Faction Velvet Knives

[Bastila Sal-Soren]

For a moment, Dominic’s voice lingered in the chamber like the aftermath of a thunderclap. It left an atmosphere the no one dared breathe in. It left a tension that sat heavy just begging to be broken.

Then after moments of fighting off the anxiety that had settled within her, she moved.

Bastila Sal-Soren stepped forward, her motion smooth and deliberate, there was no fanfare, no swelling orchestral cue. Just enough of a motion to slice the tension like a knife, causing a collective intake of breath as the realisation became to take hold across the room. Dominic had indeed known where to place his support and she had been stood amongst them already.

She presented a solitary figure as she reached the heart of the Solarium, Her dress framing her in pale ivory and gold, it created an image almost haloed by the stormlight refracting through the great glass dome above. She looked young, her age suddenly more apparent among those who knew her, because she was young. There was something else in her bearing though as she took her place, something carved by loss and silence and choices no one had seen.

She didn’t need to raise her voice. The room was already listening intently.

“I am Bastila Sal-Soren,” she said, her tone clear and strangely calm. “Daughter of House Sal-Soren, and House Ee’everwest. I am the youngest born of two houses who have helped shape Naboo throughout their years as a combined house through the marriage of my parents. We are known as Artists, architects, diplomats, and guardians.”

There was pride in her words, but she showed no hint of vanity among them. She spoke as someone who had through trial and fire learned the weight of her name, not taken it and merely worn it.

“I was raised among you, many of you know of me and I have indeed lived some of my life within the sphere of courtly rituals and ceremonial expectation. I however fully know that I was not trained for rule.” She offered a pause. Her hands remained folded before her. Her voice dropped just slightly. “But I was trained.”

She let the implication breathe amongst the room, she let the whispers pass around, much as they did when she had first stepped forward, she let it sit just enough and then spoke it fully;

“It may however not be known that I am Force-sensitive.” The words weren’t loud, but in the attentive room they landed like thunder behind glass. “Like my sister and my brother. I have spent years within the structure of the Jedi Order.”

A flicker of something more passed through her; pain? maybe? Or was it clarity? Now was not the time for that however, people were looking towards her for words, not emotions.

“I did not come here to reveal that truth, but I can no longer withhold it from the public eye.” Now she lifted her chin, not arrogantly, but without any sign of apology. “I make this known not to impress, or to mystify. I share it because what comes next requires your absolute trust.” She refused to glance around, instead she stood solitary with grace, like one of the noble houses could. “I tonight declare that I Bastila Sal-Soren will be standing aside from the Jedi Order.”

The ripple through the crowd this time was sharper now. No declared scandal, but pure disbelief. The whole room felt like it had collectively leaned forward and stopped. Like they all knew what was coming, but didn’t want to be the first to declare it.

“I make this choice willingly and without resentment. I also declare it without compromise. For within my intention I cannot serve both the Jedi and the people of Naboo, not truly. The values of each call me in different ways. And tonight, I choose service to this world.” Her gaze moved then; slow and searching, not at anyone in particular, and yet unmistakably aware of the eyes fixed on her. Sibylla’s. Veruna’s and finally; however briefly Dominic’s.

“I do not take this path lightly,” she continued. “I have given much to the Order. It has shaped me and tempered me. I do not renounce its wisdom. Yet if I am to serve Naboo, truly serve her; then she must be my only calling.”

Emotion gathered at the edge of her voice, though she did not let it unmake her. Instead, it gave her words weight. "This is my sacrifice. My vow." Her expression didn’t break. But something flickered behind it. She swallowed, hiding the nerves that sat within her for what came next, for what words her Family would say, for what everyone would say.

"Tonight, I declare my candidacy for Sovereign." She breathed once. The stormlight above flared, casting fractured gold over the filigree of her gown. “We are standing at a moment that will be remembered. Not just for the speeches made here. But for the questions we dared to ask.”

“What do we want Naboo to become? Do we seek only to preserve what we were… or do we dare to imagine what we might yet be?”

The final turn of her head was unmistakable. Her gaze found each and every eye that she could in the room, she didn’t catch them long, It wasn’t theatrical, but felt real for each and every one of them, she saw them.

And in that glance was everything unsaid.

Sacrifice. Affection. An echo of what might be if they gave in and trusted her, allowed her to look to the future and prove that her name was not just a birth right, should the fates allow it.

Then she turned back to the chamber.

“I do not pretend to have every answer. I am not yet all I hope to become. But if you choose me, know that I will carry this mantle not for myself, but for every citizen who cannot step into this room and speak.” She allowed her voice to become strong and just an ounce of zeal seeped into her words, “For the artists and The farmers. The scholars, the wanderers and the protectors who ask for nothing but a future worthy of the children of Naboo in this new future as the heart and soul of the High Republic.”

Her voice gentled at the very end.

“I ask not for loyalty but instead only for belief. That we are more than we were, and that in this new role we have found ourselves within the galaxy that we can be more still.”

Then, slowly, Bastila inclined her head. She could hear her heartbeat, she was sure everyone else could too. Then she lowered further into a courtesy to the people, a sovereign gesture. Not bowed in submission; but in offering to all of them in turn.

“I offer all of myself to the people of Naboo. For it is upon their judgement that my candidacy stands.”

The Solarium held its breath again, not because it didn’t believe her…but because It just might.

Kyric Dominic Praxon Sibylla Abrantes Cassian Abrantes Pillar of Faith Aurelian Veruna Dominique Vexx

​

 

[Enshid Veruna]

Tags: Aurelian Veruna Dominic Praxon Sibylla Abrantes Bastila Sal-Soren

Well. This had certainly been more...eventful than Enshid had expected. There were plenty of faces that Enshid hadn't expected to see here. Not that she recognised them. But it reassured her somewhat. If there were faces she hadn't expected to see but were her, perhaps that meant she did belong here herself. For as much as she felt like an outsider, Enshid was still a daughter of Naboo. She belonged here as much as anyone else born on the planet. Her nerves had finally started to settle...

And then, as if the Galaxy would not allow her a moment to rest, her father had made an announcement. Something about the elections. Something Enshid, deep down inside, couldn't care less about. But it was all about wearing a mask right? Was she meant to act surprised? As if she expected this all along? There were so many different roles she needed to act, and it was hard to decide which to take. Yet, she was afforded at least another moment to relax, as the man Remus had seemingly selected to be his puppet seemed ready to collapse, and the mask Enshid had been wearing slipped for a moment.

She moved, almost as if eager to try and assist in some way before she caught herself, trying to shift back to the side she had been hiding herself in. Yes, Enshid was not a fan of the nobility, as much as she was a member of them, but she was not the kind of girl to wish death on someone, nor to stand back whilst they were suffering. She attributed that to her childhood amongst the streets. She had been raised to still have a heart, and right now it had been a struggle for her to get that heart to freeze over. To be as uncaring about others plights as most people were.

For now, she turned her attention over towards the words of Sibylla Abrantes . It would do best for Enshid to at least act as if she was listening to those throwing their names into the hat. Not that she ever planned on doing it herself. It seemed like a lot of talking. A lot of restrictions. Of not being able to take the actions you wanted to make. And so Enshid would contently listen, folding her arms along her front as she listened Sibylla's speech. It was impressive to say the least.

Then came the announcement of a Jedi...or at least, Ex-Jedi now, declaring their candidacy. Enshid's eyes squinted for a moment at the thought. She definitely had...opinions about that at the very least. Yet none of them were quite politically motivated. No. They were personal. The idea of a Force-Sensitive being the Sovereign...It didn't sit right with her. But it wasn't Enshid's position to say anything opposed to it. People were listening to every word being said, even if they didn't seem interested. And so instead she just watched and took in as much as she could. She was best seen. Not heard.​

 

[Kyric]

"I would," she replied to Kyric, "but it would seem we'll have company shortly."

"An unlucky turn of events, that," Kyric admitted with a wry smile. "How often does a street kid like me get the chance to rub shoulders with a lady such as yerself?" Hands clasped together behind his back, the young Jedi Knight watched Lady Abrantes with an expression caught between concern and resignation. She was the point of this entire endeavor, so why did he suddenly feel so glum? The answer couldn't be more obvious, but the kiffar lacked the social graces necessary to understand it.

He was a little dumb like that.

Surprise shook away the gloomy feelings once Kyric noticed Aurelian wander up brazenly to Sibylla. The Prince of Parrlay kept the interaction brief, not unlike the prison meeting a few short weeks ago, and disappeared back into the crowds. A small part of Kyric suggested he chase the young noble down and confront him, but even the kiffar with all his shortcomings knew better than to brave the fires of Naboo politics.

Aurelian Veruna still held all the cards in their 'relationship.'

Instead, Kyric turned his attention to the host of the evening get together; Remus Veruna. The aged patriarch opened up with a well-practiced speech, one that spoke to the traditions of the Naboo with little grandstanding. In some ways, he reminded Kyric of Sibylla's father; a statuesque depiction of the ruling Houses and their many games—strong, confident, and driven to win.

The Jedi Knight could've gagged if not for the spike of fear somewhere in the room. Whispered words spoken in quiet concern grew louder as attention shifted from Remus Veruna to Sham Tapalo. The man clutched a nearby pillar for strength, his unfocused eyes cast over the surrounding partygoers in a silent plea for help.

Kyric nearly charged across the room; the Jedi sensibilities instilled into him by his many mentors screamed out to preserve life where death threatened. A second examination of Topalo not with Kyric's eye, but a sixth sense—one afforded to those graced by the Force's power—suggested Sham faced an oncoming illness, not doom.

"Adaptable though, isn't he? Can't let everyone see just how absolutely enraged he must be right now. Well, there's always a reason someone rises or holds on to their seat at the height of power."

"A snake is a snake no matter how purty they dress up their hissin', ma'am."

The moment Sibylla Abrantes stepped forward to declare her candidacy, Kyric's posture shifted. His gaze swept over the crowds in search of hidden danger. His mind race through the room on psionic winds, prodding the many guests' surface level thoughts for even the faintest flicker of warning. He made no attempt to mask himself from Dominique Vexx beside him. The kiffar's sole focus zeroed in protecting the Lady of House Abrantes with a single-minded fervor more akin to canine than man.

The speaker to follow Sibylla was mostly unknown to Kyric.

Dominic Praxton carried himself with the same grandeur the kiffar came to expect from the Naboo. Well dressed, well spoken, and most certainly self-serving, the noble's words were a riposte aimed to blunt Lady Abrantes' momentum. Dominic's truest intentions were delivered with decorum and grace. It was a masterclass in wordplay; the type that infuriated Kyric.

Fortunately, the woman at his side saved him from his internal ravings.

"What do you think?" Dominique turned to regard Kyric once more, curious on the take of a seemingly humble Denonite. "But first, please, introduce yourself. I feel like we've hardly met."

"Name's Kyric—Kyric Karis," the kiffar introduced himself with little fanfare. "I'm er- a member of the Jedi Order's High Council, if ye know what that is." He considered her initial question for a brief moment, his mind replaying the prior minutes with perfect clarity. Remus' posturing, Sibylla's speech, and Dominic's ploy. Each and every one lethal in their tactics. Devoid of the weakness to be found in lesser speakers and inexperienced politicians.

"I think this game of theirs' is gon' end in death," Kyric answered seconds before Bastila stepped forward. "Innocent people are relyin' on these fools to serve the greater interests, yet I can feel micro-deceptions laced into their honeyed words. I can only hope the Assembly sees this farce fer what it is." The Jedi cleared his throat, surprised at how harshly he judged the event. "Forgive me, ma'am. That may've been a tad unfair. If I had a vote, I'd vote in favor of Sibylla Abrantes. I've witnessed her courage and commitment to this planet firsthand."

In the shadow of Praxton's initial strike, the noble's truth made manifest as none other than Bastila Sal-Soren stepped forward. Her words struck the room over and over again. She was agile in her movements—sparse, yet purposeful. Few within the gathering could hold a candle to her will, blessed by the Force, honed in the corridors of the Jedi Temple, and perfected on a dozen battlefields. A masterful stroke made all the more dangerous in her willingness to leave the Jedi Order behind.

Kyric scoffed—loud enough to echo across the chamber in the silence of Bastila's declaration.

"Who is to say this Oath ain't another she'll abandon?" Kyric asked Dominique beside him, his voice low, scarred visage shifting from outward annoyance to the stoic mask favored by many a Jedi Knight.

---

Tags: Dominique Vexx
Indirect Interaction: Sibylla Abrantes | Dominic Praxon | Aurelian Veruna | Bastila Sal-Soren

 

[Rowan Ee'everwest]

Rowan moved like a shadow with purpose, excusing himself from Sara with a nod that was half-command, half-blessing. He never explained, especially not when something was wrong. And something was very, very wrong.

The hallway outside the Solarium was slick with marble and silence, broken only by the gasping, retching sounds of Sham Tapalo's ruin. Guards stood at uneasy angles. Medics clustered with chilling detachment, performing the motions of aid with a professional distance Rowan recognized: the man was already dead to them. But Sham Tapalo hadn't accepted it yet. His body fought, twitching, then thrashing, convulsions violent enough to echo off the glass. Rowan knelt without thinking, his coat sweeping the floor as he moved to the man's side. Foam slicked the corners of Sham's mouth, pale skin stretched thin over his features, as if the poison gnawed from within.

Rowan whispered, not to Sham, but for him: "Shiraya forgive us." His gloved fingers brushed over Sham's brow in a blessing too late to save, too early to redeem. He watched the life claw its way out of the man's body in fits and spasms. When it finally ended, Rowan closed the man's eyes. No one else did. The silence that followed was worse than the death itself.

The silence shattered when heavy, deliberate boots, dozens of them, announced someone's approach. Rowan rose as Veruna's personal guards advanced like the answer to a question no one wanted to ask. In their midst, like the punchline to a private joke between shadows, strode a Noghri: shackled, but upright, silent, murder personified.

Rowan moved without thinking, slipping into step behind the guards. His voice was low, cold, and dangerous. "What is this?" No reply came, not from the guards, nor from the droids trailing them like vultures awaiting the next corpse. He pushed forward, his tone sharper now. "What are you doing? Speak." Silence. Even the Noghri said nothing, which disturbed him more.

They reached the back of the dais, the place where Remus Veruna ruled not as a man but as a myth draped in flesh. Rowan heard the end of Dominic Trozky's speech echoing beyond. Rowan barely listened. He knew men like Trozky, professional optimists pretending pragmatism. The Senator he mourned had been guilty, of that Rowan had no doubt. It was of no consequence that he had interrupted the assembly. Vonn was guilty and Senator Veyan needed help.

But poison wasn't politics. Poison was war. Rowan's patience cracked.

"Answer me," Rowan demanded. A young guard, already sweating under his polished armor, flinched. He glanced sideways, then forward, then sideways again. His lips moved. "We're waiting." Rowan's eyes narrowed. "For what?" The reply came brittle, breathless. "Our cue." That stopped Rowan cold. He felt it then: the sudden, crushing weight in the air, the tension vibrating behind every guarded glance, every telling silence.

This wasn't confusion. This wasn't chaos. This was choreography. Everyone here knew the next step. Everyone but him. He looked at the Noghri, at the expressionless guards, at the ornate doors beyond which Remus Veruna smiled, a patient god. Rowan prayed again, not for Sham Tapalo this time, but for everyone else.

@Everyone​

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Aurelian Veruna stepped out of the shadows behind the dais, his black coat shifting with each stride, hiding the coil of violence beneath. The light from the bioluminescent chandeliers above framed him in spectral blue-gold as he emerged from the darkened alcove. His expression was unreadable, save for the flicker of something ancient behind his smile: mischief sharpened into intent. The holo-droids, dutiful servants of spectacle, turned as one, their lenses refocusing on Aurelian. He wanted everyone, not just the nobles choking in the glass tomb of the Solarium, but the people beyond the Rainspire, to see and hear him. He let the silence hang for just the right amount of time before he spoke.

"Good evening," he said, his voice carrying through the Solarium's cruel acoustics. A hush fell over the crowd.

"I am Aurelian Veruna," he continued, letting the name settle. "For those of you in this room, and those watching at home, I thank you."

His eyes swept the chamber like a storm about to break, and he turned, deliberately, to face each of the candidates who had dared to step forward.

"To Lady Bastila Sal-Soren. I commend your bravery tonight. Shedding the Jedi Order is no small gesture. You are.... bold." His smile cut deep. "Boldness, however, is not the same as loyalty."

He let that linger, then moved on to the next candidate. "To Dominic Trozky. You've played your role well. A clever mind. A political survivor. I expect nothing less from a man who watched his last patron dragged out of the Assembly in chains. Naboo may yet find use for your talents... in the Senate."

And then he addressed the final candidate. "And to Lady Sibylla Abrantes. I have no doubt you will make a fine queen.... One day." Aurelian's gaze held hers, and he didn't smile now. Not truly. What flickered behind his eyes wasn't mockery. It was regret for what he was about to say.

The moment passed, and Aurelian's voice swelled once more, gathering force like waves before a storm surge. "But tonight is not a night for courtesies," he declared. "Tonight is a night for truth."

The silence in the Solarium fractured, whispers beginning to stir. He crushed them beneath his next words. "We do not need another queen who will abandon us for higher office when it suits her, like Kalantha. We do not need a wayward Jedi... however pretty in silk, who seeks power now only because her siblings eclipsed her. And we do not need a junior ambassador whose sole claim to leadership is that she brokered handshakes with Mandalorians."

He let that dagger fall. "Mandalorians," he repeated, voice lowering like thunder, "who only months ago, put blasterfire through the streets of Theed. Who burned farms near Deeja Peak. We all watched Naboo bleed through their violence."

Aurelian's voice rose now, cutting through the chamber like a command. "I am not comfortable with Mandalorians. I am not comfortable with Jedi. I am comfortable with Naboo."

The words hit like cannonfire. "I am comfortable with her fields. Her oceans. Her noble houses. Her people."

He drew breath, his coat shifting as he stepped forward, framed now before the grand stained glass of the Solarium's ocean vista. Stormlight lit him from behind. "I resign my seat in the Royal Assembly."

A roar swept through the chamber, shock and disbelief mixing with questions spat like sparks. Aurelian silenced them with a single, sharp gesture of his hand. "I resign... because I will no longer serve Naboo from the shadows of lesser men."

He smiled now, cold and bright. "I will serve her as King."

The declaration cracked across the Solarium like lightning. The nobles, the courtiers, the holo-feeds... they all froze. In shock. In awe. In fear. In spectacle!

Aurelian stood in the center of it all, breathing in the storm. And then, slowly, deliberately, he turned. His eyes found Remus Veruna, his father. Remus' face was frozen between fury and disbelief, a statue of power, cracking. Aurelian's voice, when it came, was quieter, but no less lethal.

"Not even blood will stand between myself and Naboo."

With a flick of his wrist, he summoned the guards. From the behind, they emerged, dragging something behind them. The Noghri. The assassin. The crowd recoiled. Holodroids zoomed in.

Aurelian watched his father's face as realization bled into horror. He turned, with lazy grace, to face the audience. "Some of you recognize this creature. Most do not." He gestured lazily at the shackled killer, small and deadly as rumor itself. "This is the Noghri who attempted to murder Lady Abrantes mere nights ago." The room exploded in noise. Aurelian let it boil, then cut it down with the scalpel of his voice.

"I stopped him." Silence followed as he turned to stare at Kryic. "I sent a wayward warrior to protect her. I then set my guards to capture the would be assassin." He stepped closer to the Noghri, resting one casual hand on its shackled shoulder like a master addressing a failed hound. "And he now enjoys the hospitality of my dungeons. A comfortable stay, I promised him, if he gave me what I asked."

Aurelian's eyes glittered. "And he did." He let that settle. "The name of the man who hired him."

He turned, pointing at Remus Veruna. "I give you... the architect of that assassination." He tilted his head, as if curious. "My father." Pandemonium. Remus surged to his feet, words strangled by disbelief. Aurelian watched him, calm as the eye of the storm. "You felt threatened, Father. By a girl." He tilted his head, as if curious. "And so you tried to kill her." An arrogant and cruel voice followed. "And you failed."

For a moment, neither moved. Father. Son. Knife's edge. Then Aurelian turned to the chamber, to the cameras. "To the people of Naboo."

And his voice rang like prophecy. "I, Aurelian Veruna, declare myself Patriarch of House Veruna." His coat flared as he pivoted, every inch the heir of legend reborn. "I declare myself as candiate for your future Sovereign. As a candidate to be your future King,"

And then, softly. "And I order the arrest of Remus Veruna." The guards moved. Slowly. Then faster. Remus Veruna's final cry was lost in the roar of the Solarium.

Aurelian stood motionless, watching the scene unfold. Only when the chains closed around his father's wrists did he move. He turned, facing the holo-droids, and bowed. To the people. To the storm. To history.

@Everyone​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Kyric Dominic Praxon Cassian Abrantes Pillar of Faith Aurelian Veruna Dominique Vexx Enshid Veruna Bastila Sal-Soren Magdalena Bloodscrawl Rowan Ee'everwest Raigryn Vayd Sara Celwik​

Needless to say, Sibylla's intuition had been correct.

I should have known.

She had felt it the moment Aurelian came to greet her and told her he hoped she would enjoy the show.

And what a show it was.

Like the ringmaster of a grand Coruscanti circus, Aurelian had set his stage, and now there were three candidates for the Sovereign of Naboo, and one pledging his candidacy for her Senator.

Chaos erupted, and in the wake of it, Sibylla couldn't help but feel a rush of shock, alarm, and then frustration at the absurdity of it all.

Oh, there was no denying it. That was the face of the Noghri who had come to kill her at the museum. Even now, she could feel the way her skin began to crawl, feel the way her heart suddenly leap in her throat, picturing him lunging at her. Even now, she felt the sear and dull ache of claw marks along her back despite the synthflesh treatments that she received to heal them.

"Sibylla, is what Veruna's saying true?!" her father's voice called from the sidelines, the powerful figure of the Abrantes Patriarch marching toward her in the chaos as guards surged to arrest Remus Veruna.

"Yes," Sibylla replied calmly, blinking slowly once, twice, before she took a shallow breath, summoning the practiced expression she had perfected in her ten years of political service.

Hold your composure and keep your bearing. It was the mantra she was focusing on to keep her back straight and her chin lifted. The only way to avoid being cast as a victim instead of a strong and decisive candidate for the throne, knowing full well that holo cameras were hovering everywhere, snapping images and recording footage that would broadcast from one city-state to the next. Each Prince and Princess, every noble House, every commoner, all would be tuned in to this exact moment.

To the stage Aurelian had cast and played his hand.

Hazel eyes snapped to the dark-haired Senator, catching the bow he offered the room. He looked every inch the performer, every movement deliberate, every word surely rehearsed. He was going to be the talk of the hour for weeks to come.

Had he planned this? Had he known about Sal-Soren's bid? Since when had he decided to enter the race?

And had he really foiled the plot to assassinate her? Or was that just another layer in Veruna's plan?

Then again, as her attention swiveled over towards Remus Veruna as manticles were cuffed around his wrists, the very real protest and anger flared within the elder, kohl-lined topaz eyes panned back to Aurelian in sharp calculation.

If he wanted to make an impact, he certainly did.

Now, it was time to determine what game he was playing. The same could be said of Sal-Soren. Bastila Sal-Soren had never stepped foot inside the Assembly chambers as a politician before. She had no public experience and certainly had not been trained to rule.

If the only training she referenced were that of a Jedi -- and a secret one at that -- it would not be significant for the throne. The Royal Houses would wonder if this was a bid by the Order to have one of their own on the throne, as the Sovereign position would be the liaison between the Jedi Order and the Assembly... however, one didn't easily erase the fact that Bastila Sal-Soran came from a Royal House. A prestigious one at that.

By Nabooan law, Bastila had every right to place a bid and be elected.

Sibylla expected Dominic Praxon would support Bastilla's candidacy. Given his family's ties to House Sal-Soren, the odds were high that the Houses and the vassals aligned with them might ignore Bastila's inexperience and vote her in regardless.

Even so, the greater matter at hand was Aurelian.

She had to find out what he was truly playing at, and she needed to hear it directly from him. But not now. Not under the blaze of holocams and the watchful eyes of every courtier and Senator in the Solarium.

Later.

Thus, Aurelian Veruna would feel Sibylla Abrantes' eyes on him.

Not merely a glance, but the full weight of a gaze trained by ten years of courtly scrutiny and quiet survival. Sibylla watched him not as a girl betrayed, nor as a rival crowned, but as a future Sovereign, measuring not just his actions, but the man beneath them.

There was a gravity in her stare, a storm veiled behind the artistry of her face. A face that had been praised, paraded, and painted in elegance in the classic Naboo fashion....but it was more than just beautiful. It was weaponized.

And now it was turned on him.

Those hazel kohl-lined eyes, framed in delicate filigree and shadowed by the glint of courtlight, pierced deeper than the words he had spoken or the bow he had offered. She studied him the way one studies an old riddle -- layered, familiar, but always just out of reach. She was looking not for the role he played, but for the fault line beneath the mask.

Not the performance.

But the truth that dared to breathe behind it.

 

[Briana Sal-Soren]

Briana hadn't meant to arrive late.

Unpunctuality was not a flaw often associated with her, not the one who'd been groomed from childhood to eventually succeed her aunt as head of the Ee'everwest line. No, she'd always absorbed every lesson ever given her, particularly around the importance of being seen at the right time, in the right place, and wearing the right face, each lesson on courtly decorum and otherwise, practically branded into her bones. But then, Briana hadn't particularly wanted to show up for this event, either. As Vizion Trozky would have aptly point out, should he have been around, she'd made herself busy; purposefully burying herself in work that could have easily waited until tomorrow in a determined effort of deflection.

Even the surprise of running into Kellan Jericho as she'd readied to leave, after years of not seeing him at all, had in some way been an excuse to waylay her arrival. Maybe the easiest of all the excuses, really. At least now she'd have a friendly face to commiserate with as she re-entered the den of vipers for the first time since her parents death, and her father's spectacular fall from grace and prestige.

Sweeping into the Grand Solarium on Kellan's arm, swathed in an elegant pearlescent gown that shimmered between light blue and silver, depending on the way the light hit her, was a reminder that no matter how far Briana Sal-Soren drifted from courtly life, spent in temples or battlefields, covered in dust or blood, she'd been born of this world, raised for it.

Even as she grew more and more content to leave it all behind her.

Having fully crossed the threshold, the doors sighed shut, sealing them inside the glass-walled crucible, just in time to catch the tail end of her sister's final words.

"I offer all of myself to the people of Naboo. For it is upon their judgement that my candidacy stands."

Briana stopped walking, hand slipping from out of the crook of Kellan's arm.

Her head and body whipped in the direction of Bastila's voice, and when the clapping followed, Briana did not join them.

Perhaps some saw a steadfast, resolute young woman, the future.

All Briana saw was a child wrapped in borrowed silk, walking headlong into a fire like a lamb to the slaughter, and dragging the rest of them with her. How long had she been planning this for? Briana felt her stomach lurch uncomfortably at the thought. The connection with her sister had been strained since their parents death, since she'd left Bastila at the Jakku Enclave while she'd tried to clean up Baros Sal-Soren's mess.

Of its own volition, her body rocked forward, half a step toward impulsively yanking her sister from the middle of that damned floor, but years of a Jedi's practiced restraint had her swallowing that impulse and rooting herself instead. She couldn't make a move here, not with so many holoreporters in the same room, not when Bastila had all but ensured the Sal-Soren name would be called into question again, and the Jedi Order's intentions along with it.

There would have been no time to reach her anyways, a whirlwind of events playing out in rapid-fire succession with the force roiling along with it and crashing over her. Remus Veruna's arrest, the Noghri assassin, Sibylla's admittance of her near-death experience. One after another, like sabacc cards turned over in a losing hand. Politicians were always unpredictable, the Royal Houses could be even more so... but even this went beyond the norm.

Briana folded her arms across her chest, passing a concerned glance towards Kellan. "Maybe we should have come sooner."

​

 

[Dominic Praxon]

The stormlight fractured overhead, streaking the polished floor in shades of molten amber and imperial blue. Dominic Praxon did not move at once, though his mind had already made the necessary calculation. His was the stillness of a falcon above the field, gaze sharp, talons folded.

Aurelian Veruna had, in a single stroke, dominated the narrative.

Dominic allowed himself the briefest flicker of admiration, not of the man, but of the maneuver. There were moves in politics so deft they could not be called crude, even if soaked in blood. To claim the throne, arrest one's father, and upstage two sovereign bids, all before the echo of Bastila's vow had faded from the glass, required either madness or genius. Likely both.

He stepped to Bastila's side with solemn poise, gaze following the retreating figure of the shackled patriarch.

"So ends one reign," he murmured, voice low enough for her ears alone, "and begins another, whether crowned or not."

The Noghri stood as grotesque punctuation to the drama. What had been a whisper in museums and moonlit gardens was now paraded beneath bioluminescence and applause. Aurelian had seized the room.

A shift in atmosphere pulled his gaze, and then he saw her.

Briana. "Damn."

He stiffened ever so slightly, the way a man might brace for a wave. She stood not far behind, her arrival marked not by sound but by presence. It gathered in the air like a coming verdict.

He turned to Bastila once more, his expression gentled, not from affection, but from understanding.

"You will soothe your sister's doubts, I've no question of it," he smiled in the way that only scoundrels could, "But Veruna is the name on every tongue now...and I see one standing apart from the fray."

His eyes flicked briefly to a solitary figure, Enshid Veruna, poised on the periphery like an unanswered question.

"If either of us are to succeed, I must bid you farewell...for tonight."

He bowed, elegant and unhurried, and did not wait to see if Bastila watched him go. "Grandmaster...if you will excuse me," he said, in passing, to Briana. Again, his knowing smile betraying his own intentions.

Instead, he turned toward Enshid, the daughter of this chaos, the ember yet untouched. The one person in the room whose silence might still hold some truth.

He approached with studied calm and offered a courteous nod, voice measured with courtly ease.

"Lady Enshid Veruna," he said smoothly, "It seems the night has made strangers of many of us. Permit me to remedy that. I am Dominic Praxon."

His face softened in the way that all good nobles could on cue. "Please accept my most heartfelt sympathy for tonight's revelations. Please be assured the House Praxon is at your service."

Bastila Sal-Soren Kyric Dominique Vexx Bastila Sal-Soren Aurelian Veruna Sibylla Abrantes Cassian Abrantes Briana Sal-Soren Kellan Jericho

But most importantly, Enshid Veruna​

 

[Magdalena Bloodscrawl]

Magdalena had been sensing for any attempt on the life of Sibylla Abrantes ...

And she had failed...but not because there was an attempt.

She had failed because she realized there was no danger. That there was never meant to be.

She watched with mild interest as the Noghri was brought forward. Watched as Aurelian Veruna made a show of it, and she detected the practiced deception in his words but said nothing because she knew no one would listen.

Well played she thought to herself, knowing a doctored drama when she saw it. He had planned everything for maximum drama, the depth of his ruthlessness revealed to her in selling his own father up the river.

It was a massive posture. She knew, and could do nothing about it. He hit all the stressors that wrinkles this crowd. Most of them were likely itching to get out of the Jedi's purview, but how far would he take it? How nationalist was he?

Magdalena was no expert at politics. At least, she didn't believe herself to be.

Regardless, her alien mind already registered him as a problem. Exposing him would do no good...these types chafe at the thought of being selfless, of having a larger view of things. Of having the Jedi around to ruin their schemes.

They always gravitated towards men like Veruna, in the end. Always. They had with Palpatine, after all...

Magdalena grabbed a chocolate, popped it in her mouth, chewed on it.

She briefly considered having him killed by one of her Deputies, but shot the idea down immediately after. There were multiple reasons for this and only a few were tangentially related to morality.

The first was that he would only become a martyr, the second being there was a risk of it being traced to her, and the third (Which was notably last place in her alien thought process) was that it was just not a very Jedi thing to do, given the fact she was listed as a Jedi Master in this faction. But she knew a snake when she saw it.

Still... didn't her son secretly own a few news networks? Subtle slants against his candidacy, hit pieces, scummy but legal forms of slander that would prove difficult to classify as slander in a lawsuit, might sour public opinion on him enough...

She would have to ask her son about it. The Bloodscrawl Family hadn't been here very long, but they had spies all over Naboo already. One of them would have to find a way to shadow him...

Magdalena departed. Her son would need to be informed of this development at once...

Bastila Sal-Soren

Briana Sal-Soren

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Cassian couldn't hold the chuckle at Aurelian Veruna words and greetings towards his sister. Nothing ever changed, just as Cassian was the soldier. Aurelian was the fool, forever plotting, tools and fickle games at his disposal. Perhaps he should thank him though, Sibylla is alive because of him. Should that wipe away all accounts by him......

Perhaps, perhaps not.....

Thus more events began to transpire the announcements began to move about like wildfire. Many were now vying for the throne and all Cassian could think about was, his sister. If she didn't have her work cut out for her before, she definitely did now. It was sympathy and sorrow mixed together for her and he was here at her side as was the rest of House Abrantes.

"Sibylla, is what Veruna's saying true?!"

Cassian glanced back, when he heard his fathers voice. He leaned in and whispered to Sibylla in jest. "Should I throw in my hat for Sovereign now as well. You are better looking and smarter than I am. However I am far stronger." Cassian smirked as he winked at her. "Forgive me, I shall return."

The general moved with silent and authoritative stride, towards Aurelian as soon as he turned from the holodroids. Fair game, like an extravagant individual seeking the attention of the world.

Well, now he had the attention of Cassian Abrantes.

Veruna guard stepped to meet him as Cassian easily pushed through them. "Move aside..." Cassian spoke coldly as he now stood before Aurelian probably a mere foot or two away.

"I suppose congratulations are in order." Cassian spoke, however he did not offer a handshake, just a simple nod and smirk. "You've exposed a conspiracy and have become head of your house in one fell swoop." The General took a step forward as the holodroids departed the area and it was just them two, safe for a few members of either household guard. There were some who knew Cassian enough that they thought he might punch Aurelian.

"You saved my sister, I must thank you personally for that. You've done our house a great service." He spoke with a near smile, astonished that he was even speaking these words to him. However the next part came easy, family was family.

"It must be said though, you play a lot of games. If any of them bring harm to my sister in any way. Then I'm gonna hurt you, do you understand?"

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

The shackles clicked shut. The sound was small, almost delicate, yet it cracked like thunder in Aurelian's ears. From the center of the storm, he watched as the guards dragged Remus Veruna past him. The former patriarch of House Veruna thrashed weakly against the iron grasp of soldiers commanded by his own guards. The mask of power had cracked fully now; fury twisted Remus' face into something that looked more corpse than king. As he passed, Remus leaned in close enough for only Aurelian to hear: "You are not my son." The whisper was not rage, nor even grief. It was pure, distilled hatred.

Aurelian's smile faltered for just a moment. A tremor behind his eyes. The knife-edge of triumph dulled by something deeper, something older, a boy's voice buried inside the man asking whether any of this was victory at all. But that moment shattered as quickly as it formed. His expression slid back into place.

Remus was dragged through the great doors of the Solarium, his voice swallowed by the roar of the crowd, by the cameras, by history itself. Aurelian stood alone, quiet for a moment as he simply breathed. Then he looked back at the gathered masses, nobles with mouths half-open, courtiers pretending not to panic, rivals calculating their next desperate moves. His gaze drifted past them, locking with Sibylla Abrantes. He saw her staring, not at the mask he wore, but at him. Aurelian did not smile this time. He just held her gaze, a silent conversation carved from everything he hadn't said, and perhaps never could.

Slowly, he turned. He approached the ancient stone seat, the ancestral throne of House Veruna, and sat. It was the most natural thing in the galaxy. For a moment, Naboo itself seemed to hold its breath.

That moment did not last. Bootsteps echoed. Aurelian's peripheral vision caught the advance even before his guards flinched. His personal Veruna Guard moved instinctively to intercept, but he waved them off with a flick of his wrist, casual as brushing away smoke. Cassian Abrantes approached, in full stride, eyes like iron, voice like a blade. Aurelian chuckled softly as the man closed the distance, not because he underestimated him. Oh no, Cassian Abrantes was a man you underestimated at your peril. Aurelian chuckled because he knew precisely how much it infuriated the General when he laughed.

As Cassian halted just a few paces away, Aurelian's gaze drifted lazily over the noble crowd as though bored already. "Well," Aurelian murmured, "if it isn't Lady Abrantes' brother." Cassian's words hit like expected jabs: praise wrapped in threat, gratitude sharpened to warning. Aurelian watched him, expression inscrutable, as Cassian finished his promise. Then he smiled, slow and dangerous, the kind of smile people paid debts to avoid. "Why would I ever harm Sibylla?" Aurelian asked, his voice laced with something silkier than sincerity. "I quite enjoy her company." His smile deepened, but it never reached his eyes. He let that hang, then flicked his gaze lazily back to Cassian, his eyes glinting like cold starlight. "But you," Aurelian said, almost absently, "you surprise me."

There was a pause. "You're still toying about in the army, aren't you?" He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the carved arms of the throne, his voice dropping to something quieter, more personal. "Marching boys through the mud, chasing ghosts along the coast. And all the while, your sister nearly died." The words landed with all the subtlety of a knife slid between ribs. "Tell me, General." Aurelian's voice was a whisper now. "When will you stop pretending you're protecting Naboo, and start protecting your own family?" He sat back, watched Cassian's expression, and smiled.

Aurelian Veruna: heir, traitor, future king. And at last, honest.

Cassian Abrantes | Sibylla Abrantes​

 

[Dominique Vexx]

Dominique regarded Kyric from behind her glareshades with a shadow of a smile. A snake? Well, the man certainly was that. Curious to find someone bold enough to say it aloud in this crowd. Even being a 'humble' citizen only went so far.

Just far enough to check the crowd for threats, for instance, when Sibylla announced her candidacy. Hadn't even tried that hard to keep his check discrete. Not concerned she might be one of those threats? So many interesting half-answers on parade.

Then Bastilla declared herself. Quite the turn. Such a valiant move for her to put aside her responsibilities to the Jedi Order as well. Pointless, but bold. Dominique wouldn't think for a second the woman would abruptly stop being a Jedi just because she didn't kneel before their High Council. Some would find that reassuring, of course, being a "Champion of Justice" or the People, or whatever other fool notion people had of Jedi. Well, at least the Queen was no longer responsible for the wider Republic and Naboo was hardly a dominant Corporate player; even if she did win her influence over Denon would be contained.

"Kyric Karis," Dominique echoed with a warm smile. Even when he declared himself for the High Council whose influence often plagued good business transactions. "I do, in fact. Several Jedi Orders have found Denon a world of intrigue." To put it mildly.

A slender, silve fan suddenly snapped open to hide the Senator's lower face from the wider crowd. Dominique laughed quietly at Kyric's brazen words. "I, for one, won't try to convince you otherwise. As for those of influence and acclaim on Naboo, they're all aware it's a farce. The real question is what farce benefits them most."

And Kyric made no effort to conceal his thoughts about Bastilla's ties to the Order either. Good thing Dominique already had the fan open. "Careful, Kyric, not all fangs can be seen with the naked eye." As the evening had already proved out with a candidate meeting an untimely end -- or rather, an unceremonious exit only later to be mentioned as a passing more as a footnote than breaking news.

With that in mind, Aurelian Veruna took to the floor next. An unexpected turn under the circumstances. Not quite as unexpected as both announcements he would lay upon the crowd in short order, of course. Scandalous, in fact.

Once Aurelian announced Kyric's involvement in protecting Sibylla and setting the stage for his attempt to usurp the throne, Dominique didn't turn to look at him, but her golden eyes peered out from the corner of her eye all the same. Wayward warrior? A timely intervention. Fortuitous to intervene by chance to stop a Noghri assassin.

The smile once warm had chilled, but remain fixed; her eyes sharpened as they studied the performance put on for their benefit. "Absurd," she breathed. As suddenly as it had snapped open, the fan snapped shut in her hand. Not that Aurelian's father had arranged it, but the entire play. Not that there'd be anything to link all the events together, of course; and if there was it wouldn't be Dominique sleuthing around to find them. Some conspiracies warranted her attention, but this one seemed an internal matter.

Unless Sibylla asked for help as a friend, of course.

As people milled about and sought to find some order amidst the chaos, Dominique glanced at Kyric. "Absurdities require clarity." With that said, she started forward to where Audelian lounged comfortably despite not-so-veiled threats by Cassian.

"My Lord of House Veruna," Dominique hailed as she drew near, not bothering to so much as glance at his guards, "politics aside, a momentous occassion. Your ascension is well earned, and perfectly poised. I hope your new found responsibilities as a leader among houses campaigning as future King won't keep you from chambers. I must say, your presence is always welcome." Her timing had in part been an effort to allow Cassian an opportunity not to fall into the obvious trap laid for him, and maintain face.

Kyric | Sibylla Abrantes | Bastila Sal-Soren | Cassian Abrantes | Aurelian Veruna

Dominic Praxon | Briana Sal-Soren | Kellan Jericho | Enshid Veruna | Magdalena Bloodscrawl | Rowan Ee'everwest | Raigryn Vayd | Sara Celwik​

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

"You're still toying about in the army, aren't you?"

"Marching boys through the mud, chasing ghosts along the coast. And all the while, your sister nearly died."

"It's a simple life...."

"But....."

Cassian chuckled lightly as he shook his head. "That's why you left, is that all it was." Cassian took another step forward just as Aurelian leaned in. "You couldn't understand what it means. Things like honor, code, loyalty. They were foreign to you, all of it. You just know deceit, treachery...." Cassian ever so lightly motioned to the chaos that had happened just now. "And betrayal it seems, how long did you know of your fathers actions. Yet you chose to wait, theatrics and fluff..... Where there is smoke, there is fire. And that tells me you are just as treacherous and vile as your father is."

"Tell me, General." Aurelian's voice was a whisper now. "When will you stop pretending you're protecting Naboo, and start protecting your own family?"

Cassian shook his as lightly as he could. The whisper seemingly piercing the air around Cassian. But he was undeterred, Cassian had been through more things than the fashionable princess who sat before him could ever know.

"My family's protected, as well as they can be. As is Naboo, a few hiccups along the way." Cassian let out a small sigh that was followed with a hearty chuckle. He glanced back to Sibylla with a small smile. "And where have you been all this time, New Way, Mandalorians. Yet I haven't seen you go out to meet the people once. Hear their voices, pains, struggles. You stand aside and plot your own rise, and look flashy the holodroids."

"My Lord of House Veruna,"

"politics aside, a momentous occassion. Your ascension is well earned, and perfectly poised. I hope your new found responsibilities as a leader among houses campaigning as future King won't keep you from chambers. I must say, your presence is always welcome."

He was cut off unexpectedly by the arrival of the beautiful Denon Senator Dominique Vexx

Cut off, or perhaps saved....

Cassian was no fool, he wouldn't actually strike out against Aurelian sitting in his high chair. He wasn't going to risk anything to bring shame or doubt to his families name.

"It's good to see you Milady Dominque." Cassian exchanged a pleasantry for a moment with the Senator before he stepped back. He glanced back to Aurelian Veruna with an small bow. "Good luck in your future campaign. I looked forward to see your rise, or fall. I will be there every step of the way.....old friend."

Cassian looked over to Dominique and spoke. "I could use a drink, if you would care to join me, once you've exchanged pleasantries with...." Cassian lightly jerked his head towards Aurelian. For whatever else there wasn't, he wasn't going to stand here in the presence of his royal princess any further, nor exchange any words. He only stood for Dominque now, as she had essentially saved him. He wouldn't abandon her now.

Yet he looked across the room and he caught the look of his sister. He was sure she would have words for him later.

Sibylla Abrantes

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Aurelian remained utterly still. He didn't rise, didn't flinch, didn't even blink. He sat like a man born for the throne, a seat he had only moments ago claimed with a subtle hand. The ancient stone beneath him worn smooth by generations of Veruna ambition, now held by the one son never meant to keep it. Cassian Abrantes voice still echoed in the chamber, a clipped blend of honor and rough contempt, and Aurelian allowed it. He let the words stain the floor like spilled wine: betrayal, treachery, theatrics. It was all so painfully predictable.

Then Cassian was interrupted, cut off by the sleek voice of Senator Dominique Vexx, arriving like mist on obsidian. Her timing was surgical, the kind of intervention only a seasoned politician or a gifted predator could manage without drawing blood. To Aurelian's eternal amusement, Cassian yielded to her with more grace than he had shown Aurelian all evening. Curious indeed.

As Cassian turned to leave, Aurelian finally spoke, his voice smooth as oiled silk and twice as difficult to grip. "Old friend," he repeated, almost to himself, the words tasting like ash and theater. "I was born with a knife in my hand, Cassian, and you think the world is surprised I know how to use it." He exhaled slowly, then tilted his head, eyes sharp as the tide. "But you, you were given a sword and taught to hold it like a flag." A subtle, slow smile, devoid of joy, touched his lips. "You mistake bloodshed for bravery. Loyalty for wisdom. Duty for love." His voice dropped as Cassian moved further away, low enough that only those nearest would hear. "You'll spend your life carrying other men's wars, and never notice when your own has begun."

Aurelian didn't look at Cassian again. Instead, he turned his attention to Dominique Vexx, who lingered like a storm on the edge of summer. "Senator Vexx," he purred, rising at last from the throne, letting the full height of his presence unfurl like a shadow cast by firelight. "If I'd known Denon sent its emissaries wrapped in starsilk and wit, I'd have campaigned years ago." He descended the steps with quiet grace, one hand brushing the folds of his coat as he moved. The nobles parted without thinking, without even realizing they were doing it, a ripple through the pond, history taking its shape. "You honor me," he said to her, his tone laced with polite insincerity. Not because the words weren't true, but because sincerity from Aurelian Veruna was always wrapped in three layers of mischief. "I wouldn't dream of neglecting chambers," he added. "After all, what is a crown without scrutiny? What is power without an audience?"

His eyes flicked, just once, over to Sibylla in the crowd. She was watching still, of course she was. She always did. He liked that about her. He liked too many things about her. Returning his gaze to Dominique, his eyes warmed like brandy, if brandy could be calculating. He leaned in slightly, a whisper, a confidence, a game. "If I'm to be king, Dominique, I'll need someone who knows how to keep the curtains from falling. Think you're up for it?"

Before she could answer, he turned his head slightly, as if catching the end of Cassian's retreat, and his voice trailed behind him like perfume laced with poison. "Good luck with that drink, General. Try not to drown in it." He didn't wait for their response. The room still watched him, hungry and uncertain, drawn like moons around a planet they didn't yet know would hold them or destroy them.

Aurelian walked the edge of the Solarium, his hands clasped behind his back, like a god surveying his worshippers, or a criminal surveying the jury. He passed under the vaulted windows, where the light of Naboo's moons cast his shadow longer than the man himself. A dozen holodroids hovered nearby, filming, following. He didn't look at them. He didn't need to. They were already in his orbit. And tonight, the galaxy had finally remembered his name.

Cassian Abrantes | Dominique Vexx​

 

[Dominique Vexx]

It wasn't that Cassian couldn't defend himself, but that he literally stood in Aurelian's House with a barbed tongue directed at the man out in the open. Heads of Houses had been known to kill people for far less. Perhaps not on the spot, but not terribly long afterward. Worse, sometimes they struck at those nearest rather than the one responsible for perceived slights. Dominique would rather Cassian not inadvertently start a war between their Houses; it might threaten to draw Dominique herself in if Sibylla were in danger.

A warm smile was afforded to Cassian at his greeting.

It was a smile she held patiently as Aurelian finished a thought not intended to reach the recipient's ears. A very curious statement of war, which presently did not involve her -- a third party -- and so Dominique would neither acknowledge it had been made nor comment on it. It would be filed for later, however. The House of Veruna already had a file in her possession and now it seemed more deliberate observation was needed. For more than one reason, evidently.

"The best time to make someone's acquaintance is before they ascend to power. The second best time is now," Dominique replied almost merrily. "We've stared at one another across the Senate chamber often enough. Shame, as Chair of the Economic Development Board, we never had opportunities to interact nearly often enough." The man had always been in Sibylla's orbit. They'd even worked together on those accords with the Mandalorian Empire directly. Well, that might happen if you were always in one anothers' orbits. The fact the Houses' influence were constrained to Naboo also hadn't made it much of a priority for Dominique before. Arguably, little had changed, but Naboo held a special spot in the Republic. It wouldn't hurt to be on good terms with whomever claimed the throne.

Dominique didn't flinch as Aurelian whispered a question in her ear. He didn't so much as wait for a response as he continued on his way. The Senator slowly turned to look after the man-that-would-be-King. It seemed things were precisely as she'd imagined them. Quite the dangerous game unfolding on an otherwise serene planet. A very lonely game. Dominique understood it all too well.

Her eyes slid to the side over to Cassian for a moment. "Lord and General Abrantes, what was all that you were saying to Lord Vertuna, if I may be so bold to ask?" the white-gowned Senator asked as if that were the reason she strode out to catch up with him. Better the crowd think her ferreting out information than make any suggest she'd picked a side. It was too early for people to 'know' a thing.

Cassian Abrantes | Aurelian Veruna | Sibylla Abrantes​

 

[Enshid Veruna]

Tags: Dominic Praxon

Enshid lazily listened to her brothers words, fiddling around with the sleeve of her shirt for a moment. Yet her head snapped up at the mentioning of a resignation. That hadn't been expected. Of course, it wasn't as if Enshid expected to know most of what was going on with her father or her brother. Their goals were their own. Their aims, a mystery to her...and it seemed like this specific aim had been a surprise to even her father, with the fury flickering across his face. Enshid thought she was bad at keeping her emotions hidden...And then she heard what her Father had done. How he had attempted to try and kill Sibylla. A woman that Enshid at the end of the day did not care about. But a rush of anger, rage and frustration surged through Enshid as she took in the words, her fingers curling into a tightly clenched fist, hissing to herself under hushed breath.

"That...Kriffing...Bastard."

Ironic in a way. That the Bastard child of House Veruna was turning the insult onto her father. Of course he had to have done something. All of this smoke and daggers. It infuriated her so much. Sending an assassin after someone was the work of a coward. Her father was a coward. And then Aurelian had to play it up to the crowd. To the cameras. Because of course. Everything was a damned show for Naboo. For it's people. Because that's what it needed. Entertainment.

She was somewhat snapped out of her inner rage however, at the sound of a voice. A stranger introducing themselves. Whilst Dominic seemed to give off a sense of peace and courteous behaviour, Enshid's gaze snapped over towards him, a flicker of rage filled flames burning behind her eyes. Even if this wasn't an act, that Dominic was actually offering real sympathy, Enshid wouldn't have believed it. She couldn't believe it. There was no-one on her side. Of course, it was partly her own fault. She was not taking a side herself. She could have been putting on a show for the people alongside Aurelian, but instead she stood off to the side, silently suffering through her own rage...

"...If you're expecting to get any information out of me, through some kind words laced with a sharp edge, you'll be sorely disappointed. I'm in the dark as much as anyone else. Perhaps more. And so I sorely doubt that House Praxton can aid me in any way."

Perhaps she was far too blunt for her own good. But in a room filled with tongues sharpened to ta dagger's point, her blunt manner at least proved to her that she hadn't let herself be changed to fit in. She would not let herself fit the box of what those around her expected her to be.

​