Populate Where the Light Gathers | THR Populate of Siskeen

[Ivalyn Yvarro]

Ivalyn allowed her gaze to drift across the ballroom, her personal guard still around her.

There were many faces, too many to catalog all at once, and most of them unfamiliar. Accents shifted in low clusters of conversation. Alliances brushed past one another in silk and formal uniform. She drew in a measured breath, then let it out slowly, grounding herself. Her fingers found her wedding ring without conscious thought, thumb brushing the metal in a small, absent circle.

Nerves, perhaps. Or simply the weight of opportunity.

It mattered, being here. Beyond the Commonwealth's borders. Beyond the comfortable familiarity of known powers and established lanes. She had intended this—this careful expansion, this quiet insistence that her nation would not remain defined solely by proximity to the Sith Order. The beauty of the ball, the chandeliers, the constellations overhead—it was not lost on her, but it was not what held her attention.

This was where paths crossed.

Behind her, a familiar presence shifted.

"Why must you parade me around like this?" Iskendyr grumbled, running a hand through his hair with the exaggerated impatience of a young man keenly aware of being out of place. "Could I not have stayed in Avalonia? Surely there's more I could be doing there than attending a ball."

Ivalyn glanced back at him, one brow lifting slightly, not unkind, but unimpressed.

"You must expand beyond your horizons, Iskendyr," she said evenly. "Our nation will not be tethered to the Sith Order forever. It would serve us well to establish relations with any and all powers willing to entertain us." A pause, then a gentler note. "And it would do you good to speak with people who are not related to you."

"I am perfectly capable of making friends with those who aren't my cousins," he replied, bristling just a little. "Mostly."

"Mmm," Ivalyn hummed, the sound carrying the weight of a verdict without the effort of argument.

He cleared his throat, regrouping. "Aren't you supposed to be on holiday with your new wife?"

"Yes," Ivalyn answered calmly. "And my wife is busy."

"Too busy to spend time with you?" he pressed, incredulous. "I thought you were both meant to go to Gilaria."

She turned more fully toward him then, her expression dry. "Perish the thought. The entirety of the Commonwealth goes to Gilaria. No, we decided the High Republic would be a better choice." A faint smile touched her lips. "Not too busy. We scheduled the wedding between our appointments. I simply arrived first."

She tilted her head, appraising him. "Now stop stalling, and go find someone your own age to speak with."

Iskendyr opened his mouth, reconsidered, then shut it again. With a roll of his eyes and a half-hearted wave, he surrendered and drifted off into the crowd.

Ivalyn watched him go for a moment, ensuring he did not immediately retreat to a corner.

Then her attention shifted.

Across the room, she caught sight of Adelle.

"Business," she murmured to herself, already moving, the guards forming around her whilst a pair had gone to keep watch on her nephew.

And just like that, the evening resumed its purpose.

[OPEN TO INTERACTION]
[Approaching: Adelle Bastiel
[Courtesy Tags: | Emilia Locke | Sibylla Abrantes | Aurelian Veruna | Dominique Vexx | Aiden Porte

 

[Mara Aurelai]

Mara knew she was trauma dumping on a stranger and shouldn't expect much of a response from him. Still, was that all that he had to say? That's rough?

She took another sip of her wine, wincing as she swallowed. He kept talking, though it seemed the woman sitting on the other side of him was growing bored or jealous or some combination thereof.

“If you’re trying to build something again, starting here is unkind. But you’re not wrong for trying. For what it’s worth, you’re not doing as badly as you think. You’re still talking. That matters.”

Wise words, surprisingly. Maybe there was hope after all. Mara's gaze darted to Maela and the pressure she was exerting on his arm, then focused solely on Romin. She laid her hand over his, her touch gentle.

"Are you a good person?" she asked, looking into his eyes. "Do you care about what goes on beyond these gilded halls? Do you hear the people outside, calling for change? Would you help them?"

Romin Renoux​

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

Taera 'Calypso' ​

Cassian's expression tightened in the smallest way, not with judgment, but with recognition. He had seen corruption wear a thousand masks, heritage, necessity, 'How things have always been' and he had spent too many nights pulling at those threads until his fingers bled.

"Corruption is a hard thing to kill," he said, voice low and steady. "I fight it tirelessly, here, and inside the Intelligence agency as well. It is stubborn, but it can be rooted out."

He glanced toward the terrace crowd, the polished smiles, the careful distances. Then his attention returned to Calypso, measured and respectful.

"If your hands are tied until the barony is formally conferred, you could still begin setting expectations. Standards. A tone that makes it clear the era of indulgence is ending." A brief pause. "But that also risks warning the guilty. Treachery does not like daylight. It scatters, or it strikes first."

Cassian exhaled once, controlled.

"It is a difficult position. I do not envy you." His gaze held hers, candid without trying to soften the truth. "Still, you have not struck me as someone who waits to be allowed to lead. I think you are smart enough to get things done regardless of what the lawyers decide to take their time on."

He inclined his head, simple and sincere. "If you need assistance, quietly, appropriately, I do not mind helping."

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Aiden Porte | Alina Grayson​

Lorn's mouth twitched at Aiden's curiosity. Of course he'd be interested. Aiden always had that way about him, like danger was just another problem to solve. "You're always welcome out there," Lorn said, voice dry but sincere. "In fact, I could use your strength. Help me move things. I'm getting old."

He wasn't, not really. Not by years. But his body kept a tally of every fight, every hard landing, every night spent waiting for the next alarm. Some mornings he could feel the war in his bones before he even opened his eyes.

Lira's earnest little voice pulled him back. Lorn's gaze lifted to Aiden. His expression didn't change much, but something behind his eyes tightened. Bad people, huh? Aiden answered her with that calm certainty, and Lorn watched him for a beat longer than necessary. There was pride there, and a quiet edge that said he would do it again without hesitation. Lorn respected that. He also knew what it cost.

Then movement at the edge of his awareness.

Alina.

She approached with that composed grace that always made the room feel a little less chaotic. Lorn felt his shoulders ease, just slightly, even as he kept one hand on his plate.

"Alina," he said, warmth slipping into his voice before he could stop it. "Good to see you again too."

When she asked if she could stay with Aiden, Lorn glanced up at him and gave him a knowing look.

So he really didn't skip a step after all.

 

[Isla Reingard]

Isla raised an eyebrow like she was deciding whether he was worth correcting or filing away as a cautionary tale. "I'm here," she said evenly, "because you were gawking at my friends like this was some kind of hunting ground." Her eyes narrowed just a touch. "Someone needed to tell you that it's not okay. Apparently that someone is me."

Inside, she counted to three. He's defensive. He's lashing out. He's trying to win. She resisted the urge to sigh.

"And I'm not a pretend Jedi," she added, voice firm now. "I'm the real deal. So you might want to watch how clever you think you're being."

When he told her to go away, she stared at him, then rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt. "You're insufferable," she said plainly.

She slid off the stool and straightened, irritation buzzing under her skin. Fine. If he wanted to sit here and drown in his own bravado, that was his choice. She had better things to do than babysit a rich kid with a drink and a chip on his shoulder.

"Great," she said, already turning. "I'll find better company."

She lifted a hand and waved across the colonnade. "Phillip," she called, relief flickering through her chest when she spotted him. He knew Elian. Maybe he could talk sense into him. Or at least keep him from embarrassing himself further.

Then Isla's attention snagged on someone else. A girl hovering near the edges. "Oh," Isla said, eyebrows lifting as she waved her over. "I recognize you. Voli, right?" She smiled, gentler now. "Why does it look like you're about to bail?"

Elian Abrantes | Phillip Slate | Voli Cholrass​

 

[Phillip Slate]

Tags: Isla Reingard Elian Abrantes Voli Cholrass
Objective: III
Outfit

"So, Anthony's made this gorgeous sculpture recently, y'know? Used the finest crystals Papa could buy and...You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend?"

For most of the conversation, Phillip had zoned out. Of course his cousin was going to be talking for an age about her twin and how so much more accomplished he was compared to Phillip. But that last part caused Phillip to spin his head around to stare at Alia, tilting his head in confusion.

"...What?"

Her finger flicked up to point the direction of Isla where she was waving in Phillip's direction. The artist froze for a moment, as there was a feeling of...something in his chest. Though he gave a quick shake of his head, turning his gaze over towards Alia, narrowing his eyes at the family member.

"...She's my friend. Who happens to be a girl. That's all. Come on. And if you embarrass me, I'm telling Anthony you kissed someone after getting drunk here."

"What makes you think I'd wan-"

"I know you'll never turn down the chance to find gossip about me."

Alia gave a gentle shrug of her shoulders. Phillip had a point. Either way, the pair headed over towards Isla, and Elian, before stopping near the pair as Phillip went through the introductions.

"Alia, this is Isla and...Elian, I think? Isla, Elian, this is Alia. My cousin."

"...You think his name is Elian? You're such a terrible friend Philly. And you two, please, call me 'Lia. All the spectacular people do."

"...I don't?"

"Exactly, Philly."

Phillip sighed to himself, running his hand down his face. This is why he preferred to stay at the Temple. It helped him...stay away from his family. Either way, he glanced over towards Isla, giving her a half-hearted smile.

"...Hey. Haven't seen you for a bit."

"So are the two of you Jedi as well? Tell me all about it. Phillip refuses to tell me anything, probably too embarrassed to say how bad he is at it all. You see..."

"Elian isn't. Isla is. And so is she."

Phillip nodded in the direction of Voli, who Alia tilted her head at curiously.

"...That's an interesting fashion sense. Gives off a statement."

 

[Casaana]

Objective III
Tags: Davik Haize

"Bit of both?" Casaana suggested as Davik took the seat and began looking over the little seeker bot. She waggled her fingers, "I like to tinker, if you couldn't tell. And I thought it'd be nice to have an assistant that could fit into the hard-to-reach places. So I'm modifying this cute little thing to do mechanical work. But! It's already perfect for scouting and the like, so I figured why not update a few things and have it watch my back out in the field too? Besides, it'll fit in my pack or ride in a cockpit without needing a droid socket fitted in a fighter or mean I have to leave it behind." Becoming more animated as she talked about Tap-It, Casaana continued, looking up at Davik, "So where'd you learn about droids?"

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Objective II - The Grand Ballroom
Tags: Aurelian Veruna | Bastila Sal-Soren | Ulysses Renoux

Well that all escalated quickly.

Adelle watched Sibylla accept the Duke’s request with dangerous calm, challenge underlying every motion as she followed Duke Renoux’s lead out to the dance floor. Almost immediately, Bastila was filling in the space Sibylla left behind, needling Aurelian. Adding insult to injury. Deserved? Yes. Brutal? Also yes. Tension tightened around the King of Naboo’s presence.

He desperately defended himself against Bastila’s comments. Adelle quickly thought through her options to figure out how to de-escalate things.

Then he turned on her.

Adelle’s eyes flashed and she clenched her jaw so hard she could hear her teeth squeak. The audacity of this man to blame her for a situation entirely of his own making. As if she had any control over what Sibylla did. She could have let that go, let the moment pass as a young man’s embarrassment in front of his peers.

Oh no, he had to double-down and insult her, as if he hadn’t just lashed out at her.

Her fingers gripped the flute tighter as the thought crossed her mind to throw the champagne on him. It wouldn’t be a lake, but maybe it’d get her point across. Anger crystallized cold and clear.

“I swear, Aurelian,” she said, quiet and measured, “it’s like you want to sabotage any chance at happiness you might have. So afraid that everyone will one day look at you and see you for who you are and drop you like a bad habit that you poke and prod and needle and don't stop until they finally walk away and you've fulfilled your own prophecy. You started something with Sibylla. Sibylla chose to end it. Kriff around and find out, your Majesty.”

She was still so very tempted to splash the champagne on him. Instead, Adelle opted to push the flute back into his hand as she stalked past him. “Enjoy your fething evening.”

 

[Davik Haize]

Obj. III
Casaana

Davik began shuffling through the parts, neatly organizing them by function. He figured that was one way to recall his shattered memories. Nothing was happening, so he started redoing the arrangement. Nothing again. And it wasn't like trying to kickstart a cold engine. It was like someone had yanked the spark igniters out.

He didn't look up when he said, "Space." A moment of awkward silence passed before he clarified, "Handy companions for any ship." Though Skip, his own droid, was just a slicer-type, Davik could not count the times the little droid had helped him with all sorts of dangers in space. Tapping into frequencies, jamming, slicing doors and hangar bays. He wasn't as obsessed with droids as Casaana was; ships were his fixation.

He rolled back the conversation in his head, still fiddling with the parts, looking at them, then said, "The field? What's so dangerous about a palace's courtyard?", assuming she was just another noble. Granted, he'd seen a Naboo Princess get shot at a pretty nice palace on Wielu. ​

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Isla Reingard Phillip Slate Voli Cholrass
​

He let out a low laugh, the kind that sounded like he was entertained even when he was not.

"Gawking," he repeated, tasting the word like it was a joke she had not realized she was telling. He tilted his head slightly. "Is that what we are calling it now."

He lifted his hands a fraction, palms open in a gesture that looked like innocence but carried a quiet taunt.

"Your friends were smiling at me," he said, voice smooth. "If Theed has outlawed smiling, I missed that memo." And he couldnt help but laugh again, speaking so low it was a whispher. " And um....'Real deal' If I seem to remember, rich kid knocked real deal on her ass twice. If you are the future of the Jedi, gods save them."

He looked and saw Phillip, giving him a small wave. "Good to see you Phillip. Don't,let..." Elian jerked his head towars Isla. "Real deal make you a charity case, likes shes trying with me."

Elian turned to take another drink from his glass. Before turning back and extending his hand towards Phillip and then introduced himself to Alia. "Elian Abrantes, How is the evening faring for both tonight?"

 

[Aiden Porte]

Lorn Reingard Alina Grayson
#killmenow​

"I'll definetly make a trip out there my friend, very soon." He gave Lorn and friendly grasp on his shoulder. "And come on, your not getting that old, okay maybe a bit." Aiden said with a laugh and tease as he looked to see Alina moving towards them. Aiden smiled as he gave her a wave and she closed the distance, meeting Lira first.

Aiden felt the shift in Lira instantly when she saw Alina. The awe returned, brighter and more personal this time, and he watched it with quiet fondness.

"Thank you," Lira said, practically glowing. "You look beautiful too." She giggled and dipped into a small curtsy, careful and deliberate, clearly trying very hard to be proper. It only made her more charming.

When Alina asked if she could stay with them for a while, Lira did not hesitate. "Of course," she said quickly, then grinned wider. "You can stay with us all night if you want. Right, Aiden?"

Aiden let out a soft chuckle, smiling as he nodded. "Of course she can."

He caught Lorn's look immediately and shook his head, amusement flickering across his face. "No," Aiden said lightly, still smiling, "It is not like that." He paused, the words tangling despite his usual solid composure. "It is just… she, and well, her…"

He stopped, drew in a slow breath, and looked away, the faintest hint of color creeping into his cheeks.

Lira, noticing everything as children always did, stepped closer and slipped her small hand into his. She tilted her head up at him, eyes bright with curiosity.

"Dad," she asked softly, "Why is your face turning red?"

 

[Orestyn Carda]

Clémence D'Asterra
​

Perhaps in some ways the Duke of Serrakon, referred to by those closest to him as either Carda or Serrakon (the ones who were more old-fashioned and proscribed to the idea that the titular ruler embodied their land), would not impress Clémence. He was severe and rigid. His attire more military dress pressed into something that could from afar be misjudged as fashionable. And as Orestyn cut a path through the crowd as if he was a sword running through enemy lines, one had to again confront the reality of their match.

They had nothing in common except for the interests of both their families.

When he finally reached them, he inclined his head towards Clémence. "My Lady... fashionable as always." Orestyn murmured in a tone that was neutral to the ninth degree. Then immediately focused his attention on her formidable mother.

"Tessa, I was not aware you'd be in attendance, are you here to stay?" Eyebrows lofted up as he talked over the head of his fiance as if she did not exist. Even his tone was far more familiar, friendly and one could almost say that he was happy to see her.

In truth it was a matter of comfort.

He did not know how to speak to Clémence and perhaps part of him was uncomfortable by it. The gap between their ages was extreme and part of him wished to break off the engagement. The only reason he did not was that House Carda needed the new blood flowing from House D'Asterra, the connections they had in the mining concerns and repositioning the strategic board on Serrakon.

Forcing the other nobles houses who had grown far too comfortable to break off the plots they had.

But all the logical in the world did not reduce the discomfort, even if these sort of matches had been done for generations and would be done for many mores to come even after his passing.

 

[Clémence D'Asterra]

​

Clémence had been instructed by her mother, the inestimable courtier and consummate political player, to show nothing of her misgivings at the prospect of her marriage to the Duke of Serrakon. Do not question him. Always be pleased to see him. Do not quarrel with him. Always pay him a compliment. The sort of wisdom a woman married for two decades to a nobleman tried to im part on a daughter about to make the same journey had done nothing to prepare her for a betrothed who seemed just about comfortable enough to acknowledge her existence without going so far as to look at her, or heaven forbid talk to her. But none of the advice that Tessa D'Asterra could offer would help.

Be older. Be more interesting. Be more worldly. Have something to say. All of which was either impossible or were directly opposed to other instructions her mother had drilled into her from an early age. No one wanted to hear what the non-inheriting daughter of the Lord Primary of a small but wealthy mercantile planet had to say, after all.

So it was to the old lessons that Clémence returned, offering a slight curtsy to the Duke as he came to stand near them. "Your Grace," she said, and she smiled. As ordered. "Don't you look -- dashing," said Clémence, and it was no empty flattery. His uniform looked not quite out of place here, but compared to most of the other men, it put him in a different category altogether. "Can I -- " she began, meaning to offer to get him a drink, but the Duke had already turned his attention to her mother in a way that didn't so much take the spotlight off Clémence as to turn the lights off on her entirely.

"I would not send my daughter out alone," Tessa said pleasantly. "We are not known on Naboo -- not yet -- and I would hate for someone to make the mistake of thinking the Lady Clémence D'Asterra was so ill-regarded as to be sent into a foreign world unattended." A smile there. "I will be with her until the wedding, at least, and if you and she decide I can be of some use after, well... I am in no rush to return to Virel."

She took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter's tray and held it out to the Duke. "Here," said Tessa, with the no-nonsense pragmatism that suggested she was not to be refused. "We are drinking your good health, Duke, and then to the suffering of the poor souls of the Tapani Sector. You've known these people longer than we have, Orestyn; do tell me, is this their typical response to tragedy? Champagne and dancing?"

"It is a fundraiser," Clémence cut in mildly; Tessa did not look at her.

"It's one way to ensure embarrassingly large donations," Tessa muttered. She lifted her own champagne flute. "And I won't disappoint them, I'm sure. Now -- your good health, Duke."

Orestyn Carda

​

 

[Alina Grayson]

Objective II

Alina's smile deepened as Lira dipped into her curtsy, the delicate and earnest gesture drawing something quiet and gentle from within her. The girl was trying so hard to be proper, and succeeding in the most endearing way imaginable.

"Well, thank you," Alina replied, her voice warm, velvet-soft at the edges. "But I think you may have just outshone everyone in the room tonight."

She gave the girl a subtle wink just enough to share the moment before straightening again, hands folding lightly at her waist. The filigree at the edges of her gown caught the light as she moved, subtle golden threads glimmering for just a heartbeat.

At the invitation to stay, her gaze flicked to Aiden, catching the amused pride in his eyes. Lira's easy affection hadn't surprised her, but the warmth it stirred certainly had.

"Lira's quite persuasive," Alina said lightly, her tone walking that familiar line between jest and fondness. "You may not have a choice in the matter."

Then came Lira's question pure, innocent and unfiltered, and devastating in its simplicity.

Alina didn't even try to hide the soft laugh that escaped her lips. It was quiet and sincere, the kind that glimmered in her eyes more than her voice. She raised a single brow and followed Lira's gaze to Aiden just in time to see the unmistakable flush rising to his cheeks.

The sight drew another small, amused breath from her.

"Not like what, Aiden?" she asked, tilting her head just slightly. There was a sparkle in her eyes, but it didn't bite it teased.

She hadn't caught whatever silent message had passed between him and Lorn, but the slip in Aiden's composure was far too good to waste.

Still, she wasn't entirely merciless.

Before he could stumble through a reply, she turned her attention back to Lira, crouching slightly so they were closer in height.

"He's fine," Alina reassured her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with that graceful, unhurried ease. "I think Uncle Lorn was just teasing him a little. That happens with boys."

She reached out a hand to Lira with an inviting smile. "Shall we go find something sweet while the boys talk about old war stories?"

As she straightened once more, her gaze brushed past the girl's shoulder to land on Aiden. A single raised brow calculated, elegant, wordless said all that needed saying.

You owe me one.

Her hand remained outstretched toward Lira, but her eyes stayed on him a moment longer. Not challenging. Not pressing. Just steady, warm, and unmistakably amused.

TAG: Aiden Porte Lorn Reingard

 

[Orestyn Carda]

Clémence D'Asterra
​

"If you refuse to call me Orestyn, then at least call me Serrakon, Tessa." He said comfortable and with a bit of a cheeky tone that suggested they had teased each other about this in private already. He himself had no compunction about addressing her with her first name. A stark contrast to how he only referred to Clémence as My Lady as if the mere thought of using her name would put her on the map in his mind that he did not wish to contemplate.

Orestyn nodded calmly, understanding.

"Yes, of course. There are matters of propriety after all." He did not elaborate himself either, because there was only so much acknowledgement he could do without feeling like he had stepped in it all over again.

"I am sure that there is no need for you to return home soon whatsoever. Stay as long as you'd like, I know I for one have grown fond of your advice and commentary."

He accepted the glass of champagne from her and gave a brief smile to Clémence.

"Yes, indeed, a fundraiser." The Duke agreed before returning his attention to Tessa. "We cannot expect people to pull out their inheritance if everything was serious and depressing, could we?"

"To all our good health." Serrakon said gracefully before taking a sip from his flute.

Then his eyes drifted back towards Clémence.

"And... how are you acclimating, my Lady? It must be quite strange to leave your homeworld behind." The tone if not awkward then at least a return to neutrality from the earlier warmth.

 

[Clémence D'Asterra]

​

Dark eyes went between her mother and the man she had been ordered, by her mother, to marry.

If she didn't know better -- and did she know better, when it came right down to it? -- Clémence would have thought they were flirting. But that would be most irregular. Most improper. Most... unnatural, even. She lifted her glass on cue and drank on cue and set the empty on the tray of another waiter who had passed by for that purpose. The question smoldered in the back of her mind.

Did she know better?

The Duke addressed her and the young woman pressed her lips together firmly. "Must it?" she asked. Her voice and demeanor was not petulant, however she felt. "It is certainly exciting. But so far it is not much different from Virel." She paused and clasped her hands together at her waist, letting her gaze settle on the Duke. She noted that he had not invited her to call him by his given name.

Curious.

"And you? Do you see much of the capital, Your Grace?"

Orestyn Carda | Tessa D'Asterra ​

 

[Rayna Lockley]

Rayna entered the ballroom as the music crested, just another figure slipping in with the flow of arriving guests.

Black silk, tailored with ruthless precision, draped her frame in a way that spoke of wealth without indulgence and restraint without austerity. The dress was elegant and severe in equal measure high-necked, sleeveless, its lines clean and intentional. It caught the light only when it chose to, absorbing rather than reflecting attention. She wore no jewelry beyond a single dark clasp at her throat.

She paused just inside the threshold—not hesitating, simply taking measure.

Her eyes moved once, slowly. Exits. Sightlines. The density of the crowd near the dais. The subtle gravity wells where power naturally gathered. Laughter and conversation washed around her, but she listened past the words, attuned to cadence and tension rather than content.

Then she moved.

Rayna drifted along the edge of the gathering, never quite still, never quite lingering. To most, she was another dignitary or patron—composed, unremarkable in the way truly dangerous people often were. To the observant, there was something deliberate in the way she positioned herself, always with clear lines of sight, always with space to move.

Only after several long minutes did she allow herself to pass near the King of Naboo. She did not approach directly. She did not interrupt. When the moment presented itself naturally only when conversation shifted and the space briefly opened she inclined her head toward him a simple mark of respect, she was in his house after all.

She was about to fully pass him by but the moment came organically.

A lull in the music. A pause in conversation. The King's posture tightened just enough to betray irritation fatigue masquerading as patience, the weight of ceremony pressing in from all sides.

Rayna adjusted her course.

She approached at an angle rather than head-on, giving warning through presence alone. When she reached him, she stopped at a respectful distance and inclined her head precise, practiced, unmistakably deferential.

"I apologize for the intrusion, Your Majesty," she said quietly, her voice low and even, pitched only for him. No urgency. No pressure. "Rayna Lockley," she continued, offering her name without embellishment. No titles. No credentials spoken aloud. Those were for later, or never. "I was hoping I might have a word with you. Briefly. Somewhere quieter, if it suits you."

Her expression remained composed, open but there was care in it. Consideration. The kind that acknowledged his irritation without challenging it.

"If not now," she added gently, "another moment will do just as well."

She waited then, hands relaxed at her sides, posture unassuming not a demand, not a request born of entitlement, but a professional courtesy extended to a man who carried more than his share. Whatever his answer, Rayna would accept it without friction.

TAG: Aurelian Veruna
Indirect TAG: Sibylla Abrantes Adelle Bastiel Bastila Sal-Soren Ulysses Renoux

 

[Orestyn Carda]

Clémence D'Asterra | Tessa D'Asterra
​

His hands clasped behind his back as he looked down at her, thoughtful expression. Her tone did not indicate any sort of indignation. His mastery of the Force wasn't well-versed in mentalism or empathy, but there was a distinct note there. Internally Orestyn grimaced, even if he didn't show it otherwise, because he realized how this might look.

It was not Clémence's fault that their families had sought fit to seek a strong match. And that House D'Asterra didn't have anyone older, nor House Carda anyone younger.

"Call me Orestyn, please." A mild smile there that felt a bit forced, but the attempt was made regardless. "We are to be wedded, standing on formality now would be a touch silly, my Lady."

The irony of asking her to call him Orestyn while still referring to her as 'My Lady' was not lost to him.

But he was trying... at least, hopefully that mattered.

"Ah, well, I am glad to hear that. Yes, Naboo in general and Theed specifically are rather gorgeous places." Orestyn said with a nod, trying to keep the warmth going. "The close proximity of Serrakon means I am in Theed quite often actually. The business of politics never ends, yes?" A glance to Tessa, inclining his head in acknowledgement.

She knew how much he loathed the politics.

A man of action was not made to walk among these stuffy halls and participate in idle talk.

 

[Persephone Dashiell]

Zee watched the young man march off after his small pep talk. The droid was surprised. He expected to have to pull deeper from his programming to motivate and inspire action.

[ A pleasant surprise. ] Zee watched with careful interest. [ Mister Arlos is infinitely more intelligent than Mister Dashiell if this is an indicator. ]



“So you can run into battle against the Sith but not give a presentation in class?” Incredulous at the thought and it showed on her expression. “Man, what one won't do for religion.”

Fascinating really. If she was more into the psychology of such a thing she would have a field day digging deeper into the shrimp loving Jedi.

Either way, she took another sip of her wine. The Chancellor had moved on and the crowd had followed her. Yet the space was still packed, many in the government's reaches using the opportunity to network. Persephone had yet to see anyone she knew but was also unsurprised by that fact. High Republic wasn't her typical scene.

“I was thinking more bug like since they swarm the sea floor.” Shoulders shrugged, viewing the little creatures in the same hierarchy as something on land. “Is it really? Gives an entirely new meaning to think with your heart.”

Perhaps the Jedi were wasting this one in battle. Maybe he needed to look into sending him to the business of shrimp farming and creating sustainable techniques to fuel their kitchens. Persephone wondered what drew this man to shrimp. Certainly she was pettifogging the situation but there wasn’t much going on for her this evening.

About to ask a non-shrimp related question, Persephone heard her name called. The voice sounded familiar and she turned to see one Kiran Arlos striding towards her. How did he figure out she was here? Stalking? Zee? A tracker?

Before she could sputter out a reply, Kiran was kissing her, wine almost knocking out of her hand. Fingers unconsciously gripped his shirt as their lips met. Persephone even found herself kissing him back much to her horror. As they parted, panic set in.

“I….I…” Grip tightened on her wineglass. “...I got to go.”

Quickly, Persie turned and made a beeline for the door, drifting into the crowd. Lucky she was able to drift into the throngs easily, going against the stream of people at the front to slip into the night air.

Kiran Arlos | Kael Vayra ​

EXIT POST

 

[Bastila Sal-Soren]

Aurelian clearly wasn’t impressed. His emotions, no matter how bottled, no matter how under control he liked to keep them. Had been undone by some simple words.

Bastila couldn’t even answer, already he had launched at the Mandalorian nearby, his vicious tongue spitting venom like a wounded snake.

Bastila’s hands clasped behind her back as the two exchanged. Innocently looking off into the crowd, putting faces to names, as she tapped her thumb nails together. She spotted Lorn in the far distance speaking to…there was a pillar in the way of whoever he was speaking to. She also spotted the recently elected Eshan ruler from behind, was there something oddly familiar with that hair?

Then Adelle departed. Leaving Aurelian in her wake with his most favourite person in the entire galaxy.

She didn’t laugh. That would be crass. Instead she just gave him a knowing look.

“Oh you are so in the doghouse.”

OUTFIT: XoXo | TAG: Aurelian Veruna Sibylla Abrantes Adelle Bastiel EQUIPMENT:

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