Public The Moonlight Masquerade [OPEN TO ALL]

[Cassian Abrantes]

Fatine von Ascania ​

Cassian inhaled sharply as her heel found its mark a small, strangled sound escaping before he caught it in a laugh. It was soft, startled at first, then rich with amusement that shimmered beneath his breath.

"Well." he said, glancing down briefly at his shoe, then back up at her with a crooked smile that was all teeth and charm. "I might have deserved that."

He eased them both back into rhythm before anyone else could notice the stumble, his hand steady at her waist, guiding her effortlessly through the next turn as if the misstep had been part of the choreography. The smirk he wore didn't fade, though it softened into something wry, self-aware.

"Though in my defense." Cassian went on, his tone light but threaded with deliberate warmth, "I only meant to test your improvisation, not my foot's durability."

A pause, then he leaned in just enough for his voice to lower, private, conspiratorial. "You're surprisingly quick on your cues, milady. Remind me not to give you too much room to improvise next time. I might not walk away unscathed."

The faint glint in his eyes betrayed the teasing nature of the words, but there was something genuine beneath the banter a flicker of admiration for the spirit behind her defiance.

Cassian's thumb brushed lightly against her hand as they turned again, and this time, he bowed his head slightly toward her in mock contrition. "Truce?" he offered, the grin returning, sharp but sincere. "At least until the next number. I'd hate to think this dance ends with me limping out of the ballroom."

And though the words were playful, there was no mistaking the glimmer of respect that threaded through his tone—the rare acknowledgment of having met someone who could surprise him.

"Would you care for a drink in the meantime?"

 

[Loomi]

Naboo
Tags: Braze

Epo-1, Lushi​

"You look beautiful. "

"Oh, shush," Loomi huffed, giving his shoulder a light swat. "Must you be so corny in public?"

Her tone was playful, though. She was all but grinning ear to ear. The Godoan leaned in and gave his cheek a peck before pulling away a little, simply allowing herself to be in the moment. It was about then that Braze asked about her interest in new prosthetics.

"Articulating?" she mused. "As in... more points of flexibility than just the essential joints? Or do you mean something else?"

It may take a while to get used to some brand new prosthetics, considering how she had just gotten this new set, but she was open to such a thing. After all, Loomi had never been one to turn down a gift. That was someone's heart and soul given freely to another. Such considerate gestures were something she could never turn down.

 

[Braze]

Tags: Loomi ​

Braze guided her through the slow rhythm, each step accented by a subtle sway in time with the music. "Yeah… kind of like movable joints," he said softly, "If it were linked to your nervous system, you'd have toes that move like fingers."

He smiled faintly, glancing down before meeting her eyes again. "You could wear all kinds of pretty shoes," he added, "And believe it or not, that big toe's what keeps you balanced." His grin turned boyish. "So… maybe you'd even be able to join me on a tightrope."

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla let his words settle, the quiet weight behind them threading through the music. Even through her helmet, she leaned slightly forward, attentive but relaxed, letting her presence speak as much as her words.

"Not often," she murmured, teasing just enough to draw attention, "I might need to start taking notes… though I suspect you'd notice that too."

Her visor caught the chandelier light, glinting like a quiet spark. She allowed herself a private thrill at the realization. He's deliberate. Patient. Not like anyone I've met…

"Moments like this…" she added softly, mirroring his reflection on the dancers, "remind us to pay attention to what's worth noticing."

She lingered, letting the music and the soft shuffle of feet carry the silence between them, a quiet challenge in her posture, a subtle invitation in the tilt of her head. I want to see what else he notices… and maybe, what he thinks of me.

"Keep watching," she murmured, almost a playful echo of his words, "I think I already am."

She let a beat pass, letting the quiet hum of the crowd fill the space, before leaning just a fraction closer, the tilt of her helmet suggesting curiosity wrapped in challenge.

"And you?" she asked softly, voice low and teasing. "When you let yourself see the galaxy's pride, its fear… its hope… what catches your attention most?"

Siv Kryze

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Bastila Sal-Soren​

Lorn found himself staring at Bastila a moment longer than he intended. The ballroom's lively din faded to a distant hum, the music and laughter receding. Bastila, a whirlwind of silk and sharp words, seemed poised on the edge of falling apart, her faith in anything wavering. A twinge of recognition tightened Lorn's chest. Had he once been so frayed, so consumed by anger? The memory of his old Master, a man who must have possessed the patience of a saint to endure Lorn's youthful outbursts, surfaced unbidden.

He realized Bastila was still watching him, awaiting a response. Lorn let out a slow breath. "You sure do talk a lot," he commented, grasping for another pastry as a distraction and apparently a way to ruin his figure. He took a bite, chewed, and gestured with the treat. "And you're not exactly the sweet type." His words were plain, devoid of any hidden agenda, simply stating what he observed, what he felt.

"I don't agree with much of what you've said," he admitted, choosing not to elaborate. He wasn't attempting to fix her or offer unsolicited comfort. Perhaps she didn't need another voice dictating her path. Maybe she simply needed someone who could accept her sharp edges without flinching.

He sure did wish Ala was here. He hadn't ever known how to deal with these situations like she did.

An easy silence settled between them. Lorn's tone softened as he tilted his head. "Has anyone ever asked you what you want?" he inquired quietly. "What role you actually wish to play?" He didn't push for an immediate answer, letting the question hang in the air as an invitation, not a demand. He then took another slow bite of his pastry, a bit scared of the outburst he half expected to follow.

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Will this suffice?
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian let out a soft, disbelieving chuckle, delighted by the sight before him. Sibylla, barefoot and flushed, her eyes sparkling with mischief, was every inch a queen, yet undeniably human in that moment. It was this raw humanity that truly undid him, more so than any kiss could have.

"Tribute," he echoed, a playful glint in his eye. "You drive a hard bargain, Your Majesty." He finished his drink, the warmth a pleasant dare, and leaned closer. "Very well. You've forced my hand."

He set his glass down and rose with deliberate grace, straightening as if about to make a grand pronouncement. The night air stirred his coat, and moonlight caught the sharp angles of his face. With a theatrical flourish, he placed a hand over his heart and bowed deeply. "My offering," he declared, his voice a dramatic drawl, "shall be nothing less than the performance of a lifetime."

And then he did it. He stepped onto the mossy path and launched into what could only be described as a dance. It was a bizarre mix of a soldier's march and a tipsy noble's sway, complete with exaggerated spins and bows to an unseen audience. His boots scuffed the stones, his hair tumbled loose, and he gestured towards her with a flourish so ostentatious it was almost comical.

"Behold," he announced between chuckles, "the Chancellor of the Republic... reduced to interpretive flailing in pursuit of a royal song." Aurelian grinned, his chest feeling light and unburdened, as if the weight of the world had simply vanished.

He sank back beside her with a mock sigh, brushing stray leaves from his tunic. "There," he said, his eyes gleaming, his grin softening. "My dignity offered freely. Surely that earns me a verse?"

​

 

[Eaton Waters]

The fact that he was not born and raised with the Force like his sister was? It meant he worked things through his thinking mind. He was a thief by right, but now with some spells behind him? He would use it more devastatingly than a typical witch could. Now Brooke? She was a user of the Force, where Eaton saw it as just one more tool. That was why he was just here gathering information.

He liked to keep tabs on things, so he knew what he was getting into when he crossed borders. And the fact that there was an intergalactic who’s who at this event. “Station? Not a bad way to go. Hopefully you can avoid the galactic political bullshit that way?”

His eyes followed any direction of her head, the masks making it a pain to track.

“Some of these guests may need to lighten up.” The man smirked.

Pom Stych Tivé

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Naboo - Serraris Estate

Equipment:
Masquerade Attire | Lightsaber (hidden)

Ace smirked faintly around the rim of his glass, Devin's shoulder bump nudging him back into the noise of the ballroom. "You can take the boy out the street, can't take the street outta the boy."

He set the drink down with a dull clink, eyes tracking more attendees Devin had pointed out. A figure had drifted through the crowd, burnished skin and poise that drew eyes like gravity. Ace's gaze locked on instinct, tracing the shimmer of light along the fabric, the cadence of each step. Beautiful, effortless, wrong.

The Force stirred again, deeper this time, an echo that made his stomach twist. There was power under that glamor, old and coiled, its rhythm pulsing in sync with his own heartbeat for half a second before sliding away. Recognition without reason. He didn't see Isley Verd , but every nerve in him whispered familiarity.

Ace blinked, the breath he hadn't realized he was holding slipping out in a slow exhale. Whatever that presence was, it wasn't meant for him... but it felt like him. Like standing too close to a reflection that didn't move the same way.

"…thermal detonator in a teacup," Devin had said.

Ace's voice came quieter, almost thoughtful. "Yeah." He murmured, still watching the violet figure. "You've got the right of it."

Devin continued on with studying of the others' tells and Ace listened and watched attentively. But Kinley's jab earned a low chuckle, more breath than sound.

"You? Rig a game?" He said, feigning surprise. "Guess that makes the rest of us the marks, then."

His tone carried the lazy cadence of someone used to masks, social or otherwise, but his gaze lingered on her a moment longer, studying the micro-shifts in her expression the way one studies an old card trick they've seen before.

"Regardless, house always wins."

Ace let the banter roll, the rhythm of their voices keeping the night from feeling like a cage. Kinley's smooth grin, Devin's easy sarcasm, it was all white noise that kept the ache in his chest from echoing too loudly.

"Tell you what." He said, voice light but deliberate, "Next round's on whoever spots the biggest fraud in this room. Could be a noble, could be one of us.

Devin Virell | Kinley Pryse ​

 

[Aerik Lechner]

WEARING: xxx | TAG: Quinn Varanin | Srina Talon | Darth Carnifex | Isley Verd​

Was Aerik not behaving? He looked over Srina Talon only to realize his mistake. She had intended to blend in. She would notice his embarrassment, with a touch of frustration. Her words equated to that of “bad dog.” Those around him would not have seen it, again his stoicism helped, but Srina was Echani. There was no hiding from her. A small nod was all he offered to show the message was understood.

His attention was quickly swept up by the sudden appearance of two other figures. Aerik would never understand the flourish with which some exercised the use of the force. He supposed it was his personality to simply use it as a tool. It was a weapon which he commanded. The pup had also been used to hiding his nature at the academy as much as possible. His restraint had proven challenging, but also kept him from being targeted. He supposed it was a strategic advantage, but what and who he was would be something Darth Prazutis would shine a spotlight on before long.

Quinn Varanin captured his attention by accepting his invitation to dance. That had been the outcome he had hoped for, but in truth he did not believe she would actually accept. Even on Dromund Kaas she often took advantage of his presence by having him carry her tomes in order to keep her own arms free. Aerik naturally obliged of course. While part of him knew nothing could ever come of the childish crush, he was not ready to let go of it quite yet.

Her response only enabled that part further. She was teasing him, and Aerik fell for it. The way her breath tickled his ear, and inflection in every word she spoke, lulled him into whatever scheme she was playing at. Echani were masters of body language, but Aerik’s sensitive hearing made him a master of tone. He did not miss the slightest change in the way one used their words. Even if there were times he did not understand the language there were certain inflections that were universal.

Quinn’s compliment had lured him in. The way she said his name set the hook.

He gulped when she told him he could lead. A look of panic glossed over his eyes. Quinn would see it if she was paying attention. The truth of it was simple.

“They did not teach us how to dance at the academy.”

It was a simple confession. Perhaps had he waited longer to join, his mother would have ensured he learned how. The pup could spar. He knew how to fight. Maybe it was not that different. He closed his eyes and listened to the music. The rhythm was not hard to discern. Those around him seemed to move at the pace of the beat. Once he was certain he had it…

…Aerik began to move.

He placed one arm around Quinn’s waist and took her hand with the other.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Aerik said almost clumsily as he also tried to pay attention to where he was putting his feet. “Red has always been your color.”

He almost blushed hoping it was okay to return the compliment, but quickly captured his composure once more. Aerik had almost stepped on her foot as he tried to make sure they fell into the same steps as the rest of the couples on the dance floor.

“I’m not good at this… am I?”

 

[Loomi]

Naboo
Tags: Braze

Epo-1, Lushi​

"If it were linked to your nervous system, you'd have toes that move like fingers."

"I've... been without those things for so long," Loomi noted. "Do you think it might feel... I dunno, strange? Wrong? I don't really remember what it was like to have them..."

Loomi couldn't deny that having shoes sounded nice. Maybe a softer prosthetic for around the treehouse would be nice. Something to contrast the more rigid prosthetics she had right now for field work.

"I... could give it a try."

Why not? After all, she had nothing to lose.