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[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti
​

At first, Lysander thought he must have misheard her. He just blinked at her question. Almost surprised. He assumed it was clear; perhaps he'd taken it for granted that she understood him more deeply than most. He may have not made some grand announcement, but his actions were always consistent.

A crease formed between his brows. Had he been so poor at communicating all along?

Cradling the bowl, he drew it closer into his palms. Glancing down, he caught the sight of her hands, then back to his own, and a soft, amused sigh escaped. Of course.. just when he longed to reach out, his hands were occupied by holding a meal instead. Even though his body craved the nourishment, the timing certainly made acting on impulse rather inconvenient. Maybe the galaxy had a sense of humor after all.

He noticed how Naniti's attention subtly shifted toward the others around them. Privacy had never really dictated what he said; for better or worse.. it'd always been that way.

Even then, when his mouth parted, they stayed that way for a few seconds. Typical. Why was his mind deciding to glitch like a broken datapad? At least he could still look at her.. that was one connection he never struggled to maintain.

“It means.. that no matter where I’m sent, or who I’m expected to stand in front of.. other Sith, Senators, commanders, strangers.. it’s you who stays in my thoughts afterward.”

Their eyes crossed paths and he settled there. “I don’t leave a negotiation or council meeting replaying their arguments. I’m more likely to find myself thinking about something you said three days ago. Or the way you looked at me whenever we disagreed on something.”

A shift in posture narrowed the space between them. "I want you at my side. Whether it’s in political waters or out in the field. You catch angles others miss, and your perspective sharpens mine in ways I didn’t expect. I function better with you close, Naniti, and your judgment is something I value. I can formalize it in a way that fits us. Public when it’s useful, and private when it’s ours. And no matter what, you’ll still ascend on your own merit.”

The foundation was already there, he realized. Whatever they were constructing together.. he found he didn’t mind it.

“Hm. Cheat to your heart’s content in our duels.” The dare warmed as it left Lysander. “None of it will save you from me.”

​

 

[Tamsin Starfall]

Theme: Get The Party Started
Location: Club Cadaver
Demon Tag: Nunterc Trundiav

The ghostly visage of watched the bothan as he continued to look down at the floor towards the flesh Tamsin. Tamsin who was sitting among people who didn't really care if she was there or not. A hard lesson the girl had to learn, that everyone was alone. Everyone around you had an angle, and would tear you down in an instant for their own gain. Friends didn't exist, Alliance always ended, and families always ended in feuds.

"If you are wondering the girl isn't aware of this meeting. She only sees what I let her see." She said as she once again poured herself another glass of whiskey. "If you run into her tomorrow, she will have no idea who you are."

This time she took a sip of her whiskey absorbing into her body as she noticed the slightest twitch of the bothans eye towards Anet Raine . "I don't know how lucrative Historical documents are, but Miss Raine down there will pay a pretty cred for them. A real student of history, no doubt here to scour Coruscant for any records or artifacts she can get her hands on. I have, or rather the one at the bar has ran into her many times on their travels of the Galaxy. If the girl (Tamsin) knew of some of things I have collected she probably would sell it to that filthy nerd."

The Demon's sight lingered a little longer at Anet Raine before taking another sip and turning her sights away.

"Well then let's do a test run to see if you can provide as you say. I need a Talisman of Translation, but not just the run of the mill sith one. I want the one that was specifically left on Dathomir by the Brotherhood of Darkness. The problem is it's in a nightsister fortress, last I knew. If you can get it, deliver it to the old Jedi library on Coruscant I am sure they will find a use for it."

She took another sip of her whiskey.

"If you think your people can do that and they accomplish it then we will have further business that assure you will be lucrative."

 

[Srina Talon]

TAG: Mercy | Arris Windrun | Quinn Varanin
LOCATION: Lawd, I have No Idea

____________________________________________________

She should have known better.

To think that the Titan of the Covenant needed anything but her fix from the next battle was a folly that the Sith Empress would not soon repeat. It had taken less than a moment to realize that Mercy was intoxicated, rather than suffering some fatal injury. She was hammered, not dulled. Unrestrained, even more than normal, if such a thing were possible. All sharp instincts and mischief without even the faintest inkling of common sense.

Her palms had only just settled over the larger woman’s eyes, cool and deliberate, with the scent of jasmine and rain folding over liquor and heat, when the datapad slipped from Mercy’s fingers and clattered away. Her eyes had slipped over the crowd on the way over. Picking out a few familiar faces, with her daughter among them. Quinn Varanin was a free spirit that she cherished…But there were certain details of her extracurriculars that Srina never needed to know. Never needed confirmed, things no parent wanted to acknowledge.

Such as that outfit.

Or lack thereof.

There had been another face she knew, though, this had been much slower to dawn on the Echani warrior because they were effectively in different parts of the establishment. The glimpse had been fleeting…But she was changed. Artificially, perhaps…But the scars on Adelle Bastiel were known to her eyes. It was a simple thing to steal a face, but scarring was unique in depth and texture. Those weren’t the only familiar faces and not for the first time she cursed her own curiosity, twice, cursing Mercy for luring her to this backwater horror show.

It was then that her companion decided to test her limits with a less-than-subtle squeeze.

Srina’s spine went rigid.

There were many unfortunate things that the pale woman tolerated daily. Political maneuvering, veiled insults, open hostility, and the occasional assassination or kidnapping attempt. That was normal, often, on her terms.

A firm and intoxicated grasp of her backside in a public establishment was not among them.

"Tough to say, but you sound regal..." Mercy drawled lazily. "And you feel like... an Empress." Smirking, entirely smug and pleased with herself.

The air around her changed in an instant, from cloying floral to petrichor and ozone. Her glacier expression never changed, but a growl rolled in the back of her throat that would likely be lost to the music—a pity. Srina did not step back, but rather, stepped in while one hand slid from Mercy’s eyes to the shock of red hair. Thin fingers threaded through short strands with deceptive calm, only to tighten and yank her head backward hard enough to expose her throat and tilt her balance off center. There was no warning.

The elbow of her free hand snapped downward with brutal precision, and cartilage met bone.

The crack was sharp and ugly.

Srina watched while blood welled from what was left of the bridge of a crushed nose, fully aware that Mercy would heal it off like the hangover she would undoubtedly suffer the next day.

“Do that again—And I will never speak to you again. I will never see you again, never fight with you again. I will ensure that every duel you encounter in the future is the equivalent of watching paint dry by eliminating your opponents, without you, before you even know they exist. You don’t fear death…But there are worse things.”

Boredom. Sheer, unadulterated boredom.

Her gaze lowered while she assessed the damage without sympathy…Feeling warm liquid roll from her elbow down her fingertips. Srina wasn’t sure what irritated her more. The fact that Mercy had given cause for concern, or the fact that this venue was so poor that the memory of Quinn Varanin having difficulty finding a chair that was not shaped suspiciously like Reina Daival was all too real.

She had to squint, not to see it in her mind’s eye.

“You are drunk. I thought part of your brain was missing when you reached out…”

What else could she have assumed? Who in their right mind, who wasn’t missing grey matter, would call her a dick, threaten to sell her shoes, and then chastise her for going on a run?

Her proverbial snarling seemed to lessen after a moment, though her profile was still sharp in a room full of carefree patrons. They hadn’t even really blinked at the casual caving in of someone’s face; instead, cheering and passing around more foul-smelling beverages. The slender Echani felt her jaw tighten with disdain before she snorted.

Cretins.

Her fingers slackened in Mercy’s hair, not so tight, while her eyes took in the damage. Mercy had perhaps unintentionally led her to believe something was very wrong, only for it to be nothing more than a sophomoric party in a dump. “…I suppose it’s too late to ask if you smell burnt toast.”, she mused, though her touch was no longer punishing. Instead, the diminutive woman brushed crimson hair back, slowly, watching the macabre scene of her face healing.

Keeping it from falling into the mess.

“…Don’t do that.”

 

[Nunterc Trundiav]

T H E - B O S S B A N - O F - P O R T - N O W H E R E

Nunterc reached for the glass, eager to take a sip of the warm drink, his whiskers subtly twitching in genuine surprise. The casual identification of Anet Raine by the apparition of Tamsin Starfall was the clinching evidence needed for his blackmail scheme now that the Sith shadow confirmed without a shadow of a doubt the presence of the High Republic Senator within the Coruscant Club.

"If her goal is to obtain artifacts and historical records, then a club in the underworld would certainly be the least likely place to search, especially with the Imperial Museum and Archives still operating above ground." The Bothan gestured calmly, fully aware that anyone heading to Coruscant to seek artifacts following the collapse of the Galactic Empire would bypass the Underworld and instead search the Imperial Museum, which was under the control of the Sith Covenant.

Eyes shifted away from the bar area, as the Planet of Dathomir was brought into the picture which caused him to pause. The Nightsisters were not a faction to be taken lightly, as they were a volatile mix of witchcraft and xenophobia. Sending his men into one of their fortresses to retrieve a relic of the Brotherhood of Darkness was a request that teetered on the edge of madness.

"Dathomir," Nunterc repeated, "A planet that has consumed better men than many of the thugs on the floor below. The Nightsisters are not welcoming to uninvited visitors, and they are even less forgiving to those who dare to disturb their sanctuaries." He took a moment, his claws tapping a steady rhythm on the tabletop as he calculated the expenses. Fuel, the unavoidable bribes to local clans, and the cost of replacing any mercenary who might not be fortunate enough to make it back.

"The Most Honorable Guild can accomplish this," he stated, his voice regaining its practiced stoicism. "But I do not gamble with my assets on the word of a ghost alone. The Brotherhood's talisman is a specific request that carries a specific price. For a venture into a Nightsister stronghold, we would require half the payment up front"

 

[Tamsin Starfall]

Theme: Get The Party Started
Location: Club Cadaver
Demon Tag: Nunterc Trundiav

As he spoke of Anet being out of place in a seedy club it caused her to raise an eyebrow. It was a bit of hypocrisy, was he not here to looking for business when there was trade centers and corporations all across Coruscant looking for shipping. By his logic he shouldn't even be here but yet here he was talking to a ghostly apparition.

"I thought you said you worked for crimelords? When you are looking for a smuggler, thief, slicer, or fence you go to the places they dwell not the places you want them to loot or have looted from."

That line drew her suspicions but it hardly mattered to the demon. Whatever he was getting at with Anet it was none of her business. She only knew her as businesswoman and historian, also had some connection to Kaila, probably an ex-girlfriend knowing that woman. Hell Kaila had dated Ala Quin of all people in the galaxy mortal enemy of the Demon.

"Hmmm and what is this price?" The Demon had her wealth, the wealth of Tamsin's sister as well. Though she wasn't too keen on the upfront cost considering the bothan hadn't yet proven him and his guild could provide.

 

[Nunterc Trundiav]

T H E - B O S S B A N - O F - P O R T - N O W H E R E

There may have been some truth in suggesting that his presence here was somewhat hypocritical, except for one key point.

He wasn't here just for shipping contracts in the Underworld; he had come here to make connections as mentioned earlier before she took her seat at the booth. Cantinas and clubs serve as natural gathering places for people, which is why the Bothan had arrived here given its central location between the Criminal Underworld and the High Spires of Coruscant above.

His claw traced a leisurely circular route around the edge of his glass. He had little interest in being lectured on the workings of criminals, considering his own experiences among them, yet he permitted them to express their views without interruption. Leaning back, his hand glided over the sleek synth-leather of the booth while his eyes returned to the far-off outline of the Senator.

"If Miss Raine is as astute a student of history as you suggest, she won't find her artifacts or documentation amidst the smoke and the strobe lights. She will gravitate toward the market streets, the back alleys where such items are traded in broad daylight under the guise of junk. That was the concern I was trying to convey that perhaps the lady was looking somewhere were such illegal trade cannot be found." A smooth pivot away from that particular conversation that should ease any doubts in the person sitting across from him. He framed it as if he was simply implying that she was in the wrong place to obtain such items under the noses of the Sith authorities.

"The price," he said, his tone shifting back to business surrounding Dathomir and the Nightsisters. "For Dathomir, the base fee is one hundred thousand credits. Fifty thousand upfront to mobilize my men and secure the necessary clearance through the local clans. The remaining fifty upon delivery to the old Jedi library, as requested." Nunterc let the figure linger in the air between them, a heavy debt waiting for a signature. He watched Tamsin Starfall for any sign of hesitation, his expression remaining neutral.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Reina Daival //: Anet Raine //: Adelle Bastiel //:
//: Srina Talon //: Mercy //:
//: Attire //:

It didn't take much for Quinn to realize the shift in Reina. She could feel the woman's grip on her tighten, the way her mood slipped after both her and Anet spoke. Her voice was more than enough to solidify Quinn's assumptions on Reina's mood, and then I'm sorry even more so. Her face softened as she leaned into Reina's hold, hoping that there was something about it that eased the frustration.

She brushed a gentle kiss on Reina's cheek as she smiled. While she teased, it seemed she gave mixed messages to Reina in this instance. So hopefully, the gentleness of her touch as her fingers threaded through the woman's copper hair. As an Echani, her language was through touch, and Quinn hoped that Reina would understand her intentions behind it.

Her attention drifted back towards Senth and Anet. The newcomer answered the question, and she smiled back softly. It was interesting, and Quinn was unsure whether it was part of the play or the truth.

Either way, Quinn wouldn't press on it. There was obviously something more at play here.

Looking at Reina, she waited to see if she would answer Anet's question, but, seeing her somewhat shut down from the previous question, she turned to respond.

"It's a funny story—" Quinn paused. The delicate scent of Jasmine and rain trailed through the club. She would know; she didn't have to see her. Quinn pulled away from Reina for a moment, and the look of slight panic washed over the Echani. Her eyes darted around the club, searching, wondering WHY her MOTHER would be in a place like this?

Quinn shh'd the group she was with as she paused, still looking. It was then that her comm device rang. Reaching to the back of the booth, behind Reina's head, the woman pressed into the other as she grabbed her device.

The caller was… Mercy?

She brought it to her ear, "Hello?" There was no answer, except the words that Mercy cooed at who was very obviously the Empress of the Sith Order… who was also Quinn's mother.

Quinn hung up the device and looked at it. She could feel her hands shaking. The suspicions she had felt solidified; in reality, she shouldn't be upset. It wasn't like they were even anything beyond what they were. She was sitting on Reina's lap and not Mercy's.

Looking up, she easily found where they were, and she watched as Srina drove her elbow into Mercy's face. Blinking, the frustration she had been feeling, the hurt she was almost going to let consume her… dissipated.

The gathering storm clouds over Coursant also dissipated as quickly as they began to roll in.

While relief washed over her, the panic she initially had felt returned.

Looking at Reina, she kissed the girl gently once again and sighed softly.

"I— my mom's here, let me go say hi." Quinn crawled off the woman, and she looked towards her mother, making her way over as she ran her hands down the skirt she was wearing. Quinn knew this was the sort of outfit Srina often pretended didn't exist.

Looking at Mercy's bloodied face as she arrived, she frowned, thinking quietly to herself before addressing her mother.

Deserved…

"Mother, surprised to see you here…" Her eyes flickered between them as she waited. A part of her wished that she had dragged Reina with her, the sudden realization she was standing alone, before her mother… in the middle of a sleezy club.

A place that neither of them belonged in.

 

[Reina Daival]

Tag: Quinn Varanin Mercy Srina Talon Anet Raine Adelle Bastiel
Location: Coruscant Level 1313 Club Cadaver
The Fit

The Ersansyr herself had never been good at communication. Be it verbally or physically. It had always caused a fair few issues for her when she meant one thing but people took it a different way. But there was no mistaking how she felt, as the redhead leaned into the Echani's touch, softening her grip ever so slightly. That was what made Quinn special. Reina was normally quite volatile with her emotions. It was easy for her mind to spiral. But Quinn was the only one that managed to make the Ersansyr honestly happy.

Her gaze flicked over towards the only stranger out of the group however, tilting her head as "Senth" told them about her. Mercenary work. Heh. Reina was familiar with that. A wandering blade that took her jobs where she could. But she was slowly settling down. Finding a place that she belonged, as opposed to being some kind of hound that passed on from master to master.

"Quiet and clean can be good. Sometimes a job needs to be loud though. To send a message. Make a big show out of it now, so you don't have to clean up later."

A lesson she was slowly learning from the Sith. There were times for a soft hand and times for a firm fist. Times where you could uproot the weeds by hand, or have to set the entire field ablaze and start anew. Wash it all away. She shook her head at that thought, turning her gaze over towards Anet, as she asked how Reina and Quinn had met. Her eyes just stared directly at the half-pantoran, not bothering to answer and allowing Quinn to do it...until the Echani seemed to freeze mid sentence. The look of panic causing Reina immediately to sit up herself, her hands already curled up into fists under the assumption that something was wrong.

And whilst Reina was right, it wasn't the type of wrong she thought it was. No. Instead, it was two people that Reina admired. For various vastly different reasons. Srina Talon. The Empress of the Sith Order. Grace. Beauty. Danger hidden just below the surface. Her last encounter with the Empress had been when she had pledged to help the Sith Order fight against the Imperials...And then Mercy, Empress of the Core. In a way, almost the complete opposite of Srina. There was no grace, but there was plenty of strength. With the danger plain and obvious for all to see. Their last encounter having been on Dagobah...Back when they hadn't even been a spark of darkness in Reina. How times changed. Both were women Reina wished she could be. Only time would tell if she ended up like either.

Her gaze flicked back over towards Quinn, watching the Echani's hands shake, as Reina reached out to hold them gently. Perhaps it was much of her to assume that she could help to anchor Quinn and help whatever frustrations was going on in her mind...Though it seemed that frustration had quickly faded away. Reina had no clue why, until she had took her gaze away to look back at the two Empresses, blinking at the sight. And then Quinn was heading off to see her mother.

"I'll join you shortly."

She stood up to quickly steal a kiss on Quinn's cheek, letting her head over first before Reina turned her gaze over towards Senth and Anet, giving the pair an awkward smile.

"It was...nice meeting you Senth. If you ever need help findin' some jobs, ask Anet for my contact details."

And with that, she headed off after Quinn, standing next to the Echani, lowering her head to Srina ever so slightly in respect. She wouldn't make a huge show out of it, Reina had never been one for bowing. Of course, she was potentially making herself a target for any anger Srina might have had towards the club, but she wouldn't leave Quinn to stand alone in a place like this.

"Lady Talon. Warlord Mercy."

By the Spirit, she was out of her element here. Whilst she wasn't one for bowing, Reina also wasn't one for titles and wasn't sure if she was using the correct ones. Either way, she did her best to stand tall, looking between the new trio she found herself stood amongst.

​

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Varin listened as Tatiana and Iandre spoke, really tried to listen. He had gotten the gist of what Tatiana was trying to say about her people, he did not want to seem disrespectful. When Tamsin apologized Varin’s eye shot to her. When her words reached his head he gave her a slight nod.

“Theres no need to apologize Tamsin. This is a social gathering, it’s how we get to know strangers.”

You be careful yourself as well.

He responded in her head.

Showing such emotion so publicly could show weakness to any prying ears and eyes, and I know you are not weak.

He took another sip of his drink.

He then looked at Tatiana.

“It sounds like your people do not delve too much in overindulgence. That they do not keep things they do not need, like odd and ends and bobbles and what not. Normal things people want but do not need.”

He poured a top off on his drink.

“It sounds like they had real priorities on necessity. That is worth respecting. The more people have the less they know of their limits and at the same time limit themselves even further.”

He slowly reached back into his back and gently placed the cracked datapad onto the counter.

“Repairs only, no tamperings. It’s…special.”

He slowly slid the device to her, the very same device he had stolen from another student for his first actual class in Kor'ethyr, the same one he kept after meeting Lysander for the first time, the same one he watched his first holodrama on, small drawings of home, letters he kept for himself that he meant to send to Seren, a device that held more memory and sentiment than most things he carried nowadays. He gave her a small smirk.

He then looked over to Iandre.

“The biggest flaw of trying to mitigate unpredictability is you can never eliminate it. There are always forces beyond control, beyond our very own daily habits. These forces can never be contained.”

He looked at his drink for a moment in his hand.

“Sure their society is not as physical, but the work that is done to keep it all maintained, that is still noticeable. If it has been working this long then surely they are doing something right.”

He took a small sip.

“What about you Iandre? What was your home life like?”

Tamsin Starfall | Tatiana Sah | Iandre Athlea​

 

[Anet Raine]

Direct: Adelle Bastiel | Quinn Varanin | Reina Daival
Mentioned: Mercy | Srina Talon

Senth was interesting... as far as mercenaries went. She had too much charm and seemed awfully on edge; the kind of edge that drew a lot of attention.

Speaking of attention. Quinn was drawn to a commotion over by the bar. Anet's focus shifted, too. Oh. Mercy Star-Arm and Srina Talon. A Triumvir of the Covenant and the Empress of the Sith walked into a cantina... why did that sound like the beginning of a bad joke? Before she could find herself amused, it looked like they were getting physical, only -- well, it was physical, just not that kind.

Was she supposed to step in? Anet wasn't quite sure the protocol... Still, it seemed oddly familiar, and if it were a real fight, the cantina would've been painted red with bystanders.

Then, the Echani Queen walked off. Reina stood soon after, said her goodbyes, and followed.

Anet turned back to Senth and sighed. "Well, you're being weird right now." Hard to say if it was observational or plain teasing.

"Wanna step outside?" She gestured towards their exit from the booth, and with a smirk, "I promise I won't string you along too much before I meet my end of the deal."

 

[Mercy]

Direct Tag: Srina Talon Quinn Varanin Reina Daival
Indirect Tag: Adelle Bastiel Anet Raine

Not realizing what was about to happen.

Srina did not step back, but rather, stepped in while one hand slid from Mercy’s eyes to the shock of red hair. Thin fingers threaded through short strands with deceptive calm, only to tighten and yank her head backward hard enough to expose her throat and tilt her balance off center. There was no warning.

The elbow of her free hand snapped downward with brutal precision, and cartilage met bone.

The crack was sharp and ugly.

Pain stabbed through Mercy's being and fractured the smugness she had been feeling.

Her body kicked into gear and immediately went into overdrive. Eyes blazed up in fury and fire. Most of the time Mercy looked lucid, she did crazy things all the time, but seemed in control. In that moment as her head was yanked back and the Empress stared down at the Empress, Srina would see the madness that was flesh-deep and always lurking inside of Mercy.

It was a monster that wanted to rip and tear, sink its teeth in and given the chance would rip Srina's throat out no matter the cost.

It snarled in response to Srina's growl. Beast against beast.

And then the healing factor began to snap the bone and cartilage of her nose back into place. It also had the side-effect of purging the alcohol out of her body, flushing her veins clean. The madness receded... barely and Mercy let go of Srina's hallowed backside. Instead she reached out, her hands cupping Srina's face as she looked up at her.

"I don't like boredom..." Mercy purred up at her, acknowledging the Empress managed to identify the one threat that could reach home. Softly squeezing Srina's face, the strength in her hands enough to rip apart beskar, and here it was cradling the Empress so gently. As if she hadn't just shattered her face.

The bone in her brow and skull filled with fractures that were re-setting itself in front of her.

Instead, the diminutive woman brushed crimson hair back, slowly, watching the macabre scene of her face healing.

Keeping it from falling into the mess.

“…Don’t do that.”

Mercy smiled. "Oh, sweetheart, it almost seems like you are worried for me..." But then nodding slowly, smirking however. "Even if it seems like the fastest way to get you here... I will do my best." Drawled lazily even as one hand let go of Srina's face... instead running along her own face, gathering up the blood there and watching it with interest.

"You seem to enjoy making me bleed." And then without warning she pressed her hand into the Empress' face, running it down gently and letting all that crimson liquid spill over elegant features.

"There... that's who you really are... the bloody Empress..."

With more slack allowed in her hair, Mercy twisted her face to the side.

"Mother, surprised to see you here…" Her eyes flickered between them as she waited.

"Lady Talon. Warlord Mercy."

Amber eyes flicked from Quinn to Reina and back. It didn't take a genius to see the body language between the two. But one such as Mercy, who had grown up among the Echani, could see it like a picture. Seems Quinn had found herself a new pretty companion.

Good for you.

"Mm, Quinn and friend..." Mercy drawled lazily and what a fright she must be. A giant in a chair, hanging precariously back by the grip of the Empress of the Order. Blooded and bone still sticking out, slowly on the mend. Eyes like caverns filled with fire. The crimson liquid running down her face, her jaw, to her neck and drenching her shirt.

"Well met, Quinn's friend." She instantly took a liking of the girl, using a proper title for herself. "You seem entirely dressed and ready to go all night, Quinn," A smirk shot at one of her oldest friend, seemingly uncaring she was taking the shit on her in the presence of her mother.

"Your mother here was just teaching me a lesson in... what was it, darling?" A flick up towards Srina again. "Diplomacy, manners?" She stretched slowly, groaning at the pain that she loved and was lacing through her body even now.

"Bit of A, bit of B. Did we interrupt your night out? I am so sorry." The smirk turning positively wolfish as it met Quinn again.

 

[Iandre Athlea]

The question did not catch her off guard, but it did still the faint movement of her hand against her glass. For a moment, she watched the reflections in the liquor, seeing the lanternlight fractured into shards of gold as if she were measuring exactly how much of herself to give and how much to keep. When she looked up again, there was no performance in her expression and no carefully curated answer; there was only honesty.

"I did not have what most would call a home life."

Her voice was calm. She did not sound distant or wounded, but simply factual.

"I was raised in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant before the Clone Wars. From the time I could walk, I was trained in discipline, meditation, and study. The Force was not something we explored for curiosity; it was our structure and our responsibility."

Her fingers rested lightly around the stem of her glass, but she did not drink.

"The Temple was my home, and the Order was my family. And then the war came."

She did not elaborate on the specific battles or the jarring shift from peacekeepers to generals, nor did she speak of the moral strain that had colored those years.

"We were told we were preserving the Republic, that it was necessary, and that we were the only guardians standing against instability. We were wrong."

The words were not bitter, but deeply reflective. Her gaze flickered briefly, not away from Varin, but inward toward a memory that refused to dim.

"The night the Temple fell, I survived because my Master ensured it. I was not where I was supposed to be because they chose my life over their own, standing in the path of the end so that I could slip through it."

She took a slow, grounding breath.

"Luck or the Force, I have stopped trying to determine which. But I did not remain in that time. I woke in a future where the Order was ash, and the Republic was a myth. Everything I had understood as permanent had already faded into the past."

Her eyes met Varin's steadily now. There was no self-pity in her voice and no grand tragedy in her posture; she was simply a woman stating the reality of her existence.

"So when I say I prefer to build things that endure, it is because I have already watched permanence burn."

She let that settle between them, the weight of the confession hanging in the quiet air. Then, with the faintest softening at the corner of her mouth, she added:

"That was my home life."

She did not look away, inviting him to see the truth of the survivor behind the composure.

Varin Mortifer Uros Wren Tamsin Starfall Tatiana Sah

 

[Ghruna]

Ghruna had decided that conversation was boring. Dancing wasn't quite as good as the raucous feasts she was used to, but it would do.

The drink had softened the edges of the room.

The lights were still too bright, the music still too loud, but it no longer pressed against her skull like an intrusion. It rolled through her instead. The bass was not a threat. It was a heartbeat.

It was artificial, yes, but steady and predictable. Ghruna found her own space on the dance floor. People certainly gave her space, but she kept her tail flicked up to avoid someone treading on it and starting a brawl.

She wasn't dancing desperate to be seen. She was happy in her own world. Shoulders rolling. Hips shifting with the rhythm. Her tail swayed behind her in slow, heavy arcs.

Ghruna didn't smile, but there was something unguarded in her expression now. She felt the slow release of tension as she let the warmth of the drink flow her and danced to the rhythm.

For the first time since stepping onto Level 1313, she was not thinking about ceilings or exits or who might challenge her. She was simply moving.

 

[Tatiana Sah]

Tatiana nodded with Varin Mortifer 's response. A very... practical people, one might say. Well, one might say quite a bit, which is why she tried not to 'over share' information about them. Enough social information had been gathered to infer certain topical responses would be poorly received.

Then the man retrieved the datapad from earlier and set it down between them. Blue eyes looked from it back to Varin. Special? In what way special? "I promise, Varin, I won't 'tamper' with it." How had he expected her to tamper with it, she wondered? The notion that she might take the opportunity to insert a bug or reprogram it to forward data hadn't even crossed her mind. Something that certain Republic intelligence officers would be quite cross about if they found out.

Well, it had occurred to her, but it hadn't been seriously considered. That was the sort of nuanced subject Tatiana tried to avoid stumbling over in her verbal exchanges.

Fine eyebrows rose when Varin smirked at her after he'd slid the device closer.

She reached out to slowly retrieve the datapad from the counter. The thin device was set atop the fingertips of her left hand. "It's a simple application of quanatic manipulation." Her right hand hovered a few inches off the surface of the datapad. "Ah," a quick glance at those nearby, "the Force." Well, it wasn't entirely the Force, but the bar was hardly the right place to discuss reordering the fundamental electromagnetic field of the universe.

A stream of light began to flow between Tatiana's palms. Varin's pad slowly lifted off the tips of her fingers until it hovered between her palms. Bathed in light, it began to intensify, bend, and flow around the pad.

"Primary damage: interface structural integrity. Secondary damage: weakened electrical pathways. No appreciable degradation to the power unit," Tatiana described as her eyes focused on the object under examination. With that said, the cracks began to slowly heal as though time itself were being rewound.

Provided no one interrupted, the entire process only took a few seconds before it rested atop her fingertips once more. "Repairs complete," Tatiana declared with a broad smile.

"Information endures," she said abruptly after Iandre Athlea confided her story. "It can take many forms. Concepts may even be lost only to be rediscovered much later. But the information from which all things exist cannot be destroyed."

Tamsin Starfall | Uros Wren

 

[Srina Talon]

TAG: Mercy | Arris Windrun | Quinn Varanin | Reina Daival
LOCATION: Lawd, I have No Idea

____________________________________________________

She could feel her fury.

Nothing in her flinched when darkness bled into Mercy's eyes, even, when violence and madness bubbled up in equal measure. The red-haired woman could try and tear her throat out for the offense. She might even succeed…But Srina was not some whelp of an apprentice that could be cowed by a snarling manic looking at her as if she were food. If the Warlord pushed for a fight?

So be it.

Her eyes were empty while she continued to watch the woman heal, assuming, that the alcohol would be purged in the process. When the body was constantly renewing itself that seemed to be a logical side effect. Not to mention, that she knew how much Mercy could imbibe. It was not a natural amount for any living, breathing creature, no matter their tolerance. It took a lot to keep her under and even more to make her stumble around like a drunk hippo playing pinball with people.

Mercy released her, almost reluctant, but it seemed that her threat hit home. Two large hands came up to touch her face and the Echani warrior didn't so much as blink…But she did sigh, lightly.

"I don't like boredom..."

"I know."

It was redundant to say the least. Srina stayed where she was for the moment and took the time to steel herself against the effect the Star Arm had on the Noćna Mora that slept inside her. She had never encountered anything that angered the Devourer more. It recoiled, furious, and pushed her to take another shot at Mercy even while her face was being delicately held. "Just as you know…I will not be demeaned. Not by any man—And certainly not you."

The touch remained. So soft, now. As if she were made of glass.

Her eyes narrowed slightly when Mercy mentioned that her being "concerned" was the fastest way to get her attention. So, that was the game? "You called me a dick because you were bored—"

The words weren't even fully out when a large hand ran across her pristine face and left a bloody smear behind. There was silence for a heartbeat, true silence, while the scent of copper filled her nose and her mind flashed back to the battle on Coruscant. The moment when the solar flare blew up in her face and the Force began to fail. She could feel the pressure in her bones from trying to hold something so powerful in check…The heat… Until the miniature sun exploded. Colliding with Mercy.

Her head cracking against the floor.

Metallic eyes grew distant.

"There... that's who you really are... the bloody Empress..."

Srina leaned down just a little while lengths of moonlit hair formed a curtain to hide her features. The tone that left her wasn't quite right. Noy angry, not exasperated. It was hard. Far enough away to be concerning but close enough that asking about it might have been a death sentence. There was a storm brewing in the smaller woman that had her fingers twisting in Mercy's hair again. Pulling back slowly until her neck would strain…Feel like it was about to break. "—And you bleed so easily for me…"

"Don't forget that."

From behind a veil of silken ivory there was something crawling up her throat, all fire, all smoke that seemed like it wanted to rip Mercy's head off. It gave the impression of a demon clawing it's way through her, up from hell, until the voice of her daughter caused it to freeze. Her grip on Mercy loosened…But she didn't look up right away. Instead, schooling her features into a mask of indifference…So that the Devourer, stayed away.

Stayed asleep.

"Mother, surprised to see you here…" Her eyes flickered between them as she waited.

The Empress straightened and her legendary control settled, even, while she reached up to brush waving tresses behind her ear. Exposing a shock of bright red across refined features that she hadn't bothered to try and wipe away. Mercy's blood dripped down her arm, steady, making a noise that she could hear like a gong when it hit the floor. Over the music. Over everything.

"Not half as surprised as I am to see my daughter here."

Her head tilted and she looked between Mercy, Reina, and Quinn for a long moment and suddenly wished that she were anywhere else. The last conversation she wanted to have was with two of her daughter's partners at the same time while wearing the blood of the loud one. For the first time that she could remember since leaving the Confederacy…She was almost driven to drink. Almost.

The comment about the clothing Quinn Varanin wore caused Srina to nearly growl again and her fingers twisted cruelly in the Titan's hair once more. It would be so much harder to look at Quinn and Reina Daival when it felt like turning her head might scalp her. If Srina was bothered by her physical boundaries being pressed, she was twice as such, when her protective instincts for Quinn were starting to spin into overdrive. "Forgive me children…"

"It seems that my lesson didn't take and that the Empress of the Core WANTS to watch paint dry."

They wouldn't understand the threat because it wasn't much of one. But Mercy…Mercy would know. The removal of everything she enjoyed while she remained chained, bored, on the throne she both coveted and hated with a passion. All at once she let the red-haired woman go, so fast, that she might lose her balance while her arms rose to cross beneath her bust. Somehow managing to pull off regal and elevated with crimson liquid coagulating on pale skin. Her gaze softened, just a fraction. "Interruption…Was not my intention. A rather alarming message drew me here but…But it seems to have been a false alarm."

There it was again. The scent and particular taste of something metallic…Every time—It pulled her back to Coruscant. To the moment of the explosion. To her head cracking like a coconut on the floor. To waking up with a mouthful of bl—

Her jaw tightened, trying to ignore it. She was all grace, all poise…But those who knew her best of all would recognize something was amiss. Srina was famous for thinking.

Not feeling. Never, feeling.

Her head felt light.

"If I embarrass you, I will take my leave."

No one wanted to be seen with their parent in a place like this...Then again, Srina didn't want to be in this place at all.

 

[Naniti]

Naniti looked over at Lysander from the corner of her eye with a faint smile on her lips. Was she often on his thoughts? The Togruta tried not to blush with the way Lysander described just how often she was on his thoughts. How important matters of state didn't quite measure up. In short, the man was a hopeless flirt.

It was truly nice to be described as a helpful, if not indispensable part of his life. She was just a humble Apprentice, after all. Many Sith wouldn't give anything she said a second thought. Sure, Lysander was now a Knight, but the title hadn't gone straight to his head. And somehow, despite knowing better, Naniti didn't want to wring out every ounce of 'use' from the man. Instead, she had found herself worried about his well-being as well as her own in all their time together.

"You're going to regret those words." Naniti replied just as soon as Lysander said her 'cheating' wouldn't save her.

A barely audible clearing of the throat followed as her eyes shifted to the side and back again. "You can call me any time, Lysander. About anything. To go any where. If it's together, I won't mind." A brief chuckle interrupted her. "I might complain if we end up on some backwater, swamp planet, but long as you're there or it's something important to you..."

"I've felt the same, all this time. I still haven't forgotten my vision, but I... don't spend every moment obsessed over it. Our times together have been breathtaking, enjoyable, and even a little frustrating sometimes." Edic Bar had yet to be forgotten.

"We'll have to find a way to keep those Lords from separating us though. Now that we have entire systems to run they'll need us to be moving all over to maintenance control, repel outsiders, and even expand our influence further."

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Acier Moonbound​

Lorn listened without interruption. The bitterness in Ace's voice when he mentioned the Republic did not surprise him. He let it pass. There were bigger fractures to worry about.

At the mention of the dossiers, Lorn gave a small nod. "I saw them." Star-Arm. Tane. Windrun. When Ace spoke of Windrun, Lorn's eyes sharpened slightly in the mirror. He believed him. The Force did not lie about that sort of thing. It twisted around absences.

"Losing faith?" Lorn murmured. That caught his attention. Empires did not crumble from the outside first. They rotted from doubt within. If Windrun was wavering, even quietly, that was a fracture line. "In fighting already," he said under his breath. "Interesting."

He filed it away. "I'll look into Corsell," Lorn added. "Quietly." A name was a thread. Threads could be pulled.

Silence stretched for a moment, filled by the low hum of the bar. Lorn studied Ace's reflection again. The control. The anger buried under discipline. The way he held himself like someone bracing for impact that had not come yet.

You're getting too deep, he thought. Careful. "You're walking a narrow edge," Lorn said, voice calm. "Don't let yourself become what you're studying."

He did not push harder than that. The boy already carried enough lectures. "You can't save anyone if you disappear into them."

He let that settle, then shifted slightly on the stool. "Punch me," Lorn said. "Hard enough to sell it. We argue. Draw some eyes. Then we leave separate."

A bar fight was forgettable. Two men with tension between them was ordinary in 1313. Lorn finally turned his head just enough to glance at Ace without the mirror between them.

"Make it look real," he added quietly.

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Club Cadaver
Tags: Anet Raine

It seemed Adelle wasn’t the only one that had noticed the Empress’ entrance as Quinn immediately cut herself off before she could tell the ‘funny story’ of how she and Reina met. And then shushed them, panic evident. Adelle raised her eyebrows briefly but the Princess quickly excused herself from the group and approached the altercation—the diminutive woman had someone titanic by the hair and broke their nose with a sharp elbow to the face. Adelle winced instinctively, even as Reina made her excuses to go stand with Quinn.

Well at least that would keep Srina Talon from approaching her and possibly blowing her cover. Hopefully. She’d incorrectly assumed that, with the likelihood of someone knowing her this low down being next to zero, her facial scars would go unnoticed and had only used dying eyedrops to change her eyes to a matching brown.

Anet’s sigh drew Adelle’s attention back to the Pantoran. Then the other woman made a comment about Adelle being weird.

Adelle laughed, sharp and short. “You haven’t been on the lower levels long then.”

The offer to step outside though. A double-edged weapon. On the one hand, she’d be out of sight and away from Quinn and Srina, which would make her job of keeping her anonymity easier.

On the other hand, Anet could very easily be leading her to a trap.

“Fresh air does sound good,” Adelle said. “Even if it’s this low down.”

She stood from the booth, stepping aside to make room for Anet, careful with her drink. The bar had drawn a lot of attention. Adelle glanced over in time to see the mountainous woman in the Empress’ hands reach up and trail blood down the side of her pale face. Something shifted in the Echani woman’s face.

Not her problem. It was not her problem right now.

“I don’t mind being strung along a little,” Adelle said to Anet with a smirk. “But remember, this proposal is tit for tat. What you give is what you get.”

 

[Anet Raine]

Adelle Bastiel

Anet slid out after, then took the lead towards one of the back doors.

“I don’t mind being strung along a little,” Adelle said to Anet with a smirk. “But remember, this proposal is tit for tat. What you give is what you get.”

"Oh - I know."

She stepped outside. Only outside really just meant far below, in a much bigger room that was the Coruscanti underworld. Level 1313 as far, far down, beneath a durasteel sky. The vents were poorly maintained, giving the 'outside air' a chemical smell. There were little gangs of partygoers huddled around the exterior. Enjoying smokes, conversation, and each other.

Anet walked a short distance, across the alley street, to a quieter area on the other side. Save for the occasional pedestrian, there wasn't really anyone to bother her.

She reached into her top and pulled out a small metal case. It clicked open, revealing a row of high-end cigarettes. As soon as one hung loosely from her lips, she realized...

"Um. Got a light?" Eyes flicked up.

 

[Arris Windrun]

Mercy | Srina Talon | Riffraff Ranat | Lysander von Ascania | Quinn Varanin | Reina Daival

The door slid open, and in stepped Arris Windrun. Only, she looked quite different - her usual stock of combat-grade cybernetics was replaced by bottom-of-the-barrel trash; stuff destined for the recycler.

Her replacement eyes were still glitching out, and they adjusted terribly to the flashing lights inside the club. Her whole vision was washed out. Still green. Just washed.

That was when it hit her like a stimulant. The technopath could sense her pistols. Both had to be nearby.

"Where the hell are they?!"