Dominion Wedlocked and Loaded | GA Dominion of Ukatis

[Tenn Kalos]

Loomi
​

Tenn shrugged lazily, "I dunno," He wasn't really paying all that much attention. Probably not a good sign for a security guard, but that's what happens when you outsource your work to teenagers. Shep was still licking food off of his chops, panting eagerly at the banquet, so close yet so far away. With Tenn stonewalling him, his puppy eyes turned to Loomi instead.

"Hey, do we get paid for this?" Tenn asked abruptly, flicking a bit of dog hair off his jacket.

 

[Loomi]

Ukatis, Security Detail
Tags: Tenn Kalos

"Hey, do we get paid for this?"

"Wait, Jedi can get paid?" Loomi asked, somewhat shocked.

That was wild. Money was... good, right? She never had any money. At least she couldn't remember having money before. She had no memories, so why would she know this... Somehow, the Godoan was sure she had never had money with every fiber of her being. It was... strange.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I wasn't paying attention when I signed up..."

The other padawan wasn't alone. His companion, a canine of some kind, was looking at her, clearly giving her eyes to garner some form of affection.

Needless to say, it was working. Her single eye dilated, and she was unable from keeping a smile from spreading across her face.

"Can I pet him?"

 

[Makko Vyres]

Corazona von Ascania Hex Starlin Rand

He wouldn't have minded a hit of spice right about now to take the edge off everything. Not that he was about to admit as much out loud in front of Starlin. Even his unconventional mentor couldn't let that go.

Unintentionally, her feelings had leeched through into the bond she and Makko shared.

For a moment, as he felt that touch of her feelings, he closed himself off. That, in itself, would be telling. She would have felt the sudden action.

Then, a little by little, he opened himself back up to it. There were all kinds of feelings being thrown around through the Force. He had grown strong enough to sense that. Lots of emotions at the event.

Through that bond stretched his feelings. A myriad of emotions whipped up together. He was angry, he was surprised. He was upset and jealous. And woven through it all, a dark blue thread of sorrow.

She wasn't happy. The smile wasn't reflected in what she felt.

Well, that was the sensible thing to do, but... "You need my help getting close to her? Spiriting her away from that creep of a prince?" Starlin was practically bouncing up and down at the prospect of helping them out.

He looked from Hex to Starlin. His first thoughts had been so immature. Take a dance with Hex right where Cora could see them. Go and bury himself under a rock.

"I need to talk to her. Think you can get them apart for a bit? Nothing drastic. Maybe tell him his...I dunno. What news would drag a Prince away for a few minutes? Someone put a ticket on his chauffer's luxury air speeder?"

 

[Horace von Cholmondeley III]

ɪ. ᴀ ʀᴏʏᴀʟ ᴇɴɢᴀɢᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ

Horace maintained the pleasant smile, as did his fiancée, and by all outward accounts things were well-presented.

Clearly the Prince was oblivious to the underlying sensations of the Force, as that sensitivity was not his to claim, and he was as aware of the Jedi sharing moods and messages as he was of what a porg might think about grass. That said, only a fool would rely solely on second-hand knowledge regarding the Force, and the royals did have their own Force Sensitive servants - ones that were not beholden to the Jedi Order, or their sensibilities and self-righteousness, and were loyal to the crown of Ukatis.

There was little doubt that those same loyalists would reveal that which went unseen in time, especially to the King.

Thus far, however, the Prince felt things were going well.

Mostly.

When it came to Senator Terassi, the Prince had started to lose the small amount of patience with the sentient he had had. And once more the aristocrat offered another veiled insult. It was enough to almost cause the Prince to sigh aloud, with great dramatic emphasis, due to how utterly tactless Desric was being.

"Sadly, Senator Terassi, we can only blame the seeming lack of development on the past monarchy," the Prince said with clear disinterest in his eyes, as he looked beyond the serpent-like individual. "My father, the rightful and current King of Ukatis, has taken great strides to overcome mistakes of the past and to usher in a new era of sustainability and wealth for our people... however, as you can imagine, that scale of change is not immediate.

"We will get there, though. Especially with support like yours, which I am certain my father truly appreciates."

Horace leaned in closer to Desric and lowered his voice somewhat, though still maintained his position near to his fiancée.

"I feel I must inform you: I fear you have something wrong with your face, Senator. There is a consistent twitch or spasm - specifically at the edges of your lips - when you feel you are being adroit... perhaps something to be aware of? Perhaps some professional help to tame whatever ails your physiognomy?"

You are not as slick as you think.

Meanwhile, it seemed the Princess-to-be had taken care of the pesky Alliance security agent, as Corazona warded Dominik Borra to look on other matters. When the Agent offered a farewell, the Prince lofted his chin and watched the sentient leave the area, thankful to not have to deal with such duplicitous individuals around his immediate person. Thankfully the expectation to make rounds to all guests meant that the couple could soon be on their way, to seek out other - more preferable - company.

As it was: the gall of the Agent to presume Corazona wished to be away from her Prince?

Preposterous!

That fact was evidenced by Corazona's smile up at Horace, which the Prince met as he scanned her tolerable features with cool blue eyes--

Hm?

--that was until Corazona's gaze shifted and something shifted in her. She stiffened. Her eyes focused elsewhere, beyond Horace, as though something - or someone - had caught her attention. With a casualness, Horace turned to smile at another well-wisher, as he looked in the same direction, and caught sight of a group further away along that eye-line.

Hm...

Suddenly, though, Corazona was speaking to Horace, to which the Prince raised his eyebrows and turned to regard his fiancée. A flute of champagne was in her hand, now, and she squeezed Horace's arm gently as she asked about continuing Jedi training. Clearly that was exactly what should happen, there was no doubt, as having the power of the Force was one of the greatest benefits Corazona brought to the marriage.

"Oh, most certainly, my Lady," Horace nodded as he reached over and patted her hand on his forearm. He couldn't help but smile, as he matched her tone. "I couldn't agree more. I had hoped you felt exactly the same way. And believe me, I fully intend to support your continued Jedi training, to the fullest extent I am able, by providing you with the best Force-capable instructors you could ever need here in the palace!"

Horace beamed.

"Consider that, you will have total freedom within our home, to learn from some of the greatest teachers. And all without the risk of dangerous missions, complicated politics or ideals and distractions getting in the way... doesn't that sound perfect, my dear?"

The Prince leveled his blue stare at Corazona.

His smile remained firmly in place, unwavering...

Corazona von Ascania | Desric Terassi | Auteme | Dominik Borra​

 

[Amani Serys]

Alicio Organa | Maeve Linahan​

Amani crossed her arms, "It's archaic. It's the exact sort of nonsense I hate about high society posturing," She huffed, but kept her voice low so as to not offend any passers by. The Count was already aware of his wife's attitude when it came to certain ins and outs of the aristocracy. This was perhaps the most egregious example of it that she had personally come face to face with. Diehard traditionalism was far too often just a refusal to get with the times. She should know, she used to be the same sort of old-fashioned when it came to the Jedi Code.

Alicio casually moved them towards a familiar face: Maeve, whose straightforwardness would, if nothing else, be a nice contrast to all the political doublespeak, "We got back not too long ago. Can't stay on the sidelines forever, I'm afraid," They talked about the romanticism of escaping all their responsibilities, but both never had any intent to see it through. They were simply too invested in their work. And sometimes, that work involved events likes these.

Maeve voiced similar concerns as Amani, and many other Jedi. Everything felt off. Cora very much included, "It just doesn't add up to me. But… is it really our place to say something?" She certainly wished it were that simple.

 

[Corin Trenor]

He could feel it. The sharp and sudden strikes of volatile emotion, from the broad hall below and off into the side rooms. The bite of pain, of sadness, of anger, though none of it was his own. For once. A forcefully worn and polite smile settled over a cleaned, washed, and healed Corin; the oddly coloured bruises left his face, absent of cuts that marred his flesh. Put together, was the term that suited best. Yet it did not seem to be the case for the rest of them, the young Jedi noted with a touch of tiredness with wandering eyes pouring over the masses below the flight of porcelain marble stairs.

Petulant, he thought, though found the very criticism turned inwards. Was it not what those masters may well have thought of him? Was it not how his fellow padawans spoke of him? Was that still their description, he wondered? Perhaps that was the transition made, from boyhood to manhood. To accept and understand, to realise and recover. He deigned not to involve himself so thoroughly in the affairs of others on principle, though maybe the unfolding scenario was well enough the cost of coupling roles and identities. To be with both, rather than set one free and continue on into one.

Some part of him knew that too well.

"Master Jedi, it would seem we've lost you?" The prying voice of a nobleman among many intruded.

Corin returned his attention to the gathered few. "I apologise, where was I?"

 

[Iris Arani]

"This place is ugly."

Iris let out a sigh as she plopped down uncerimoniously beside Jasper Kai'el . Stared at the clearly not so happy couple with a frown before glancing to him. And blinked in surprise. He was crying. Again. What happened? She didn't know all the details, and it wasn't like, the happiest wedding she'd seen. But for him to look so angry and in tears- He wasn't even dressed up? The knight frowned a little as she scratched her cheek, giving him a moment.

Until curiosity won out, anyway.

"What's uh, what's going on..?"

Jasper Kai'el

 

[Hex]

Tag: Corazona von Ascania Makko Vyres Starlin Rand open
Location: Axilla
Objective: Party

Spoiler: Equipment

• Neon Lady suit
• ap-25i SIMP pistol
• 'Candles' Heavy particle blaster
• 'confetti' Rocket launcher
• Party Poppers (0 explosive, 0 gas)
• Dancer repulsor board
• Jade Void Amulet
• Dervish Knife
• Roadrunner chewing gum

Spoiler: Hex dialogue colors

Poor Hex hears voices in her head

Hex speech to others
Hex speech to herself

Hexes inner voices
'...Neutral...'
'...Doubt...'
'...Anger...'
Coloured '.....' are also words that Hex can hear , but I decided not to write them to reduce clutter

"Look the part"? She wasnt sure if Makko was trying to offend her by telling her she looked like on of the pampered types here. "Dress, 15 credits from o-boohoo, hair dye, stolen off my roomie, ride, twelve monthly payments of getting my hands dirty" she giggled, she deserved to feel and look hot sometimes, she knew Makko knew she wasnt some spoiled brat, but still felt the need to defend herself.

Hex laughed at Starlin Rand and grinned "Maybe you just have the trustworthy face of a spice slinger." She spent a few moments quietly listening to them talk about the issues with Corazona von Ascania and how it made Makko Vyres feel.

"You can get whatever you want if you are rich enough, turns out a bride is one of those things" she said half to herself, half to the guys standing by her, there was a bitterness in her voice that she wanted to spit out. In her eyes Corazana might as well be a slave being handed about by the same corpos that plagued Denon.

'...should have snuck in a gun...'
"mmhmm"

What news would drag a Prince away for a few minutes? Someone put a ticket on his chauffer's luxury air speeder?"

"What? And just watch him berate the chauffer and deduct the ticket from his wages, gotta be smarter... hang on" Hex began pressing buttons on her data pad quickly trying to fund out some information.

'...What are you doing?...'
"Shhh... I need to concentrate..."
'...you help this guy and he gets with her, no room for you...' Hex lifted her face up and scowled crossly at herself.
"Shhhh!"


"Got it" she spend a few more seconds sending messages, using cryptnet to encrpt it and spoof the contact details of one of his stockbrokers. The message would look legitimate, and would hopefully be enough to spirit him away while they chased around his broker's office to find who had sent the message. The Cryptnet in its wisdom would then erase all data trace.

--Text only messages to Horace von Cholmondeley III --

<<Please contact me, its urgent, significant movement on your holdings - Sían>>

<<Hi, its Sían again, can you contact my office asap, two of your holdings have lost approximately 18% value, we need your authorisation to move on this before it spreads>>

He might see the messages and ignore them, but if she knew her corpos, he would be running off to check on his wealth, or at least berate poor, innocent, imaginary Sían for not using her initiative and interrupting his party.

She turned back to the guys and smiled, "Give it a few moments and hopefully he will scarper, if that fails I will just steal his car or something."

​

Spoiler: OOC note

Finding and faking the grooms stockbroker number is technically hacking and i dont have explicit permission. So feel free to completely ignore that it happened if you don't want to grant retroactive permission, time zones be darned

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Obj I: A Royal Engagement

Horace von Cholmondeley III | Desric Terassi | Makko Vyres | Hex | Starlin Rand | Jasper Kai'el | Sion Lorray
​

Cora's lips nearly twitched into a lopsided smirk at Desric's barb. Nearly. Composure had all but been glued into her face, a mask she'd been forced to hone through a lifetime of formal events.

Still, she managed to flash him a momentary glance of sincerity. It was by no means a request from him to cease his veiled jabs—while physical violence was unthinkable, verbal sparring was accepted, even expected in aristocratic circles.

Provided it was done so properly. Idly, she couldn't help but wonder how things were done on Serenno. From previous conversations with Desric, she'd gathered that arraigned marriages were not the norm on his homeworld.

Horace was not deterred, however, and met Desric word for word. As her fiancée leaned closer to the aristocrat, no doubt to impart some pleasant insult, Cora raised the champagne flute to her lips and pretended that she was elsewhere.

The glass against her lips disguised the brief wince of surprise when Jasper's voice echoed into her mind. She didn't have to scan the crowd for long before her eyes rested on the Knight's distressed face. Ashamed as she was startled, Cora averted her gaze and idly swirled her glass.

He made many strong points, even if a few were borne out of misconception for her situation. Still, the sincerity with which he spoke could not be ignored. Each word reverberated in her mind through the Force, like a knife of truth carving away at the wound that was her mask of duty and decorum.

Cora didn't know if the telepathic link worked both ways. Regardless, with her focus still lingering to the side, she would attempt a response.

<Thank you for your kind concern, Jasper. I understand that this is all very sudden and upsetting. I would like to discuss this later.>

The message may have been curt, but Cora couldn't put forth a more genuine, emotional response without cracking. That, and she'd never attempted any manner of telepathy before. A visible shudder ran through her body, and the telepathic link dropped. Fortunately, Dominik Borra and Iris Arani were flanking their friend to provide support.

The panic she'd pushed to the edges of her mind began to creep back in, and Cora attempted nearly every subtle breathing exercise she could in order to stave it off.

The unwilling Princess-to-be refused to show Horace how addled she was.

A cool sensation touched her mind, and suddenly it became much easier to chase away her fear. Tension bled from Cora's shoulders, and her gaze, now more even and less anxious, was drawn to a point at the distant end of the hall. Too far away to see properly and lost among a sea of tables and mingling nobles, but she could feel the comfort extending from a friend.

Sion?

A faint smile touched her lips.

With a renewed sense that she could make it through this dreadfully awkward party, Cora refocused on the crowd. Across the way she spied Alicio Organa and Amani Serys , engaged in conversation with Maeve Linahan . Ironically, the first time she'd met the Count and Countess was at their own wedding, where she'd wished them to be blessed with many healthy children.

As was customary on Ukatis.

She was surprised to see Maeve here—the Jedi Knight didn't seem like the type to willingly dabble in noble gatherings, but Cora looked up to her capable nature. Just as she was about to suggest that they greet them, a proverbial door slammed in her mind.

Makko had closed himself off to her in the Force, something he'd never done. Not with this much haste, not this notably. Even Sion's comfort couldn't distract from the pain of disappointing someone you love.

The lock on the bond between Cora and Makko only began to ease as Horace answered her loaded question. Genuine surprise flared in wide blue eyes when, at first, he seemed to readily agree—

—before the other boot came proverbially crashing down on her soul.

"I see." Startled and sad, a quiet response was all that she could manage in the moment. Head tilting downward, the blonde glanced at her distorted reflection in the champagne glass before her gaze swept back up to Horace.

"I am touched by your concern for my well-being, My Prince. In my time with the Order, I’ve come to learn how missions and diplomatic work are as essential to becoming a Jedi as is learning how to use the Force. I do so wish for my station as a Jedi to reflect well on Ukatis, and on yourself, of course—it would be a shame to curtail my education so soon."

There was something vaguely unhinged in his bright smile. Cora's naïveté was not pervasive enough for her to not understand that he was trying to curb her newfound independence. Something that she herself was still discovering.

“As I’m sure you well know, it is our duty to think of Ukatis first.”

Cora met Horace's charming grin with a kindly, even demure smile. Her eyes did not waver from his own, soft yet unyielding. Though her features were dignified by prescription, she wore a faintly noticeable thread of defiance in her expression. That same defiance had earned her a bruise to her cheek a few days ago.

Raising the glass once more, Cora took a cursory sip of champagne and allowed herself to revel in the way the bubbles fizzed on her tongue.

The holowatch on his wrist buzzed urgently, and Cora simply tilted her head in vague curiosity. With a glance, she could only catch the growing notification icon.

​

​

​

 

[Starlin Rand]

Hex was quick to act, sending Horace a message in hopes of distracting him. Starlin further intervened by using the Force to influence the prince. "You definitely need to handle the issue yourself," he said under his breath, twitching his fingers only slightly as he clasped his hands behind his back. Wouldn't want to draw too much attention to his using Jedi mind tricks on royalty. "Excuse yourself and find somewhere private."

It should be more than enough to peacefully remove Horace. Starlin winked at Makko.

Makko Vyres Hex Horace von Cholmondeley III Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Giselle Dune]

"I apologize, where was I?"

"I was hoping you could tell us about your battles against the Sith!" Lord Vultan Dune replied. He was a large man both in height and width, with an impressive beard, a ruddy face, and absolutely no inside voice. "I enjoy those tales of heroism and derring-do! Makes me wish I could be a Jedi Knight myself!"

Beside him stood his wife Amanoa, a contrastingly thin, pale and cold woman dressed in black, and his daughter Giselle, a blonde teenager in a dark pink gown. Giselle was preoccupied with peering out at the other guests, clutching a pair of pearl-encrusted opera glasses in her hands. She had planned on spending the majority of her cousin Corazona's engagement party in the upper balcony, looking down on the figures below as if she were watching a theater production and they were the players. Alas, her plans had been dashed by a private meeting between her uncle and two Jedi, resulting in her being banished from the balcony.

Despite the lesser view from below, Giselle hadn't been entirely blocked - and there was still plenty of drama was on display tonight. One of the Jedi up on the balcony had struck her uncle's face. Had the Jedi been an ordinary nobleman or commoner, and Marcel a younger man, such a provocation would've likely led to a duel.

Given that incident and the clearly hostile interaction between Prince Horace and Desric Terassi , Giselle half expected the prince would issue (or be issued) a challenge before the night was over. Most of the other Jedi and Alliance officials wore scowls and sour expressions on their faces, like they were angry about the engagement or didn't want to be there. A few looked bored, and others seemed to regard the Ukatian nobility with a haughty sense of superiority. Not exactly conducive to diplomatic relations, but very entertaining to watch.

Corazona von Ascania Corin Trenor + Open​

 

[BB-610]

A ROYAL ENGAGEMENT

| LOCATION: Ukatis |
| TAG: Open! |


To say that things were going horribly would be an understatement.

The startled gasps and disgusted shrieks of noble guests rang throughout the hall, what was once a pristine floor now coated in a slop of spilt hand food, halfway smeared along the rug and only spread further as unsuspecting attendees stepped on it. Scampi's devilish reign was far from over, unfortunately, with the seabird hastily fluttering skyward at the dismissive arm sways of the waiter whose meals he'd just ruined, wings flapping to carry his small body across the room until his feet could get a firm grip along the beautiful white veil draping from the ceiling. BB-610 sped over, peering up at him with the look of a panicked mom, bweeping and booping in a hybrid of stern-yet-anxious binary as he fearfully demanded the porg to come down this instant, only to be met with a blank stare from wide, bugged eyes before parting his maw to clamp two rows of tiny, dagger-like teeth into the curtain's thin fabric. Rearing his head back, the cloth was torn with a sickening rip, Scampi's footing struggling as his weight finally plummeted him downwards, yanking the shredded veil down with him to further slice it in half, unbuckling it from the ceiling and bringing the entire thing down to the floor.

An array of guests were promptly submerged beneath the fabric, blanketed as they attempted to pry it off of them, their uncoordinated efforts only serving to tangle them up more. A tell-tale lump hopped from under the curtain, cooing softly as Scampi's head poked out from it, waddling across the floor in blissful ignorance of the chaos he'd just caused. BB-610 rolled over, a grapple hook sent flying from a tool-bay disk in a desperate attempt to catch the feathered menace, but the porg was much too fast, flying out of the way with a warbled shriek of his own. The grapple, instead, clinked against another waiter's feet, coiling around them and tugging the astromech along, crying in horror as the man stumbled off balance, arms flailing and silver platter flying through the air, the poor noble knocking his back against one of the tables. smash SMASH smashhh More glasses hit the floor, shattered in pieces, chairs knocked askew in an undignified domino effect that led to more food on the floor, passers-by slipping and sliding with an orchestra of THUDS and SMACKS, one woman shoved behind the bar's counter and right into a cabinet of fine, expensive alcohols, resulting in the destruction of glasses whose numbers must have at least been in the triple digits. A crescendo of shatters, and soon the floor had been layered with a mess of sharp glass, the bartender hurrying out, only for his foot to get caught beneath the torn curtain and sending him face first into a puddle of spilt soup.

BB-610, powerless to stop anything, could only watch with the heart-stopping gaze of a deer caught in headlights, witnessing what might as well have been a car crash in slow motion as what was once a sophisticated party had been so swiftly turned into a pig sty of property damage and lawsuit pending health hazards. Speechless, the droid simply stood there, unsure of how to proceed. He wanted to shrivel up, to hide and never come out-- He couldn't even bare to imagine what Valery would think- what Cora would think. He had just ruined her special day, and for what? Because he felt bad leaving a bird at home? Stupid. Reckless. He chastised himself again and again, fearing the worst as countless sets of eyes locked on to him in visceral hatred, staring daggers into his core in ways that made him wish for a merciful death. The very least, BB-610 thought, was that the damage had already been done, and that things could only go up from here.

CRRRAASSHHHH

Directly behind the astromech, the hall's chandelier plummeted into the ground with a force strong enough to shake the room, its weight in golden brass sinking into the floor, splintering it as it lay anchored halfway beneath the floorboards, its decorative crystalline candles all but shattered to pieces, trickling down onto the ruined ground. From within the chandelier's hull, Scampi emerged, popping his head up and chirping innocently as he surveyed the room. BB-610 didn't even spare the effort to turn around and look behind him. His life was over, as far as he was concerned. He's dead inside.

 

[Jasper Kai'el]

Ukatis
Tags: Corazona von Ascania , Dominik Borra , Iris Arani , Sion Lorray

​

<Thank you for your kind concern, Jasper. I understand that this is all very sudden and upsetting. I would like to discuss this later.>

Jasper deflated a little. Even in her thoughts she was keeping herself together. He would have been falling apart at the seams. The knight sort of was anyways. He had managed to clear up his face by the time he had company, but the had still clearly noted how upset he was.

"What's uh, what's going on..?"

"Cora's being married off," he told her. "That's the nice version I guess. It's some power grab garbage. They're using her like... some kind of item. Like she isn't even a person. And I can't do chit about it."

He kept his voice down, but his statement was blunt and direct. Jasper was a Jedi Knight incapable of keeping his own safe. For all he knew, the poor girl was gonna be locked up in some flashy estate never to see the light of day. It was always best to assume the worst with royals. After all, Jasper had seen how they treated people in his exile. There was very few that could come as close to true uncivilization as they did.

"...You know, just in case I brought a backpack. Filled with things I shouldn't have." He looked out over the crows of nobles. "Lots of potential hostiles. Think we'll need it?"

"Huh?" Jasper frowned. "Oh, who knows. I can't assess the danger here. Everyone is... clouded. Jeez, we're all a disaster."

One shining example shown out amongst all the negativity. A lone padawan baring scars on his face was doing what he could to help induce calming effects in the force. Here they all were being bitter, be it directly or not, and a padawan was putting his older peers to shame. Jasper couldn't be upset with himself too much. He already was, after all. What he could do was make sure that the deed didn't go unpraised.

The knight wearily shifted to fix his posture, still tired from his overuse of the force.

"Hey," he called out to the boy. "Why don't you join us? Seems like a terrible time to stand around on your own."

 

[Alicio Organa]

Axilla, Ukatis
- Amani Serys - Maeve Linahan - Open -​

"It's archaic. It's the exact sort of nonsense I hate about high society posturing."

Alicio winced, looking to the ground. He was aware he shouldn't feel guilty for the concept of arranged marriages, but it was a part of his culture. "I've seen the faults of transactional marriages, but I grew up learning they were... not normal, but noble. Once upon a time, I would've freely given up everything for my House, too. It was... what I was taught."

Would he have given his love, too, had it been beneficial to House Organa? If he and Amani...?

That thought colored the back of his mind as he and his wife traveled to Maeve. He sent a touch of a smile her way. "You took the time out of a Jedi's busy schedule to go to our wedding. Of course I remember."

"Like most nobility, he reeks of self-importance—no offense, Alicio—but I don't trust him. Every time he smiles, it's more like he's baring his teeth than trying to upturn his mouth."

"None... taken." Hopefully, she wouldn't notice the tightness of his smile. He knew she didn't mean to barb him, but it didn't feel particularly good to be caught in the crossfire of an insult.

Amani asked perhaps the most important question of the night. Alicio frowned, thinking. "No. I don't think it is our place, unless you know Corazona better than us, Maeve." He inclined his head to the Shadow, a flash of prophecy behind his eyes. "If she's making a mistake, the only people who can convince her of it are those closest to her."

"If she's being forced, the only people she'll tell are those closest to her."

"And if it's a mixture of the two... she'll need people close to her."

 

[Minerva Fhirdiad]

Obj II: Supply Chain Crisis


Years ago and in a distant world…​

A thirteen year old girl with brown hair flew in the air before crashing onto a mat with her side. Gritting teeth a much younger Minerva looked up to the red armored figure responsible. Just as she was forcing herself up to her knees the man charged. Alarmed, the young girl rolled out of the way just as her opponent threw a kick that slammed into the spot she was just moments ago.

"No fair I was down!" Minerva exclaimed in anger.

"You expect every fight to be fair?! That all your enemies will play by rules?"

Her trainer demanded in a grizzled voice, causing Minerva to look up in shock at the T-visor.

Sighing heavily he stopped attacking while Minerva tried to catch her breath.

"As a Mandalorian you're both hunter and prey. I fight like this not to be cruel but to prepare you Minerva. Like how you sharpen your blade to keep its edge. Motir teg ad?"

She paused before finally nodding her head and standing. "Elek buir." The older Mandalorian took a few steps back getting into a combat stance followed by Minerva who now possessed a determined glare.

____________________________

Her vision began to return and she stirred with a pained groan. Fire crackle and more of the building being wasted away by its destructive power. Sitting up, Minerva blinked a few times inside the helmet before the blurriness finally faded.

Grunting she felt gripped her right side followed with chest pain and a headache spiked in her head.

"I might've cracked a rib and got a concussion."

Minerva concluded in a whisper.

Then her eyes came upon the remaining hovertruck. Somehow it was still intact but the flames were drawing closer and closer. Turning over to the hole she made earlier.

I could probably make it outside before this place comes down. I already saved one half of the shipment they can get by and that's more than others could say.

Indeed she could tell herself and others afterwards. Getting burned to death over food aid would hardly be seen as a warrior's death. Especially since it was likely wrought by ungrateful scum who refuse to accept outsider help. Yes she would rather survive long enough to shed all of their blood than die here. Yet Minerva didn't move for the exit even as more pieces of the building fell with violent crashes when a realization bombarded her soul.

I'm…a Mandalorian…and I can't turn away from this…not now. Come what may…

Subsequently she forced herself up in spite of the agony. Biting lips that muffed a cry Minerva limped her way toward the truck.

 

[Auteme]

Corin Trenor | Corazona von Ascania Horace von Cholmondeley III Desric Terassi Dominik Borra ​

Auteme stood there for a few moments, before realizing that these people were low-key awful.

They didn't disrespect her at all; if anything they showed deference, but watching them interact made her skin crawl. Leaning in close to people to whisper in their ear? Gross. Being excessively subtly unsubtle? Icky. There was no joy here. Everyone who had even a moderately strong presence in the room was giving off rancid vibes for a variety of reasons. Terassi's 'fun' was caked in malice, as was the prince's satisfaction. Corazona seemed like she didn't want to be there. And- was Ukatis so poor as to not be able to afford a bacta patch? Or so backward as to bruise someone and not give it?

It took her a moment, but when she recognized the agent that had approached the royals, it set her a bit on edge. Task Force Null -- another reminder of the work she needed to do.

"Thank you for your kind words- enjoy yourselves as well," she nodded, before turning and leaving without another word.

Her eyes swept the room, looking for an excuse to- ah, of course.

A few nobles moved to intercept her, but she glided through the crowd in such a way that no one could pin her down in conversation she did not want. Soon enough she reached the side table where Corin was.

"You were at the part where you valiantly fought off the assassins sent to kill me," she cut in, turning to the nobles. "The reports- well, quite a lot of chaos that day, but Corin here fought off at least a dozen bounty hunters, from what I saw. You're lucky to be speaking to a Jedi like this."

She smiled, and cut in again before they could speak up. "Terribly sorry to ask this of you, but would you mind if I took this Jedi away for a moment? Ah- I believe the prince may be speaking soon, actually," she nodded in the couple's direction. "Go on."

At her insistence, the few of them filed away from the table. She turned to Corin.

"Hi. Sorry. Feel kind of bad right now. You look well, though."

 

[Maeve Linahan]

She nodded at Amani's question. Was it their place to speak up? Maeve couldn't say for certain, but she knew one thing: "We are all brothers and sisters here. We are Jedi—except for you, Alicio, which again, no offense—but we have a responsibility to take care of each other. How is this ballroom any different from the frontlines? Just because Cora is fighting her own battle, doesn't mean we shouldn't have her back."

Maeve crossed her arms again, considering Alicio's response. "But you may be right, Count. This is different. Cora's chosen this path, and only those closest to her now can persuade her from it." She waved an annoyed hand. "If only that damned prince would stop lording over her like a hawk, then maybe she'd have a chance to hear them out. To hear us out."

As if on cue, she heard glass shattering and shouted cries. A domino effect, spreading from a fallen waiter to a broken dish, tipped over chairs to a capsized bar, and then…

"Oh, what the f—?" Maeve began, only to be cut off as one of the overhanging chandeliers dropped and shattered against the floor, rattling the entire room.

Women in sparkling gowns and men with overachieving bellies gasped and guffawed, backing away from the crushed chandelier faster than they would from an orphaned beggar. A noble shrieked. A girl even fainted. Between it all, Maeve's eyes wandered over to Prince Horace, no doubt fuming now that his engagement party had been completely and utterly ruined.

She couldn't resist smiling a little at that.

Tags: Amani Serys , Alicio Organa , BB-610​

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[Desric Terassi]

Obj I: A Royal Engagement
Corazona von Ascania | Horace von Cholmondeley III || Auteme​

While she could hardly openly show it, let alone say it outright, Desric got the distinct impression Cora enjoyed his efforts. Efforts aimed at making Horace's day just a bit worse. Excellent. He would hate to stop just yet.

The Prince leaned closer to remark upon Desric's occasional smirks, but he would not see the Serennian responding with embarrassment. Instead, he seemed amused. "Whoever said it was unintentional?" Over the course of a second, his face would rapidly take on a variety of expressions - anger, sadness, joy, and even fear. Then the smirk was back.

Sufficiently advanced facial bionics made for one hell of a poker face.

Ironically, the Prince seemed to have missed the one tell that did slip through the mask - the brief twitch of his eyebrows in response to Cora having to ask permission to make her own choices. Desric shuddered to imagine what his grandmother would say if he treated a future spouse like that. Not that he ever would. Clearly, his Highness could benefit from some common fucking decency.

The Prince's answer, of course, left much to be desired. Total freedom within our home?

For perhaps the first time in his sheltered life, Desric wished he could punch someone.

Cora's response was more diplomatic than that, of course, but her determination was evident. Good. Letting Horace get away with treating her as little more than a pretty toy was intolerable, but it was not as if Desric could choose for her.

Suddenly, there was an escalating spectacle behind them. Turning in bafflement (and turning on his personal shield in the process, as discretion is the better part of valour), he eyed the chaos for a long moment, then laughed out loud.

Oh, that was simply fantastic. Horace must be seething.

His 'date', meanwhile, seized the opportunity to gasp and pull backwards in 'alarm', her right hand positioned so as to lightly graze one of Horace's hands with a nail unless he reacted dramatically. A skin sample was all she needed.

 

[Corin Trenor]

"Perhaps you and yours may assist us in other matters instead," the young Jedi was quick to reply with a touch of warmth to the father of Giselle Dune. In the beige and brown robes of the Jedi Order, Corin felt deep sleeves drift and flow with each small movement and his hands often times buried themselves within. "The Alliance has no shortage of roles and responsibilities to those willing, some of which work closely with the Jedi. You must excuse me if I sound awfully preachy, though."

The arrival of the Supreme Chancellor was a shocking surprise to say the least. Though Corin wore thin smile and hummed a brief laughter. "I was a Padawan learner, then. The Chancellor speaks too highly of me." He excused to the lot, "The truth is that my master did much of the fighting, I was more in line with trying to survive. Bounty hunters can be nasty business."

A dire situation recalled so fondly. A sweet, summer memory on the vine. Of days before the his perfectly crafted image of the world beyond Denon was cracked, shattered, and crushed. Of a time in which every waking moment was spent around Dagon, when the two were one, before the arguments filled their days and bickering consumed their nights until there was no more of them left. Before Corin became the wayward Jedi his fellows knew him to be, and before Dagon disappeared into the unknown. He dared not dwell upon it.

"I apologise again," Corin said with a small smile, "it seems not even a Jedi can escape politics."

He breathed in a sigh rife with relief, though with a modicum of subtlety.

"There's nothing to apologise for, Chancellor." He said politely, a small dip of his head. Corin only ever met Auteme once, many years ago now; a brash boy, as wild as he was free to do as he so pleased in any given moment, with those choices often being the worst one could indulge in. A man grown, there was time for a change beneath the watchful eye of prospective members of the Alliance. Regardless of the discomfort felt with such forced politeness. "You look well, too. Certainly better than any of us robed few scattered about. I'm certain you don't miss it."

Auteme

 

[Marcel von Ascania]

Obj I: A Royal Engagement
Valery Noble | Kahlil Noble​

Marcel cocked a brow as Kahlil posed a question.

"You appear to have drawn your own assumptions already, Mr. Noble."

Not Master Noble. His title was, perhaps, intentionally omitted.

"It is not my place to comment on your own father's methods. What happens within your family is neither my business nor concern."

Marcel grunted, a guttural sound as he cleared his throat into the handkerchief. He looked from Kahlil to Valery before his gaze refocused on them as a whole.

"You both care for Corazona, that much is clear. However, I do not expect either of you to understand the expectations of the Ukatian aristocracy. As a father, I do what I must to ensure that my children succeed, even if you find it troubling."

The Viscount cleared his throat again, this time with less aggression. On some level, behind layers of decorum and expectation, he did care for his daughter. Something in his gaze softened, however slightly as he followed her form below as she swept through the crowd on the arm of Prince Horace.

The sudden skipped beat of his heart caught him off guard. Wasn't it only yesterday when he'd first held the tiny form of his newborn daughter in his arms? Marc recalled the tremble in his hands as he gingerly accepted the infant, so scared that the slightest movement would break such a fragile being.

He blinked, and now she'd become a woman. With a barely perceptible deep inhale, Marcel continued.

"The role of the Ascania family—of all noble houses—is to serve its people. Corazona knows this well, and wears her duty with pride, even if she wavers from the path at times. This marriage will not only be of benefit to our family, but to the common folk who work Ukatis' earth every day."

Marcel grunted. He was not pleased with having to explain this to those outside of his family, but figured that it would be worth something if he could smooth over the willful Jedi's ire.

"You may see me as a cruel man, but I know my daughter well. She went to Coruscant because it was her duty, and she will wed Prince Horace because it is her duty."

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