Dominion TINY UMBRELLAS || ME Dominion of Zeltros

[Adelle Bastiel]

Yacht Party
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes | Aurelian Veruna

Sibylla's composure cracked almost as soon as Adelle had finished speaking. A snort, followed by mild choking--as long as she's making noise, I don't need to intervene--which devolved into laughter. It was the infectious kind, especially after strong drinks. Adelle felt her crooked grin widen, feeling quite pleased with herself that she'd made the Queen of Naboo choke with laughter.

Adelle watched as Aurelian waxed into a tragic figure worthy of a Coruscanti stage play. Truly, Naboo loved drama.

When he opened his shirt a little more, mischief gleaming in his eyes, Adelle raised an eyebrow. "Careful, Aurelian. You'll have Mandalorians asking you to joust them if you open that shirt any more."

She raised her glass in return, her own smile nothing but sass. "This time, make it a challenge. It was all too easy that last 'round.' After all . . ."

Adelle knelt a moment and Phantom leapt nimbly up onto her shoulders, draping herself around Adelle's neck like a stole and purring.

"You are going up against a professional at being impossible to ignore. I'd hate for the war for Naboo to end so . . . anticlimactically."

Somewhere else on the ship there was splashing and cheers, mingling with the music. Mild curiosity arose to see what her vod were getting into now, but so long as she didn't hear anything exploding, she assumed things were fine. And she'd already warned them plenty about sun block so if they got burned, that was on them as far as she was concerned.

"I will say, in another life, you could have done quite well as an actor."

 

[Renn Vizsla]

Tag: Sibylla Abrantes | Aurelian Veruna | Adelle Bastiel




The shuttle skimmed low across the darkening water, spray misting up and clinging to Renn’s bare shins. Ahead, the yacht floated like a drifting lantern, gold lights strung along its rails, music spilling softly across the waves, silhouettes moving on the upper deck. Laughter carried faintly over the sound of engines.

Renn stood in the open side door, red Hawaiian shirt snapping in the wind, the flower lei bouncing lightly against his collarbone. The tiny Basilisk-patterned swim trunks were bright enough to shame the stars. He still wasn’t sure how he’d been talked into them.

Zeltros. It always won its battles.

As the shuttle angled in, he spotted familiar shapes on deck, postures he’d learned to recognize even at a distance. The way one figure lounged with practiced ease, the elegant tilt of another’s head, the relaxed poise of a third with something small and furred draped across her shoulders. Their laughter had an ease to it he could feel even from here.

It was… good. They deserved that kind of evening.

The shuttle kissed softly against the yacht’s hull. Renn stepped off onto polished decking, the wood warm beneath his bare feet. The lantern light washed over him, shirt, lei, trunks, sea salt still drying on his skin. He caught the lingering scent of fruit from his earlier drink, or perhaps from the glass still clutched loosely in his hand.

The deck’s gentle sway surprised him. No armor. No boots. No weight dragging him into the earth. Just the rhythm of water and the bright hum of a party somewhere behind him on the shore.

He paused near the railing, taking in the scene without interrupting it. The yacht felt different from the beach, quieter, warmer, a space carved out for conversation instead of chaos. Lanterns flickered in the breeze. Someone had set out drinks with tiny umbrellas on a nearby table, their colors almost mocking in their cheerfulness.

Renn felt the tension in his shoulders loosen another fraction.

This wasn’t a battlefield. Not one he needed to fight, anyway.

He adjusted the lei, still not used to the sensation of flowers brushing his sternum, and stepped forward onto the deck proper. He didn’t announce himself; he didn’t need to. His presence carried far enough on its own. Instead he let the moment open naturally, let the others see him when they did, let the shift in attention roll over him like another gentle wave.

A Mandalorian Warmaster arriving to a yacht party in a ridiculous shirt and worse swimwear.

Stars help him.

But the breeze was warm, the night was young, and for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel like he needed to brace for impact.

Whatever came next, conversation, drinks, teasing, diplomacy wrapped in laughter, he’d meet it head-on. The way he always did.

Renn crossed fully into the lanternlight, the yacht rocking calmly beneath him, and felt a rare, honest thing settle in his chest.

He could do this.

He could allow himself this.

The galaxy could wait.

Just a little longer.​

 

[Reina Daival]

Tag: Cali Ziiva
Objective: Beach

"I mean...the Black Sun isn't all that bad. There's criminals everywhere you look. If you think about it, they at least keep crime more organised. In a way, that makes the "little guys" safer, right? A big organisation like that isn't going to care about some store. But a small-time gang? They'd do plenty of smash and grabs."

Of course, the only reason why Reina was even saying that was because of the jobs she was occasionally taking for the Black Suns. It wasn't as if she was doing the jobs as Reina. She had an...alternate identity she used for those kind of jobs, alongside a disguise. At the same time however, she could understand the dislike towards the Syndicate. All in all however, she saw the same fault with the Syndicate as she did with most of the other Galactic Superpowers.

"I don't really...do friends. I push people away. Be it directly or indirectly. It's a struggle honestly. Part of me wants to know people. Whereas the other part wants to close myself off. It's like a game of tug of war, with me being the rope."

The bubbly tone Cali had was...something Reina still wasn't sure if she'd be able to get used to it. In fact, she might be the most energetic person Reina had spoken to. Not even Everest was this bubbly. Though Reina tilted her head in thought at Cali's question, raising a finger to her chin.

"Training. Be it with swords. Lightsabers. My hands. Exercise. Fishing. Been tryin' to get into cooking. There's...more that I'm probably not thinking about. What about you? What does Cali like to do? You said you enjoy mechanics, right?"

​

 

[Aselia Verd]

Wearing: A black bikini
Objective: Relax

The shuttle touched down with a low hum, and the scent of salt and sun-warmed air hit Aselia before the ramp had even finished lowering. For once, there was no metallic tang of ozone, no blaster fire in the distance just the rhythmic crash of waves and the hum of laughter carried on a soft sea breeze.

She stepped down slowly, blinking against the light. Zeltros was surreal. Even after all the battlefields, ruins, and endless stretches of cold space, this planet had a pulse that was entirely its own alive, indulgent, impossible to ignore.

Aselia had left her armor behind. Her hair, usually bound tight under a helmet, was tied back in a loose ponytail, the golden strands catching the sunlight. The black bikini she wore was simple functional, but flattering with a light, sheer wrap around her hips that fluttered in the warm wind. Her lightsaber was tucked away in a small canvas satchel slung over her shoulder, buried beneath a towel and a bottle of sunscreen. Just in case.

The idea of a “beach party” felt foreign but after everything on Atrisia and beyond, a break wasn’t the worst thing in the galaxy.

She made her way down the path toward the beach proper, the music growing louder with every step. Laughter, the faint chime of glasses, Zeltrons dancing barefoot in the surf it was chaos of another kind, bright and harmless.

“Zeltros really doesn’t do quiet, do they?” she muttered, half to herself.

Her commlink buzzed in her bag Kes, her droid, pinging in with a single chirp. She smirked faintly, lowering her voice. “Relax, Kes. I’m not getting into trouble. Yet.”

A Zeltron in a floral shirt waved from one of the tiki huts, calling out with infectious enthusiasm, “Hey there, gorgeous! First time on Zeltros? You’ve got that ‘fresh off the ship’ look! Drink’s on the house if you promise to smile!”

Aselia laughed softly under her breath. “We’ll see about that,” she said, making her way over, bare feet sinking into the warm sand.

For once, there was no battle waiting. No mission. No orders.

Just the ocean, the laughter, and a galaxy that for one rare, fragile moment wasn’t trying to kill her.

​

TAG: OPEN

​

 

[Cali Ziiva]

​

Beach!

"Uh, I guess, but I'm concerned about their Slave Market, honestly." Cali turned her head to look down the length of the beach again. "There are a lot of cuties here that some Boss might think to sell into slavery. Any time a galactic government in the Rim fails that's usually what starts to happen with the Twi'lek. I gotta make sure no one stops smiling on Zeltros."

Bright eyes swung back to Reina when she followed up regarding friendship. "Ooh, yeah. I kinda understand, but not really. I'm a very outgoing gal, I'm told, but I know not everyone is." Cali paused and looked up toward the sky for a moment with a hum. "I think, what's important, is that you try, you know? Not every day, but often. Maybe slowly at first. Sure, I mean, there'll be mistakes. It might even feel extremely weird or embarrassing with little butterflies in your belly. But keep at it. Treat it like any other skill -- the more you use it, the less you have to think about using it."

"Me?" Cali asked as if she hadn't thought Reina would ask. "Ooh, well, yeah, mechanics. I fix anything that involves technology. I've even invented or built a number of droids, generators, transportation systems... Thankfully I don't sell a lot of weapons any more. Used to be a thing long ago back when I was getting started in the verse. And then, sometimes, I practice with the lightsaber too. You'd be surprised how often a cutie like me has to whip it out to defend herself or others."

"If you want to spar with a sword later, I'm down. Nothing says that can't be fun with the right partner!"

Reina Daival

 

[Reina Daival]

Tag: Cali Ziiva Aselia Verd
Objective: Beach

"What about teaching them to train themselves? I know it won't solve everything. And...there's probably a fair few Zeltron who wouldn't even dare to wield a weapon...but it's better than being helpless. Trust me. I know a lot about being helpless to fight against something."

There wasn't any elaboration. Reina didn't want to go into it, just saying that she could understand the feeling. The way that Cali was explaining how to be more social made sense. That didn't make it any easier for her unfortunately. Treating it like every other skill was easier said than done. Reina was good at what she was good at. Bad at what she was bad. There was no inbetween for her. Though it seemed that Reina was much better at being social than she expected, going off the fact that Cali seemed surprised that Reina had asked what she liked.

"Yes. You. And...I can get not wanting to sell weapons. I found my sword in some underwater ruins...The only thing I plan on makin' myself is a pair of earrings...to give it to someone as a present."

The idea of having another sparring partner was one that brought an honest smile to her face...before Reina stopped mid-step. There was a voice. A familiar voice. Another benefit of having became an Ersansyr, tunes and noises came far easier to her, as the Ersansyr's head snapped over towards a...not familiar sight whatsoever. The sight of Aselia Verd . Could it be?...In the past, she would have ignored the idea in her head, but there was something about being on Zeltros, and having Cali's bubbly nature next to her that made Reina decide to investigate.

Grabbing the Zeltron by the wrist, Reina dragged her off in the direction of the other redhead. Sure, she could have just told Cali to follow but...Reina wasn't thinking about that. She was on a one track state of mind as she stopped right in front of Aselia, looking down at her.

"You. I recognise you. Well...Not you. Your voice."

​

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

BYOO - Yacht Party​

Location: Zeltros
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes | Adelle Bastiel

Aurelian went still at the word joust. He set his drink down with ceremonial gravity.

"Adelle," he said slowly, "I need you to understand something vital. I will absolutely, without hesitation, get myself challenged to a Mandalorian shirtless jousting match if you keep saying things like that."

He paused, considered, then added with a frown of self-awareness: "And worse, I'll win. Which is dangerous, because then they'll want a rematch, and suddenly I'm part of some ancient cultural rite involving spears, fire, and… probably feathers? Mandalorians have feathers somewhere. I'm certain of it." Her smirk said she was certain of him, which was somehow worse.

"You wound me, Adelle of Clan Phantom. I gave you my full tragic suffering and the cat barely even had to try." Phantom, sprawled across her shoulders like she owned both of them, flicked an ear at him. Aurelian squinted at the creature. "You're enjoying this too much." Phantom purred louder.

He huffed, leaning closer with the practiced ease of a man who'd been born knowing how to be looked at. "You think you've beaten me?" he asked, voice dropping into that dangerously smooth hum. "You think the war for Naboo is already over?" He jerked his chin toward the distant cheers. Mandalorians were definitely competing over something involving a rope and a floatation device shaped like a bantha.

"My people invented drama," he reminded her. "We breathe it. We season our food with it. Children in Theed learn to fake-cry before they learn how to walk." He lifted his glass again, eyes glittering with challenge. "Round two won't be polite." Then, because he couldn't help himself, he added with a smug little hum: "And if Mandalorians want to joust me, fine. But I expect flowers afterward. I'm old-fashioned like that."

​

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Yacht Party
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes | Aurelian Veruna | Renn Vizsla | Open

The half-dressed Chancellor set down his glass with such gravity that, if Adelle hadn't been an empath, she might have actually thought he was serious. As it was, her eyes glittered with amusement as she took a drink.

"So it's that easy?" she said. "I'll keep that in mind."

He then went on about his imagined future, delving back into the dramatic again. Adelle quietly took another sip, thoroughly enjoying whatever tragic suffering Aurelian seemed to think necessary. What good was cleverness if no one reacted to it? And he reacted so well, this was rapidly becoming an addictive game.

Aurelian's eyes narrowed as he accused the spukami of enjoying herself too much. Phantom purred louder and as if to add insult to injury, opened her mouth in a wide, lazy yawn, stretching out one paw. Adelle felt a vague impression come from Phantom, of watching something small and dumb prance about, oblivious to the predator watching.

"You have no idea how much."

"Over? No, I've had many a battle of wits with men like you, although I hate fighting unarmed opponents," Adelle said, the heat of alcohol now warming her veins. "They never know when to concede and tend to draw things out. Sure, Naboo might have invented drama. But my people invented trouble and the Mandalorians have only perfected that."

She felt Warden Vizsla's approach more than saw it, turning and giving a nod in greeting. Adelle supposed she should be more diplomatic with more important people showing up, but she couldn't help herself.

"Sorry, we're fresh out of flowers. I hope a bouquet of vibroknives will do. Or explosives, but those are usually reserved for proposals."

Wait, was Warden Vizsla wearing swim trunks with tiny Basilisks on them?

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Y A C H T * P A R T Y
Interacting with: Aurelian Veruna | Adelle Bastiel Renn Vizsla
Items: x x x x x

Sibylla wiped at her hands with a damp napkin one of the attendants hastily offered, still laughing beneath her breath as she stepped toward the bar. The Zeltron sun shimmered off the water, bright enough to make the yacht's polished chrome gleam, and the sound of Mandalorian voices mixing with music made the entire deck feel effortlessly alive.

The bartender, already familiar with her earlier order by Aurelian, lifted the bottle in silent question. Sibylla nodded, amused at how quickly she was becoming predictable.

While he prepared the drink, she glanced back toward the others. Aurelian was still edging away from Phantom as if the spukami were a tiny, elegant vornskr. Adelle looked far too entertained. And Phantom herself had seated primly in the perfect spot to observe everything, regal as any Naboo monarch.

Sibylla shook her head, biting back another small laugh.

The bartender passed her the refreshed drink. She took a careful sip, then turned back toward the group, weaving through sun-warmed Mandalorians already exploring the deck and having a good time.

She slowed mid-step as a familiar tall figure drew her attention. It was Warden Renn Vizsla . She waved her hand at him, welcoming and saying hello.

It was just about that time that another attendant drew her attention. Her expression turned serious for a moment, and she gave a subtle nod.

Returning to Aurelian and Adele, while Sibylla could not hear what they were saying, she could certainly see the silent comedy of it. Aurelian pointed subtly toward Phantom, gesturing with the grave solemnity of someone acknowledging an enemy far more powerful than anticipated. Phantom responded by grooming her paw in absolute indifference.

Sibylla's lips twitched, and she had to press her fingers to her mouth to try not to start laughing all over again.

As she stepped closer, she caught only the final snippets of Adelle's voice drifting her way:

"…in another life, you could have done quite well as an actor."

Sibylla stopped, staring at them for half a heartbeat before a soft, helpless laugh escaped her.

"Well.. you are not wrong. He is built for the pomp and drama of the stage." Sibylla declared as she approached, giving Aurelian a side eye glance that said she noticed the extra flashing of skin.

Really? Her expression shot at his direction in amused exasperation.

None the less her gaze warmed as she inclined her head toward Adelle.

"Thank you for keeping him humble," she murmured, her tone light and grateful. Then she dipped her head toward Phantom, offering the regal spukami a respectful smile.

"And you, my lady, seem to be enjoying your newfound influence."

Phantom blinked, slowly and imperiously.

Sibylla turned back to Adele with a soft laugh, brushing a loose chestnut curl behind her ear.

"Alright. I apologize, but I must take the Chancellor away to mind the rest of the festivities... A slight matter came up that requires our attention. It has been a pleasure, Adele, and the same to you, Phantom."

She turned and gestured over towards Warden Vizsla.

"Warden Vizsla! Do come keep Adelle and Phantom company! I'll see if I can get an attendant to get your a drink."

 

[Warpriest Prime]

​

O B J E C T I V E | Party on The Beach
L O C A T I O N | Manda Shore Camp
S W I M S U I T | [X]

Vytal Noctura

O P E N​

Dima nodded along to Vytal's remarks about gods and desserts as if the Witch had just spoken some profound cosmic truth. "Mmhm...yes, yes... they don't need them at all! Which means more for us!" she agreed, even as her tongue slowly swept across one fang in hungry anticipation of the sweets she'd demanded from her servant. Her tail thumped once in the sand, heavy, content, serpentine as she reclined deeper into her nest of cushions. The massive appendage instinctively burrowed into the warm beach like a burrowing beast claiming the heat for itself.

She took another long, indulgent drag from her hookah. The smoke came out shimmering and iridescent, drifting lazily into the Zeltron sky. But even that soothing exhale couldn't hide how distracted she'd become, how often her five eyes kept darting toward Vytal and then away again as if caught doing something scandalous.

Dima very nearly tied her tail in a knot trying not to be obvious.

She noticed Vytal's hesitation when the Witch eyed the pipe. Immediately, Dima brightened, eager to reassure, eager to be trusted, and slid it gently into her hands. "O-oh no, nothing spooky!" she insisted, ears flicking. "Just smooth, relaxing. Very normal. If anything weird happens, the gods can smite me right here~" She struck a playful pose and then immediately ruined it by sneaking another full-body glance at Vytal in her swimsuit. Her eyes lingered a little too long before she forced them up at the sky, at the waves, at a random cloud, anywhere but directly at the Witch's hips.

Her fluster didn't escape Vytal. And when the Witch leaned in, close enough for Dima to feel the brush of her aura, her breath caught. The teasing question 'Only stare?' hit harder than any Echani strike ever had. Dima blinked, all five eyes widening as her ears fluttered like startled butterflies. She bit her lip, cheeks warming into a deep blue. "W-well...y-yes," she admitted, voice dropping into something soft, honest. "No one ever really...asks. I always have to take theirs first..." And there it was. The truth. Heavy as a starship, fragile as blown glass.

So when Vytal offered her hand, Dima lit up like a reactor core. A pleased chittering rumble slipped from between the side-teeth that lined her jaw as she reached out with careful, reverent claws and laid her hand into Vytal's. It was delicate, shockingly so for ones whose claws were capable of tearing steel in half. She held on as if the gesture itself was holy.

And then-

"OKAY I'M BACK!"

The moment shattered like a dropped vase. Dima jerked so violently she nearly inhaled the hookah coals. The clergyman marched in, arms overloaded with cinnamon buns, chocolate-dipped berries, three varieties of ice cream, and what looked like an entire bakery's worth of additional sweets. He announced each one at volume as if briefing a war council.

Dima froze, horrified.

Then her face went bright blue.

"OH MY! GIVE ME THAT! I SWEAR ON THE GODS!" In a flurry of limbs she snatched all the trays out of his arms, dumped them unceremoniously into the grasp of another passing clergyman who had not asked for any of this, and then flapped all four hands at the intruder like an enraged seabird. "GET. OUT. YOU'RE RUINING OUR MOMENT!"

The poor man fled for his life.

Silence.

Then Dima sank straight down into her cushions, all four hands flying to her face. Her tail curled around her like a mortified python as she practically folded herself in half beside Vytal.

"O-oh sugarsnaps..." she groaned through her claws. "I karked it all up again~"

Her voice was small, muffled, and very dramatic.

 

[Cali Ziiva]

​

Cali stared over at Reina for a moment before she just smiled. "There are some Zeltrons that fight out there, but for the most part... my people don't do well with it. You could call training a kind of fun. Make it competitive. But real warfare?" Her eyes slid aside for a moment. "No. I've seen war zones, Reina. Preparing my fellow Zeltron for those would scar so many of them. I just couldn't. And I let the Mandalorians know that too. Protecting Zeltros won't get them soldiers, but we on Zeltros have plenty of other skills they can use. Besides just recreation, of course." Okay, maybe not as many as an industrial world, but skills all the same. Empires weren't built solely on industry and military. Well, those were undeniably crucial, but there was more to a people than that even if they were war-zealots.

Fortunately, the Mandalor of Iron understood this, which is why he focused so hard on consolidating his people at the Empire's founding.

"Ah, how much do you know about Zeltrons, by the way? I mean, do you know we're an empathic people? Not capable of empathy -- most sapient life is -- but we can actually sense the emotions of others. We sense each others' emotions all the time. It's why everything you see is designed to make people happy. Someone else is happy so you're happy, and if you're happy someone else is happy. Everyone's happy. Being on the frontlines, even to defend ourselves, would just be so..." Cali looked up at Reina and tilted her head a bit to the side. "Imagine what you've felt, but tens or hundreds or thousands of times worse because you can literally feel it from everyone around you? My people just weren't made for that sort of thing. Not that... many are."

A bob of the head accompanied Reina appreciating her desire not to sell weapons as her primary source of income any more. It had been useful. Got to meet lots of people. But even if she wasn't there when the weapon was used someone was. Once the Confederacy of the South had stopped there just wasn't much point for her to keep doing it. Sell it to some random government that had some random agenda that might cause untold suffering? Uh, no.

"Earrings?" Cali chirped with excitement. "Have you tried already? Got everything you need? I could help hook you up." Now that sounded like a worthwhile venture to support! Making some earrings for someone as a present. That could be a great way for Reina to socialize.

Suddenly, Reina grabbed Cali's wrist and the pair was off on an adventure. The Zeltron in Reina's grasp didn't offer the least bit resistance either. There'd been no sudden surge in negative emotions. If anything there was a sense of... expectation? Excitement maybe?

They came to a stop just as abruptly and Reina declared to know the person...'s voice. Cali peeked around at Aselia. A pink hand came up in an enthusiastic wave. "Oh, hiya. I'm Cali. This is... well, I'll let her introduce herself. I don't know why, but sounds like she really wanted to meetcha. You're from the Empire, right? Welcome to Zeltros! If you need anything, just ask... well, anyone, really, but me especially if you're worried about some of the others getting a little too snuggly. Most of them haven't been off-world." Cali like to snuggle, herself, but she'd long learned not to go around hugging everyone she saw just because they were there.

Now if they were feeling bad she'd totally be down to hugging them, but that was beside the point.

Reina Daival | Aselia Verd

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

BYOO - Yacht Party​

Location: Zeltros
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes | Adelle Bastiel | Renn Vizsla

Aurelian's mouth parted in quiet offense when Adelle declared Mandalorians the perfected descendants of trouble. Before he could retaliate properly, she offered vibroknives as a bouquet substitute. He blinked, then grinned.

"I accept vibroknives," he said solemnly. "They say 'romance' in every language." He lifted a finger. "Explosives, however? Too forward. And if anyone proposes to me with them, I'm sending a strongly worded letter to their mother."

Just then, Warden Renn Vizsla appeared, notably in swim trunks. Aurelian froze, staring as if witnessing the galaxy's strangest diplomatic omen.

Before he could dig himself any deeper or say something that would spark an interplanetary incident involving swimwear, Sibylla returned, looking warm, amused, and entirely too pleased with herself. Aurelian straightened slightly under her gaze, as if caught mid-crime. Which, to be fair, was usually accurate.

Her comment about him being built for drama made him flash a brilliant, unrepentant smile. "I can't help my nature," he said. "Some of us were born for the stage. Others were born to put cats on thrones." Sibylla then thanked Adelle for keeping him humble. Aurelian scoffed. "I am perfectly humble. I have award-winning humility. People speak of it, often tearfully." Phantom blinked at him like she highly doubted that. He pointed at the spukami. "You stay out of this."

Sibylla then slipped her hand lightly around his arm and announced that she must take him to handle some pressing matter. Aurelian looked from Sibylla to Adelle, then gently leaned closer to call back, loudly enough for Adelle and half the deck to hear: "There is no important matter. She just wants me all to herself!"

Sibylla tugged him with greater urgency. Aurelian laughed, letting himself be pulled away, raising his glass in one last farewell salute toward Adelle, Phantom, and Vizsla's treacherous swim trunks. "Round three soon!" he promised over his shoulder, disappearing with Sibylla into the sunlit chaos of the yacht.

-Exit-

​

 

[Aselia Verd]

Wearing: A black bikini
Objective: Relax

Aselia had been halfway through a drink something fruity, dangerously pink, and entirely too sweet when the sound of hurried footsteps in the sand reached her. She didn't even look up at first. Zeltros was full of people moving with too much energy and not enough direction; she'd learned to tune it out quickly.

The sun was warm, the ocean calm, and for the first time in what felt like months, she wasn't wearing armor heavy enough to stop a blaster bolt. That alone was worth savoring. Her appearance, however, was far from the beskarclad terror she'd been on Atrisia. Her hair was almost copper in the sunlight normally braided tight or hidden beneath a buy'ce but today it was pulled up into a high ponytail, loose strands catching the ocean breeze. Sunlight kissed the freckles across her nose and shoulders, making her look younger than she ever allowed herself to appear. The black bikini she wore was simple and clean cut, contrasted by the faint traces of old scars: a thin line along her left ribs, another faint one across her thigh, the kind you only earned surviving things that were meant to kill you.

Then a voice cut through the background noise sharp, familiar, impossible to mistake. Her brow furrowed. She turned just as a very determined-looking woman was dragging a pink Zeltron toward her through the surf.

"You. I recognize you. Well… not you. Your voice."

Her blue eyes were sharp, cool, observant flicked between Reina and Cali, taking in every detail with the same clinical efficiency she'd used amidst the fires of Jar'Kai. But here, her gaze softened at the edges, the faintest hint of warmth threading through it now that she wasn't surrounded by death and ash. It took her a moment to place it the chaos of Jar'Kai's burning streets, the sound of rain hissing on molten durasteel, a woman with a sword cutting her way through Imperial lines. Not a soldier. Not a Mandalorian. But she'd fought like one when it mattered.

"So what's this about recognizing my voice?" Her brow arched, teasing but not unkind. "I don't usually make that strong an impression without explosives involved."

She looked Reina over no burns, no visible injuries. A small, quiet relief threaded through her chest before she masked it. "You held your own on Atrisia. I didn't expect to see you here of all places." She lifted her drink again, but didn't sip instead letting the condensation trail down her fingers before she set it back down, a small idle movement betraying just a touch of lingering tension beneath the casual exterior.

Her gaze shifted to Cali, who was smiling like she'd just stumbled into the start of a holodrama. "I'll hazard a guess you are one of the locals. Is Zeltros always like this? I could get used to it.," Aselia said, gesturing faintly toward the endless party around them.

"As a matter of fact I am" she added with a faint smirk at the Zeltron's assumption. "Though some days less mandalorian than others." a clear reference to her being unarmored and relaxing on a beach. Most Mando's wouldn't bother however being raised so far from the clans and roaming the galaxy in her teenage years as merc got rid of any foolish dogmatic views.

​

TAG: Cali Ziiva Reina Daival

​

 

[Reina Daival]

Tag: Cali Ziiva Aselia Verd
Objective: Beach

"I know that empathy wasn't something I couldn't afford as a kid. That is a luxury that I couldn't enjoy. Only to then suddenly have empathy forced upon me. To finally see how people feel. To feel bad about it. I couldn't afford to be happy, when I feel like I've messed up everywhere I go. I get where you're coming from. That doesn't mean I agree with. Also doesn't mean you have to care I don't agree."

Reina gave a small shrug of her shoulders. Colette might not have taught Reina much of what she had wanted nor needed to know, but the one thing she had taught upon the Ersansyr was something unwilling. Unrealising. That there was no point in forcing your point of view on someone else. They'll push you away. They'll give up on you. When you need them the most, they'd leave you. Either way, she let out a long exasperated sigh. She didn't need to know Cali feeling that Reina was down, even if it was quite obvious on the redhead's face now. Though...a faint flush did seem to come to her cheeks when Cali asked about the earrings.

"I've...got a plan of what I need. Moonstone. Aurodium. Some electrum...A lot of electrum. I'm...not experienced with making stuff...But I want to make her something...handmade. Special. I'm...not anything special myself...but...yeah."

As thoughts of Quinn came to the forefront of Reina's mind, she attempted to push them to the back of her mind. There was no way of her to stop thinking about the Echani, so she just...tried to keep focused on something else. The offer from Cali to find the stuff she needed would be good. Plus who knows, maybe having someone to make with her hands would help her to find some form of balance for herself right now.

None of that mattered right now as Reina stood, rather standoffishly with her arms folded along her front. Watching Aselia with a firm look, not even replying to the Mandalorian's words yet. Instead Reina was taking in the fact that the pair actually looked somewhat similar. Not to a familial sense...but to a sense that felt uncomfortable for Reina. She was used to Mandalorians all suited and booted. Instead, she was seeing that they were...normal people. It was making her feel even more ashamed of the dislike she had towards the Mandalorian people in the past. Urgh, why did she have to face these kind of situations?

"...You don't look how I expected you to...I don't mean that in a bad way. You look good. I just..."

Well. That was at least a good sign for Reina. She was putting her foot in her mouth. Reina shook her head, taking in a sharp breath through her gills before letting out an exasperated sigh.

"...I've never been on good terms with Mandalorians...but...Atrisia. I fought with you. Alongside you. And...it's made me reconsider things."

It felt strange to be talking to someone who had seen her on that day. Covered in soot, blood and sweat. With her blade in one hand, slashing through lives. Lives that she had needed to come to terms with taking. But when she had needed to talk to her master about it...It was all gone. So it had been something that Reina had mostly kept to herself.

"...I don't even know what I'm trying to say."

And with that, Reina just...tried to cover herself up, folding her arms along herself. In a similar way to how it felt strange to be talking to someone else who had been on Atrisia, it also felt strange to look a lot more vulnerable to someone she knew. Even if she didn't really know the Mandalorian that well.

​

 

[Vytal Noctura]

​

The Witch snorted. "I am the last person that needs told something is not spooky, Dima." Vytal accepted the pipe. "I hope this isn't unusually potent. T'wound be a bad thing if I were to start casting spells at random." Dma had an alien physiology, so it was worth being mindful her potency might be above average. "It might not be the gods that did the smiting." She indulged in the woman's offering without coughing. What the galaxy indulged it for fun was by far less intense than the sort Nightsisters might manage.

Then Dima bashfully admitted a certain social awkwardness. Vytal could understand. Few saw a Dathomiri woman walk into a room and expected anything but trouble. It was their severe expression, or so she'd been told. The one born from being tested and tried all their life by ruthless, merciless beasts. Or, in Vytal's case, spirits as she engaged in everything she taught younger witches and warlocks to avoid -- until they were ready.

Vytal smiled for Dima. It wasn't impossible for a Nightsister to smile -- people just had to deserve it. Unlike Humans they didn't believe in smiling like a fool at everyone they met. For a Sister? Well, obviously. Blood was not the only way one might be considered part of a coven. That much was certain when it came to the former Nightmother of the Mandragora and Solanaceae of Ryloth; there'd been many young witches and warlocks there she'd considered family.

Just as soon as the alien laid a hand in Vytal's, however, she jerked and flailed at the unexpected return of her sweet-carrying servant.

Emerald eyes fluttered as she looked aghast at how many confectionaries the man had returned with. It was nearly comical. Not the sort of humor a Dathomir appreciated, but having been exposed to others' indulgences it certainly would have fit well in an act.

Dima worked in a frenzy to clean up the 'mess' the intrusion caused. Afterward, she sank into the cushions looking mortified. Vytal didn't say anything or try to get in her way. Any attempt to move in her path would have just gotten the Witch underfoot. Even a young Nightsister could behave in a (roughly) similar fashion when caught doing something... out of order. It was a universal reaction where thought and sense fled in favor of desperation.

"Social interaction is a sort of ritual, Dima. You have to prepare for it in advance. Be open to it and all it requires. And, sometimes, ready for things to go wrong." She reached out to lay a hand gently on the other woman's shoulder. "It's okay if things don't always turn out the way you expected. Just try again, Dima. Slowly," the Pale Witch added in case there'd been a flicker of thought to just snap open and begin talking a mile a minute. "I'm not leaving until you do."

Warpriest Prime | Open​

 

[Cali Ziiva]

"Huh?" Cali blinked. "Not special? Reina, you're totally special! You don't need to breathe fire to be special. That you want to make something is totally amazing and special and I totally support you!" Boy did it sound like the woman had quite something in mind for these earrings though with that material list. In fact, that was an ambitious list if she hadn't done it before. All manner of thoughts dashed through her mind, which she'd follow up on later. Maybe she'd send various material to help her test the design and creation of the earrings before she tried making the real thing. Be less expensive if she experimented on cheaper stuff first.

One mad dash later, and they found another cutey on the beach that Reina seemed to know by voice. Voice? Oh, right, once Aselia acknowledged being Mandalorian that made total sense! The helmet. Cali really wasn't a fan of the whole helmet thing. Like, couldn't they wear one with a larger, more transparent faceplate so people could see who they were talking to? So impersonal.

Cali peered around Reina and placed her other hand on the outside of the other woman's arm for comfort. That opening had been a bit rough -- Reina's expression said as much. And, yeah, even a Zeltron knew it. Not that it had been terrible, but a little awkward. That was fine. Everyone started somewhere. Reina was just starting a little later than most.

By the time Reina finished, she'd pulled her arms inward in a defensive posture, which left Cali no longer arm-in-arm with her. Bright eyes turned to Aelia. "To answer your question, yep! Zeltros is always like this. Every day. That's why it's so important the Mandalorians held keep other less friendly governments from trying to move in. We don't discriminate, and sometimes people of power don't like that. Or, you know, cuties like us saying things they don't want to hear." Because a Zeltron totally might say some hard truths to get people to face what was making them upset so they could be happy again. And a dictator? Chocolate, did they have issues!

"So, guess you two met on Atrisia, huh? Not a lot of time to exchange names," a beat for extreme emphasis, "talk about shared pastimes or interests. Maybe compliment one another on their fighting skills or something? Personally, I like to start with asking what people's favorite sweet is. Maybe their favorite drink? Oh, how about something fun they like to do?" Cali grinned at the two ladies. Well, if they were going to be a bit stoic or awkward they already had a Pink Zeltron there to not just break the ice but crush and shave it until something delicious was in hand.

Aselia Verd | Reina Daival

 

[Cordelia Malkavian]

Entertainment...​

Tags: Aaliyah ​

There was no denying the immediate shift in the air, the one that always occurred when another of her own kind was within the same vicinity. Cordelia's gaze rose slowly from the throng of bodies and with the unnatural ease her abilities allowed, she found this other nibbler as they crested the main hub of this not-entirely-little club. Of all the places to find herself in, of all the places to consider a hunt, Delia managed to find the one place with another of her ilk.​

​

A slow, barely audible sigh split the smirk on the redhead's face, parting her lips only enough to allow the exasperation to pass. The lids narrowed ever so slightly over gray eyes while she assessed not only this other, but an array of scenarios that could occur in reaction to two of them being in one place. Delia was hardly territorial over a place where she did not reside, so she had no objections to sharing the hunting grounds. Playing nice however, that always depended entirely upon the other party.​

​

At the moment, there seemed to be no hostility, no vying for dominance over Delia nor protest of her being here. Quite the contrary, from the looks of it this other seemed quite pleased with her surroundings. A fact which allowed Cordelia to relax back against the support of the bar, but now she was watching. Was it tactical or predatorial? Even she wasn't sure, but she would not wait around for the other to move first. With a wave of her hand and some creative leaning, it wasn't long before a cutesy little waitress was sent out to the dance floor.​

​

This waitress approached Aaliyah, feeling a blush warm not just her face, but the rest of her skin as well as she drew close. "For you, compliments from a friend with shared interests." she managed to state over the music and this strange sensation, then offered over the dark red drink with one hand while pointing towards the bar with the other.​

​

Right where Delia was stood with an identical drink of her own, which she raised briefly before taking a drink while keeping her eyes on the other.​

​

 

[Renn Vizsla]

Tag: Sibylla Abrantes | Aurelian Veruna | Adelle Bastiel




Renn Vizsla arrived like a tide shift, quiet, steady, utterly unhurried, as though the beach had summoned him rather than the other way around. The red Hawaiian shirt fluttered open in the breeze, exposing sun-bronzed muscle and a scar or ten, and those infamous navy swim trunks with the tiny cartoon Basilisks… well, those spoke for themselves.

Adelle’s words reached him just as he lifted his drink, and he let out a low, amused rumble.

“Explosives for a proposal?” he echoed, stepping fully into their circle like someone arriving late to the punchline. “Adelle, you can’t lead with that. You’ll set unfair expectations.”

He angled a look between her and the Chancellor, noticing the flush on her cheeks, the sharpness of her grin, the feline curled at her feet glaring daggers, and Aurelian himself looking like he’d been caught mid-performance in a private holo-drama.

Renn lowered his drink slightly.

“…Do I need to know what I just walked in on?”

The question wasn’t judgmental, just wary, the way a man grows after surviving too many diplomatic feasts, too many Senate functions, too many nobles who smiled like vipers and whispered like sabacc cheats.

His visor wasn’t on, but the stare he gave Adelle had the same weight.

“And for the record,” he added, glancing down at his trunks as if remembering their design, “these were a gift. A very insistent Zeltros gift. I’m told refusing them would have sparked an interplanetary crisis.”

His tone remained dry even as one brow arched.

“Besides, Basilisks never looked so graceful.”

He took another sip, then gave Adelle a respectful, a touch wry, nod of greeting.

“But if we’re offering bouquets of vibroknives, you’ll have to forgive me. I only brought the shirt and the drinks tonight. My courting arsenal is back on Roon.”

He eyed the Chancellor one more time, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“And if either of you start throwing explosives in this crowd, I swear on the Resol’nare, I’m pretending I don’t know you.”

He gestured around them with his cup: the beach, the lights, the music, the Zeltrons dancing in neon joy.

“Some of us are trying to relax, after all.”​

 

[Aaliyah]

Aaliyah slowly her dancing when a pretty woman in what might be called a uniform drew closer. The dark lady reached out to caress the waitress' cheek with the pads of her fingers careful her long and exceptionally sharp nails didn't so much as clip a single strand of hair. Her other hand slipped out to accept the drink she'd brought with her. "Oh, you delicious thing, how thoughtful and devious of you." A merry laugh with a wide, open mouth exposed her fangs. "Thank you. And Love, if you're free later..." The Sangnir's lavender eyes roamed down and up her figure.

A promise of intimacy was just a cover for indulging in Aaliyah's 'baser' desire to feed, of course. Unsurprisingly, mortals didn't like being told the truth. Most of them.

With a drink in hand it'd be impossible to dance. She might be a creature of unfathomable agility, but it was a dance floor full of wildly thrashing bodies. Not that it would pose a problem leaving such a mob; when she didn't need to split her attention between wild abandonment and keeping liquid in a glass perfectly level it wasn't difficult to do the latter.

The black haired woman in the tight outfit strut off the floor in her impractically thick, hoof-shaped heeled boots. Practicality hadn't been the point, and after all this time? Moving in them was all too easy. Her steps could be felt through the floor. "Well, hello there, you deadly thing." Aaliyah was a naturally six foot tall woman, and with the boots she was easily half a foot taller still. "Enjoying all these sinful creatures have to offer? These people know how to make the time pass quickly and easily."

Unlike the waitress, Aaliyah didn't try to touch Cordelia's face. Mortals were pets to be guided and supped on. Another blood-thirsty creature -- even if they weren't Sangnir -- was something more. They deserved a little respect unless they demonstrated not being worth of it.

"My name is Aaliyah. Might I have the pleasure of knowing your own?"

Cordelia Malkavian

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Yacht Party
Tags: Renn Vizsla

If someone had made a bet with her on whether or not the Warden of Roon could crack jokes, Adelle would have lost that bet. His entrance drew a wider smirk and a soft laugh.

"Fair enough. You would be the expert on Mandalorian courting rituals here," she said. When Renn gave her a hard stare, however, she did feel a bit like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Perhaps she'd been too informal with the politicians, but she hadn't said anything that would endanger a Mandalorian--unless it was herself--and she hadn't insulted their hosts. Much. Okay, maybe a little, but it was all in good fun and seemed to be taken as such.

The weight of Renn's stare was, perhaps, a little ruined by his current attire. Adelle couldn't tell if it was intimidating, smouldering, or both. Probably both.

Only a moment later the joking ease of the evening returned, with Renn warning against explosives.

"I've been behaving myself. I only catch grenades on battlefields," Adelle said, jokingly defensive. She raised her glass as Sibylla Abrantes returned to grab Aurelian Veruna and they made their good-byes. Well, Sibylla made her good-byes. Aurelian decided to tease Sibylla one last time, promising a round three in the future.

"I'll take that as a concession of round two," Adelle said quietly, taking another drink and reaching up to rub Phantom's chin. She leaned back against the yacht's railing, wind ruffling her hair, as Phantom hopped down again to curl up on a less windy chair. That left just Warden Vizsla and herself in this section of the deck. She heard more boisterous cheers and another loud splash from the other Mandos partying on the yacht.

Putting faces to voices she'd really only heard before was interesting. She hadn't given much thought about the appearances of the Mandalorians she often worked beside and saw, usually just imagining their personalized beskar'gam when she thought about them. Renn Vizsla surprised her with how much younger he was than she had assumed. And far more built.

Granted, being around Mandalorians in swimwear made her feel a bit better about her own scars on display with her suit.

"Enjoying the vacation?" she asked Renn, taking a far safer approach than her conversation with Sibylla and Aurelian. This was someone she might actually have to work with in the future. "It's been a nice change of pace. Although, I do have to ask:

"Now that you have them, are you going to keep those swim trunks?"