Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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First Reply The Smuggler and the Flame

The Gilded Veil – Two Days After Sommer's Birthday

It was Kael's first full day in charge.

Not by ambition — but by obligation.

Sommer had gone on a rare vacation, forced by a select few of her closest people after what might've been her first real birthday party in a decade. There had been drinks, dancing, a Hapan firework display that singed a rooftop, and a drunk bounty hunter serenading her with a vibroguitar ballad. Sommer had actually smiled. Twice.

Then, as suddenly as she let herself enjoy it, she was gone — off-grid. One encrypted message to Kael:
"Don't burn the place down. Arq has the schedule. Try not to get shot."​
Which brought Kael here.

Standing behind Sommer's office desk, looking like a blaster left on safety — dangerous but slightly bored.

And then the door opened.​
 
"Good morning, Temporary Acting Executive Overseer of the Veil."

Enter Arqellus.

In tight crimson slacks, a semi-sheer floral cape, and silver boots that clicked louder than his words. His eyeshadow was golden. His mood? Radiant chaos.
 
Kael took a sip. Sweet. Spiced. Infused with something that shouldn't taste good but somehow did.

"I need to review payroll, security rotations, and check on the bar inventory."
 
Kael followed Arq through velvet hallways behind the club's inner stage. Soft ambient light and mirrored walls made everything feel surreal, but back here, the energy changed.

It was quiet. Focused.

A dozen dancers — all species, genders, and backgrounds — were warming up, stretching, laughing, applying makeup, and checking holoboards of music rotations.

Arq gestured toward them.

"These aren't toys. They're not spice dolls or pretty distractions. They're athletes, performers, shapeshifters of emotion. They're the Veil's beating heart."
 
Arq's smile faltered — briefly. "Used… responsibly. Voluntarily. And never forced."

He then leaned in. "Some of them were slaves. Some were soldiers. One of them used to be a Sith cultist — fabulous with the silks, by the way. But they're all survivors. And here, they're paid, respected, and protected."
 
A dancer — tall, willowy Zabrak named Selnari — paused near them. She nodded at Arq, then at Kael.

"Hey. You're the cousin, right?" she said.

Kael nodded. "Kael Virex."

Selnari smirked. "You dance?"

Kael chuckled. "I smuggle. Closest I've gotten to a dance is dodging blasterfire."

She arched a brow. "Same difference."

She twirled back to her group.
 
Arq gave Kael a knowing look.

"You want to protect them? Then know them. Know their tells. Their injuries. Their favorite lighting colors. Know when a patron is pushing too far even when they smile through it."
 
Arq turned serious — rare for him.

"I love them. They're mine. All of them. Not in the creepy Hutt way. In the I'd skin a spice lord with a butter knife if they tried to touch them wrong way."
 
Minutes later.....

The woman walked into The Gilded Veil like she owned gravity.

Hair: brunette, shoulder-length, glossy as obsidian glass.
Eyes: cool brown, almost amber, like they'd watched empires rise and found the experience amusing.
Outfit: a dark business-drape suit — corporate-cut, but customized to draw every eye.
Smile: all teeth and intent.


Kael saw her before she spoke a word. Watched the way patrons turned to follow her, how the shadows parted like she'd been here before — but she hadn't. He would've remembered.

She approached the bar like she was filing a claim, and the bartender didn't dare ask for her order.
Instead, she slid a datachip across the polished counter and murmured something that made him stiffen, then flick his eyes toward Kael's perch above.

Ten minutes later, she stood in Sommer's office, a glass of Corellian black-label whiskey in her hand — untouched.


Kael sat on the edge of the desk, arms folded, trying not to look like he was sizing her up even as he absolutely was.


"Ms. Therin Vos," she said, her voice smooth, every consonant sharpened for presentation. "Executive acquisitions for Cindrexus Holdings, Nar Shaddaa division."


Kael leaned back. "Acquisitions? Sounds like a fancy word for buying stuff people don't want to sell."


Therin grinned.


"And sometimes a word for helping people realize what they actually want."


She set the whiskey down without sipping, unfazed.


"I'm here on behalf of a very interested consortium. The Gilded Veil has… reputation, reach, and a deeply undervalued influence matrix. We think it's ready for a new phase."


Kael arched a brow.


"'Phase' makes it sound like you're turning it into a tax shelter or a factory."


She gave a low laugh.


"We'd preserve the brand, of course. Refine it. Elevate. Franchising options. Syndicate tie-ins. Exclusive patron models. Think galactic."


Kael's smirk flickered.


"Sommer doesn't think galactic. She thinks here."


"Sommer," Therin said slowly, "is not here."


And there it was.


The opening gambit.


The moment Kael realized exactly how carefully she'd picked her timing.
 

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