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.

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

House Serraris Estate Gardens
Location: I can't help...
Aurelian Veruna

Sibylla stared. Then blinked. Then promptly burst into laughter.

"Oh, Shiraya save us all," she wheezed between giggles as she doubled slightly as her hand came up to cover her mouth. "You -- " she pointed at him, laughter spilling over again " -- you call that a performance?"

Aurelian Veruna, Chancellor of the Republic, defender of policy and propriety, had just spun in the moonlight like a drunken court jester. It was ridiculous. Absurd. And utterly endearing.

Sibylla gave an exaggerated slow clap from where she sat as she shone him a wide teasing, flushed grin.

"Bravo, truly! A stellar debut! You really should have joined a theater troupe. You'd have been the talk of the show."

And while her cheeks hurt from smiling, her laughter softened as she watched him sink back beside her, the playfulness still dancing in his amber eyes. The change in him tugged at her heart and flooded her with the warm sensation that quickened her pulse and couldn't stop her from grinning. Gone was the dangerous, ruthless, charismatic statesman she'd learned to spar with in the assembly and court. Here was someone else entirely -- light, free, and happy.

And it made her heart flutter painfully in her chest because she wanted him to stay that way. Because she loved seeing him this way.

The grin reappeared as a gentler smile when she raised her glass toward him.

"Alright, alright. Fair's fair." She raised her drink in a mock solemn toast. "To your tragic and very noble sacrifice."

With that she drained the rest of her peach liquor in one long, bold sip, before setting the glass down with a satisfied sigh and pointing a playful finger his way.

"But you," she warned him as she wagged her finger in mock severity at him, giving his chest a poke, "are not allowed to laugh. Not once. Not even a smirk."

That light melodic giggle returned as she stood, her skirts whispering against her bare legs as the cream silk caught faint glimmers of moonlight. She gave a dramatic little bow, swaying slightly from the drink but owning it all the same.

"I am willing to take requests," she declared with mock grandeur, sweeping a hand toward him.

"As long as I know them, of course." Her tone softened as she tilted her head, the thick long waves of her chestnut hair swaying about her shoulders wiith the light breeze, hazel eyes shinning with amused mischief. "Or were you really serious about me singing about how magnificent I feel?"

 

[Veyra Saelis]

Objective: 1 - Dancing (Subobjective) 3 - Gather Dirt
Wearing: Dress and Mask
Tags: Morné Karn

Veyra came to a fluid stop before the large man. A faint smile appearing as he shared the same sentiment she felt about him.

“A dance would be lovely. I do feel quite out of place among these sort of people.” Her hand extended graciously as she glanced around the room.

More important faces had arrived and many were doing their own thing.

The idea of catching conversations mid dance and even spinning a few of her own tales after the dance came to mind. Elegance was her entire being, leaning into both her Echani and Sephi lineage despite the inherent need for combat from one side as she looked him over in a single glance.

“You seem the business type, I am surprised you aren't huddled in a group speaking of market values.”

 

[Braze]

Naboo
Tags: Braze

Epo-1, Lushi​

"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.

Tags: Loomi ​

Braze nodded softly. "Well... it'll probably feel weird at first. But most things that are somewhat new tend to feel funny... like wearing a ring for the first time. Eventually, you get used to it," Braze offered lightly as he led her through the dance, occasionally moving her in flourishing ways while remaining mindful of those around them.

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Pocket full of sunshine?
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian grinned, utterly undone by the sight of her laughter. It was bright and unrestrained, bubbling out of her until he couldn't help but join in. The sound of it wrapped around him like sunlight through clouds, softening everything sharp inside him. Stars, she looked beautiful when she laughed: her hair caught the moonlight, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling as if she'd just stolen the whole damn night and dared him to take it back.

He threw up his hands in mock surrender, still chuckling. "Alright, alright, I admit interpretive flailing may not be my true calling," he said, his grin crooked and boyish. "But you have to appreciate the dedication. I risked serious injury for that spin." When she poked his chest, warning him not to laugh, he clutched dramatically at his heart. "Laugh at you? Never," he promised, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "I am the very picture of restraint." He even straightened his expression, lips pressed in a far-too-serious line, though a grin kept threatening to break through. "On your brother's honor, Your Majesty."

But then she stood, her skirts catching the silver glow of the moons, and the teasing in his smile faltered just slightly. The light touched her like it was made for her. She swayed a little from the wine, poised and imperfect all at once, and it struck him in the chest how alive she looked. He leaned back, reaching for his glass, and drained what was left before setting it aside. His gaze never left her.

"Sing whatever you want," he said, softer now, his grin curving into something slower, more honest. "It doesn't have to be magnificent. Just... sing how you feel." He gestured vaguely toward his temple, his eyes tracing her in quiet wonder. "Give me a peek in there. Into whatever's spinning around that impossible head of yours."

The teasing tone lingered, but it was gentler now, threaded with tenderness. His smile deepened as he tilted his head, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "I'll be good. I'll listen. Promise."

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

House Serraris Estate Gardens
Location: I got a pocket, got a pocket full of sunshine!
Aurelian Veruna

Sibylla barked out a laugh so loud it startled a nesting bird from a nearby hedge.

"Right," she gasped between fits of laughter, bending slightly at the waist as her hand pressed against her stomach, "and I'm the very picture of scandalous vices."

An exagerated roll of her eyes and Sibylla straigtened, chuckles fading before giving a slight roll of her bare shoulders in contemplation.

"Hmm… sing how I feel," she mused, biting her lower lip as though genuinely considering it. Then her brow furrowed, and her head bobbed in a ridiculous rhythm as she tried to think of something suitably fitting.

"Catchy, he says.... Oh, I've got one!" she then cried out as a mischievous spark flared in her eyes. She quickly spun around, the cream silk of her skirt swirling in a flash of moonlight. With her back to him, she began humming a soft sound that grew into something playful and exaggeratedly dramatic. Her shoulders started to sway, then her hips, until she half turned just enough to shoot him a look over her shoulder, her hazel eyes gleaming with mock intensity.

And then she started singing, delivered with the kind of earnest, over-the-top emotion that could only come from someone several glasses deep into stolen wine and sheer joy.

"I got a pocket, got a pocketful of sunshine," she sang as she swayed side to side in exaggerated rhythm, her bare feet skimming through the moss. "I got a love, and I know that it's all mine.... ohhhh whoaaaa!"

She pointed both index fingers at him like blasters, grinning through her mock-serious delivery as she twirled around in a swirl of cream silk.

"Do what you want, but you're never gonna break me!" she belted next, her hands slicing dramatically through the air as if conducting a full orchestra. "Sticks and stones are never gonna shake me, nooo ooh-oohhh!"

By now she was practically dancing, spinning in loose giddy circles, her hair tumbling in soft waves as she went. The hem of her gown caught the light from the garden lamps, flashing pale gold as she sang the next line with all the conviction of a woman who had quite forgotten how to be proper.

"Take me awaaaaay, a secret plaaa-ace!" she sang, pitching her voice skyward as she lifted both arms high, her head tilting back toward the moons. "A sweet escaaaaape, take me away!"

But then the silliness of it all caused her steps to falter as she leaned dramatically toward him, voice lowering to a faux breathy murmur as she drew out the final words, "to a hiding place…"

The moment of silence that followed lasted barely a heartbeat before she cracked.

A laugh erupted from her so suddenly that she bent forward, clutching her stomach, her whole body shaking with it.

"Oh Shiraya, I can't believe I just did that," she gasped, still laughing uncontrollably. "That was terrible!"

 

[Bastila Sal-Soren]

“You’re the first person in a long while who’s had the nerve to tell me that.”
Her voice was light, but the humour sat low, buried somewhere between exhaustion and grace. The diamonds inlaid in her mask caught the chandeliers, scattering faint glints across her cheekbones like dusted silver. She looked up at him from the corner of her eye. “And I’ll have you know, I can be sweet if I need to be… in the way the sunlight is sweet after the first snowfall. Brief. Distant. Gone before you think to thank it.”

Her gaze followed the rise and fall of the waltz, that endless pattern of control pretending to be freedom. “What do I want?”

Bastila didn’t answer right away.

The question hung between, fragile and persistent, curling through the gold-lit air. The sound of the orchestra felt distant, dulled by the weight of truth pressing at the edges of her composure.

When she finally spoke, it was quiet, almost too quiet for the noise of the room.

“I want to be a Jedi.”

The words landed softly, simple, but they carried the ache of something confessed rather than declared. She didn’t look at him; her eyes stayed on the mirrored floor, where the chandeliers fractured into ghostly halos. “That’s the truth of it. I always have. Even now. Especially now.”

A breath. Then: “But it’s not the same thing anymore, is it?”

She straightened slightly, her reflection flickering against the marble; her mask, the gown, the silver sheen that cast the image of someone who looked like she belonged. “The Order teaches you to believe in light. To give everything for it. But you start to notice the cracks don’t you? How easily the light blinds as much as it guides. How the same people who preach serenity are the ones too afraid to look their own doubts in the eye.”

Her voice thinned into something tired but unwavering. “When my parents died Briana left me on…she sent me to Jakku. It was to keep me safe, keep me protected and I wanted to believe that reason and Force was reason enough. The cracks there threatened to consume me. They told me that if I gave everything to it; my family, my name, even my own choices, it would make sense of things. But it didn’t. They just saw another weapon they could use and I was expected to keep pretending it was fine.”

For a heartbeat, she fell quiet again. The faint music from the orchestra filled the space she left. When she spoke next, it was softer, an exhale rather than a statement.

“I still love it,” she admitted. “All of it. The teaching, the stillness, the promise that there’s something bigger than us holding the galaxy together. I just… don’t trust that the path is maybe the correct one.”

Finally, she looked at him, she really looked at him, and something steadier flickered in her gaze. “You asked what role I want. That’s it. To be what I was supposed to be, before everyone else decided who I am.”

A ghost of a smile found its way to her lips. “I suppose that’s my flaw. Still chasing the ideal long after the dream soured.”

She tipped her head slightly, the edge of her mask glinting as her tone regained its dry composure. “Now, if you quote that back to me later, I’ll deny every word.”

Then, quieter more to herself than him:
“Still… it would be nice to believe again.”

OUTFIT: XoXo | TAG: Lorn Reingard EQUIPMENT:

​

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Take me away
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian stared at her, stunned into silence for perhaps the first time in his life. The song, whatever century it hailed from, was absurd, triumphant, and utterly contagious. By the second "whoa," he'd lost all hope of keeping a straight face. His grin cracked open, laughter spilling out as he leaned back on his elbows, wine-warm and thoroughly undone.

"Oh, Shiraya," he managed between gasps, half-choking with laughter. "What is that? What century of madness did you just summon?" His voice was low and incredulous, but the sparkle in his eyes gave him away; he adored every second. She twirled again, and he lifted a hand in mock surrender, as though warding off some divine attack of joy. "I'm not sure whether to applaud or get on my knees. You might have just rewritten the concept of music."

When she finally broke down laughing, he was already on his feet, still grinning like a fool. He grabbed the bottle and tipped it toward her glass, refilling it before pouring more for himself. "You're done for now," he said, gesturing grandly toward her. "That's it. You can hand over the crown, for clearly your true calling has been revealed."

He took a sip, barely suppressing another laugh. "A royal bard," he went on, eyes gleaming as he studied her through the rim of his cup. "You, trailing behind me at court, singing about sunshine and sweet escapes while the nobles pretend not to be scandalized. I can see it now."

He lowered his glass, his smile softening as he watched her: her hair loose, cheeks flushed, and joy spilling unguarded across her face. The air between them hummed with it. "Where did you even learn that one?" he asked, teasing but curious, his voice dropping into something warm. "Don't tell me you've been hiding a secret repertoire of ancient anthems all this time."

Then, unable to resist, he began humming the tune himself, horribly off-key. "Take me awaaaay," he sang in exaggerated imitation, clutching his chest with mock sincerity. "I think it's stuck in my head forever now. Congratulations, Your Majesty... you've cursed me."

​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Bastila Sal-Soren​

Lorn rolled his eyes at her claim of being sweet. Maybe in some distant century, he thought. He hadn't seen a glimmer of it yet. Still, a faint lift touched the corner of his mouth, a hidden trace of warmth.

Her words spilled out, slow and deliberate, each one loosening something inside him. He recognized the conflict: the ache of faith turned fragile, the sting of realizing the Order wasn't what she thought it was. The honesty of it startled him. For all her sharp humor and bravado, she was suddenly standing there stripped bare, and it was a sight he hadn't expected.

He leaned back against the pillar beside her, crossing his arms loosely while he absorbed the confession. The food sat heavy now, settling in his stomach the same way her words settled in his chest. He nodded once or twice as she spoke, not just being polite, but because he truly understood. He had lived that life: the devotion and the disillusionment that followed. He knew the love that refused to die, even after the light dimmed.

When she finally went quiet, he exhaled, thoughtful. "Forget the Order for a second," he said quietly. "Forget your father, your siblings, all of it... what they taught you, what they took from you. Strip it down to just you." He turned his head slightly, his gaze steady but not unkind. "Why do you want to be a Jedi? What is it about the path that still pulls at you?"

He paused, letting the question breathe before adding, "Do you doubt the path because it's flawed, or because they made you feel like you were?" His tone was gentle and searching, not challenging. "There's a difference." Lorn looked away then, watching the dancers move beneath the chandeliers. His next words came quieter, almost to himself. "Being idealistic isn't a flaw. It's the part of you they couldn't train out. Maybe that's worth keeping."

He didn't look back at her right away. He only gave her space to decide if she wanted to answer.

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

House Serraris Estate Gardens
Location: You better not tell anyone!
Aurelian Veruna

Sibylla gave a gasp, her hand flying to her chest in mock offense although the laughter breathing through was already betraying her.

"You were not supposed to laugh!" she exclaimed, stepping forward with all the righteous indignation of a woman far too amused to be truly cross. She took the offered glass with one hand and promptly smacked his arm with the other, the gesture sharp but playful.

"You broke your promise," she declared, her tone somewhere between scandalized and delighted. "Now you owe me a favor, and I fully intend to collect."

When he laughed again, Sibyla made another valiant attempt to strike him, though whether Aurelian dodged or her coordination had simply surrendered to the effects of the wine was unclear. Either way, she ended up half laughing, trying her best not to spill her drink as she wagged a scolding finger at him.

"No backing out now, your word! A gentleman always keeps it."

Taking a delicate sip from her glass, she let the sweetness of the peach linger as she enjoyed it before continuing.

"Oh… that song. I received a singing hologram once, an utterly ridiculous gift from the Nabooan Youth Guild, and that was the melody they sent. It was terribly catchy. I found myself humming it for days."

Hazel eyes gleamed with mischief as she looked back at him, lips curling into a sly, knowing smile, stepping forward close enough so she had to tip her head back to peer at him with such a self-satisfied grin.

"Good. Now you shall never escape it either. It will follow you forever, turning up at the most inconvenient moments." She paused, feigning deep consideration before adding with a light, wicked lilt, "Perhaps during the next Security Council meeting. Imagine it, you, sitting there in all your dignified glory, suddenly plagued by thoughts of sunshine and secret holiday escapes."

She took another sip, eyes glinting over the rim of her glass as another laugh escaped her that was utterly full of infectious mirth.

"Truly, I could not have devised a finer punishment."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: A Menace
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian laughed so hard he nearly spilled his wine when her hand smacked his arm. "Ow, vicious!" he said, still grinning. Her laughter was sharp and bright, a sound he never wanted to forget. "You're a menace, you know that?" He staggered back a step, one hand raised in defense while the other kept his glass safe. "I swear I didn't laugh at you. I laughed with the sheer majesty of your performance." His voice broke mid-sentence from another snort. "Alright, fine. I broke my promise. But a favor? That's dangerous talk."

He tilted his head back, the grin he gave her lazy and wolfish. "And who ever told you I was a gentleman?" His tone dropped low, teasing, rich with mischief. "That sounds like a terrible misrepresentation of my character. You might have to file a complaint."

When she moved closer, he stayed put. Her face seemed to glow in the soft light, and he found himself caught: her eyes gleaming with mischief, her lips quirked in triumph. His heart felt warm and unsteady in his chest. "A punishment, is it?" he murmured, his voice dipping softer now, though the smile remained fixed on his face. "If that's what you call it, I'll take it gladly. I'll hum it through every meeting, every council briefing. Let them all wonder what secret happiness drives me mad."

He reached out then, steadying her glass with a light touch when it nearly tipped from her own laughter. "Careful," he said, quiet but fond. "It's far too fine a vintage to waste on the ground." His thumb brushed her wrist without thinking before he drew back, taking a long sip of his own wine.

The night air had cooled, the world dimmed to silver and shadow, but everything around her seemed alive. He leaned against the edge of the table, watching her through half-lidded eyes. "You know," he said, his voice softer now, the humor fading into something more earnest, "I've had a wonderful night tonight."

He smiled, lifting his glass slightly toward her, a teasing lilt to his voice. "You're terrible company, a dreadful singer, and possibly the most dangerous woman I've ever met." His eyes warmed, steady on hers. "But... I can't remember the last time I laughed like this."

​