Faction [TSC] WELCOME TO 1313 | OPEN

[Tatiana Sah]

"Thank you," Tatiana smiled in the wake of Varin's admission. "In the beginning, I could not so easily blend in." Her brow rose a hair. "I meant no deception. None... malicious," she admitted as obviously it was a deception. "But it is necessary. My people would need time to be... approachable in social gatherings." Yes, she had trouble envisioning them at banquets, ballrooms, and board rooms. Rather, doing such with other species. They would adapt, she trusted, but circumstances were wildly different from their home galaxy.

As Varin briefly contemplated, his companion reached forward to pour a little more of the stout drink into her own glass. If they were talking, she doubted her new friend wanted to be the only one drinking. There was a social custom when it came to these sorts of things she'd learned.

When he began to speak, Tatiana set the bottle down turned her rapt attention toward Varin.

"You may feel that way, but my people have no concept of chopping wood being a rewarding experience, or the satisfaction in surviving against all odds. Such a way of life is actually more intriguing than a symposium on hyperspace engine design." Tatiana reached out to lift her glass off the bartop. "But I do agree." Her blue eyes turned back to the man beside her. "Not because technology is inherently detrimental, but from observation. It seems to stem from an oversaturation of people at the same time there are ample resources available. Normally, my people's solution would be to reduce the count; but I've come to understand that is not your way. Over corrections tend to happen." A quick smile and Tatiana tossed another glass of liquor back.

A soft cough followed.

Varin Mortifer | Ghruna | Tamsin Starfall | Iandre Athlea

 

[Nej Tane]

1313.​

Nej's footfalls were measured, each one a step further towards something he wished he wasn't doing. The weight of his guilt, the time spent carrying it started to lift off of him. Coruscant was the first place he looked, the place he saw the light in her eyes. The way her hair moved, the way her face lit up a room. She was taken from him, a life robbed. He was going to live a long time. He'd remember her face and the way she said his name for every moment of it.

His pistols hung under his shoulders underneath his jacket, bouncing against his frame with each step. Two blocks. The lights were dimmer here, a measure of control for his piece of Coruscant. Low lights meant that you could highlight who was coming, and your troops could lie in the dark, hidden to the threat.

But there was no hiding from Nej Tane.

He'd give him one chance to not let his men go to waste.

He pulled his helmet over his face, folding pieces of machinery, expertly designed, covering his face. Only a tuft of hair sticking out let people know it was him. His HUD highlighted targets, and the cooling systems present in the helmet gave him a good respite from the warm, damp air. In the street where he found himself, there were about six buildings leading to a larger one at the end of it. A rarity in Coruscant, a street that ended, your own personal abode. It was mostly free from the noise, far enough away from the speeder lanes that you could only distantly hear them. It was a quiet street, dimly lit, with a few red-blue neon signs illuminating illicite businesses and food places.

And he saw them, even in the dark. Smelled them, in some cases.

Those that lie in the dark. Watching, waiting.

He stopped, hands by his hips, ready to draw. They knew that. What they didn't know, however, was how fast he was, and how he knew where they were, crouching, lurking in the dark. His HUD highlighted them, and he saw them, clutching weapons beneath jackets, holding onto vibroblades and blunt weapons. One chance.

"JARROUL ZANDAL!"

​

Silence. Absolute, silence. The hired guns lying in the dark turned their heads to the door, waiting for a response. One came, a touch of the ear. An exchange of guttural alien words, too far away to make out. But the forty-five degree turn of his elbow in the dark showed him that he was about to draw. So Nej pulled first-

And within two seconds, put four shots into four people. His use of disruptors meant that the first shot was the last. He turned behind him, ducking a blaster bolt that went just over where his head was. In return, he turned the Gran that shot at him into two pieces at the waist. He turned back to the door. He had his answer, he had his method. So be it.

He came for revenge. He was going to get it.​

​

 

[Iandre Athlea]

The music pulsed around them in thick, rhythmic waves, bass rolling up through the floor and into bone, but Iandre remained steady in the center of it all, as though the chaos were something she observed rather than absorbed. Neon light caught briefly along the edge of her coat before sliding away again, unable to cling to her for long.

She listened. Not just to the words, but to the currents beneath them.

Varin's tone had shifted, less guarded, more open, and there was something almost fragile in the way he spoke of home. Tatiana's curiosity was bright and genuine, even when filtered through unfamiliar cultural logic. Ghruna carried loneliness like armor that didn't quite fit yet. And Tamsin…

Tamsin carried absence.

When Varin dismissed himself as uninteresting, Iandre turned her head slightly toward him, studying him for a long moment before responding.

"There is nothing uninteresting about choosing hardship on purpose," she said calmly. "Ritual labor. Scarcity by design. Reverence for strength earned instead of inherited. That tells me more about a culture than any technology level ever could."

Her gaze lingered a fraction longer, not pressing, just acknowledging.

"You may not find it remarkable because you survived it. That does not make it ordinary."

Then her attention shifted as Tamsin spoke.

Escaped slave.

The smirk was deliberate, but the Force did not lie.

Iandre did not react with pity. She did not react with shock. She simply regarded her with the same measured attention she had given the others.

"Freedom is rarely clean," she said quietly. "It often feels more disorienting than captivity, especially if captivity came with structure."

Her eyes flicked briefly to the amulet Tamsin had grasped earlier, then back to her face.

"And no. I do not work on Coruscant."

There was no elaboration.

"I am visiting."

The answer was simple, but it held layers she chose not to unfold here.

When Tamsin offered her a "new job," Iandre's lips curved slightly. Not amusement at her, but at the earnest awkwardness of the attempt.

"You do not know enough about me to recruit me," she replied evenly. "But I appreciate the instinct."

She tilted her head slightly, studying the younger woman more directly now. "Before you offer someone freedom, you might first ask whether they feel constrained." It was not a reprimand. It was guidance wrapped gently.

Then she answered the last question, and this time there was no deflection. "I like clarity," she said. "I like building things that endure. I like knowing the people beside me understand the cost of standing where they stand."

Her gaze drifted briefly across the bar, across the dancers, the guards, the quiet transactions happening in shadow.

"And occasionally," she added, returning her attention to the small circle at the bar, "I like observing what people choose to reveal about themselves when they believe no one is measuring them."

Her tone was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge of awareness.

She was not drunk. She was not here by accident. And she had memorized every exit in the room.

Varin Mortifer Tamsin Starfall Ghruna Tatiana Sah

 

[Naniti]

"No ancient Sith temples yet," Naniti replied honestly. "But I have a few leads on some Imperial caches." While such caches wouldn't measure up to Korriban, they'd have some useful equipment or riches. Something worth trading. Sure, she could steal a ship amidst the chaos, but that wasn't a life-long manner in which to fund her galactic exploits. Something more meaningful would be needed. More long-term. A good initial nest egg would help get that rolling.

Then all Naniti would need was someone actually good with finance.

Lysander then replied concerning peoples' expectations or disposition toward their new Sith rulers. "Most of them just want to know how to take advantage of the situation," his Togruta partner agreed. Her blue eyes turned to him after she'd kept an eye on those nearest the pair. A slight roll of her head followed suit. It was interesting the way Lysander spoke of choices that led to present circumstances though. Not something most people cared for. Why. How. Long as people ended up on top they usually carried on doing what they'd always done with no regard for that stuff. Then again, Lysander was more of a scholarly type than maybe he'd care to admit aloud.

"Forgive you?" Naniti echoed as she feigned a moment in thought. "I could do that. Question is whether I'll forgive the cook." Which she would for his sake... unless it tasted absolutely vile. But it wouldn't. A Jedi would speak of abusing the Force; Naniti didn't care for that, it was an ability she'd been born with and she'd use it to avoid eating something vile if she felt like it. Not that she knew how it would actually taste, just the reaction to it.

Naniti silently gestured for two beef bowls while she listened to Lysander talk about instruction. It was about what she expected too. Man had a great deal of pride in his technique and wasn't about to let other people besmirch his name by half-assing it. And, of course, he said any failure on their part reflected on him personally regardless, which was a whole other level of responsibility Naniti didn't expect from anyone approaching Lord-level. it was almost like if more people were like that then the Sith really would dominate the galaxy.

Well, exceptions to the rule were few and far between. But, perhaps, if the exception were in the right place at the right time...

Suddenly credits found their way into her palm and the Togruta looked up at Lysander. "I thought the final step would be us sharing Kryat Dragon cooked over an open flame in the desert." Final sounded so... final. Naniti wasn't sure what to make of it. "Agreements can be extended, you know." Or something. Where did it go from there anyway? Well, maybe not food related. They'd already kind of toyed with other lines. Naniti could think of one or two more food-related they could cross. Sharing food. Cooking food. Maybe she'd save those ideas for when they were in private.

"If you need any help managing Acolytes, I promise not to kill any of them. Or knowingly lead them to their deaths or dismemberment." Maybe an Apprentice wasn't teacher-level material yet, but she'd offer anyway.

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Reina Daival //: Anet Raine //: Adelle Bastiel //:

As people shuffled into the booth, Quinn peered at Reina. The earlier frustrations were only amplified by the new piece of information that the Ronin decided the Princess needed to hear.

It made zero sense to Quinn.

She watched Reina and tried to focus on the words spoken after the revelation. But Quinn's mind focused hard on the fact that Reina had proudly slept with someone else, in hopes that it would make her better for Quinn… Again, the thought didn't fully calculate in her mind. If Reina wanted practice, why not practice with Quinn?

Her brow furrowed slightly as her eyes drifted past Reina and towards the dance floor. She remained silent as the conversation continued, then she looked to Anet, trying to see what was amicable about her. She found nothing extraordinary, but that's probably why Reina sought someone like her out.

Was she intimidated by Quinn?

Quinn let her face soften for a moment, despite none of it making sense. Quinn wasn't going to make a scene here. She and Reina could discuss matters later.

Still, she wouldn't let Reina have the last word. Leaning close, feigning the motion for a kiss on the cheek. Her lips would brush gently on Reina's ear as she whispered.

"If you want to keep me happy, please don't give yourself away to someone who doesn't deserve you…"

Quinn leaned back, giving the Ronin a gentle kiss on the cheek as she looked at Anet and her companion. She could feel it, even if not through the Force. Anet's eyes said enough as she glanced towards the stray she had picked up. Quinn mused, wondering how things would play out if she decided to give this Senth any attention.

The only thing that stopped her was the hold Reina had on her hips, keeping her gently in place on her lap. She couldn't do that to Reina; the girl was special to the Princess, and she didn't want to hurt her.

Instead, Reina would fall victim to Quinn's teasing as she intentionally adjusted herself on the woman's lap, rolling her hips into her till she found a comfortable position. Once more, Anet glanced between Anet and Senth.

"No problem with me," another tight smile as she looked at Senth.

"Tell us about yourself, Senth."

 

[Reina Daival]

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

Reina tensed ever so slightly at Quinn's whispering. Not so much out of fear or the like. More...she knew she had said something wrong. But couldn't quite figure out. She had thought she was saying the right things, but the more she dwelled on it, the more the Siren felt as if she was putting her foot in her mouth. For someone who had a beautiful voice, she was awful when it came to using her words, as she lowered her voice, and her gaze, whispering.

"I'm...sorry."

Yet with that, her attention went back to Anet, and her "question" that clearly wasn't an actual question. Whilst Reina wasn't one to always mind rhetorical questions, there was something about the way Anet had asked it that had rubbed her the wrong way

"...I don't think my answer would matter either way."

The warmth in Reina's voice that had been there for both Quinn and even originally Anet had faded from her tone. Reina hated nothing more than someone asking a question like that where the answer ultimately didn't matter. It reminded her too much of Serina. Those who pretend to care about what you think and feel when in reality it means nothing.

It was different to just regular teasing in her eyes. Though perhaps Reina was just being far too on edge. Far too worried about Quinn being upset with her, but the whisper that the Echani had given...She clearly didn't think Anet deserved Reina's company that much. Perhaps that was the truth. But at the same time, Reina couldn't quite tell Quinn in this moment that she was using the Half-Pantoran...Perhaps that could come later, when the pair were somewhere far more private.

Either way, she was someone who wore her emotions on her sleeve, as she just held onto Quinn ever so slightly tighter. There was only one person in this club that she truly trusted. Perhaps more than herself. Yet that was neither here nor there as she turned her head over towards Senth, giving her a half hearted smile.

"Though my answer is I don't mind either. Feel free to sit."​

 

[Uros Wren]

WELCOME TO 1313
The Gilded Hearth - Chapter 1

OUTFIT: semi-formal inside, brown leather jacket outside
OBJECTIVE: look for information, business opportunities, and good times
TAG: Adelle Bastiel | Anet Raine | Ghruna | Iandre Athlea | Ierral Halcyre | Quinn Varanin | Reina Daival | Tamsin Starfall | Tatiana Sah | Varin Mortifer | Open

GATTI​

CORUSCANT

The hiss of the heavy blast door sealed the private room behind him, cutting off the spice-laden air of the meeting room. Uros Wren stepped back into the strobe-lit glimmer of Club Cadaver, the transition from high-stakes negotiation to the rhythmic thrum of Level 1313's nightlife barely eliciting a blink.

He adjusted the collar of his signature brown leather jacket, the worn hide a sharp contrast to the crisp, semi-formal tunic beneath it. The meeting with the Coruscant Hutts had been long but predictable: greed wrapped in thin layers of courtesy. But it was the air outside those rooms that concerned him.

Uros navigated the VIP mezzanine, his boots barely audible against the floor. He reached the primary bar, where the neon glow reflected off the amber liquid in the rows of glassware. He caught the bartender's eye; a weary-looking droid-hybrid who had seen too many accidents in 1313.

"A successful venture deserves a celebration," Uros said, his voice cutting through the bass with the calm authority of a man used to being heard. He leaned against the counter, sliding a high-denomination credit chip across the surface. "A round of Coruscant Coolers for everyone at the rail. My tab. The Gilded Hearth sends its regards."

As the bartender began the frantic work of pouring, Uros turned his back to the bar, hooking a thumb in his belt, and let his gaze sweep across the room.

His combat zen took over, mapping the room with precision. He noted the tension in the shoulders of the mercenaries near the exits, the way the air seemed to chill around certain corners of the club. The Sith presence in the Core is a lingering scent that cannot be shrugged off. He looked for the telltale signs: the unnatural stillness of a figure in the corner, the way the crowd subconsciously gave certain individuals a wider berth.

The Core was volatile. The transition of power was leaving gaps in the shadows, gaps that his people needed to either fill or avoid. Uros watched a group of figures in dark robes near the lower levels, his mind already cataloging their movements against the tactical data he'd gathered on Nar Shaddaa.

He took a slow breath, the scent of ozone and recycled air filling his lungs. The Hearth is far away, he thought, but the fire is starting to spread. He remained a pillar of stillness amidst the revelry, a warden watching the storm clouds gather over the center of the galaxy. He had his credits on the table and his hand near his hip; just the way a Wren liked it.​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti​

The mention of Imperial caches captured his focus. Not out of greed, even as a Sith Knight, for that word felt too crude to describe his feelings. He envisioned these troves as more than some forgotten piles of gear. It was possible that within them lay encrypted comms, vital data cores, and other equipment that could serve the Covenant’s cause. It might seem odd to many that he felt any loyalty toward a band of marauders that were now infamous across the galaxy, but his bond ran deeper. He had bled beside them, trained some of their ranks, and witnessed their evolution from the Outer Rim. If Naniti’s leads held true.. it was something he could not ignore.

Of course, anything she gave was often a breath of fresh air amid the sameness. Many mirrored his opinions, but her words were always molded by a more unique perspective.

After placing their order without a word, there was a nuance, delicate enough, that might've escaped him had he not been fully present. It was different from the familiar cadence he knew, having shared enough moments with the Togruta. It was just.. different. Something in her delivery coaxed his emerald focus downward as if summoned.

Clearly not the first time a gesture had gone astray, or his tongue choosing poorly. He wasn’t always good with phrasing, not the way she was. Not when she was involved, at least.

The bowls glided across the counter, steam curling upward. Lysander took his and stepped closer, pivoting around to slip past and free the line behind them.

“Naniti..” The next breath softened the line of his jaw. "That wasn't what I meant to put between us.”

For the longest while, naivety whispered that the perfect moment would come knocking, but standing there, that myth fell away. Those few seconds gave the truth time to take its shape. “I don’t need any agreement from you. All I want? For you to stick around.”

Still, he'd take a Krayt Dragon hunt any day; their best moments always lived outside Desevro before. Coruscant could be joining that list soon.

Somewhere behind him, voices rose; a small rise in his cheeks surfaced. “No matter how much the Covenant pulls me this way and that, it’s only you I see.”

He glanced toward the crowd, then back. “I could use your eyes on the Acolytes. If you see a direction for yourself in the Covenant.. whatever it is, just tell me. I’ll make room for it. And if you want guidance.. I can offer it. We’re a team, remember?”

 

[Riffraff Ranat]

Gillem​

Raspy chuckling continued off and on at Gillem’s commentary. The ranat‘s eyes gleamed with mischief as the man visibly dusted himself off and cracked things back into place. She wasn’t quite sure how either of them ended up where they were but Riffraff was clearly faring better than the bounty hunter. At mention of the gun in her pocket, the ranat looked noticeably surprised and pulled the thing.

”Oh chit, that wasn’t some dream— fethin wild. Arris’ll be worse off than even you,” she snickered out between sharp teeth.

The ranat jumped down from where she was perched with a grunt and tucked the gun away again, reaching instead to fish out a spliff.

“Bah quit yer whining— I don’t owe ya none and I’m not in a competing mood either,” she handed the smokeable off to him after closing the distance.

Gazing around at their unfamiliar surroundings, the ranat started patting her other pockets, looking for her datapad. When it wasn’t forthcoming, Riff swore under her breath. They’d have to figure out their location the hard way.

”Any of this familiar t’ ya? I seem t’ have lost the time and ended up here,” she eyed him with some lingering mirth, “You look like you got here through a garbage chute.”

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Varin watched as Ghruna tipped her drink back once more before separating from the group, the tipsy slight uneven pep in her step suggesting she may be feeling like dancing as she headed to the dance floor. Varin only watched a bit longer to make sure she didn't fall over then his attention came back to Tatiana.

“I know the feeling. Blending in, especially into a culture that's so vastly different can be daunting. It can take time before settling in.”

He sipped his drink once more as she spoke, his gaze shifting back to her in a hint of curiosity.

“There is a certain sense of pride in the type of people who use their own hands for survival or even projects. One may buy a ship to live in and travel and they may be happy about that, but then you have the person who built their own ship to their specifications, they know every crack, every button and every wire within that ship. And it brings them much more comfort."

He took another small sip.

“Tell me. How do your people thrive? Is everything automated for them or is there more work involved than that?”

He looked at Iandre as she spoke and he gave a soft sigh.

“Its not that I don't see it as special. I hold some form of respect to those who just make it and not only survive but thrive on their own. The ones who know their land and use it to its full potential. There's beauty in that. To know someone took the time to just learn and put it all to use.”

He finished his drink, after setting it down his body had a very slight lean to it, like it was trying to accommodate for something that was not even a hint of an issue.

Tatiana Sah | Ghruna | Iandre Athlea | Tamsin Starfall​

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre had been listening to Varin with quiet attentiveness, her posture relaxed against the bar's edge, and one elbow resting lightly as she cradled her glass. The noise of Club Cadaver washed around them in waves of music, laughter, and shouted orders, but she had long since learned how to let the chaos fade into a mere background texture.

Still, when Uros made his entrance and announced his sudden generosity, her attention shifted almost instinctively toward the source of the disturbance.

Her focus did not shift openly or obviously, but it was just enough to register the change in the room's atmosphere. Her eyes followed the movement of the crowd for a brief moment, noting how people reacted to him and how the physical space subtly adjusted around his presence as the room recalibrated itself without even realizing it had done so. A man who possessed the means to buy goodwill in a single gesture and command attention without once raising his voice was never going to be simply another patron.

The observation was an interesting one to make in such a place. She filed it away quietly in the back of her mind and returned her focus to Varin as though nothing had happened to interrupt their conversation.

When he spoke about the nature of craftsmanship and the value of self-made comfort, a faint, genuine smile touched her lips.

"That is a very good way of putting it," she said softly, her voice steady against the thrum of the club. "There is a profound kind of intimacy in knowing something that deeply, whether it is a starship, a home, or even a community; you are not just using it, you are in a constant relationship with it."

She turned her glass slowly in her hand, watching the amber liquid catch the flickering neon light of the bar.

"As for Tatiana's people," she continued thoughtfully, choosing her words with care, "from what she has shared with me, they rely heavily on systems and collective efficiency, favoring automation, optimization, and layered redundancies where everything is designed to minimize waste and unpredictability."

Her gaze drifted briefly toward Tatiana and then back to her companion.

"There is certainly work involved in that lifestyle," she added after a moment of reflection. "But the nature of it is different. It is more abstract and significantly more distant from the actual physical result."

When Varin spoke again about his respect for those who learned their land and used it fully, she looked at him more directly, her expression softening.

"You are not giving yourself enough credit for the perspective you hold," Iandre said gently. There was no teasing found in her tone, only a grounded sense of honesty. "You speak about these things the way someone does when they understand them on a fundamental level, not through an academic lens, but a deeply personal one."

She gestured lightly with her glass to emphasize her point.

"People who have never lived that life tend to either romanticize the struggle or dismiss it entirely, yet you do neither because you see the cost and the beauty existing together." Her eyes softened slightly as she reached the heart of her observation. "That tells me it mattered to you quite a bit."

She noticed the subtle, tell-tale lean in his posture and the slightly delayed balance correction that followed, hiding a small, knowing smile behind a measured sip of her drink.

"Also," she added calmly, her wit surfacing through her composed exterior, "you are rapidly approaching the point where the pull of gravity is about to become far more persuasive than your pride."

A brief, meaningful pause hung between them.

"If you would like, I can intercept that particular argument before it becomes a public and embarrassing display." It was said lightly, but with the quiet competence of someone who absolutely meant what she said.

Then, as the music swelled and the crowd shifted again, she cast one more brief, subtle glance toward where Uros stood, still and watchful amid the chaos, before returning her attention fully to her companions. Whatever storm he was watching, she could already feel the sharp edge of it approaching.

And in her experience, she did not trust coincidences.

Uros Wren Varin Mortifer Tatiana Sah Tamsin Starfall

 

[Anet Raine]

Adelle Bastiel | Quinn Varanin | Reina Daival

Anet flashed Adelle a smile and took another sip. Her attention turned back to Quinn, who had just asked Senth to say a little something about herself.

"Yes, please do." She seconded.

Her eyes hardly left Quinn and Reina, however, particularly the latter, who seemed... off. Even if she couldn't sense it in the Force, Anet was no slouch when it came to reading others. She had always chalked that up to her career in academia, but with a childhood like hers? Who really knew?

She turned a question to them when there was a pause in the conversation.

"So - how did you two meet? There must be a story there."

Given that Anet had never seen Reina outside of a context that didn't involve drinking or fighting (of both kinds), she imagined it must've been an event. Especially with who Quinn was, or at least who Quinn represented in the acolyte's mind, given they didn't know each other at all. Not really.

 

[Srina Talon]

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

____________________________________________________

"Ensure that the 2nd Legion is patrolling the edge of the Imperial border…Not just near Brosi. Expect faithless remnants to search for vulnerable points—"

hey dck

i thot we were goin out to drink ourselves into a stupor 2gether

its 1 thing 2 go off 4 a "quick rut" (???) but this is just rde

if u think im payin 4 ur drinks youve got anothr thing comign 4 u

come bak or i start auctioning ur boots

She squinted at the missive that splashed itself across her data pad from one-third of the Triumvirate of the Sith Covenant. Her head tilted while she tried to discern the complicated short-hand with which the transmission had been entered, and she decided there must be some sort of decoder or passphrase that she was missing. Otherwise…

Srina was fairly certain Mercy had just inappropriately called her a "dck" and threatened to sell her shoes. That was highly irregular. Usually, she preferred things like "darling" which made Srina's teeth grind together but that was at least something recognizable in basic.

She wasn't sure what was worse. The dimly worded threat…Or the spelling errors.

Her attention turned back to the holo of Gerwald Lechner and she continued with the debriefing without missing a beat. The fact that she'd been added to a shared holopad thread with Arris Windrun momentarily escaped her because, well, wartime required wartime things. She had to be present and accounted for at every meeting, large or small, and was also required to stay on top of every issue that cropped up.

She was lucky that her wolf seemed to excel in handling his work or she would have been bound to a desk or a throne for the rest of eternity. The pale woman couldn't think of anything more dreary or dull but it was part of her duty. It wasn't meant to be enjoyed.

Merely endured and suffered.

When her work was finished, eventually, she found herself glancing back at the thread and partially wondered if Mercy had finally outrun her healing factor and suffered a stroke. She wanted to ignore it. Should have ignored it…But for a dozen reasons she could not. The smart thing would be to call. Clarify. Ensure that the warrior wasn't infected with some sort of brain eating worm or otherwise made an invalid from copious inhalation of pipe smoke.

Srina was at least partially responsible for relations with the Covenant. It wouldn't be prudent to ignore what might have been a call for hel—…some…thing? Sighing, she opened the comm link and dialed up Mercy. Only to be swiftly sent to holomail. Twice. She squinted again at her screen and words like "audacity" began to roll around in her mind.

No. She would not leave a message after the force-forsaken beep.

It was in that moment, while pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers, that she informed her attendants that she was going for a walk. The Sepulchral priests looked displeased that she was once again traipsing off to who knew where but they had long since learned that putting a "leash" on her only resulted in getting an arm ripped off.

It wasn't long later that she found herself in a horrid venue as space folded around her and she stepped from the shadows as if she had always existed. Her clothing was entirely out of place, regal, in contrasting shades of red and black instead of the "cyber-bumpkin-punk chic" aesthetic she couldn't help but take notice of. The wintry woman ignored the stares and instead looked around for the largest person in the room.

Mercy was bumbling through people and knocking them over like pins in a game before slumping into a low chair. Srina watched her toss a drink back before her feet were irreverently thrown on the table, kicking back, and the sovereign could feel her headache beginning to increase. Her daughter was present in this hell hole.

Oh, Mercy was in trouble all right.

She made her way over and placed her hands over the eyes of the brute from behind and held them there. Blocking out the light, making it so she couldn't see, just a little spiteful.

"Guess who?"

She did not sound amused.

 

[Tamsin Starfall]

Theme: Get The Party Started
Location: Club Cadaver
Tamsin Tag: Iandre Athlea | Varin Mortifer | Tatiana Sah | Ghruna

"You do not know enough about me to recruit me," she replied evenly. "But I appreciate the instinct."

Yeah, she thought to herself it was stupid of her, why in the hell would she ever ask such a stupid question. She sunk inwards at that moment, not the Iander had scolded her but on some level, it felt like that. It felt like that rejection she had felt her whole life, always the outsider. Unlike Iander who chose to observe she felt like that was all she ever did.

"I'm sorry." She said meekly as she turned back to reach for her shot glass that was now filled with blue liquor that looked like it was on fire. There was some solace in that the flames were blue and looked like ocean waves on the rim of the shot glass. She had lived her life in a desert, but the ocean always felt like home.

"I like building things that endure. I like knowing the people beside me understand the cost of standing where they stand."

"All I know are strangers, the one person I knew is gone." Tamsin said half heartedly as she knocked back the ocean of a drink in a shot glass. The burn on the tongue as the liquid slide back cooling like the deepest part of the ocean. Her eyes closed for a moment as she indulged the drink a bit. "Even they were a stranger when I first met them. Yet I trusted them the moment I met them, I didn't need to know where they stood, I could just feel it."

But they were lost, weren't they, she thought to herself. "Things never Endure. They always fade away and turn to ash." She said a little more gloomily. "You have to build in the moments you have, because there is never enough time."

"I like observing what people choose to reveal about themselves when they believe no one is measuring them."

"Indeed." Tamsin said, as she remembered the first teaching from the only person she cared about in the universe had taught her. Be careful with your words everyone is looking for a hook or angle. Her sights then turned to Varin Mortifer , she did not like the idiot but she would be damned if anyone gained good blackmail material off him before she did. Telepathically she sent a message to him, he might be too drunk but hopefully that dragon in his brain was sober.


""Be careful, Iander seems to be fishing.""

Demon Tag: Ierral Halcyre​

"It's a gift from a local crime lord, given in return for my organization's services. It accurately monitors time across different planets, from Coruscant to Nar Shaddaa. It's essential for ensuring my shipments reach the warehouses on time."

She looked at the chronometer more intently as he fiddled with a bit longer. The spatial calculations such a device had to be capable of to keep accurate times with so many systems. It was a marvelous device; she might have to get one herself or two so she could take one apart to see how it all worked.

Her eyes then peered downwards as a crystal tumbler was set on the table by one of the commando's.

"I can assure you that I did bring you up here for a lackluster proposal. Instead, I offer something that will allow you to gain an advantage over the Triumvirs of the Covenant. A partner who knows how to acquire things from across the galaxy without asking questions."

"I can assure I already have an advantage over them." She said as she reached out with the force and slid the glass across the table towards the tumbler. "They need me more then I need them." She went on as she then lifted the tumbler and its small crystal cork and began to pour herself a glass of whiskey.

"That said logistics and shipping are still very useful to me. I have many scattered assets across the Galaxy and there are more than a few rare things I would like to precure." As the filling of the glass came to a stop just before the rim and then with the force it moved to the hands, and the shadow of Tamsin took a sip of the whiskey. Not drop spilled onto the floor instead it absorbed into the ghostly image and would take effect on the physical body down below.

"Though, what I might ask for will take your people to some of the most dangerous parts of the Galaxy. Place's even the most adventurous explores avoid. So I will need to be sure you are willing to do that?"

 

[Ierral Halcyre]

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

Nunterc's expression remained masked behind a veil of neutrality but beneath the table, his gloved fingers moved while masking his thoughts from the musing of the force. With a unnoticeable twitch of his wrist, he triggered a micro-camcorder concealed within the helm of his heavy protective sleeve. The device hummed with a silence that only high-grade credits could buy, its lens capturing the specter's boast with crystal clarity.

"I can assure I already have an advantage over them." She said as she reached out with the force and slid the glass across the table towards the tumbler. "They need me more then I need them." She went on as she then lifted the tumbler and its small crystal cork and began to pour herself a glass of whiskey.

The recording was a potential digital noose as the Triumvirs of the Covenant were not known for their sense of humor regarding subordinates who claimed superiority over their powerbase. Whether the girl was a delusional acolyte or a genuine threat was irrelevant; the footage alone was a currency that Nunterc could trade for favor, or silence, when the political winds inevitably shifted.

He leaned back, his hand brushing along the smooth surface of the booth's table as he watched the whiskey vanish into the ghostly image. While glancing down at the real Tamsin at the bar to check for any shift in her posture, he noticed something that left him in awe to her right. In a nearby booth on the Sith-dominated Coruscant sat none other than Senator Anet Raine of the High Republic.

He recognized her well from the televised sessions of the senate, gesturing towards one of the Mythosaur Supercommando standing patiently nearby. "Guardsman, bring me a double sunrise on a meat platter." This was an underworld code signal indicating that the Commando was to obtain covert footage of her in the club, providing the Bothan with another target for blackmail later.

It would be unfortunate if the High Republic discovered this as he turned his attention back to the matter at hand.

"You can be assured that the Honorable Guild is more than able to acquire items from fringes of society. Relics of the Maw, tech from the Deep Core, or whispers from the Unknown Regions the Guild can facilitate it. I am not a man who asks why a client needs a specific piece of hardware. I only ask where it is to be delivered and how many credits are backing the risk." He reached out, his claws clicking rhythmically against the side of his own glass, though he did not drink.

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Club Cadaver
Tags: Quinn Varanin | Anet Raine | Reina Daival || Srina Talon

"Tell us about yourself, Senth."

The emphasis spoke volumes. Adelle took a drink, even as Anet beside her chimed in.

“Well,” she said, leaning forward to set her glass down on the table and then relaxing back. “I am many things to many people. I used to be an enforcer here, in lower levels. Currently I do mercenary work. I like to do things quiet and clean. Better for my clients. And so better for me.”

All of it true. If limited in how much information it actually conveyed.

Anet used the moment to ask about the very clear relationship between Quinn and the red-head—Reina, Quinn had said. Where the Echani was reserved, Reina’s feelings were on full display in the Force. Adelle had to tune them out a little. Something was going on, but that was none of her business. Honestly, this trip was getting worse and worse all the time.

Adelle had grabbed her drink again and only just set it to her mouth when she felt the shift. The thick smog of Dark Side suddenly increased its weight and pressure exponentially. Under the expected smells of alcohol, bodies in a cramped space, and other less pleasant smells associated with clubs, she could detect jasmine and ozone.

Osik.

She took a long drink, more to hide her exasperation than anything else. The presence of the Sith Empress only confirmed what she had already started to suspect. Adelle needed to cut her losses and find an exit as soon as mortally possible.

The trick was doing it without drawing attention.

Adelle set the glass back on the table and crossed a leg over the other. Her eyes kept flicking to their surroundings, looking for an opening and keeping an eye out for one Echani Empress.

 

[Tatiana Sah]

Tatiana once again listened to the insights Varin had to share about his people. Then he turned it back on her, as one might expect.

"How to explain," the blonde's voice trailed off. "We do build our own," she began slowly, "to the scale that a localized group requires. However, we do not possess the same individual ownership as nearly every cultures in this galaxy seems to prefer. Ah, that might be interpreted incorrectly." Her blue eyes shifted side to side for a moment. "We each own what is required when it is needed, and exchange it when no longer necessary for newer things that are." That still wasn't quite right, but no one wanted to hear the full explanation they'd be there for an hour.

A soft laugh followed. "I hope that made sense."

"My people do strive to make use of the full potential of all things, like yours. Though, I think mine focus on what you call 'the big picture,' while what you're describing is more of a localized effect or satisfaction. It benefits the individual, which might benefit the community," Tatiana hastily added, "but the initial sense of beauty is with the originator." While her people focused on the long-term rather than the immediacy of the moment. Beauty was in the procession of effect rather than the accomplishment of an effect.

"Mine also acts on shorter time frames than yours, so perhaps over time the importance of the 'moment' was lost." Whether that was a detriment or a benefit of her people, Tatiana wasn't quite sure. It would require re-examining countless facets of their way of life and calculating the benefits and drawbacks of a societal shift. A considerable effort. Perhaps they could contemplate it after so many resources were no longer occupied with The Force.

Iandre had understood the bits before, and her summation would align well with what else she'd shared. 'Abstract' she'd called it.

Then Tatiana's brow rose as her eyes slid to Iandre and back to Varin. "Ah." Perhaps the liquor was having its effect. That would suggest their conversation was nearing its end. Fortunate. Unavoidable. Well, not entirely, but if Varin hadn't been much interested in her fixing his screen she doubted he wanted her to fix in inebriation. Which drew her attention back to Isandre. "You can?" In what way, Tatiana wondered.

Varin Mortifer | Ghruna | Iandre Athlea | Tamsin Starfall | Uros Wren

 

[Naniti]

Naniti looked up at Lysander before she retrieved her own bowl and followed him away from the counter. "What do you mean?" the Togruta asked as though unaware of what he might be referring. It wasn't in her to presume. If he meant what she hoped he meant then he'd say as much. Not that a failure would spell an finality to anything in that moment. Though it wouldn't be terribly reassuring. Healthy relationships were few and far between among Sith. Not impossible, but power was an all-consuming sport.

Blue eyes blinked as she gaze up at him in the wake of his response. All he wanted? Naniti tried her best not to let any response through her expression or posture leak through. Sometimes -- sometimes! -- remaining calm was the better option. The Jedi didn't have an exclusive claim on remaining calm.

That said, there was a slight turn to her head, draw of her brown, and a downward twitch at the corners of her lips at the voices around them. Calm was exclusive for Lysander, however. Everyone else could end up with chopsticks in their eye sockets if they didn't shut their spice holes.

Yet, she managed to school her expression once more and focused squarely on Lysander's face once more. Only her, he'd said. That... sounded awfully swell. It really would be nice to have someone she could trust. Rely on. Even talk to without concern he might 'tattle' on her to some stuck up Lord. Lysander could be a good listener. Often. Sometimes he didn't quite hear what she was saying, but a woman could forgive an occasional oversight. Long as he tried his best.

"My direction?" she asked. "The Covenant isn't the one talking to me, offering opportunities... sharing moments together." Naniti stepped in closer. "If you make room for me, it should be by your side." He'd already said they were a team, but he should know the Togruta agreed. Provided he helped a humble Apprentice to elude the demands of over ambitious Lords, and to remain close.

"And I always enjoy your guidance. Even if you do make me want to cheat in our duels sometimes." Naniti smiled.

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Mercy]

Location: Sitting in this char
In the room: Srina Talon
Elsewhere: Quinn Varanin Arris Windrun

Things were going rather well.

She had been been stumbling a bit, but found a chair that managed to support her substantial weight without much protest. She had ordered another drink, which was supplied, because they were more concerned with what she'd do if she was told no. Versus being concerned about what Mercy would do when she was really drunk.

The one thing that wasn't going well was that Mercy wasn't getting a response from Arris.

Which was just rude.

She once again pulled out her datapad but this time decided she'd give the cyborg a call. Much more difficult to avoid. Right as she was hitting the button, someone covered her eyes. Which accidentally meant Mercy slipped past "Windrun" and landed on "Varanin" instead. Mercy was too intoxicated to realize that however.

So even as her vision was clouded she hit press.

"Windrun, I am telling ya... when I get my hands on you..." Mercy muttered before dropping the datapad and reaching around to respond to whoever thought it was wise to grab her face.

She'd grab and then squeeze whatever was available.

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

Not realizing what was about to happen.

 

[Ives]

CLUB CADAVER
Does Not Exist

Ives observed the reflection of himself in the mirror throughout the entire process of reaching down, tapping the sink switch, and cupping the water in his hands. His reflection didn't break eye-contact as he leaned down to drink. Just a visual disturbance, that's all it was.

The cold water helped to still the thirst he noticed. How had he been dancing out there this dehydrated? He restrained himself the impulse to squeeze his head down to drink from the running water directly. One handful at a time, slow and steady, all-the-while he observed his reflection. That haggard soul, barely recognizable.

Ives sniffed, turning the water off. Memories threatened to resurface, even as the broken thump of the bass filled the bathroom. No, he wouldn't start reflecting on the past months among these tiles lit up by buzzing fluorescent light. He pushed off the sink, looking himself over again, feeling the tension slip away as the water began its work. He still felt like shit, but a little less like a desiccated corpse.

His reflection moved out of sync with him, again. Turning slightly before it snapped back to match the way he stood.

Ives mumbled a curse. A full-blown hallucination?

The light's buzzing snapped, like a string pulled taut and released. Once, twice, and a third time in quick succession. Then it repeated. The steady buzz was interrupted by three distortions. Ives shot a look at the ceiling. The lights didn't flicker, it had only been the sound. And now it had stopped. The buzzing continued like nothing had happened.

Ives looked back to the mirror. His attention was focused squarely on that pair of pale blue eyes that ostensibly belonged to him, staring back. His reflection didn't move. The light fixtures continued to buzz.

Tap, tap, tap. He noticed he'd grabbed the fabric of his jacket's chest-pocket. He often did that for comfort, nothing he consciously thought to do. His reflection had done the same, except it tapped its thumb against the space above its heart. A silent tap, tap, tap audible only to someone inside the mirror.

Tap, tap, tap. He felt the tapping through his shirt. Ives glanced down to find his thumb moving exactly like in the reflection. He pulled his hand away and stepped backwards. His reflection followed with a step forwards, towards the edge of the glass. There was curiosity in that face, where Ives felt a creeping dread pull at his features.

Ives' heel hit the tile, and he ran.

He stumbled into the hallway. He would have fallen had he not caught himself on the far wall, bracing against the carved marble sculpture. Even through his sleeves he felt the marble pulse with the heavy-isotope beat of the music. Except the rhythm felt off, detached, somehow, from the music he heard. Ives pushed off the wall, breathing quickly.

The statue glinted in the rapidly dwindling light that crept through the closing door. That serene face, eyes and mouth closed before, now regarded him with a wide, teeth-filled smile and its orientation, tilted sideways, no longer made it look like sleep but a result of a snapped neck. One that shimmered with gold in place of the black marble. Then it became veiled in darkness again, as the door clicked shut behind Ives. What was happening?

Ives took off down the corridor, away from the dance hall. Somewhere this way an exit was waiting. The same one he'd used to get inside the club.