtweihgt". Before a sudden shake of the speeder forced the device out of her grasp--

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber​

The unsteady point drew a laugh from him as he watched her start to lose composure again.

“Well I have some news for you.”

He started off before he took a small sip of water and set the glass down.

“I am royalty. I know, shocking. But no, I do not think you are some shaak. Too lean, and way too small.”

A small smirk formed on his face followed by a slight chuckle. Then she started speaking of a man. Blonde and handsome, then she stated that it was a lot like he and Seren. His eyes widened when he watched her pick up the datapad, a quick glance at Lysander’s face. It all clicked together.

“Oh Lysander?”

He gently picked up the datapad and offered it back to her.

“I had no idea you two were…”

He paused as if to choose his words carefully.

“I have known him for a very long time. We are very close.”

The limospeeder kept its speed throughout the streets as it headed to their next destination, Varin waited for only a bit before he asked his next question.

“How long have you known each other?”

Isobel Serraris​

 

[Isobel Serraris]

THE GREAT NABOO PUB CRAWL​

LOCATION — Theed, Naboo
TAGS — Varin Mortifer

Brightened laughter overcame the distant whirring of the speeder's thrusters as the inebriated mind sought to comprehend what farce he was trying to upkeep. A Prince? In all the tales she had devoured in her youth, Princes were charming, dressed as befit their stature, not. . . whatever troubled her giant friend. "Then I am the Queen of Naboo!" The youthful voice proclaimed, as her body shifted to become the very image of royalty; with a straightened back, a stoic face and a wobbling head that did everything but disarm her previous claims.

A turn of the speeder forced her to fall over to the right, landing against the transparisteel windows. A pained grunt slipped past, accompanied by a bemused mumble. "I've been dethroned. . ." The firm structure of the limo became her cushion, and a nauseous slumber threatened to imprison her once more.

A yawn echoed from her side, as a faint nod pressed the crown of her head further against the cold alloy.

The tension in her face receded, slipping into nothingness as the mention of Lysander made all the façade perish. "Lys. . . Mm," A dreamy sound, as eyes rediscovered Varin's sober gaze. "Oh, well. . . we are moving slowly, like a Fambaa." A blessing as the noblewoman knew naught of romance beyond silly tales; "He is great, , , except at swimming." A flicker of amusement made the corner of her lip tilt lightly, recalling how she had pushed him in the sea on their last meeting.

The speeder gradually rolled to a halt as a more modest bar came into sight. It lacked the grand pillars and fancy carpeted stairs, but made up for it with its loud noise and cheering--they were no doubt watching a game of Twirrling, hoping their bets come true.

"A year..? We--we met nearby," Bel mused and rose again, holding onto Varin's arm for stability. "A Jedi and a Sith... I acted rash and abandoned him when he told me-- so silly." The light furrow of brow revealed that she still blamed herself for fleeing back then. The past had become the past and lay graciously obscured by the light of the present and future, permitting the misdeeds then to become trivialities.

The door slid open as the chauffeur gazed upon the disastrous duo once more, the glimmer in his eye questioned whether it was wise to partake in more drinking. . . but it was not his decision to make.

A gentle tap of her hand found his shoulder, as if to beckon him to the pub: "My brother says the ale is good here--do you like ale, Varin?"

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber | Wyrmfang​

“I would be concerned for Naboo's future if their queen was dethroned so easily.”

A small laugh escaped him as he helped her off her side and back into her seat. He listened to her as she spoke of her and Lysander’s relationship. The revelation of his swimming struggles drew a laugh from him. It seemed he and he brother had much more in common than he thought.

“That seems to be a common problem amongst royal men. We tend to not swim often.”

When the speeder slowed to a stop he gently placed his hand on her shoulder to keep her from dethroning herself once more.

“Tell me, has he shown you any holodramas yet?”

It was a fond memory he had with Lysander when he first watched a holodrama with him. It was after a rough training day and whatever he had rolled up for Varin had relaxed him more than any medicine he had ever taken. But it made him extremely foggy the next day.

“Seren and I had done that and it makes for a fun date night. Especially when watching the super cheesy ones that you can make fun of and still enjoy.”

Varin helped her out of the speeder before they headed to the new bar ahead of them. Her question causing to give her a near dastardly look.

“I happen to like ale far more than wines if I am honest.”

They were cheaper and sometimes even tasted better. Far better than red wines at least.

He could hear the cheering from inside as he walked with her towards the front door.

“Don’t worry if a brawl breaks out I’ll be sure to stow you in a cabinet somewhere.”

Isobel Serraris​

 

[Isobel Serraris]

THE GREAT NABOO PUB CRAWL​

LOCATION — Theed, Naboo
TAGS — Varin Mortifer

Giggles as infectuous as the plague rolled over her figure again and again as the mind sought to make sense of his strange words; why was she feeling so. . . woozy? Gloriously ignorant to the happenings within the confines of the speeder and out there in the realm of the Force. It was a blessed numbness that made her forget every shadow that may trail her wake. One she wished not to part from until dawn was upon them.

Holodramas, oh those absurd bouts of conflict that kept its watcher's attention from start to finish. A hazy memory was shaped within the mind, recalling how she had ranted to Lysander when the main character suddenly eyed a different love interest! It was a crime, especially when they had just spent an episode following the fan-favourite pairing. "I watched some episodes," The Nabooan's words were slurred as her heels stepped upon the cobblestone once more, a tremor in the knees nigh on making her tumble against her friend. "Don't--" Hic. "Tell him, but I stole his collection. The Rule of Two Hearts. . ."

Each step was but another piece of evidence to be used to support the 'lightweight' claim; her arms were firmly around the Sith's, and even a commoner walked with more grace than the Lady.

"Stow me in a cabinet?! I am a Lady of House Serraris-- you will not," Isobel paused, holding up her hand as she took a sharp breath. Everything before her moved and tilted violently, before slowly fading back into stillness. "Just-- Just. . . get us out of here if they fight."

The parlour was a crowded space, reeking of ale and no doubt the sweat of these drinkers. The space had two stories, and a grand screen upon the wall displaying a race between various types of guarlaras while the crowd was anxiously waiting and cheering for their favoured mount. The sight did not thrill her, and made her instinctively roam toward the bar--a U-shaped surface made of the Nabooan perlote tree, where various bartenders busied themselves with preparing mixed drinks, pouring beer and entertaining their guests.

Her brown eyes settled upon her giant companion: "Why don't you find us some drinks? 'Tis much easier for you," Hic. "To move through the crowd! Something sweet, pleaseeee?"

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber | Wyrmfang​

“The Rule of Two Hearts??? That is one of his favorite collections, and you somehow stole it???”

Genuinely he was curious as to how, Lysander was usually really attentive to his own things. He remembered the first time he watched that with him. It was strange at first, but somehow the plot had just simply sucked him in.

At her exclamation of being stuffed in a cabinet he simply laughed as he helped hold her straight.

“I will not simply just take us out of here, a bar fight is a right of passage. You will simply just have to beat someone up.”

The thought of her possibly climbing up on a table just to do some ridiculous warcry before elbow dropping on some poor customer with no idea she were there brought a genuinely small laugh out of him.

“You’re tiny, you can easily sneak around and beat someone down.”

As they moved through the crowded space, he listened to her speak requesting that he fetched the drinks. It only seemed fair, he still had his legs about him, though he could feel the warmth of the drinks begin to add up.

“Very well, let's find us a table first, hm?”

His gaze scanned the room where he found a small booth in the corner of the room. A perfect place to sit and keep watch of the entrance, just in case something were to happen he knew where he could steamroll everyone to get her out. As much as he would love to see her hold her own, he was still responsible for her.

He guided her to the small table and lead her to her seat.

“I will be right back. And for the love of whatever is above or below, Do NOT move anywhere.”

The demand was pointed and clear, almost a protective nature that had possessed him as he gently pointed a finger to her. He gave her a small nod then began pushing towards the bar.

Isobel Serraris​