“My Lady?”
“Mmm?” came the soft, indolent reply, drawn past plump, glossy lips.
“We have come out of hyperspace over Panatha, my Lady. We have been hailed, and they have requested to speak to you directly.”
Her delicate brow furrowed. “A peculiar request. Our transponder codes and the authorization of my seneschal has been enough to grant us clearance.”
“A fact which Kyrios did indeed pass along to them, in case there was any doubt. However, my Lady-“
“-they insist. Alright, Arik, I will speak to them. Do go ahead and tell them I will arrive momentarily.”
He bowed and took himself out of the small lounge room attached to her equally small suite. It was a far cry from the Great Houses of her homeworld of Alderaan and the palaces she was visiting on this little galactic jaunt of hers. It was a tradition of House Gaultier that those not already promised or betrothed by their parents to another House for an alliance were to make a journey to other like-minded and properly ‘bred’ aristocrats.
Invicta had been traveling for almost a year, and had met no one that she could stand for longer than ten minutes. She couldn’t help it…or explain it. There was a fluttering sensation, an inner sort of prompting that told her it simply wasn’t ‘right’. Displeasure had reigned across her father’s features earlier that morning, when the report of her dealings with a well-connected and wealthy Bakuran family had reached his ears.
But she hadn’t been able to help herself, on the one hand. And on the other, she had taken such a perverse pleasure in tormenting their simpering excuse for a son – who had cared more for indulging his appetites than anything else. She sighed softly and pinched the bridge of her nose as she strode down the hallway and down the short staircase into the cockpit area.
Clad in a swath of snow-white silk that showed no skin save her delicate hands, Invicta nodded to the pilot. The monitor flared to life, showing a lazily dressed guard who quite clearly did not believe the initial communication. The lout had the ill manner to yawn as he peered into his monitor, dark eyes going wide as he finally caught sight of her. The waves of crimson curls that fell to her waist, the slender figure hidden beneath the white shimmersilk, and the features that quite clearly had murder writ in their emerald orbs.
She did not let him speak. “You have insulted a noble-born attendant who has served my family for eight hundred years, whom I regard as a second father. You have kept us waiting and insisted that I be summoned from my rest because you did not believe the codes and clearances we transmitted to you. When we land and we are in audience with your king, I will seek either your position or your life, dependant on my mood.” Her voice did not rise, it had remained cool, collected and dangerously soft.
Showing a measure of self-preservation, the man said nothing, simply quickly and expediently verified their codes and gave them clearance to break Panatha’s atmosphere. Coordinates for a berth at the private spaceport that served the nobles of the capital were given in a proper and respectful voice with eyes not rising to meet her own. Perhaps, Invicta mused, she would be lenient.
The young woman turned her back on the monitor when all was said and done, striding back into the hallway and up the stairs to her quarters. She would need to begin her preparations.
One did not simply appear to an audience with a king without every attention paid to proper court protocols and traditions.
By the time The Erebos set down and the palace escort arrayed itself at the base of the ramp to receive her, Invicta had decided that visiting Panatha had been the proper decision. The unease that had plagued her mind for the last several weeks ceased the minute her stiletto clad foot touched the duracrete beneath her ship. Something was…different about it. A scattering of energy seemed to wreath around her form and withdraw with a peculiar sense of acceptance given.
Fingers smoothed out the fitted royal blue shimmersilk of her gown, ensuring it lay as it should around each of her petite curves, as she collected her now-scattered wits. The crimson cascade of her hair had been tamed into a fasionable upswept coif, delicate shimmering pins and combs holding the curls in place. Her emerald gaze was accentuated by a simple sweep of shimmering powder, and a touch of gloss had been swept across her lips.
Like so much armor, she gathered her noble façade and held her head high as she was escorted to the waiting vehicle.
[member="Darth Vornskr"]
“Mmm?” came the soft, indolent reply, drawn past plump, glossy lips.
“We have come out of hyperspace over Panatha, my Lady. We have been hailed, and they have requested to speak to you directly.”
Her delicate brow furrowed. “A peculiar request. Our transponder codes and the authorization of my seneschal has been enough to grant us clearance.”
“A fact which Kyrios did indeed pass along to them, in case there was any doubt. However, my Lady-“
“-they insist. Alright, Arik, I will speak to them. Do go ahead and tell them I will arrive momentarily.”
He bowed and took himself out of the small lounge room attached to her equally small suite. It was a far cry from the Great Houses of her homeworld of Alderaan and the palaces she was visiting on this little galactic jaunt of hers. It was a tradition of House Gaultier that those not already promised or betrothed by their parents to another House for an alliance were to make a journey to other like-minded and properly ‘bred’ aristocrats.
Invicta had been traveling for almost a year, and had met no one that she could stand for longer than ten minutes. She couldn’t help it…or explain it. There was a fluttering sensation, an inner sort of prompting that told her it simply wasn’t ‘right’. Displeasure had reigned across her father’s features earlier that morning, when the report of her dealings with a well-connected and wealthy Bakuran family had reached his ears.
But she hadn’t been able to help herself, on the one hand. And on the other, she had taken such a perverse pleasure in tormenting their simpering excuse for a son – who had cared more for indulging his appetites than anything else. She sighed softly and pinched the bridge of her nose as she strode down the hallway and down the short staircase into the cockpit area.
Clad in a swath of snow-white silk that showed no skin save her delicate hands, Invicta nodded to the pilot. The monitor flared to life, showing a lazily dressed guard who quite clearly did not believe the initial communication. The lout had the ill manner to yawn as he peered into his monitor, dark eyes going wide as he finally caught sight of her. The waves of crimson curls that fell to her waist, the slender figure hidden beneath the white shimmersilk, and the features that quite clearly had murder writ in their emerald orbs.
She did not let him speak. “You have insulted a noble-born attendant who has served my family for eight hundred years, whom I regard as a second father. You have kept us waiting and insisted that I be summoned from my rest because you did not believe the codes and clearances we transmitted to you. When we land and we are in audience with your king, I will seek either your position or your life, dependant on my mood.” Her voice did not rise, it had remained cool, collected and dangerously soft.
Showing a measure of self-preservation, the man said nothing, simply quickly and expediently verified their codes and gave them clearance to break Panatha’s atmosphere. Coordinates for a berth at the private spaceport that served the nobles of the capital were given in a proper and respectful voice with eyes not rising to meet her own. Perhaps, Invicta mused, she would be lenient.
The young woman turned her back on the monitor when all was said and done, striding back into the hallway and up the stairs to her quarters. She would need to begin her preparations.
One did not simply appear to an audience with a king without every attention paid to proper court protocols and traditions.
By the time The Erebos set down and the palace escort arrayed itself at the base of the ramp to receive her, Invicta had decided that visiting Panatha had been the proper decision. The unease that had plagued her mind for the last several weeks ceased the minute her stiletto clad foot touched the duracrete beneath her ship. Something was…different about it. A scattering of energy seemed to wreath around her form and withdraw with a peculiar sense of acceptance given.
Fingers smoothed out the fitted royal blue shimmersilk of her gown, ensuring it lay as it should around each of her petite curves, as she collected her now-scattered wits. The crimson cascade of her hair had been tamed into a fasionable upswept coif, delicate shimmering pins and combs holding the curls in place. Her emerald gaze was accentuated by a simple sweep of shimmering powder, and a touch of gloss had been swept across her lips.
Like so much armor, she gathered her noble façade and held her head high as she was escorted to the waiting vehicle.
[member="Darth Vornskr"]