Faction Velvet Knives

[Pillar of Faith]

Parrlay, Naboo
The Rainspire

Spoiler

This will be a social thread designed to further the storyline of who will be the next Sovereign of Naboo. Noble Houses and Senators are encouraged to join. Socialize, make deals, or even throw their support towards someone. Lorn will push the story along every day or so with this Pillar of Faith account. Have fun.

The Grand Solarium at Rainspire isn't merely a room; it's an architectural fever dream of glass, marble, and menace. Perched precariously above the roaring surf of Naboo's storm-wracked coast, its panoramic windows offer a sweeping, untamed view of the sea. Yet, it was never built to inspire awe with beauty. Rainspire's most iconic chamber is meticulously designed to unsettle: the acoustics make even the softest whisper reverberate like a confession caught on the wind, and the calculated silence between each sound invites a creeping paranoia. Tonight, this unsettling space hums with an almost palpable power.

Delegates, dignitaries, nobles, and opportunists from across Naboo and the greater High Republic have assembled under the domed ceiling for what is publicly billed as a gathering of unity. But every soul in attendance knows better. This isn't diplomacy; it's a performance, a test, perhaps even a trap. Or, most ominously, a coronation unfolding in slow motion.

At the center of it all stands Remus Veruna, the once-disgraced patriarch of a house recently reborn. He hasn't summoned the elite of Naboo's Royal Houses and Assembly officials merely to drink his fine wine and admire the Rainspire's storm-kissed majesty. No, they are here to hear him speak, specifically to hear which candidate he will publicly endorse for the next Sovereign of Naboo.

On the surface, this should be a mere formality. The frontrunner, Sibylla Abrantes , has garnered popular appeal that has all but locked the election. But with Remus, elegance is always misdirection. His true goal tonight is subversion. What most guests don't know is that a failed assassination attempt on Sibylla nearly marred the week leading up to this very party, a plot whispered into existence by Remus himself. It was thwarted not by external forces, but by his own son, Aurelian Veruna, who acted in secret. Now, standing silently beside Remus, a golden heir draped in silks, Aurelian must weigh his own complicity against his burgeoning conviction.

As the evening progresses, the other noble families arrive in slow, stately waves, trailing elegance and ego in equal measure. Some seek power, some vengeance, and some simply wish to survive the shifting tide of influence. The air will soon fill with laughter and toasts. Diplomatic duels will be conducted entirely in raised eyebrows and veiled remarks. There will be bribes, beautiful, discreet, and entirely deniable. Proposals of alliance will be whispered. And betrayal, dressed in velvet and poured into crystal, will flow as freely as the wine.

Above all, there will be performance. Because in the chilling expanse of the Grand Solarium, nothing is ever spoken plainly, and no move is ever final. As thunder rolls outside Rainspire's windows, the guests continue to arrive, each stepping into a game already in motion, under glass too fragile to hold the immense weight of every ambition in the room.

Let the curtain rise. Let the rain fall. The House that once fell now hosts the storm.

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

The silk felt wrong, a subtle discord against his skin. It was Aurelian's first sensation as he stood before the triple mirror in his private chambers, arms held slightly aloft while three attendants fussed with his collar, their movements as precise and unyielding as a negotiation in miniature. The deep black of his formal coat, a deliberate nod to the colors of House Veruna, was provocation disguised as flattery. His father had insisted it made him look "magnanimous." Aurelian, however, suspected it made him look more like a peace offering with a pulse. Still, he didn't protest. Magnanimity, after all, was a good lie to wear tonight.

The Rainspire seemed to breathe around him, its walls humming faintly with the pulse of distant waves, the polished stone cool beneath his boots. Overhead, chandeliers of sculpted shell glowed with soft bioluminescence, casting his reflection in an ethereal ghost-light. He looked every inch the prince they expected: polished, dangerous, and perfectly poised.

He dismissed the attendants with a flick of the wrist, a gesture too graceful to be rude, too sharp to ignore. Alone again, he leaned closer to the mirror, inspecting his own expression like a craftsman admiring a finely honed weapon. The smile was already there, coiled and ready: dangerous, effortless, and laced with a subtle weariness from always pretending not to be smarter than the room.

"You are your father's son," people often liked to say.

He wasn't sure if that was a blessing or an autopsy report.

Aurelian reached for the final touch, a heavy signet ring burdened with legacy, inherited shame, and enough blood-soaked ambition to drown a senator. He slid it on slowly, the action feeling like sealing a promise he didn't quite remember making. It gleamed back at him from the mirror.

Tonight, the nobles would gather in the Grand Solarium, drawn by the bait of unity, lured by Remus Veruna's whispers of power, patronage, and positioning. And somewhere among them would be Sibylla Abrantes, still breathing thanks to him. Aurelian had saved her quietly, efficiently, and without permission. Now, he would have to watch her maneuver in the very hall his father had built to be a trap.

He exhaled slowly through his nose. It wasn't quite a sigh, more like a release valve on something old and volatile within him.

Legacy was a game he knew how to play. But tonight? Tonight he might just change the rules.

As the doors to his chamber slid open and the soft hum of distant music reached his ears, Aurelian Veruna stepped into the corridor of the Rainspire.

The party was beginning.

And the storm had already arrived.

@Open​

 

[Dominique Vexx]

Dominique slowly applied her lipstick in the mirror. Her thoughts weren't with the party. Plans were turned over and recited in her thoughts. It had to be perfect. As she pressed and pursed her lips, her golden eyes narrowed to slits for just a moment. To think that the gala Sibylla had attended to appease the Nobles of her world had never spelt the woman's end. To think their security had been so utterly incompetent as to nearly allow an assassin to murder her. No matter how tightly they tried to hide the truth, Remus' whisper hadn't gone unheard -- and a Direx of Denon had ample funds to coax the truth out of people. Whatever they knew, which wasn't a great deal, and that further soured her estimation of those charged with protecting the other woman.

She would have to get Sibylla to adopt an entourage for her safety. If not an entire team than at least one or two fiercely loyal people that would accompany her everywhere or clear every room ahead of her visiting. Competent security that wouldn't leave an assassin lurking in the shadows to catch her alone.

With a slow shake of her head, Dominique set the lipstick down and stepped back from the mirror.

This time would be different. If someone thought to attack her or those in her orbit -- including the ambitious and capable Sibylla -- they would be stopped using whatever force necessary. And if they were not stopped, they would be hunted down like beasts and made a public example.

After she checked on the obsidian doublet wrapped in snow white sides and layered shoulder pads, Dominique strode from the VIP accommodations. It was time to see how Sibylla was doing, and what these nobles had in store this evening. It was one thing to aspire to be an Ambassador, and quite another to rule a planet. Putting aside the obvious benefits of having a friend at such a high level, Dominique couldn't help but feel a certain kinship with the young woman. They'd both carved their way through all the obstacles designed to hold them back in order to claim the authority that belonged to them -- or soon would. Why shouldn't she help someone so ambitious? Especially when she was such a sweetheart.

The Grand Solarium with its oceanic view would be her natural destination at Rainspire. Dominique would try to ferret out the crowd's disposition toward the would-be Queen, and what new rumored had begun to spread. It was always wise to be prepared for the nobility's worst.

Pillar of Faith | Aurelian Veruna | Sibylla Abrantes | OPEN​

 

[Sara Celwik]

Sara felt totally out of place, though the young RIS Cadet was dressed to blend in with the staff and not draw attention to herself from anyone other than someone who knew what to look for. She felt almost as naked, no real armour and just a pistol tucked away in the lining of a reinforced formal suit. She missed her Sniper Rifle and the Peacekeeper armour that she wore when she was out in the field, but she'd look as out of place as she felt if she had them.

Sara wasn't here to fight; she was here to keep an eye out since the assassination attempt on Sibylla Abrantes might have a repeat attempt. Her job was just to keep an eye on things and be ready to alert the real heavy hitters or a quiet team, depending on the situation, to deal with anything that came up.

There were hundreds of better agents than her, and probably at least a dozen around here that Sara didn't know of. Her inclusion was essentially as a training mission. The stakes for her getting caught were incredibly low, alerting people that the RIS was keeping an eye on an event where the RIS should be watching wasn't exactly embarrassing for the agency, though it would let her instructors know Sara's level of skills when it came to infiltration out side of a controled enviroment.

Tags: Pillar of Faith // OPEN

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Raigryn didn't care who wore the robes of state.

Whilst several monarchs had used diplomatic clout as a figurehead, there was a limit to what could be achieved in a two year term.

Raigryn was here to see how everyone reacted to the campaign.

No one talked about him. He wasn't a young noble full of fire and ambition. That didn't mean that he lacked influence. People told joked about Raigryn and his many divorces. They also told jokes with him as they quietly made decisions over a few drinks that had huge ramifactions. He knew people.

He had arrived fairly early and met with likeminded individuals. His was a group of men from similar demographics. He held a fine crystal glass of whisky and made light of the situation to other wealthy men with expanding waistlines and white hair.

By the end of the night he intended to find out who was going to take drastic action just because of a change on the throne.