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.

@Closed for dramatic purposes​

 

[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.

 

[Rowan Ee'everwest]

Under the chandeliered menace of this gilded aquarium, Rowan Ee'everwest moved like a shadow cast by candlelight: quiet, controlled, and too sharply defined to be ignored for long.

He hadn't wanted to come. His mother's name, Ee'everwest, still held weight, and as the last of her line to be publicly visible, Rowan was expected to show face when men like Remus Veruna summoned the highborn. So he came, polished and proper. Yet, the lapel pin he wore beneath it, hidden but there, marked him for another allegiance entirely.

He didn't drink. He didn't flirt. He didn't barter favors with whispers and winks. Instead, he watched, he remembered, and he prayed silently, as always, for the sins ripening in every corner of this place.

It was while scanning the floor that he saw her. She was young, still holding the slight tension in her shoulders from training drills not yet fully shed. A little too alert, not like the hunted, but like a hunter trying to blend in. Her posture was guarded, her eyes even more so. Most here wouldn't have noticed, but Rowan did.

He recalled her name as Sara, a cadet fast-tracked. He'd seen her name on an assessment brief once, perhaps twice: commendable marksmanship, promising field work, though with some raw edges still on the infiltration side. It was unusual to deploy someone so fresh to an event this tightly wound, which meant this was either a controlled test or a deliberate message. Either way, she looked like she needed someone to talk to who wasn't playing twelve games of subtext.

He approached without fanfare, weaving through a break in conversation clusters. His presence cut through the room like a seam ripper through embroidery; most didn't register him, and the ones who did pretended not to. He stopped a polite distance from her shoulder, his gaze fixed for a moment on a group of nobles performing performative civility over crystal flutes of something expensive and meaningless. Then, in a voice low enough to remain private but clear enough to be heard, he spoke.

"Left hand's too close to the concealed pocket. You'll give yourself away if you don't pretend to care about the hors d'oeuvres." Rowan's tone wasn't mocking. If anything, it was conspiratorial, wry in a way that let her know she wasn't in trouble, and that he was still on task despite being out of uniform. He glanced sideways at her, faint amusement twitching at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm Rowan Ee'everwest. You're Sara." Not Agent. Not Cadet. Just her name, offered gently; an extension of grace or solidarity. "Don't worry," he added, scanning the room again, "you're doing fine. The real rats here carry wine, not weapons."

Sara Celwik​

 

[Magdalena Bloodscrawl]

Wearing: Ritual Raiment, Circlet of Light, Arch Healer Amulet

Armed With: High Republic Lightsaber


Arrived in: Heavy Sniping Interceptor


Earlier, Atrisian Pathfinder


Magdalena Bloodscrawl, who had recently joined the High Republic Order as a Jedi Master (With very, VERY alien mindsets for a Jedi Master), cradled Nathan's newborn son, Grendel, in her arms.

She had never held a baby before, and the experience was incredibly sobering. Her fingers ran softly across the giggling Baby's forehead. A smile tugged at her youthful features, the imbued golden dress she wore feeding her body energy passively.

"He's lovely..." Magdalena admitted, her alien perceptions trying its best to reach a human perception of affection as she sat down on a leather sofa, holding the baby still as it rapidly fell asleep in her arms.

Nathan in the meanwhile, worked at a lightsaber forge in the Engineering section. Grendel's mother, Vera Mina was out shopping for baby clothes and looking for some kind of shielding system that could protect a baby while on the move. The baby had found the constant sounds in the engineering bay to be relaxing. Nathan provided ear protection for his child just in case.

"I was so happy for you when you made Knight..." Magdalena said softly, not wanting to risk waking the child. "You deserve it..."

"It's good that we can work together in the open in the High Republic..." Nathan replied to his adoptive Mother as he finished the blade up. Magdalena stood and placed the baby in the nearby crib, then examined the Lightsaber Nathan had been crafting for that particular iteration of the Order they were both part of. She stood further away to activate the blade, and a plasma blade that was a solid dark blue from its aura to its core slid out. She gave it a few practice swishes, noting the ease of the swing.

"A fine blade..." Magdalena remarked. "I see you have made it in the design tradition of the old Bloodscrawls."

"Go with what you know..." Nathan replied, going to stand over the crib to rock it gently...

"And it's very strong with the Light Side...it will make an excellent supplement to my techniques." she said, shutting the blade off, clipping it to her belt.

"I will make good use of it..." Magdalena promised. "How are you enjoying being a father?"

"It's fulfilling..." Nathan answered.

"That's good to hear. When I adopted you...there were many things I had to figure out... unpleasant realities about myself that I had to confront. I hope you will have an easier time."

"Same here..." he replied, looking up at her. "Have you acquired more followers?"

"Yes. Training healers..." Magdalena said. "They will be ready for deployment soon..."

"Good to know..."

"Something is bothering you..." Magdalena realized.

"I had originally intended to go to a meeting full of diplomats, politicians and other forms of bipedal vermin..." Nathan replied. "Unfortunately, I am indisposed due to business in the city...I was wondering if you could go in my place, for I sense something rotten brewing... Sibylla Abrantes may need the coverage of a powerful Force User to make sure another attempt on their life doesn't succeed..."

"I would be happy to go...but we both know that isn't what is truly bothering you..." Magdalena said gently. "You can tell me what is wrong."

"I intend to battle Syd Celsius when the Cult is fully wiped out..."

"Ah. Her..." Magdalena trailed going over to him.

"I can't stop you, Nathan. Not just because even I understand why you want to. You have to decide whether it's worth stopping on your own. There is no philosophy, no code that can talk you out of not killing Syd. I fully believe you when you say there are just some things the Code doesn't deserve a say in. And if there is anything in the entire galaxy the Code has no right to govern behavior in, it's whether or not you should avenge the obliterated soul of your first wife and the permanent corruption and insanity of your first daughter. If someone had done to you what was done to Lysandra...I might well hunt them to the ends of the galaxy and beyond..." Magdalena admitted, placing a hand on her son's shoulder.

"But there is always a cost, my Son. There is always a cost to seeking such a thing...and you will pay it, on a personal level, should you seek it and get it. You need to decide if that cost is worth it...and if you can come back from getting what you want..." she added firmly.

"I have to silence Lysandra's screams, Mother. I have to..." Nathan trailed. "They never stop."

"Then you will do only what you must..." Magdalena replied, hugging him.

Present...


She had arrived with little fanfare, being dropped off by the pilot droid.

But she was quickly turning so many heads due to her immense beauty (and tight fitting, shimmering gold dress) that the only thing that distracted them was the lightsaber hanging from her belt. She looked like the very epitome of High Fashion, and if any Force Users were present, they would have noticed how utterly she lit up like a signal flare of the Light Side due to all the imbued items she wore.

Men stopped paying attention to their wives, women stopped paying attention to their husbands as Magdalena Bloodscrawl sauntered over to the sweets table in the VIP section (Being a Jedi Master had its perks, she was coming to discover, after a lifetime of being in the fringe) and stood by it, taking in nothing and refusing offers of champagne, wanting to keep alert for any attempt at an assassination. At her fingertips were the means to heal even the most severe Sith crafted poisons and disease. Or to halt more physical efforts.

Magdalena trusted in the Force, and opened herself to it, keeping alert for any threats....


Tags: OPEN

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

Parrlay, Naboo
Rainspire
Tags: Open

Stupid, idiotic...…

If he would've been there. If he got his hands on this individual or individuals. House Abrantes had know launched their own investigation. Father was leading the forefront, and now Cassian wasn't going to let Sibylla out of his sight. With that being said, he had to blend in well. There were a few of his most trusted near Sibylla, talking amongst each other as if they were legit politicians and sorts.

Overkill perhaps, but he didn't care. In his line of work it always took something bad to happen for things to change. It could've been his sisters life, and House Abrantes would've fallen apart. He hadn't gotten much sleep over the last few days, and didn't expect to over the course of the next few months.

He was perfectly good with that.

He noted a few others that were here, and a few others he didn't know. He was sure introductions would come later.

He took a glass of wine and took a small drink, as he moved up his location and began to mingle a bit. Yet his full attention where it should be.

Sibylla Abrantes

 

[Enshid Veruna]

Tags: Open

She couldn't hide. Not when there was an event happening in the Rainspire. Not if she wanted to be a part of this Family. She knew there was something going on about the Event that was far too political, far too normal for her understanding. But she had to show herself either way. It was an act. A performance. And she had a role that she'd have to play as perfectly as she could. A role that required a smile and acknowledgement to people that in another life, Enshid would never have cared for. In truth, she still didn't care for most of the Nobility arriving, yet she'd have to act as if she did. Act as if she cared about all of the posh fanciness that was now a part of her life.

It was at least fresh on Enshid's mind that was there had been some kind of assassination attempt that had lead up to this event. It wasn't public knowledge of course, but Enshid had hung around her family enough to hear snippets. It wasn't anything she believed she was "important" enough to know of, but it still made her way. Enshid was no diplomat, no politician, but if there was anything she was, it was paranoid. With every fake smile she gave to the guests, her eyes would be darting around and taking in as much information as she could.

For now, she made her way towards the hors d'oeuvres. As long as she pretended to be busy eating, she wouldn't need to open her mouth. Open her mouth and make it clear as day that she didn't belong here. She could fake it in the way she stood. The way she walked. But in the way she talked? That was one thing she had struggled to change. She spoke the same as always. Blunt. Direct. She couldn't do the same flowery language that the others could. And so the less she had to speak...Well, the better.​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Parrlay, Naboo

Rainspire

The glint of lights outside the speeder blurred against the storm-drenched glasteel, the rain pelting a hum that didn't quite drown out Sibylla'sthoughts. Wide hazel eyes caught her reflection in the hazy distortion, and unable to help herself, she studied the young woman she saw.

The silver chain across her face from the veiled headdress glinted faintly against the porcelain skin made to appear silky smooth by a layer of makeup. Her eyes looked larger, darker, and sharper from the kohl that lined them, and her seemingly serene expression seemed older and more serious, almost too serious, yet beautiful in that poignant, youthful style that for centuries had been admired on Naboo. And for a moment, she wondered about the young woman in that reflection.

Her features, carefully refined with the artifice did not feel like her own.

It was a face sculpted for politics. A face prepared to meet constituatants of common and Royal bloodlines, highlighted to appeal to the masses as a trustworthy and capable daughter of Naboo for the throne that would lead their people through the transition of the High Republic while keeping their concerns and the world relevant in the greater political map as it continued to evolve.

But it was not her face. Not really.

This one… this version sat in golden Karlini silk dress beneath a veil of jeweled precision where her every breath was measured and every movement counted.

It was just one series of steps toward the culmination of her House's expectations, her training, her desire to serve and make a difference, and to continue making Naboo shine. She had seen that under the rule of the former Queen Kalantha and her two terms. SIbylla looked up to her, and she knew from a young age she wanted to step into that responsibility for Naboo's prosperity to continue that still. The Royal Republic had grown. There was work to be done, work she felt that she could do. And she wanted to do it.

She had chosen this.

The path ahead meant to live behind a set veil of expectations and duties. The sort that would very well demand the entirety of her. Of who she was. Of sacrifices to be made for the greater good. The pragmatic side of her understood these choices for the betterment of Naboo and her people. Her heart, on the other hand, had begun stirring with a sliver of something. Of how she had been living. A tiny tinge that wasn't fear or regret, but awareness.

Her father's voice pulled her from her thoughts regarding the upcoming gala. Lord Alistair Abrantes wasn't one to deal with half measures. Redundancies had been set in place.

"Extra security's in place. The Republic Intelligence Service will be doing its job." He had personally gone to converse with Director Damos Rennar. While the Royal Republic had transitioned into the High Republic, that did not mean that the future security of Naboo candidates should be left to the sidelines.

"Cassian will escort you in, and Arr-Eye-ESS agents are observing from within."

Sibylla didn't turn her head, but she nodded once. They were heading straight towards the Sea Adder's den, the seat of House Veruna, and Lord Abrantes would have none of Veruna's shenanigans affecting her daughter's life or campaign. House Abrantes would arrive in style, showing that despite the recent assassination attempt on Sibylla, they remained unwavering and undeterred in their pursuit of Naboo's throne.

It made her wonder if Senator Aurelian Veruna had a hand in this. Much to the ill knowledge of their patriarchs, they had worked together on the Mandalorian Sundari Treaty, worked and toiled to come up with the verbiage and tone to truly make the possibility of the agreement work. Certainly, there had been periods where they both saw each other with narrowed eyes or one well-versed quip or two in courtier politics -- Veruna, as always, played his hand like a well-versed stage and an entertainer at best.

But in the long hours as they toiled over the treaty, she had seen something more. Aurelian was smart and knew how to best open doors and appease the masses. If anything, he had proven himself that his intelligence network and his role as Chairman of Internal Affairs was well warranted. As if he truly cared.

So where did he land then, in this game of thrones?

As the speeder came to a halt, Sibylla took a breath, shut her eyes then exhaled. She always acted as though she was being watched. Her appearance was her first line of defense, and she planned to muster it as deliberately as possible, especially in the wake of her assassination attempt. She had to show she would not bend to opposition, but face it head on.

The speeder door quietly hissed open, revealing a flash of holocameras as her father stepped out. He adjusted the lapels of his dress coat, his cool grey gaze and patrician features giving a curt nod of greeting. Behind him, would be Cassian, heir to House Abrantes. And then, only then, would Sibylla exit the speeder onto the proverbial stage.

A cordial smile, not too serious, but still pleasant enough. Greetings here and there. The perfectly poised picture mirrored the decorum, poise, and air of previous queens. Practiced, cultured, with Naboo's needs held first and foremost.

~~ * } * { * ~~​

"Smile, dearest brother, lest your brow furrow four lines deep before you are wed," Sibylla murmured in a low, but amused quip to Cassian Abrantes , the observation used as much as a conversation piece as it was her tried and true method of keeping the political courtier composure in place.

There were many already in attendance, and the herald had already announced their arrival. Now it would remain to be seen if Veruna would make his approach and well wishes as well. Sibylla in her part, was also scanning the vast and luxurious gala, identifying familiar faces and allies as much as known parties that were not so pleased with her candidacy.

Perhaps this was why the candidates of Naboo had in the past run a campaign solely on a political name that wasn't tied to the royal houses or particular allegiances. While some still maintained tradition, the millennia since then had seen an adaptation of changes, especially during the four-hundred-year darkness and the Gulag Plague. When forced to become isolationist due to the latter, changes had to be made. Adaptation.

However, perhaps it would have been best to run under a different name altogether.

Sibylla took a deep breath, but did her best to maintain a soft, cordial smile on her face. In the distance, she saw Senator Dominique Vexx . No Aurelian Veruna yet, but he was known to join fashionably late in style... it would likely be no different in his own estate as well.

Sure enough, the doors slid open, and Aurellian made his debut.

A thought came to mind, to perhaps manage to corner the Senator and speak to him privately... but too many eyes were in this Grand Solarium.

Her father's and Remus Veruna's most especially.

As it were, Sibylla turned to Cassian and said, "Come, I want you to meet someone." Fully intending to introduce her brother to Dominique.... not realizing that they had already met.

Enshid Veruna Cassian Abrantes Magdalena Bloodscrawl Rowan Ee'everwest Raigryn Vayd Sara Celwik Dominique Vexx Aurelian Veruna Pillar of Faith ​

 

[Kyric]

"Prove yourself, Kyric Karis. Prove you are more than a pawn on someone else's board and then, perhaps, we will see where your path leads."

The words echoed in Kyric's head louder than any other bouncing around his memory. Blessed with the ability to recall anything he experienced with perfect clarity, the kiffar hadn't thought much of anything else since his meeting with the Lord of House Abrantes. His one avenue into the Lord's good graces earned him a meeting, sure, but the Jedi Knight's personal shortcomings of the diplomatic variety saw him fall short when it mattered most. Xenith's life remained in the hands of another, and all Kyric could do in the meantime was attend a party.

Drawn into the affairs of Naboo's most elite, the slum dog from the dirtiest of Denon's Seven Corners stood wholly unprepared in his little corner of the function.

Nobles draped in the finest high fashions rubbed elbows all around him. They spoke of trade deals and grape harvests enthusiastically, happy to engage in festivities the kiffar struggled to grasp. But much of what was said did not match what the Jedi felt. Many within the Grand Solarium were fighting a battle of some sort. Not the kind waged with blaster and saber, but with exaggerated compliments and gestures of good faith—the kind Kyric suspected to mean anything but.

He ran a finger down the leather patch used to mask the horrific scar where his eye once sat. The clothes which adorned him were of more moderate taste than the flashier fabrics favored here on Naboo. His gray vest hid a lightsaber in two-parts, though he silently hoped Sibylla's would-be killer wouldn't show on this particular evening.

A room full of potential hostages made for a nerve-wracking encounter, after all.

Shortly after the arrival of Sibylla and her brother, Cassian, Kyric downed the cool glass of water in hand and quietly pushed off the wall he favored. The Jedi moved through the crowds with the grace of a nexu on the hunt. He didn't so much as scrape his foot, let alone brush up against the other party-goers in his passing.

The kiffar diverted course from the Abrantes siblings almost immediately. Those positioned throughout the event to protect the would-be queen wouldn't take kindly to Kyric's interference, so he sought a more actionable point of entry. One that wouldn't threaten the efforts of House Abrantes, nor belie his shaky allegiance to one Aurelian Veruna.

Kyric scanned the crowds in search of what—or more likely, who—would provide him the means to close the gap between himself and Sibylla. Most of the nobility who leered the would-be Queen's way struck him as that of an observer who found themselves caught up in the drama. Rumors of the failed assassination attempt hadn't found their way into mundane or Jedi circles, as far as Kyric knew, but he couldn't believe the wealthiest and most influential of Naboo didn't know the truth of that night.

Among all the guests to grace the evening, Dominique Vexx was by far Kyric's greatest hope. Stories of her and Sibylla's budding friendship grew more frequent since the Lady Abrantes stepped forward in pursuit of the Crown. Many spoke highly of Vexx, likening her to a modern-day genius in matters both stately and financial. Hell, the kiffar experienced many of the changes she brought to Denon firsthand when he visited the bar back home. But the cynic buried deep within the Jedi Knight had to wonder what the Corpo's true intentions for Sibylla were.

Did Dominique Vexx mean well? Or was this all an elaborate ruse to curry favor from Naboo's potential queen?

He rubbed his face with a gloved hand and diverted course again.

For all intents and purposes, Vexx's arrival provided the Jedi Knight opportunity. Kyric found no other way to approach Lady Abrantes in recent weeks given the heightened security. More importantly, he needed to prove himself to the Patriarch of House Abrantes if there was any hope in getting Xenith back. Vetting one hopeful ally of the would-be Queen would look good. Doing so in the presence of Sibylla's elder brother would look better.

Stepping up to Dominique, Kyric beamed at her with the intensity of a blind man blessed with the sight of his first sunset.

"Pardon me, ma'am. I couldn't help myself, but upon seein' you I had to come on over. You see, I was born and raised on Denon. I've dreamed for the opportunity to offer you my sincerest, most heartfelt thanks fer yer work back home."

Strangely, Kyric didn't break throughout his introduction. The young Jedi couldn't tell a lie to save his life. It was telling to think the words spilling from his mouth were a truth all their own, but that was a problem for another day.

"It wouldn't do for a lady as breathtakin' as yerself to go unaccompanied this evenin'. It would be an honor and a pleasure if I could fill the spot fer you."

---

Tags: Dominique Vexx
Honorable Mentions: Aurelian Veruna | Cassian Abrantes | Sibylla Abrantes

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

Parrlay, Naboo
Rainspire
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes Dominique Vexx Aurelian Veruna Kyric

"Smile, dearest brother, lest your brow furrow four lines deep before you are wed,"

Cassian mustered what he could as he showed Sibylla a small smile. "Forgive me sister, and by the way. You look lovely this evening." And the thought of being wed made him chuckle even more. And there it was, perhaps the only laughs or smiles she would get out of him for the night. While his his eyes would glance to various locations as casually as possible. His peripheral vision catching anything and everything that he could see. "You are going to have to wait a long time for that."

Call him paranoid, he didn't care. He had lives to take care of, events were not about to repeat themselves. And if they did, he would find those responsible and beat the truth out of them.

Ah, there he was...

He caught glimpse of Aurelian Veruna as he gave him a short nod in his direction. In extravagant fashion as usual, which didn't surprise Cassian in the least. He also noted Dominique who was looking stunning as ever. How she manage to pull of such a look of elegance and uniqueness was a mystery to him. She looked to be speaking with Kyric as his eyes scanned the room once more before landing back to Sibylla and she started to talk again.

"Come, I want you to meet someone."

"It's not Aurelian is it, I've had that introduction before. I'd rather not have it again. Unless I'm forced too...." He looked over to Sibylla with a small teasing smile, as it was frustrating to him how she was able to get him out of his shell. It was her charm after all, and she was indeed his sister. They had a knack for annoying one another. And also bringing out the best in each other. "I merely tease, let's meet this individual."

 

[Dominic Praxon]

The storm had paused for breath.

Rainspire loomed above the coast like a relic pretending to be relevant, its architecture clinging to legacy the way desperate men clung to decorum. It was a fitting venue, Dominic thought, for a gathering like this and the theatre of it all.

He stepped into the Solarium with quiet confidence, his entry unnoticed by design. The air smelled of ozone, lacquered stone, and unsurprisingly...fear. Somewhere nearby, a string ensemble played something soft and well-rehearsed. A senator's son smirked over a glass of Cortygra red. Laughter bloomed in curated pockets of conversation. Yet the room's true rhythm pulsed underneath it all, power watching power watch itself.

Dominic moved through the gathering with understated purpose. A low nod here, a dry smile there. Polite recognition to the right faces. No allegiance declared. Not tonight.

He spotted them all, of course. The poised form of Sibylla Abrantes , radiant beneath the weight of legacy and survival. Her brother, the ever-vigilant Cassian Abrantes , dressed in misguided loyalty. Dominique Vexx , already orbiting too close to the crown, deep in conversation with some young saber-wielder, Kyric , if memory served. Aurelian Veruna , fashionably late and perfectly on time. And others, the cautious, the curious, the quietly armed.

Dominic offered none of them more than a glance. Let them wonder what it meant.

He reached for a drink from a passing tray, something light, and let it touch his lips without commitment. His gaze swept across the fractured elegance of the Solarium, eyes half-lidded in disinterest but cataloguing everything. Every smile that lasted too long. Every glance that darted too fast. Every absence.

They would ask themselves why he was here. Calia Vonn was no longer a name to stand behind. And he? He had not placed himself on the board. Not yet.

A gust of wind outside shook the great glass panes with a sound like distant applause.

Dominic sipped again and let himself smile. Just slightly. As if reminded of a secret only he knew. After all, the most dangerous move was not the one made...but the one prepared in silence. This would be a night, that few would forget.

​

​

@OPEN​

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Aurelian leaned against the marble railing, a serpent of cold stone coiling around the upper mezzanine of the Grand Solarium. One hand rested on the polished surface, the other tucked casually into his coat pocket. Below him, the party spread out like a living oil painting: broad strokes of ambition, gilded outlines of power, and a thousand whispered brushstrokes of suspicion.

He tracked each guest with idle precision. One by one, they passed through the grand doors of his home, uninvited in any spiritual sense, but summoned nonetheless by his father's puppeteering hand. The nobles of Naboo glinted in silks and polished family crests, murmuring behind coupes of wine about the return of House Veruna. Aurelian's thin smile did not touch his eyes, which were far too busy planning.

From his perch, he spotted Kyric , slinking through the room like a wolf who had wandered into a masquerade. Somewhere in the back of Aurelian's mind, he made a note: he still had the kid, Xenith, who was probably eating better here than he ever did on Denon. Still, that sort of thing made for excellent leverage. He would return the boy. Probably. Maybe. It depended on how the night went. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod to Enshid Veruna across the room, his acknowledgment wrapped in the half-smirk he reserved for people pretending not to care while caring very, very much. She had been smart to stay quiet. The room was listening, whether the guests realized it or not.

The music swelled, a cue for Aurelian to move, especially as he had spotted his target. He turned from the balcony and descended the stairs like a man born to them, trailing a faint scent of perfume. As he neared the entrance, he caught sight of the Abrantes siblings. Cassian Abrantes stood rigid, scowling, always looking like someone who wished politics could be solved with a sword and a cave. The man had the subtlety of a battering ram. Aurelian's brows furrowed at the nod Cassian gave him. That was not in the script. He did not like being nodded at, especially by men with opinions. So naturally, he walked right up to him, not to acknowledge Cassian, heavens no, but because Sibylla Abrantes was standing beside him. She looked every bit the monarch-in-waiting: poised, serene, and entirely too good for the room. Aurelian gave her a slow, roguish smile, one that flickered at the corners like a secret waiting to be confessed.

"You look lovely tonight, Lady Abrantes," he said, his voice a silk blade. He did not look at Cassian; he did not need to. He could feel the man's spine turning to granite beside her. Aurelian leaned in just slightly with a wink, his tone dropping into something vague and laced with curiosity. "I do hope you enjoy the show tonight." And then he was gone, like a breeze through velvet curtains.

He crossed the floor with deliberate ease, not hurried, not lingering, a man moving toward destiny or destruction, but too bored to be scared of either. He approached the bar, ordering two glasses of champagne with a flick of his fingers. Then, with practiced grace, he unscrewed the top of his signet ring. Inside lay a chalky, translucent substance: unassuming, easily missed. He dipped his pinky, rubbed it along the rim of one glass, then replaced the cap and lifted both flutes. A sigh escaped him, long, measured, heavy with the weight of knowing what was coming and choosing to walk into it anyway. He turned, weaving back into the crowd, heading straight for Sham Tapalo.

Ah, Sham. The noble slab of mediocrity his father had chosen to crown. A man so profoundly uninspiring he made bureaucracy look like a thrill sport. The future king of Naboo, if Remus Veruna had his way, which, tragically, he often did. Aurelian reached the old Patriarch and extended the glass.

"Lord Tapalo," he greeted, his voice smooth as polished marble. "You look... unburdened tonight. A rarity."

Sham chuckled, that awful, hollow laugh, the kind that echoed without ever landing. "Are you ready for tonight?" Aurelian asked, his tone wrapped in pleasantry, but his eyes fixed like a scalpel. "To history, my lord," Sham said, raising his glass. They clinked. Aurelian watched as Sham took a sip, his lips brushing the rim, just as they were meant to.

Aurelian smiled. "If you will excuse me," he said lightly, brushing past. "I need to prepare for the finale." And with that, he was gone again, lost in the crowd, champagne untouched, grin sharper than the blade he was not wearing.

Tonight, the storm was not coming. It was already drinking.

@Closed for dramatic purposes​

 

[Dominique Vexx]

Outfit​

Dominique smiled between exchanges with those economically inclined. Just because it was a social occasion didn't mean business couldn't be conducted; if anything, this event was a prime opportunity. Not only to engage Denon's Senator, but to also approach the High Republic via the Economic Development Board's Chair. To say nothing about the hope of getting a moment of Sibylla's time. It didn't perturb the Denonite Direx, of course. A few faces she could have gone without being forced to hear their voice, especially if their offers were known to be lackluster at best.

In time, the Senator's attention shifted from her present company to note the arrival of Sibylla Abrantes to the Hall. Dominique spent a moment to regard the other woman from afar. The glareshades enhanced her visage to make up some of the distance, and from what she saw the young would-be-Queen was doing rather well after recent events.

Between company, a man with an eye patch drew near. Dominique didn't turn quickly to face him, but a golden eye peered at the man as he began to speak; then she turned her head with her body slowly following afterward. Admittedly, Kyric 's introduction was certainly attractive. The Senator of Denon could hardly be seen snubbing someone she represented. Well, she could -- Denon did what Denon wanted -- but her efforts were a public reformation of their reputation.

"How delightful to meet a native of Denon here. I am privileged to hear reforms have made such a difference back home," Dominique replied calmly, but with a cheerful warmth. Admittedly some of those projects were hardly what they could be, but she was hardly a literal monarch herself. The Board took convincing. Manipulation. How they'd come to think ignoring entire Districts encouraged productivity was beyond her sophistication to fathom.

A slight raise of her brows followed the man's flirtatious follow-up. Someone like her require companionship, did they? It certainly was a pleasant invitation, but Dominique had to consider the optics of the situation. People at her level of society certainly had luxuries others did not, but they also had societal obligations that restricted their choices as well -- at least so long as they expected to maintain that level of acceptance.

Meanwhile, her glareshades flashed an indicator that Aurelian had appeared near Sibylla. So a representative of the Host had made their introduction to the Guest of the Hour. Worth knowing the formal agenda for the evening had kicked off. That he drifted away and would end up in Sham Tapalo's presence didn't warrant nearly as much attention. Dominique knew Sibylla and had a good working relationship with the woman. There was no such connection between her and Sham. A few other Direx favored him, of course, but Dominique's faction was quite strong on the Board. As much as it was herding cats, it was the life she'd been called toward.

"I would," she replied to Kyric, "but it would seem we'll have company shortly." Namely, the future-Queen herself, Sibylla Abrantes , as she seemed to be moving through the crowd in Dominique's direction. Cassian Abrantes seemed to be accompanying her as well; not a typical encounter with the other woman, but tonight did warrant it. Not to say there wasn't a chance Kyric could re-proposition her later, but Sibylla's presence could hardly be denied.

Sibylla Abrantes | Cassian Abrantes | Kyric | Aurelian Veruna​

 

[Bastila Sal-Soren]

A low chime sounded at the threshold of the Grand Solarium. Just once. An announcement, just as it was with all the others who entered these hallowed halls.

The tall doors at the rear of the hall eased open, with a silent, practiced motion that sliced through the murmuring haze like a precision blade. All around the entrance to the Grand Solarium heads began to turn before they even registered why. It wasn’t the sound, it wasn’t the sudden chill of the storm air being forced into the room.

It was the presence. She stood just beyond the arch.

Bastila Sal-Soren.

This was not the girl with the roughened garments of campaign or conflict. This was no Jedi dispatched from the Temple; this was a daughter of Naboo, of the Sal-Soren line, returned to its rightful place. Right in the middle of the lion’s den.

Her dress was understated only in colour; clean ivory silk over structured gold threading, a nod to Nabooan tradition reimagined with the High Republic’s military and political palette. The sleeves tapered into elegant cuffs over gloved hands, and the red gemstone inlays in her neckline caught the light like embers. Her hair was sculpted with ageless Corellian precision: elevated, adorned with a coronet of polished crimson and deep opal, glinting like a senator's seal. Every detail meant something for the climate, the colours chosen for reason, the threading showing star patterns from the skies of Naboo.

She walked forward with purpose, her stride a practiced movement that was as smooth as water on glass. The crowd parted without thought, Nobles gave way before her with instinct that was from their very core, not the etiquette they were expected for.

Some eyes widened in recognition. Others narrowed.

“Is that?”

“She wasn’t expected.”

“The Jedi girl?”

“No… that’s Sal-Soren’s youngest.”

The tide of whispering barely dared to rise.

Within the chamber she noted faces of other houses, members of the High Republic and Naboo’s noble lineages. Some familiar, others not as much.

At the front of the chamber, Remus Veruna was present, this was his party after all. The smile he wore was practiced but Bastila could see how his eyes said something else.

Was it shock upon seeing her? No.

Calculation? Probably.

Bastila met his gaze without blinking. Then, with perfect ease, she turned her attention to the rest of the room. She was not here to kneel. She had no interest in being received. This was her entrance; and they would adjust around her.

“My apologies,” she said aloud, as she came up behind the familiar presence of Dominic, who she had clocked the second she had walked in, her voice soft but clear, cutting through the glass-and-gold hush. “The storm delayed me.” A half-smile touched her lips as she took him in. “You look the part this evening.”

She took her place alongside him, among the onlookers and officials, among the masses. Not above them, not apart, yet somehow; she was utterly unmissable. She didn’t need proximity to command attention. She was the disruption, and somehow, the order within it.

A glass had found its way into her hand. She tilted it towards Dominic. “To not planning on causing incidents.”

Dominic Praxon Dominique Vexx Aurelian Veruna Sibylla Abrantes Cassian Abrantes Kyric Enshid Veruna Rowan Ee'everwest Sara Celwik Pillar of Faith

​

 

[Pillar of Faith]

Parrlay, Naboo
The Rainspire

Spoiler

Candidates, make yourself known.

The Rainspire's silence shattered, and from the raised dais beneath the ancestral crest of House Veruna, Remus Veruna stepped forward. Middle-aged, the patriarch of a once-disgraced house carried himself like a man who had never known failure. His black-and-gold robes glimmered faintly beneath the chandeliers, and his face, sharp with age and arrogance, surveyed the assembled nobles like a monarch surveying a chessboard where every piece believed itself free.

Holo-recorders flickered to life in the Grand Solarium, broadcasting across Naboo, its moon colonies, outposts, and starports. Citizens watched as the transmission spread like the coming of rain. Remus let the silence stretch, a calculated pause, before a slow smile touched his lips.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Naboo," he began, "and to those of the High Republic who now call us neighbor. Tonight, we gather not as rivals, nor even as Houses divided by blood and ambition, but as the future of Naboo itself." He paused again, a predator's calculated stillness. "Before we look forward, it is only fitting we honor those who guided us here. The Sovereign whose reign now draws to a close: Queen Kalantha. She ascends to new heights as Chancellor of this new High Republic."

He offered a shallow dip of his chin, and the room echoed with polite, perfectly hollow applause. "But Naboo does not stand still. The question remains: who now shall lead us?"

His gaze swept the chamber like a blade. "The Noble Houses, in their wisdom," he said smoothly, "have turned to me, as patriarch of Veruna, to open this election season. We offer not merely names, but vision. A leader to guide us through uncertain tides. And I believed I have found such a candidate." Eyes flicked, and tension coiled in the room as Remus inhaled, poised to speak the name.

Then, chaos whispered. At the far side of the Solarium, a movement, an interruption. Sham Tapalo, the once-stalwart, now staggered. A low murmur rose as Remus Veruna's chosen puppet clutched a marble pillar, skin pallid, eyes unfocused. Courtiers moved too late. Two aides rushed to his side, their expressions blank but their pace frantic. The silence roared, and the holo-cameras pivoted. Remus Veruna froze, if only for a moment. But long enough.

He watched as Sham Tapalo was dragged from the chamber. Remus's jaw tightened, then, like silk over a blade, he recovered. "It appears," Remus said slowly, "that fate has dictated a change of plans." A low ripple of uncertain laughter stirred the Solarium's floor, but Remus ignored it. "And so, Nobles of Naboo, citizens of the Republic, let us instead embrace this as an opportunity."

He turned, slowly and gracefully, to face the holo-cameras. "Let all who seek to lead Naboo step forward. Let them speak not merely to this chamber, but to the hearts of every citizen watching now. Make your case. To the Houses. To your people." His gaze swept across the nobles once more. "Sovereigns are not born," he declared, letting the words hang, razor-sharp. "They are chosen. I, for one, look forward to hearing who dares to ask for your faith." Another pause, then a faint, knowing smile. "Candidates. Step forward."

With that, Remus stepped back into the shadow of his ancestral seat, lips set and hands folded. The plan had failed, but the game had not. The Grand Solarium held its breath.

Enshid Veruna | Dominique Vexx | Dominic Praxon | Sibylla Abrantes | Cassian Abrantes | Kyric | Sara Celwik | Magdalena Bloodscrawl | Bastila Sal-Soren

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

"So you say, brother dearest, so you say," Sibylla quipped back, giving Cassian a genuine smile before continuing her amble, at least, until Aurelian came striding up to greet her.

"You look lovely tonight, Lady Abrantes,"

Aurelian's voice was like a silk blade that caressed the skin yet didn’t let you forget that all it took was a mere press of pressure to cut skin. He didn't look at Cassian; he didn't need to. And Sibylla also didn't need to be a Force user to know that it was all likelhood that her brother's spine had turned to granite beside her.

Especially when Aurelian leaned in just slightly, his dark eyes glinting with something unreadable.

"Senator Veruna," Sibylla replied with all the grace, poise, and cordial friendliness expected of her, although her brow lifted just slightly in his direction, even more so when she caught that subtle wink. He'd never done that before.

"I do hope you enjoy the show tonight."

There was something in his voice. A spark beneath the surface, like he knew something she didn't, he likely did. As if they were already in the middle of a game she hadn't realized had started.

She almost went after him.

Almost.

But Cassian was still beside her, likely seconds from having an apoplectic fit. So instead, she leaned closer to her brother and murmured, "Smile, Cassian. I need you to look good."

It wasn't for her sake, at least not this time. She'd intended to walk him over and introduce him to Dominique. But when she glanced back in her direction, Dominique was already in conversation with... wait, was that Kyric?

Her father's decision to keep the vagrant Jedi close had been startling, but then again, it wasn't. He had saved her life. For that, Sibylla was truly grateful. That she'd escaped with only claw marks across her back and shorn hair was nothing short of miraculous. Even she understood what it meant to face a Noghri assassin.

Had she been alone, she would be dead.

"I was going to introduce you," she said to Cassian. "To Senator Vexx. Looks like she's busy."

Then, after glancing at her brother, Sibylla added gently, "And don't hold a grudge against Senator Veruna. Whatever happened at the Academy...it can't still be that bad."

Yet before he could answer, murmurs stirred nearby. Sibylla turned her head, catching pieces of conversation -- something about a Jedi and Sal-Soren's youngest.

Her hazel eyes found the figure easily and landed upon a young, beautiful brunette in a striking dress of ivory silk with gold threading. Bastila Sal-Soren . One of Naboo's most powerful Royal lines, rivaled only by the likes of House Ee'everwest. Honestly, Sibylla was surprised neither House had yet submitted a candidate.

Then again, Sal-Sorens were known for their generations in the Shiraya Jedi Order, while Ee'everwest heirs often served in civil government.

After a moment, Sibylla couldn't help the slight narrowing her eyes under the calm mask of a politician.

Wait... was the youngest Sal-Soren here to declare her candidacy for Sovereign?

Anything was possible....and it wouldn't be unlikely.

Sibylla's gaze followed Bastilla Sal-Soren as she moved across the Solarium and then, to her surprise, saw her stop beside Dominic Praxon .

Her breath hitched. Well perhaps it shouldn't have surprised her, given Dominic's long-standing ties to the Grandmaster.

Even then, Sibylla couldn't help how her thoughts raced, nor the chill that slid down Sibylla's spine in an icy shard of apprehension about what that would mean.

Is this how Queen Kalantha felt during the debate? Sensing the tide about to turn, but unsure which way it would crash.

There was no time to dwell, for Remus Veruna had taken the floor, and soon a hush fell across the Solarium. Sibylla turned toward the sound of his voice, reminding herself to breathe, to keep calm, to hold the mask steady. Her expression smoothed into cordial pleasantness, her posture poised.

And as Remus spoke, she listened. She read between the lines.

He didn't believe she was a competent candidate. That much was clear in the elegant shape of his language. The crowd waited and then watched to see whom he would endorse.

But the name never came.

Instead, a moment of disruption drew everyone's attention as Sham Tapalo staggered at the far end of the Solarium. Gasps rose. Aides rushed to catch him.

Sibylla's brows twitched in subtle response. Her eyes drifted from the nobleman's retreating form back to Remus. The slight motion caused the delicate filigree chain across her face to jingle faintly.

Still, Remus gave no name. Or had he been intending to endorse Tapalo? Really?

No answer came, as Remus turned to the crowd and invited those who wished to lead Naboo to step forward.

Sibylla froze just for a heartbeat as it hit her. This was it.

A turning point. A line of demarcation.

Every eye turned to her.

She took a deep breath.

And then she walked. Slow and steady, each step sure. Her gown shimmered beneath the lights. Holocameras hovered, catching every second. She reached the podium. Gripped it gently. Her knees trembled beneath the silk.

But she lifted her chin.

She had chosen this.

"With solemn purpose and unwavering devotion," Sibylla began, doing her best to keep her voice steady despite the thousand lights trained on her, "I, Sibylla Abrantes, declare my candidacy in the Royal Election for Sovereign of Naboo."

A hush settled further as the flicker of holocams would shimmer against the stormlit glass behind her.

"This is not a step I take lightly. I know what it means to stand here. I know what it costs." Her gaze passed briefly over the room in a deliberate pan to meet every gaze. A shadow of meaning flicked across her words, subtle but polite enough for all to know what she meant by her recent assassination attempt without breaking decorum. The memory of clawed pain still burned between her shoulder blades, hidden beneath silk and poise.

"But Naboo has never shied from sacrifice. We are a people of elegance and endurance. We do not conquer, we lead. Not through fear, but through conviction."

"I have served as a Junior Representative in our Royal Assembly. I have worked beside Senator Sarn to broker peace between systems that once stood divided. I helped shape the Repatriation and Naturalization Act, offering shelter and dignity to those displaced by war. And I have walked among our Crown Worlds and on Mandalore, places reborn through unity, not domination."

Her voice lifted, gaining strength, though her posture remained precise and composed.

"My vision as Sovereign is clear... to protect Naboo's sovereignty and traditions, yes...but also to ensure that our voice carries with purpose in the era of the High Republic. Let us not be remembered only as a jewel of the past, but a beacon for what the galaxy can become."

Sibylla paused then, just long enough for the silence to deepen. Somewhere behind her, thunder rolled. She did not flinch.

"I will champion open trade, cultural exchange, and peace through partnership, not subjugation. I will work to strengthen ties not just among our nobility, but with our people. Artists. Farmers. Teachers. Guardians. We are all Naboo."

A faint glimmer moved across her filigree chain across her face as she glanced, although not pointedly, but perceptively, toward the Veruna side of the chamber.

"I do not seek a crown to bask in legacy. I step forward because I believe Naboo's legacy must evolve."

Her final words were softer, but no less certain.

"For we are more than our past. We are our potential." As her speech came to an end, Sibylla gave an inclination of her head in gratitude. This was it.

Yet behind her and deep within her heart, the thunder continued to roll, low and restless.

Then lightning struck.

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

 

[Dominic Praxon]

He had planned to watch for a bit longer. He had hoped to linger in Bastila's shadow for a time while assessing the room. But the old game had ended the moment Remus Veruna invited the new one to begin. And silence, now, would be its own kind of answer.

He stood with deliberate calm, the crowd parting for him with far less drama than it had for the woman at his side, but they parted nonetheless.

Before he moved, he leaned subtly toward her, voice low and wry, private in tone but tinged with resolve. "Let's bring the house down," he murmured. "Gracefully."

Then he stepped forward into the glow of the holocams. The weight of the room turned.

"I am Dominic Trozky," he began, his voice level, unhurried. "Of House Praxon, former junior advisor to the Royal Assembly, former aide to Senator Calia Vonn, until her recent and unfortunate arrest during a High Assembly session." A murmur rippled through the crowd. Dominic didn't flinch.

"To Lady Abrantes," he said, voice warm but measured, "whose words just now carried the weight of sacrifice and the dignity of duty. Yours was a stunning appeal, not only to history, but to the hopes of every citizen listening tonight."

He offered her a nod, that was pure courtesy. "Quite the dramatic moment, bravo."

His gaze held hers a moment longer, not unkind, but immovable. "May you find an appropriate place for such...pageantry."

He took a moment to clear his throat. "I have not come to reopen wounds. I have come to mark what followed. Senator Vonn's amendment failed the moment she was removed from the chamber, whether by law or by design, I leave to the conscience of our informed citizenry. But for me, it marked a turning point."

His eyes scanned the chamber, lingering nowhere and everywhere.

"I no longer believe I serve Naboo best by advising from the margins. I intend to stand for consideration to fill the vacant senatorial seat of Naboo. And I do so not as a rebuke of what was, but as a ward against what may yet become."

There was a subtle shift in his tone, deepening to something near reverence. "But I do not rise tonight to claim the spotlight. In truth, I hope my announcement is remembered only briefly. Because there is another presence in this hall far more deserving of Naboo's attention."

His avoided looking at anyone in particular. He did not need to steal thunder from the main event.

"A woman of grace. A woman steeped in the legacy of our fair homeworld. A woman of discipline and courage. One who carries both the wisdom of the Order and the blood of one of Naboo's most storied lines."

"I say this not to pressure, but to recognize. That in a time of uncertainty...we must cling to what makes Naboo...Naboo."

Dominic inclined his head, then turned toward Sibylla Abrantes. He met her gaze with all the diplomacy his training afforded. And he smiled, raising both of his eyebrows in apology, before stepping out of the spotlight.​

 

[Dominique Vexx]

Dominique regarded Remus Veruna as he took to the stage before his captive audience. These gatherings were always the same. A political rally masquerading as a social networking party. Everyone knew it too. It was the wealthy person's version of attending a sales presentation in order to get a free meal at a restaurant. Though there was less actual food involved. Attendees were too busy running their mouths to eat.

It would be curious to learn just how heavily Remus was going to lean in on his chosen puppet. The man was obviously chewing up the idea that he was a powerhouse among Naboo nobility. He'd be beside himself with everyone clapping or shocked by his announcement.

Events soon quickly outpaced carefully planned political maneuvers. Dominique's lips flattened as she turned her head to look in the direction of the commotion. "Fate," the Director echoed with the same emotion shown on her features a moment ago. "How easily machinations can be dashed on the rocks of incompetence."

Sibylla had forestalled her approach, and Remus' speech was sure to hold fast, which left Dominique to smile once more for Kyric 's sake. "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." Remus wasn't inept, but merely too fixated on any one thing. Not that it was easy to groom multiple political options, but surely there had been a better choice other than leaving it to a free-for-all? It did save face, but now control over the moment could slip through his fingers.

After Sibylla Abrantes took advantage of the opportunity to publicly declare her intent, Dominique lifted her glass in a silent toast to the young woman. Oh, the Denonite still thought her too young to be saddled with all of this, but Naboo had a habit of selecting the young. They were more dynamic. More 'open minded' some said. Yes, they were less experienced and hadn't yet grown tired of all the nonsense people thought was grand posturing. Then again, age wasn't exactly beauty either; being a rigid, addled mass whose chief accomplishment was drawing breath was worse. Ah, the never ending search for a perfect leader.

Well, Dominique couldn't complain about Sibylla. In fact, she'd happily support her. A public declaration, however, was premature at this point. Take, for instance, Dominic Praxon 's declaration for Senate wrapped in backhanded support for the future of Naboo. There'd be others that thought to make their mark. Dominique wanted to find the most powerful among them and decide how best to shore up her friend's position. Sometimes that was openly. And in others from the shadows.

"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." A smile blossomed on her lips. The man hadn't said what his name was and she'd very nearly been caught unable to address the man.

Kyric | Sibylla Abrantes | Cassian Abrantes | Dominic Praxon | Pillar of Faith | Aurelian Veruna​