Public The Moonlight Masquerade [OPEN TO ALL]

[Reina Daival]

Tag: CT-312
Objective 1 - Moonlight Waltz

The complexities of a masquerade was lost on Reina. To her, it was just a simple fancy party where people wore masks. Physical ones at least. At the end of the day, no matter what party people were at, they were always wearing some form of mask. Some way to hide their true selves from others. It was why Reina felt like she didn't fit in this place. She was doing the opposite, Reina wasn't trying to hide who she was, she was just being....Reina. Simple as that. Nothing special.

It was almost amusing in the way that both the Stranger and Reina seemed to be looking off in the same direction, keeping an eye on what was going on. Why the Stranger was keeping an eye out over there, Reina didn't know but she knew her own reasons for keeping an eye on things. That somewhat familiar green monster she felt deep within herself. The Ersansyr ran a hand down her mask, letting out an exasperated sigh as she tried not to focus on that thought. It was rude to focus on something else whilst there was someone talking to you...Though of course, the stranger wasn't talking that much. In a way, it was comfortable. Silence could be comforting. At least as much silence as you could get in a ball, where people drank and dance together.

An eyebrow raised for a moment as the Stranger spoke about being extra insurance. Insurance huh? For who? And for what? Reina's eyes flickered amongst the guests in thought for a moment. There was the obvious answer. That the Stranger was insurance for the group they had been looking towards. But did they truly need insurance? All of this thinking was just making Reina's head throb. It wasn't what she was good at. And so Reina let that thought fade from her mind, staying silent as the Stranger then spoke about training. Asking what it was that Reina actually did. And what Reina did the best.

"Fishing is what I do best. But that helps no-one. I train with the Force. With Swords. With my hands. It's part of being a Jedi I suppose."

If she could even call herself a Jedi anymore. There was a part of her that was debating leaving the title behind. Doing her own thing as opposed to tying herself down to a specific organisation. The Jedi had helped Reina more than she could imagine, and she had always been afraid of leaving the group, out of fear of being a target to be captured...but by this point? Reina felt ready as if she could go off by herself. To wander the Galaxy and see what she could learn from people.

Yet another raised eyebrow came at the sight of "Rook" giving Reina a bow, even if it was only a small one. The Ersansyr had to stop the urge to chuckle that wanted to escape. The idea of someone bowing to her, even if it was just simple manners, was highly amusing. Reina leaned back against the wall, folding her arms along her front as she let her gaze flicker between the guests once more.

"Don't bow towards me. You don't need to. I will say though, if you think your battlefields are quite dark, you should see how dark it is below the waves of the ocean. Then again, the ocean is not commonly used as a place to battle. Almost as if soldiers are afraid of having a bath."

Spoiler: OOC Notes

: Means written/typed communication : < Means Sign Language communication >

 

[Jorryn Fordyce]

// Lady Jorryn Fordyce //
// Objective I // The Moonlight Waltz //
// Focus // // Corazona von Ascania //
// Attire //

---

---

Smack

The motion was swift and absolute, the natural reaction towards the unexpected gesture. It was no surprise, as the look of surprise and shock on the Jedi's face gave the action away before her hand ever moved. Jorryn had misstepped, given into her own temptations and drunken on the beauty of her companion's face.

But it had been wrong.

A hand caressed the growing redness on her face as she avoided turning back towards Corazona, a soft look of guilt upon her face as she stared downwards. The Echani couldn't tell if she regret it or not, the taste of the blonde's lips still upon hers and a dark red mark shining against her pink lips.

It had been nice, softer than most. But it was a kiss stolen, and Jorryn realised the error.

As her obfuscated eyes turned back towards the Ukatan, a redness stained her cheeks as she removed loose strands of hair. The woman was flustered, understandably so considering what had just happened. It was a justified anger, and yet she didn't seem as furious with Jorryn as was deserved.

It eased the Echani's own feelings somewhat as a regretful smile took her lips, guilt pulling down at it's edges.

"I'm sorry." The apology was more measured this time, sincere in its guilt. "I wasn't expecting to find you without your mask, much less to be as... to look the way you do."

The eyes followed Corazona's hand as it laid across her stomach, an instinctive reflex of a future mother in distress caring for the child she carried.

"I know, I could feel it when we..." The words trailed off, attempting to hide the shame of the moment. "That must be why you are so radiant, a woman in love and carrying child. I never had a chance."

She hoped humour might ease the moment, though internally she felt a different way. There was a touch of longing in the Sith's words as she discussed love and children, though the reason why was hidden quickly. There had never been a reason to open the dialogue of family in her life, and there never would be.

Perhaps that alone was why she had been drawn to Corazona.

"It was the scent of the flower wasn't it?" She chuckled as she knelt in front of the blonde woman, keeping away from the intimate distance they shared just seconds earlier. "I do intend on adjusting that to something more palatable before I send you some, Lady Von Ascancia."

Even as the smile crossed her lips, she failed to realise the error of naming the woman. It wasn't meant as a threat, or as some secret that she could manipulate later on, but simply the recognition of a woman she had seen through the holonet many times before.

The beacon of Jedi values in the galaxy, and here Jorryn was, hoping to steal a moment away with her.

She felt childish.

 

[Jael Amnen]

Her hand rested lightly in his for the briefest moment. Barely a feather’s weight of contact before she retrieved it, as though she feared to smudge the charm he wore so openly. The smile that followed was one of polite amusement, yet her eyes carried the subtle gleam of one who had heard a jest twice before and knew it for what it was...a performance.

“Luck can be a cruel dance partner, Mister Tesar,” she said at last, brushing an invisible crease from her gown as she regained her composure. “But I admire any man who can spin misfortune into conversation.”

Her tone carried the soft, lilting accent of the Lake Country, every word deliberate, poised somewhere between courtesy and play. She could have dismissed him with a turn of the shoulder, yet she lingered. Whether from curiosity or calculation, it was difficult to tell.

He was trying very hard to be ordinary. That alone made him interesting.

The edges of her mask caught the ballroom’s golden light as she tilted her head. “As for armaments…” she began, the corners of her lips curving faintly, “I wish a gentlemen’s wit to be far sharper than their blades. I trust yours is measures up to expectations?”

The exchange had taken on the rhythm of a waltz, each line a measured step, each glance an adjustment in tempo. Beneath the surface, the air between them hummed with the faintest static, not tension exactly, but recognition. An unseen current passed, one Force-touched presence brushing another. Yet her expression betrayed nothing.

Jael lowered her gaze demurely, the picture of Nabooan grace. “You have the manner of one who has worked too hard to rest easily,” she said softly, almost idly, as though remarking on the weather. “Do take care, Mister Tesar. The evening is young, and there are gentler collisions yet to come.”

A small nod followed, delicate as a bow. Whether dismissal or invitation, even she did not entirely say. Her silver eyes, veiled by filigree, lingered only a heartbeat longer before she turned back toward the glittering crowd — the faintest smile still ghosting her lips.

Trayze Tesar​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora kept a hand steady on her stomach. It was a grounding motion, one she'd taken to doing while stressed, or even just absently. It almost seemed in vain, as it was far too early to feel anything.

But in the Force, there was a tiny, flickering flame. A heartbeat. A little presence that twined around her own soul.

"You could feel it…?"

Cora's head lifted sharply, brow furrowed in surprise. "No," she affirmed, with a feeble attempt to stay the bitterness from her voice. "You didn't."

There was a subtle tension in her jaw as her back teeth clenched together. It was always nice being appreciated, but she'd come to find courtship nauseating. Her visage was like her title - another aspect that made her an appealing pawn in a game she hated playing. A game that her father had been willing to sacrifice her to, as he moved other pieces around the board for his own ambition.

Perhaps, though, the kiss had only been a lapse of judgement. While that thought wasn't exactly soothing, it did dampen her raised hackles.

That was, until her name left painted lips and moved through her before she had a chance to properly register the implication. Cora stilled, frozen and stiff as if she'd been struck by lightning. And in a way, she had.

Slowly, her head turned toward the black crystal lattice she'd laid against the garden wall. The gems caught the low lantern light, bathed in a warm glow that she would've found beautiful if her heart hadn't been jackhammering a mile a minute.

Fool! She hissed to herself. What was the point of wrestling herself into such a complicated mask if she was only going to remove it?

"Don't," she muttered. "Don't send me anything. Forget you saw me. Forget that we…"

Cora reached for her mask and took a slow step back. Even in the low lighting, the crimson flush shone easily on pale cheeks.

"I should go."

It was a declaration spoken with finality, but it wasn't cold. Threads of guilt wove themselves into her tone, bleeding into her expression as she looked to Jorryn.

Sith were tricky. Sith were clever. They twisted themselves into whichever shapes you found appealing, not unlike vipers that slithered through noble courts. And while Cora didn't sense any overt deception, she could still be fooled.

"I don't approve of how you've made them, but the flowers are…interesting. Useful, even. But the Dark has a way of poisoning everything it touches, whether you can see that or not," she muttered.

Cora took another step back, rubbing a thumb along the line of crystals. She gave Jorryn one last look, something between restrained curiosity and discontent. It was a pity that things had unfolded in the way that they had. The Echani was lovely, and a fine conversationalist.

In another life, perhaps they could've been friends.

"It always does."

Then, she fled into the night.

Jorryn Fordyce

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

Fatine von Ascania ​

Cassian’s brows lifted, not in disbelief but in faint, amused admiration. “Ten?” he echoed, letting the number hang in the air like a toast of its own. “That explains it. You’ve been fighting for attention your entire life, no wonder you’re so adept at commanding a room.”

He took a small sip of his drink, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as his gaze lingered on her over the rim of the glass. “I can hardly imagine what kind of chaos that must have been. My mother would have declared planetary exile after the fourth.”

Setting his glass down, he smirked and nodded. “And yes, you’re right.” he admitted, that smooth composure returned with a faint glimmer of self-awareness. “Older brother. One younger sisters, one brother. Which, I suppose, makes me an expert in the art of patience.”

The teasing cadence in his tone resurfaced, warm and edged all at once. “You’ve got that same spark, Lady Fatine. The one that wants to be seen, but not entirely understood. It’s… familiar.”

He took another sip, slower this time, before setting the glass aside. “Ten siblings.” he mused again, shaking his head lightly. “You must have learned diplomacy early. Or perhaps selective hearing.” His smirk widened slightly, the faintest trace of laughter touching his voice. “Though something tells me you were not the quiet one in the bunch.”

Cassian’s gaze softened just a little, the edges of his usual sharpness blurring beneath the lanternlight. “Still, there’s something admirable in it. In big families, you don’t get the luxury of being invisible. You either stand your ground, or you’re swept along by the current. And you.” he said, tilting his head, “Don’t strike me as the type who likes to be swept anywhere.”

He reclined slightly, the faint glint of challenge back in his eyes. “Tell me, then, being one of ten… how does someone like you make sure she’s heard above all the rest?”

 

[Fatine von Ascania]

"Heard?" Fatine frowned in thought. Cassian's question bothered her, and that in turn felt…surprising. She wasn't sure why, but she did know that this time, it wasn't exactly his fault.

Maybe it was because she didn't exactly have an answer.

"Ukatian women aren't supposed to be heard," she scoffed. "At least not the noblewomen. At least not the ones in my family."

Another swig of wine, and she rolled her eyes. Not for his question, but for the complicated mix of feelings that it kicked up. Fatine didn't like feeling complicated.

"Nobody really cared for what I had to say, and being loud only got you scolded. It was all…learning to be a proper Lady. Someone's future wife." Painted lips pinched as she recalled the endless arguments she'd had with her governess, always being compared to her elder sister who seemed to thrive in that sort of lifestyle.

"So when my brothers went to war and my father died, there wasn't much holding me back. I decided to do whatever I wanted. I don't care if they don't hear me, as long as I get to live my life on my terms."

Fatine hummed, a satisfied noise that came from somewhere deep in her chest. The glass tilted to her lips, and she indulged in a long, slow sip of wine.

"How about you," she asked after lowering her drink. "You're definitely the type to watch after your younger siblings. Don't they give you heartburn?"

Cassian Abrantes

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Darkest-sider disguised as a young girl, donning destructive Potions hidden within crystal buttons sewn about her dress.

Suddenly, the Matriarch froze…and her attention turned towards another thing that she became utterly and uncontrollably intrigued by, Jack Sandrow a mysterious being in appearance.

The young lady had no sooner asked one man to dance, then immediately turned her face away from the two men she had previously chosen to entertain herself with, without any further word to them. She walked out the main doors of the ballroom toward her new discovery. She thought, 'How beautiful.' What else would the great and intergalactic notorious Potions' Mistress think, seeing such a unique creature walking around and talking?!

She suddenly forgot all about why she came here at all. She could hound the leader of the Mandalorians another time. Dathomir will kill them all if she tells it to..

She wasn't aware if she seemed captivated. Tonight is like a free pass to simply live without restrictions, and keep politics out of the mix.

The Young lady, her appearance far from her natural…undead beauty, she stepped gingerly down the stone steps of the patio and floated right up to the one who made her forget who she is, perhaps due to its fragrance or pheromones put into the air. Whatever it is, she stopped caring at all about anything else, aside from wanting to meet. This sort of attraction usually only happens in her dreams.

"Hello there," she said quite softly. Her tongue was tied for anything else to say at the moment. She peered deeply into the beastie's eyes, awaiting an answer.

​

 

[Jack Sandrow]

Location: The Moonlight Waltz
Objective: Socializing & Schmoozing
Equipment: Just a tailored suit and mask (and the Leaves)

---

Jack had quietly faded back into the brush a while back; people had paired off long before he had showed up, and he wasn't about to step on any toes, mask or not. It was more fun to watch from a distance, and enjoy the occasional pratfall.

But the vibes of the evening had shifted, as the night grew deeper and the overall moods began to shift. Jack found himself shifting along with it, and his meandering had drawn him back indoors. A quick refill was in order, and now here he stood, mingling with the other faceless and quietly tapping a foot to the slow music.

He wasn't even aware he had been spoken to until he noticed someone had come up to him and had indeed spoken to him. "Ah - hello!" he smiled, eyes twinkling. "Almost didn't see you there." The smile quirked into a bit of a grin. "You alright? Nexu got your tongue?"

---

Pom Stych Tivé

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Darkest-sider disguised as a young girl, donning destructive Potions hidden within crystal buttons sewn about her dress.

If Jack Sandrow could see her brain neurons firing, he might discover a series of stars had begun to flutter before her eyes after he returned a greeting.

'Nexu,' she thought at his remark regarding her tongue being tied, 'nails boiled into a paste for cohesion, hip bone dried and ground with the pâté of one thousand salamander livers for purification of…' Her mind raced with it's magickal uses.

Mesmerized, the Potions Mistress' mind reeled with the marvelous possibilities that lie before her. This unique and beautiful plant-ish creature thingy…hybrid with it's marrow, bone, hair, cells, corneas, sputum…anything that could be the key component to unlock a number of physiological potions' miracles! It's LIVING! Which means necessary substances are ripe for the picking!! She raised a corner of her upper lip slightly to initiate a, sort of, dumbfounded smile.

This never happens. She is an encyclopedia of knowledge, eons old, and never before came across a creature that she knows absolutely nothing about! Her expression fell to one placid, and her mouth slightly slipped agape with awe.

A subtle, "uh-huh," slipped from her throat, and nothing more.

Maybe she could just ask him? Likely not!
​

 

[Jack Sandrow]

Location: The Moonlight Waltz
Objective: Socializing & Schmoozing
Equipment: Just a tailored suit and mask (and the Leaves)

---

Jack chuckled softly at that, the grin blossoming fully. "Ah hah... heh. Then may I get you a drink, or something to your liking?" She was the one that came up to him, after all. Whatever helped ease her into conversation. "This way?" he asked, gesturing towards the wineglasses to the side, offering a hand as well for her to take.

He took one for himself as well, sipping politely as he studied her. She was a good foot-and-a-half shorter than him, and the passive Force energy radiating off her (what little he could sense, anyway) was a curious mixture of Dark and Light and all the hues in between. Very curious indeed. "So... what brings you to the Masquerade? if you can tell me, of course. Bumping elbows and trading secrets? or are you... mm, more of the 'slip something potent into someone's drink to see what secrets they spill of their own accord' type of lady?" he smirked.

---

Pom Stych Tivé

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Darkest-sider disguised as a young girl, donning destructive Potions hidden within crystal buttons sewn about her dress.

A genuinely amused smile flourished at what was asked. It was like, he was on one hand, knowing exactly what she would like to admit aloud to people, while his second option was the real intentions she felt were better left unsaid ever, to anyone. Her eyes sparkled while she thought, 'WOW! He is a brave one!'

She returned a subtle nod, but did not signify which of his two options where her style. "Well, not everyone is worth the bother," she did say and she meant it, lucky for almost everyone, and not so much for far fewer. To her, the universe is filled with its masses of almost everyone leading a mundane and aimless existence, and real people who truly live. Then there is the dark ideology,- most unpopular with the masses and those real people who hold to a morality welcome to commune with extreme divine energies, polar opposite her own comfort zone,- her belief that every creature can be utilized for the greater good of the deepest darkness.

She asked, "And yourself?"



​

 

[Jack Sandrow]

Location: The Moonlight Waltz
Objective: Socializing & Schmoozing
Equipment: Just a tailored suit and mask (and the Leaves)

---

Jack's eyes widened slightly behind his own mask. He had meant it in jest, but apparently had somehow gotten it correct in one?? Best be a little more tactful, then.

"...indeed," he murmured, sipping the wine with a wry smile. He didn't yet taste anything untoward in his own glass...... yet... heh. "A good terroir is wasted on most."

He gestured out to the crowd at her own question. "More of the former for myself. You would be surprised - well, perhaps not you, specifically - at how free peoples' tongues get once they've been sufficiently plied with alcohol. Add a level of risk and risqué at a (superficially) anonymous event like this, and you get some really tasty tidbits to hang onto. For those with ears to hear," he grinned, and threw back the last of his glass.

"For instance, and purely as an example," he continued, "I have it on good authority that a few purses are just a bit lighter than they were when they arrived."

---

Pom Stych Tivé

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Darkest-sider disguised as a young girl, donning destructive Potions hidden within crystal buttons sewn about her dress.

She had taken hold of the drink, but she merely held onto it as they strolled. She would wait for the recipient hoarder of her attention to finish with his drink first, then graciously excuse herself from joining him in the specific behavior. She would not torture her unborn with such indulgences, although Darth Carnifex 's child would learn to master the art of poisoning survival by age 4. She would never rush such lessons on her precious little zygote.

She thought her disguise thorough enough, but Jack Sandrow seems to have an intuition about her. She did not anticipate someone would be keen enough to pick up on her Sorcery, to call her minions from the underworld and put them to work locating the person she is seeking. 'So much for anonymity,' she thought. But she felt an attraction…and really didn't care that Jack openly implied to have her figured out. She couldn't know he had only been joking. On top of taking him for his word, her jinn began screaming at her that he might not be wholly honest with her at the moment. His presence did not make her want to puke, so…

She smiled casually regardless of his ongoing jest.

Either he just mentioned that he witnessed pick-pocketing going on, which she would not doubt, or he meant to share that he has overheard business and political deals being forged; kind of what she is after with the Mandalorian Alor. She thought perhaps a bit of both could be going on. Her own handbag is enchanted to literally physically conceal her goodies to any layman without the specific, but extremely quick, incantation.

She has difficulty hearing her jinn over the raging of her feminine hormones, so she decided to flat out ask, "Have you heard talk about the Mandalorians being present? Did you happen to discover who they might be?" She wants to size up Aether Verd .

​

 

[Jack Sandrow]

Location: The Moonlight Waltz
Objective: Socializing & Schmoozing
Equipment: Just a tailored suit and mask (and the Leaves)

---

"Mandalorians?" He pretended to think for a minute, but he knew all too well that there were Mandalorians here. Mandalorians and masquerades went together about as well as nitro and glycerine, with approximately the same result. A culture that prided themselves on showing their true selves by hiding their physical faces? An event like this would be irresistible.

Certainly was irresistible, to a lot of Mandalorians.

"...certainly there are several around. I doubt I'd be much help in locating any specific one, if I'm honest, unless you know what they look like out of the helmet." He was being truthful, actually; he didn't keep up with the state of affairs of most politics, so the significance of the name 'Aether Verd' was entirely lost on him. "Lots of text and subtext, accusations and insults, flirtations and entendres." He turned to her, intrigued. "May I ask why you wanna know?"

---

Pom Stych Tivé