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Faction Welcome to Lualani Cove - Grand Opening [Open to THR / Nobles / Wealthy / Ask for Invite]

Myaja Kwan

Guest



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The warm ocean air carried the scent of saltwater and tropical blooms across the glowing shores of Lualani Cove. What had once been a quiet island retreat had transformed into one of the most ambitious scientific and cultural projects in the sector, a state-of-the-art research facility built to advance marine studies, ecological preservation, and interplanetary collaboration. Tonight marked its official galactic opening.

Invitations had traveled far beyond Naboo's borders. Nobles, senators, scholars, investors, diplomats, and some of the galaxy's most influential families had arrived by sleek yachts and elegant starcruisers, descending upon the island beneath strings of lantern lights and shimmering banners that danced in the evening breeze. Music echoed through the open courtyards while guests drifted between marble terraces and tropical gardens with crystal glasses in hand. Laughter mingled with the sound of waves below as dancers moved beneath the stars.

Tomorrow would offer private tours of the research facility alongside luxurious island excursions like sailing, diving along Naboo's reefs, spa retreats, and curated tropical adventures designed for the Cove's distinguished visitors. But tonight was about celebration. About visibility. About influence. And perhaps most importantly, about securing support and funding for the expanding research initiatives that Lalani Cove hoped to pioneer.

Near the grand entrance of the villa, Myaja stood waiting to welcome arriving guests. Dressed impeccably and carrying herself with practiced grace, she concealed her nerves behind a warm and confident smile. This was more than simply a social gathering for her family, it was her debut into Naboo's political and social sphere. Her first opportunity to prove she belonged among the galaxy's elite.







 
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The invitation had arrived weeks ago, embossed in gold and sealed with the crest of Naboo, though by now Gwen Cavello had grown accustomed to such things. Every gala, ceremony, and diplomatic gathering seemed to carry the same unspoken purpose lately: place the Princess of Avalon beside Lord Lancel Atria Lancel Atria often enough and eventually affection would bloom where duty had already taken root.

Or so their parents hoped.

Gwen stood at the edge of the dock as the evening sun melted into the Naboo horizon, painting the waters around the marine sanctuary island in streaks of gold and rose. Music drifted through the warm air while elegant guests filtered from polished transports toward the sprawling villas prepared for the celebration. Lanterns swayed softly in the ocean breeze, illuminating silk banners and crystal pathways that wound toward the sanctuary's central hall.

To everyone watching, she looked every inch the perfect princess.

Her gown shimmered beneath the lights like the soft sunset kissed by moonlight, her posture graceful, her smile practiced and effortless. Nobles greeted her warmly as she moved through the gathering with measured elegance, offering polite conversation and diplomatic charm exactly as she had been taught since childhood.

Inside, however, Gwen felt trapped beneath the performance.

Naboo had become almost a second home these past months at her parents' insistence. Every visit, every dinner, every carefully orchestrated appearance alongside Lord Lancel was meant to push them closer toward the inevitable wedding neither of them wanted. Fortunately, the one comfort in the arrangement was that Lancel despised the idea just as much as she did.

Somewhere between forced dances and political dinners, the two of them had formed an unexpected alliance.

Now they exchanged subtle glances across crowded rooms not out of affection, but mutual survival. Quiet conversations had turned into whispered plans, theories, and increasingly desperate attempts to find a respectable way out of the arrangement without igniting a political disaster between Avalon and Naboo.

Unfortunately, tonight was not the night for rebellion.

Tonight required appearances.

So Gwen descended the marble steps toward the heart of the celebration, offering greetings to senators, dignitaries, and wealthy benefactors gathered to support the sanctuary's grand opening. Beneath the music and laughter, she could already feel the familiar weight of expectation settling onto her shoulders once more.

Still, as her gaze drifted across the sparkling waters surrounding the island, Gwen allowed herself one small moment of hope.

Somewhere amidst the politics, performances, and carefully arranged futures… there had to be another path waiting for them both.










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Location: Lualani cove
Objective: Be a noble
Tags: Guinevere Cavello Guinevere Cavello


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Bettany had a lot to think about at the moment, she was awaiting a call back from an incredible oppurtunity for a key role across the border, something that would take her career up a whole extra notch. But more humbly she needed to decide who she wanted to be within the Jedi, if that was even her at all. Her time in the Jedi was not unpleasant, but she wasnt some noble warrior wanting to fly the galaxy doing all manner of heroics, having to attend lessons about listening to some entities that apparently filled her cells. No, she was happier being something else.

And tonight she was doing that. Bettany Mabel, of the great house of Sal-Soren was here to enjoy a gala. Some grand opening of something she wasnt entirely sure of the details. But she had an invitation and look resplendent. She had had a moment to observe the lagoon when she first arrived. Stunning!. She had packed her bathing suit and hoped to get a moment to enjoy the waters tomorrow, but it may or may not happen.

She spotted someone she recognised and quickly walked over, "Lady Cavello", she adressed Guinevere Cavello Guinevere Cavello to get her attention. "You look amazing, and your dress, oh my stars, you will have to pass me the details of your modiste." she grabbed a glass of champagne as she kissed the air just beyond the cheek of the woman who wasnt exactly a friend, but was a loosley acquainted social peer.

This felt right. This was her world.

 


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Gwen hadn't been there long before someone who recognized her was greeting her. She bowed her head respectfully at the Sal-Soren, and smiled a genuine smile when she mentioned the dress.

"Oh thank you Lady Sal-Soren. It's one of my favorites, inspired by Padme Amidala you know. I felt it would fit right in on this occasion."

She returned the air kiss as was expected with such an event.

"It is lovely to see you. I hope you have been well?"

 



Location: Lualani cove
Objective: Be a noble
Tags: Guinevere Cavello Guinevere Cavello


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Padme Amidala you know. I felt it would fit right in on this occasion.

She nodded and smiled "Ooh, how lovely. I had to do research on her for a part when I was younger, a whole mess of history, but the dresses were nice." she remembered reading about her role in bringing about the collapse of the old republic.

"I am doing very well, I would love to attend more of these things but, you know... Jedi stuff." she made a playful gesture of nausea and then laughed. "Even my agent says I need to get out to these things so, maybe. How about you?"

 


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“Oh I cannot imagine how busy the life of a Jedi must be. I suppose all of the training will pay off though? The Jedi are very talented. “

She took a glass of Champaign from a wandering server and glanced around at the crowd that had settled. She was hopping to see Elian Abrantes Elian Abrantes at some point. It seemed like it had been ages since the two had gotten together, and she had heard some awful things. She wanted to make certain her friend was okay.

“So do you have any exciting holo work coming out?”

She let her eyes keep wandering the crowd, but smiled politely as she listened to Bettany.

Bettany Sal-Soren Bettany Sal-Soren











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Dressed in a light green evening gown, Persephone frowned slightly. She wasn't sure it was a good color on her, far from her usual signature pinks and lavenders, but an attempt was made to match or call to the marine life. Being the closest Dashiell due to her enrollment in Kalinda University, Persie drew the short straw on attending the event.

Beautiful event. Gorgeous planet for something that wasn't her usual first love of urban cities. Looking around as she entered, no friendly faces stuck out to her. Didn't matter, tonight was business for her. Smile, shake hands, and pledge credits from the family to keep the project funded. Idea being potential research into ocean sciences funneled in the direction of her adoptive fathers company.

Not a horrible idea.

Persephone had been focused on her studies that the socialite part of her world had fallen away. Not that she had particularly minded. At sixteen the bottom feeding sons of the wealthy were starting to circle. Focused on getting her doctorate, there was no time to entertain a third son who would see no inheritance or offer no advantageous ties for the future.

OPEN TO INTERACTION

 
Riya Parshen marched with a certain stride in the crowd. Outwardly, she was the very model of a well drilled soldier, but within her soul she wanted to sigh. Just my luck, I get dragged into this. She kept that frustrated thought entirely buried, assuming someone who wielded the force didn't sense it.

The young Pantoran Officer wore her formal dress uniform with crisp, unmistakable authority. The deep burgundy-red tunic hugged her athletic frame perfectly — high-collared with mandarin neckline trimmed in gleaming gold, a double row of polished gold buttons, and elegant gold piping tracing the seams. Structured shoulder boards before the insignia of her junior rank, while a modest rack of service ribbons and campaign medals adorned her left breast. Matching trousers with a sharp gold stripe running down each leg disappeared into gleaming black dress shoes. A traditional peaked cap in the same rich red sat at a regulation angle on her head, its gold band and insignia catching the lamplight.

Her vibrant blue skin seemed to glow softly against the dark uniform, complemented by her short, neatly styled dark hair and sharp golden eyes that scanned the surroundings with quiet alertness.

"Relax Lieutenant, this is a party not an inspection." Whispered the officer directly in front of her, a dark skinned human in his late twenties, wearing a similar uniform but with a captain's rank and more medals. He didn't even look in her direction when saying that.

Riya's cheeks flushed with embarrassment before clearing her throat as they navigated the ballroom. "With respect sir, it's hard to be so in a place like this."

A brief chuckle escaped Captain Kran Jordel. "I know, I know. But you're going to have to get used to more of these events when you get promoted."

He paused to grab a glass of wine from a silver tray of a protocol droid. The latter waited for Riya to do the same but she shook her head and the droid went on his way. Captain Jordel shook his head at his subordinate's stubbornness though he remained patient he sipped the drink and looked around the room. Riya with her gloved hands folded behind her back did the same before asking. "So Captan you said your fiance should be here?"

Jordel nodded, before answering. "Yes, as a matter of fact. Masi is more of a marine life researcher despite her noble title. She wouldn't miss this opportunity."

Riya turned and raised an eyebrow. "Meaning the event or you sir?"

Smirking back confidently Captain Jorel answered with a shrug. "Both and I'm fine with that. Despite it being an arrangement set by our parents years ago, we talked and worked things out. She's an incredible woman and I'm blessed that she still wants to marry the likes of me."

Riya can tell her company's CO was telling the truth and she actually smiled. "Sounds like the two of you are quite the couple already sir. Though I still don't understand why I'm here." Jordel sighed heavily before drinking more of his wine.

"Lieutenant Parshen, you have distinguished yourself recently. Both on Geonosis and that Corellian business. Like I told you, forming connections outside the ranks is essential. Effort certainly does matter a great deal in our profession but having someone in your corner like Lady Masi Thence can help protect you off the battlefield, especially when there are some who resent your newfound fame."

Riya resisted the urge to bite her lower lip. She can't deny that there are a few fellow graduates with wealth and noble connections who don't take kindly to her presence, "a junk rat" in the same ranks as them.

Her commander observed her silence before drinking down the rest of his glass. "How about you just go and socialize? I'll introduce you to my beloved later."

Turning to face him fully Riya gave a crisp salute and Jordel returned it with his free hand and looked on to go find his beloved.

The Pantoran didn't spare him a further glance. She appreciated that her commander and mentor only wanted to look out for his subordinates, though Riya still felt uncomfortable being here. She noticed a few curious stares in her direction and pretended not to.

Wanting to get her mind off of it she walked toward a gallery of holo-photos displaying various creatures that live in Naboo's waters, even in the planet's core. She was especially drawn to one photo of two Sando aqua monsters circling one another.
 
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@Myaja Kwan | Open

Since getting elected, Tryvge Hakon had spurned enough high class events that he figured it was about time he show up at one and what better than something rather close on Naboo. Plus, if there was somebody in this galaxy that did not already dislike him, it could not hurt to befriend them. Maybe he could even win over a soul or two.

He had picked a rather normal outfit by his standards: plenty of blue and gold and rather ornate. He may have been a hair late to the event, but who was keeping track?

As he walked towards the entrance to the event, he spotted the organizer and, as soon as she was free, made a beeline for her.

"Duchess! You look impeccable tonight," he exclaimed. "And this venue! I haven't even been inside and I can already tell it's gorgeous."

He was no stranger to trying way too hard with flattery in situations like these. Realizing, and partially hoping, she might have no idea who he was, he backtracked for a moment.

"Senator Tryvge Hakon, by the way," he said. "Newly elected from Wroona. We have phenomenal coasts there, but, seeing this, I question if we can compete with a locale or host as beautiful as this."

In most situations, he was stone-faced, but tonight, he wore a warm smile, hoping to win at least a couple people over. Once the introductions were over, he went to subtly hand her a healthy datary, worth six-figures. He did not like to make a show of his wealth, but also wanted to make sure she saw it first hand as opposed to his donation showing up on a somewhat meaningless list of credit transactions after the event was over.

"For the cause, my dear," he said, as he handed it to her. "You'd be hard pressed to find a more ardent supporter of science than myself."

 
Location: Lualani Cove
Outfit: Emerald suit with a cane
Tag: Myaja Kwan | Guinevere Cavello Guinevere Cavello | Bettany Sal-Soren Bettany Sal-Soren | Persephone Dashiell Persephone Dashiell | Riya Pashen Riya Pashen | Tryvge Hakon Tryvge Hakon

Cynan returned to Naboo upon learning that there was going to be the opening of a new location that seemed to be focused on marine life and educating others on the importance of preservation and conservation efforts. It was a private fundraising event that his Naboo family had been of course invited to but his mother was not interested in attending such an event. His youngest sister, still a young teenager, was much more interested in seeing what there was going to be and what she could learn. Cynan knew that he would have to be her chaperone as well as being representative for the family.

The young senator wore an emerald green suit as selected by his sister to match her own dress, he was given strict orders not to clash or embarrass her during the event. Something that Cynan was more than happy to comply with. The man rarely thought himself embarrassing or fumbling around but teenagers did tend to have a very different view on what was embarrassing so Cynan was going to be extra precautious with it.

Arriving at the event, "alright sister, let us greet our host, compliment her on what a fine establishment she has created here. As well as her beautiful attire, something that you must always do, even if you do not like it. Understood?" Cynan instructed, he figured it was a good opportunity to provide some societal lessons to his sister on how to behave during such high society events. It was something he did not get to do with Gwen and regretted that now.

Stepping towards Myaja, Cynan gave a deep and respectful bow, "greetings duchess, I am Senator Cynan Obaith of Corellia, this is my sister Arawyn. She is a keen enthusiast of marine life and conservative. I hoped this would be a fantastic opportunity to see what it takes for one to pursue such work." Cynan gave a polite, friendly smile. "I must also state that your dress looks resplendent tonight as well. Radiates your beauty." A little flirtatious but Cynan could not help himself in that way. Though his sister nudged him to move on and go inside so she could get to see everything going on inside.

"Hopefully I can talk with you more in the future." Giving another bow, Cynan walked inside with Arawyn.
 

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Objective: Make noble contacts
Location: Lulani Cove, Naboo
Outfit: Ivory Formal Attire
Tags: OPEN | Myaja Kwan | Guinevere Cavello Guinevere Cavello | Bettany Sal-Soren Bettany Sal-Soren | Persephone Dashiell Persephone Dashiell | Riya Pashen Riya Pashen | Tryvge Hakon Tryvge Hakon | Cynan Obaith Cynan Obaith

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The journey to Lualani Cove had taken Lyraen Solari-Kortu across waters so impossibly blue they scarcely looked real. Even Naboo — a world already infamous for beauty — seemed different here. Softer. Wilder. Untouched in ways the capital cities and noble estates no longer were.

As the sleek sail-assisted transport glided between protective reef channels toward the island sanctuary, Lyraen stood near the open viewing rail instead of remaining comfortably seated inside the vessel. Ocean wind tugged freely through copper-red hair while sunlight danced across the turquoise waters below. She could already see portions of the reserve emerging beyond the cliffs: elegant white Naboo structures woven into jungle greenery, suspended walkways overlooking the sea, and distant research platforms floating peacefully beyond the reefs. The entire island appeared less constructed than carefully invited into existence.

Which, she suspected, was precisely the point.

Unlike so many "luxury retreats" built by the wealthy, Lualani Cove did not scream its wealth. It whispered it. Quiet confidence. Old Naboo refinement. The kind that understood excess did not need to be loud.

Lyraen approved immediately.

The princess stepped ashore at the Pearl Docks alongside a slow stream of invited dignitaries, scholars, and social elites arriving for the grand opening festivities. Lanterns swayed gently above white stone piers while musicians played somewhere farther along the waterfront. Sailcraft drifted lazily across the harbor beneath the golden haze of sunset, and for a fleeting moment Lyraen almost forgot this was a political gathering at all.

Almost.

She wore flowing Naboo formalwear adapted subtly with Kiriman influences — seafoam silks layered beneath ivory outer fabrics embroidered with delicate wave-like metallic threading. Elegant enough for the gathered nobility, though practical enough she could actually walk the island without tripping over ten meters of ceremonial fabric. Her jewelry remained understated; polished pearl accents rather than gemstones. Oceanic rather than ostentatious.

A quiet compromise between princess and person.

As attendants moved to guide arriving guests toward the elevated terraces and conservatory halls, Lyraen slowed briefly near the harbor edge instead, watching translucent aquatic creatures glide beneath the crystal-clear water below the docks. A small smile crossed her lips despite herself.

Kirima had forests and mountain lakes.

But this…

This felt alive in an entirely different way.

The island carried an unmistakable reverence for the sea. Not performative conservation for noble reputations, but genuine stewardship woven into every visible detail — from the absence of loud repulsor traffic to the carefully integrated architecture and the visible presence of researchers mingling naturally among guests.

Refreshing.

Eventually Lyraen resumed walking, blue eyes calmly surveying the growing crowds gathering beneath lantern-lit promenades and open-air terraces overlooking the ocean. Diplomats. Investors. Scholars. Wealthy patrons. Nobility.

The usual dance.

Yet Lualani Cove softened the edges of it all. Even the conversations seemed quieter here, carried beneath warm ocean winds and distant surf rather than enclosed senate halls or palace chambers.

As she passed one of the open overlook terraces, Lyraen paused again — this time to watch the distant shimmer of the Azure Reef Sanctuary beneath the evening light. Somewhere beyond those protected waters, massive aquatic life moved beneath the surface like shadows beneath glass. Beautiful. Ancient. Untouched.

A far more interesting sight than half the people attending the gala.

The thought amused her enough to earn the faintest curve of a smile before she finally stepped fully into the festivities themselves, posture straightening once more into practiced royal composure.

Princess Lyraen Solari-Kortu had arrived.



 
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Two hours ago-

"You must go, Atham." His mother quipped at him, as he adjusted his uniform top. Dark blue, with the sigil of the Republic on his left breast. Medals and finery adorned him, medals for valor and combat action. He wore nothing that denoted him a noble, though that stink would never truly wash off of him. She leered at him as he silently prepared, using a trimmer to get a few hairs that he missed while shaving. She offered to have a servant shave him with a razor. "I know I should go, I don't know about must, mother." He retorted back, looking at himself in the mirror. He held his beret in his hand, turning towards her.

"I do wish you'd wear your formal attire more often than-" Atham raised a hand and waved at her, snapping only slightly in the best and most dignified manner. "I do wish you'd stop badgering me about my uniform. I wear it because I earned it, and all that came on it." He turned on his heel, buttoning his top button.

"Do enjoy the party, at least, Atham." She said, affection feigned in her voice. "Do the family proud. We, after all, do give a sizeable contribution to the effor-" Atham rolled his eyes and nodded his head. "Yes, yes, mother. I'll be sure to make sure the other nobility and well-to-do people know our family gives lots of money to this and that." Atham said, picking up his beret, adjusting it to ensure the shape of it was absolutely perfect.

"Atham." She said softly, hands folded neatly in the sitting chair. Atham took a deep breath and turned towards her. "Yes, mother?" She stared at him for a moment.

"Try not to be such a grumpy wanker at this party."



Atham's eyes rolled over the scenery, the speeder gliding along just above the water. The landspeeder was designed to give as smooth of a ride as possible and go slow enough to enjoy the scenery, the driver fashionably dressed as they all were. The scenery alone made Atham feel slightly guilty about having a smoke before the party, his fingers interlaced around a cigarette. It was to calm his nerves as much as it was to ensure he at least enjoyed the party. His soldiering had granted him many good habits, but picked up a rather bad one.

The waters were blue, bluer than anything he'd seen on Naboo. But beauty on Naboo was plentiful, even discounted. He'd just returned from an operation on New Cov. He was fresh off the killing fields, something he hadn't shared with his family or friends during his leave. His leave was short, barely a month- but High Command insisted, rather demanded, that Lieutenant Harek was put on ice for a bit. Avoid trouble, avoid shooting, and avoid anything that would cause a fuss. So far, Atham had only gotten into one fight. He was a Commando- he lived for the thrill, garden parties, dances, balls, didn't do it for him. He didn't belong here. He was an outlier, all his life.

But his mother was right. His family was influential and wealthy. He may not have cared for the entire sordid fucking ordeal, but he knew that sometimes you had to do things you didn't want to do. The speeder docked on the island, and Atham carefully discarded of his cigarette inside the speeder and took a mint to ensure he didn't smell, and disembarked, and headed inside, where he began to stroll around for a few minutes by his lonesome, avoiding the possibility of the dreaded interaction with other living, breathing, talking, things. He just had to be here, make an appearance, give some money, then bugger off back from whence he came.

"Fuck me, that's an ugly bugger."

He said, passing one of the holograms of sea-life. He sneered at it, and kept his hands folded behind his back. He had to be here, kiss hands and shake babies, or whatever it was people did at these parties to ensure they didn't find the nearest bathroom to paint the ceiling with their sidearm. Enough drinks and he supposed he could have fun.



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Tag: Atham Harek Atham Harek

Just as Riya was watching a hologram of an Opee Sea Killer stalking its prey through the murky depths of Naboo's oceans, a low voice nearby muttered, "Ugly bugger."

The rough tone made her pause. She turned and spotted the speaker—an officer in formal dress uniform. Army, by the cut of it. A lieutenant, possibly Special Forces. That alone sparked her interest. Aside from the chaos of Geonosis, Riya had barely crossed paths with commandos, and even then only over comms.

For a moment she considered ignoring him and returning to the hologram. Instead, she pushed off the wall and approached from his left.

"Hunting for a drink, Lieutenant?" she asked, not waiting for an answer. She shrugged lightly. "Can't blame you if you are. Usually the only good thing about these shindigs—assuming the food isn't complete poodoo."

Riya snorted at her own remark, then offered a crisp nod. "Lieutenant Riya Parshen, 12th Armored Division." Pride rang clear in her voice as she named her unit.

She flashed a challenging grin. "So, mind if I join you for that drink? Or would you prefer I piss off?"
 
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Myaja Kwan

Guest



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"It is a pleasure to meet you, Senator Tryvge Hakon Tryvge Hakon . Thank you so much for the generous donation to our cause." This donation would help fund some of the research being done this year and hopefully help to go towards efforts to protect Naboos marine life. "I hope you enjoy the party and tomorrow the activities on the island. Please make yourself welcome."

"Thank you Senator Cynan Obaith Cynan Obaith . I am so glad that you and your sister could join us tonight."

Things seemed to be kicking off well as she greeted those arriving. "Your majesty Lyraen Solari Lyraen Solari it is an honor to host you. Welcome."

"Lady Persephone Dashiell Persephone Dashiell thank you so much for attending."


Some slipped past her into the party and she was unable to greet them but she knew in time she would make her way around and speak to everyone.










 
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Atham clicked his teeth when the Armor officer approached. He stuck out his hand for her to shake. "Lieutenant Harek, 7th Commandos." He said with a polite bow of his head, then turned his head to examine the rest of the party. Yes, he was born into this. Yes, it was his birthright and upbringing to attend these sorts of things. However-

They all were incredibly dull. And devoid of any real character. Rich, the elite, the wealthy, never had to toil, never had to get their hands dirty. He abandoned, more or less, his upbringing, to the chagrin of his "betters".


"A drink sounds about the only way to proceed, I imagine."

Riya Pashen Riya Pashen



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Tag: Atham Harek Atham Harek

Riya took his offered hand in a firm, confident grip. She didn't miss that he had avoided giving his full name, but that only made her suppress a quiet chuckle. So he really is a commando.

It was obvious he didn't want to be here—probably even less than she did. Given everything she'd heard about what Republic commandos did both on and off the battlefield, she wasn't surprised.

When he suggested they go for that drink, Riya gave a sharp nod. "Now that's the best kind of objective. Let's recon."

She fell in beside him on his left, hands clasped behind her back. It didn't take long to spot a long table crowded with glasses of wine and dozens of open bottles. Riya wasted no time. She snatched a glass, downed it in one smooth gulp, and let out a satisfied sigh.

"I usually prefer Corellian whiskey," she admitted, already reaching for a full bottle, "but this is decent stuff." She "confiscated" the bottle and refilled her glass without a hint of shame.

Returning to Lieutenant Harek, she took a slower sip from her second glass and shrugged. "I figure you don't give a damn, Harek, but I'll tell you anyway. My CO dragged me here. Says it'll be 'good for me' to make connections outside the military."

Riya rolled her eyes. "He's probably right, but I doubt it works with this crowd." She took another sip, then added with a smirk, "A smartass like me has a much better time—and better odds—at a cantina than at a fancy gala like this."
 
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Incredibly bored, Persephone wondered if they were allowed to wander off to other portions of the facility. Look at the sea life on display or just poke around the hallways. It didn't sound too appealing but it would be better than aimlessly floating around in a circle in the gala hall. Next time she was going to convince her parents to donate the credits and not send her as a liaison.

Making another round to get some wine this time, she spotted two military types. Not knowing ranks, the only thing that made sense was someone like a General or Admiral to be here. Unless this was also a 'support the troops' hollow measure by inviting them along to drink wine, eat crab puffs, and talk about ecological preserves.

One way to find out.

Approaching the woman in a military uniform, Persephone gave a small smile. Couldn't seem like an interrogation and she had to frame the question in the correct manner.

"I didn't expect to see soldiers here, is trouble anticipated Miss?"




 
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"I figure you don't give a damn, Harek, but I'll tell you anyway. My CO dragged me here. Says it'll be 'good for me' to make connections outside the military."

That remark gave Atham a smirk across his handsome features. He laughed, running a hand across his face. "Truth be told, I may not want to be here or doing these sorts of things often, but- appearances must be kept. People expect to meet their heroes, and the public is better off funding our endeavors and our field hospitals and pensions... And paychecks." He said, adding in an eyebrow raise. Not that he needed the money, but some of his troops did.

Atham turned to the new woman, who posed a question to the tank officer. He shrugged. If anyone was going to be trouble, it would probably be her and him, not exactly trouble itself.

"By jove, I hope not. Unless you plan to start some, Miss....?" He was charm incarnate, smooth and in control. His beret, his uniform, his medals- all polished to a gleam, all on display. Marked him as a Commando, one of the Republic's elite. She was framed as rich and a teenager. And in this instance, any and all teenagers had to be tolerated, because on Naboo, even they had the ability to whisper a bad review to a parent and make your social standing that much more precarious. The Hareks had a delicate balance- and had been doing their best to keep Atham out of the spotlight, and only focus on his accomplishments, not his tom foolery. So, a public appearance where he was nice and charming was in order, and not drinking, fighting or using the knife that he had sheathed up his sleeve to stab anyone.

Persephone Dashiell Persephone Dashiell l Riya Pashen Riya Pashen


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Tag: Persephone Dashiell Persephone Dashiell Atham Harek Atham Harek

At Harek's dry answer, Riya smiled—a mix of amusement and genuine agreement. He wasn't wrong. She was just pouring herself another glass when a teenage girl approached them. The girl seemed harmless enough, likely one of the locals who hadn't seen many soldiers up close. When the girl spoke, a low chuckle escaped Riya.

Harek replied before she could, and Riya gave him a subtle nod of thanks. Once the younger woman offered her name, Riya finally spoke up.

"Like the Lieutenant said, miss—we're not here to cause trouble," she assured her. "My CO just insisted I tag along."

She extended a hand, offering a firm but friendly shake. "Lieutenant Riya Parshen, 12th Armored Division."

Riya deliberately avoided introducing Harek, leaving it up to him whether he wanted to share his name or not.
 
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Dr. Beltor "Bell" Cyrus, PHD.
Padawan to Braze Braze
Lualani Cove
Naboo.


The shuttle took off with a quiet rumble and he gently wrung his hands as he cast his gaze over the place. Unlike many of the more prestigious members of the landed gentry that had been invited through royal connections or perhaps lucrative business partners, Beltor's own invite was a more mundane apology and offer from an old college friend out of Cardia. He sighed. He did love Naboo for its scenery and nature, but stars above despise a good deal of the nobility.

He tapped the wooden walking cane he had barrowed for this, and straightened the top hat he had dusted off from his days as a dashing midshipmen at Anaxes, and smoothed out his robes. Squaring his shoulders, he set off down the paved path from the landing pads towards the main entrance to the villa. He recognized exactly no one, not a one, and felt a slight smile form on his face when he realized that fact.

Oh course, he had real reasons to be here. Braze Braze had offered up an interesting idea, a milk run of sorts given his mentor had elected to begin to teach him the finer points of the path of the Shadow. Braze was rich and even connected, but lacked a lot of the tempered refinement that came with having to suffer through social mixtures with up jumped landed gentry, petty nobility and their various socialites. Bell, how ever, did. This was something far more his speed, having spent a considerable portion of his early years doing just this in order to gain private funding and grants to further his studies. Generals, Admirals, planetary government officials, even a few high end dinners with former republic senators and the like.

He could chat, sip virgin cider, enjoy good food, and generally just be a fly on the wall as these folk got wrapped up in their exchanges of drama and tea. For the first time in nearly 10 years, he actually found him self enjoying the possibilities. He spied a bar, with a cluster of what appeared to be military types around it and made for it at decent pace, a confident swagger in his steps as the cane click click with each step.

Leaning on the far end, he ordered his dry cider and leaned in. Far away enough to not be bothersome, yet close enough to catch their words. His cane leaned on the bar next to his spot, and while he was unarmed to the external eye, he shifted ever so slightly to reconfirm the two sabers safety tucked in to the sash of his robes. There was, of course, also the hidden blade concealed on the inside of his left wrist.

While he maintained good awareness of his surroundings, and his tools, he felt him self relax just a bit, enjoying the atmosphere of a room he would like wise never get to see the inside of.
 

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