Populate Where the Light Gathers | THR Populate of Siskeen

[Jairdain Ismet-Thio]

Jairdain did not answer him right away.

She let the space breathe, let the music and the murmur of the ballroom settle around them, because the question he had asked was not one that benefited from immediacy. When she did speak, her voice was gentle, thoughtful, and entirely unhurried.

"It is rarely hubris when someone is willing to doubt themselves," she said softly. "Hubris announces certainty. What you are describing sounds more like attentiveness."

She turned her head slightly toward Malcolm, not to look at him in the way others might, but to face him—an unmistakable sign of presence rather than inspection.

"The Force does not usually speak in declarations," Jairdain continued. "It speaks in pressure. In invitations. In moments where the path ahead feels heavier or more alive than the ones beside it." A faint, knowing curve touched her mouth. "If tonight feels charged to you, that does not mean it has one purpose. It means you are standing at a point where more than one future can be reached."

Her hand rested briefly over her abdomen again, a quiet, grounding gesture, before returning to Jax's arm.

"Love and service are not separate callings," she added. "They often arrive together, or one prepares you for the other. And neither requires youth to begin. Purpose does not diminish with age—it clarifies."

She paused, then offered him something steadier than reassurance.

"If the Force has something in mind for you tonight," Jairdain said calmly, "it will not demand that you name it yet. It will ask only that you remain open, and that you choose with care when the moment arrives."

A softer note entered her voice, almost fond.

"And if all you find tonight is the courage to admit you are still searching," she finished, "then you are exactly where you should be."

Malcolm Ironmaster Vulpesen Jax Thio

 

[Malcolm Ironmaster]

Objective 2: The Grand Ballroom
Tags: Jairdain Ismet-Thio , Jax Thio , Vulpesen , Ra'a'mah

Malcolm's mouth opened briefly, as though to speak, then closed. He chuckled softly. "How is it that you always know just what I need to hear?" he asked. "I'm feeling a sudden urge to go get some fresh air and enjoy the starlight."

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Objective II - The Grand Ballroom
Tags: Ivalyn Yvarro | Indirect: Aurelian Veruna | Sibylla Abrantes | Ulysses Renoux

Adelle hadn’t felt this off-balance in a long time, not since the dance with Na’an years ago, and even then, she hadn’t been this far on the back foot until the end of their dance. It had been too long since she’d been with someone if Yvarro was catching her off-guard so easily. Adelle relied heavily on her Jedi training to not betray how much power Yvarro held right now.

For her part, the Grand Vizier was a gracious dance partner, adjusting to blend the slight errors Adelle made as the rust came off and muscle memory returned. She spoke lightly, eloquently, of political and diplomatic answers, responding to things Adelle had said.

And occasionally adding an edge of emphasis.

Kriffing Whills of the Force, she was flirting.

And she was good at it.

“If it’s honesty you’re after,” Adelle said with a thoughtful hum, “then the Mandalorians can definitely provide.”

Adelle felt more at ease the longer they danced. It had long been a favored pasttime and something she liked to do when stillness felt like a cage but running or sparring felt too sharp. She did note, with some small amount of pride, that she was making fewer mistakes than a few moments ago.

“What you offer sounds agreeable,” Adelle said, carefully keeping her voice neutral. She did not need to be flirting with a married woman. “I’ll put it to the Mand’alor and see what he says.”

The Grand Vizier led her through a turn, relaxing into a moment to breathe.

But only a moment.

"For now…" she smiled, letting Adelle's name roll easily from her tongue, "enjoy the dance, Miss Bastiel."

The implication lingered, unforced, unmistakable, as they continued to move.

Oh Whills kriffing dammit. Adelle couldn’t stop the thrill racing down her spine even as she tried not to think too hard about the sound of how Yvarro said her name. She raised her eyebrows briefly.

Well, Yvarro said she wanted honesty.

“I have been.” Adelle accepted that she was being led around in more ways than one and relaxed into the role. Nothing beyond a dance would happen, that much she was absolutely certain of. But if Yvarro had thoroughly convinced her of one thing, it had nothing to do with politics.

She’d been alone far too long.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Feridade Parthi //: Colette //: Dominique Vexx //: Emilia Locke //:

Quinn listened and inclined her head at the correction. It had been necessary — though she didn't enjoy it. Not knowing the man's title was an embarrassment she tucked away neatly, but she respected him for speaking plainly. It was refreshing to be addressed honestly rather than reverently. Parthi had the makings of a good ally — someone who would stand beside her rather than trail behind.

Time, of course, would decide his true worth.

"We'll see if they have the same longevity as the Alliance," she said lightly, boredom threading through her tone, "and whether their successors can manage something better when they wane." Politics were politics. This was his domain, and she was content to let him take the reins.

Their ideals aligned well enough.

"I'm sure you'll find your footing easily, Ambassador," Quinn added, her voice warm with teasing. "You have wit and charm on your side." Her nose wrinkled with genuine amusement.

Her attention drifted back to the crowd. Familiar faces passed her gaze, others entirely forgettable — until she felt it.

A shift.

Not because the presence demanded her attention, but because Quinn allowed herself to recognize it. Her lips pressed together as her throat went suddenly dry.

Across the room, a woman laughed easily, relaxed in conversation. The light caught in her dark hair, tracing clean lines along her shoulders. Her posture was unguarded, natural — a kind of comfort Quinn herself had learned to mimic rather than possess.

It came to her so effortlessly.

Quinn lingered on that confidence, imagining what it might feel like to step closer, to exist near it without needing performance, to let that quiet radiance warm her porcelain skin.

The thought was cut short by her name.

Quinn turned as a woman approached, familiarity tugging at the edge of memory. A noble, perhaps — she'd seen her somewhere before. The recognition didn't surface, but her smile shifted seamlessly into place.

"I assume we know each other," Quinn said with a soft chuckle, extending her hand. "Few people use my name without a title."

"Forgive me," she added smoothly, "but remind me of yours?"

As conversation resumed, another presence joined their circle, dividing Quinn's attention once more. A flicker of frustration followed — she'd been so close to gathering the nerve to move elsewhere — but duty reclaimed her. Recently crowned Queen or not, obligation still held her firmly.

"Chancellor." Quinn offered her hand in greeting. "Congratulations on your political victory. I find the Republic's methods… fascinating."

She smiled, curiosity genuine. Power decided by vote was an oddity to someone raised where rule was claimed by blood or taken by force. It was worth studying more closely.

"I wouldn't miss an event on Naboo for anything," Quinn continued, her gaze flickering briefly back toward the Jedi across the room. It was enough to settle her.

"We were just discussing how the Republic has held steady since the Alliance fell," she mused. "I'm surprised there wasn't a scramble."

A soft laugh followed.

"Perhaps I've spent too much time among Sith." At that moment, one more entered, but she seemed to only want to speak to the Chancellor. This gave opportunity for one of the others to speak up and for Quinn to once more wonder if she should ask her to dance.

 

[Dominique Vexx]

Grand Naboo Ballroom
Theed, Naboo
Objective II
Evening

Dominique smiled back at Quinn, bemused by the woman's choice of words. "If you found those fascinating, perhaps we'll have a chance to talk in private some day and I can regale you of its intricacies. They are far more captivating than what most people witness." Yes, if voting in a Chancellor was of interest then the politics of Denon in electing their PreX would be a memorizing campfire story. Perhaps one full of lessons Quinn herself could use.

Equally breathtaking was the ease in which the woman spoke of being among Sith. Well, hardly a 'secret' to those that knew. Certainly not when you shared the same hallway on the same planet where as the person that stabbed Aurelian Veruna with a lightsaber. When Dominique ordered the breech that hallway became abuzz with activity, and the Director and Senator of Denon had no need to go on a one-woman quest to hunt down a future Empress of the Sith; but that hardly meant Dominique had forgotten Quinn or lost track of her amidst the chaos.

"That's much appreciated. It has been quite the effort put forth by all of our worlds to accommodate the shift in people and equipment. I only wish we were able to do more for all worlds of the Alliance. As numerous and established as the Corporate Sector's trade routes are, however, and even with the Trade Federation's help, only so much material can be moved at any given time. Some of those worlds are on the other side of the Galactic Empire as well, which makes delivering aide challenging." Dominique paused for a second. "It occurs to me, Eshan being where it is, if you had an interest in being involved in supporting our efforts... your world is opportunely placed."

Quinn Varanin | Feridade Parthi | Colette​

Dominique smiled at Emilia's consideration. But was that out of concern of the Chancellor being seen as having a private conversation with Miss Locke, or Miss Locke being seen as having a private conversation with the Chancellor? There was no ill-will if the subject matter didn't need it. Optics worked both ways, after all, and if Emilia didn't want anyone getting the wrong impression in her circle a woman of Denon well understood.

Little amusements aside, the Chancellor could hardly miss Emilia's suggestion she should take more interest in Naboo -- and consequentially the Republic. There was a deliberate and subtle raise of the brows to indicate the message had been received.

Not to leave it at just teasing, the enterprising woman went on to lay out her vision for such a future. All of which, to a Corpo -- and a Chancellor -- sounded absolutely delightful. There was a shallow wound in thinking Dominique had not been able to attract the woman's concerted effort by Denon's position alone, of course. One couldn't let ego get in the way of a good deal, however. It was Naboo that was the lure; and much like Denon it was attractive because of the Republic's stability and lack of over zealous policing of industry. The latter was Dominique's personal perspective.

A smirk was returned for Emilia recognizing a Corpo didn't need to be told about galactic economics. Some politicians did need reminders though.

"Miss Locke, if I said that was not a conversation worth having I'd expect to be taken outside and put out of my misery." A soft, almost quiet laugh followed. "I absolutely would love to discuss the particulars. Naboo and the Republic welcomes any like yourself interested in stability and progress." Not to mention credits. "And I would welcome the opportunity to discuss at a high level where each of us sees opportunity this evening, if you're available. We can save the exact details for later. In fact, I'll make certain my Office reaches out to yours to coordinate a time." There was sure to be a mountain's worth of detail to pour through. Not all of which the two Executives would do personally, but they'd oversee the detailed and exacting paperwork review.

Emilia Locke

 

[Colette]

Feridade Parthi // Quinn Varanin // Dominique Vexx // Emilia Locke

Was this a fucking joke? Surprise, indignation, and anger shot through Colette’s veins for no more than a second. She didn’t recoil, but her head certainly tilted as much as her mood: just a little. The slight hunch in her spine straightened out. One of her hands placed itself behind her back as she assumed a more dignified stance.

The offered hand fell under a brief moment of intense scrutiny. It felt like a promise of violence, offered under the guise of unawareness, and yet she grasped it nonetheless to give a firm shake.

“Colette.” She said. It was all she could say. A long list of follow ups played in her head before she settled on the easiest one, “We had a run in on Woostri.”

The sound of someone approaching dragged Colette out of her own head. In came the chancellor of the Republic herself. Had Colette cared to use her title she would have. Given that their disinterest in one another seemed relatively mutual, she elected to simply nod her head to the chancellor in quiet recognition of her presence instead.

The others spoke, Colette faded out for a moment and began to survey the security of the event again. With Quinn present there was not a single doubt that security itself had been compromised in some way or the other. Half a dozen guards, maybe? Enough to safeguard the queen’s life.

Not that it mattered. What little threat Colette had once served was practically gone. She’d made a promise to herself to let it all go and perhaps she had seen this as a chance to test herself. To that end she felt at least a little accomplished. It stung to be ‘forgotten’ but that was to be expected of someone like Quinn, or so Colette told herself.

“Right, a nation is only as strong as its logistics allow it to be.” She said and hopped back into the conversation. “The Alliance was spread thin by trying to cover too much ground with dwindling resources from the war. In the end too many small voices were drowned out by bigger ones until there was no point in so-called ‘collaboration’ since your voice couldn’t be heard.”

“Hopefully, the Republic won’t be repeating that problem.”

It would. They always did. History always repeated itself on this without failure.

 

[Feridade Parthi]

| Location | Grand Ballroom, Theed
| Objective | Accompany the Queen

Parthi nodded in silence as the Queen spoke, not having anything more to comment or add since her words mirrored his own sentiment as far as the High Republic went. Navigating turbulent political tides was all too important if he valued maintaining his position. He offered a small smile out of courtesy at the compliment offered to him, "You flatter me, Your Grace. Rest assured, I will endeavor to ensure Eshan finds itself surrounded with capable and like-minded friends, for the sake of our people." ​

​

His agenda was his own. The ambassador's concerns and loyalties were to the Echani people before anything or anyone else.​

​

His eyes shifted to the individual who approached them, his gaze falling upon Colette . Sparse recognition at best floated in his mind, vaguely recognizing the woman, though her name and affiliations eluded him. What he did determine, however, was that she was a woman of no consequence as far as politics. He made it a point to know the names and faces of all those within the Senate, both of the former Galactic Alliance and now the High Republic.​

​

Her brazenness in addressing the Echani Queen gave him pause, the Echani ambassador glancing over to Quinn to determine if this woman was a friend. If that were to be the case he would simply remain silent. The Echani Queen's response to her told him otherwise. ​

​

His posture shifted when Dominique Vexx approached them. "Chancellor", he offered a courteous bow of his head in greeting before continuing, "I haven't had a chance to formally congratulate you following the elections. If your sentiment and efforts at Ukatis are anything to go by, I trust the High Republic is in good and capable hands." He gave his congratulations alongside Quinn Varanin 's. His interactions with the Chancellor had been infrequent, but it was something he looked to remedy going forward with their recent appointment.​

​

His eyes fell back upon Colette as they introduced themselves and spoke. He was mildly amused at her commentary. The Galactic Alliance did spread itself too thin, despite Parthi's attempts to shore up resources and tighten border security against the Sith Order and the Mandalorian Empire. Such attempts had fallen on folded ears, and now here they were with unwelcome Mandalorians occupying their territory under false pretenses of 'freedom'. "Indeed... It certainly did not help that the New Jedi Order had also abandoned the Alliance during its time of need, but I digress." A decisive jab at an old and obsolete organization of Jedi as he quickly continued, "I do, however, owe my life to the Lightsworn and the Jedi of the High Republic for their rescue."​

​

[ Open ]​

​

​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Aiden Porte | Alina Grayson​

Lorn watched them go, Alina's hand folded around Lira's like it belonged there. The kid was already chatting, already smiling, and Aiden's eyes followed her until she disappeared into the crowd. It made something in Lorn's chest ache. Attachments were supposed to be simple on paper. In real life, they were how you got hurt.

Aiden turned back, leaned in, and whispered, "You suck."

Lorn let out a laugh, low and surprised. "I suck?" He shook his head, still grinning. "I'm just standing here trying to figure out your love life. I haven't been gone that long."

He shifted his plate to one hand and studied Aiden's face like he might find the answer written there. He didn't joke this time. Not fully.

"Why in the galaxy are you supporting a child now?" Lorn asked, voice quieter. "That's no easy task, Aiden. You are young."

He wasn't judging. He was trying to understand. Trying to make the math work in his head. Aiden had always carried responsibility like it was nothing, like he could shoulder the weight of a world and still smile through it.

His gaze flicked back toward where Alina and Lira had gone. He lowered his voice another notch.

"And Alina," he said gently, careful with the name. "How are you and Alina?"

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Tags: Rayna Lockley | Sibylla Abrantes | Ulysses Renoux

Aurelian listened, nodding at the right moments, posture loose against the bar as if his mind were fully present. It wasn't. His attention kept slipping back to the dance floor, to Sibylla's hand at Ulysses' shoulder, the easy trust in her movements. Each turn felt deliberate. Each laugh felt aimed.

Infuriating.

He signaled the bartender without looking. "Two," he said, then glanced at Rayna. "Something clean. Strong."

Events like this were gargantuan to organize. Security alone could drown a lesser court. The Republic had tightened its grip around the Senate lately, layers upon layers of protection, all official, all visible. That was fine for optics. Less fine for reality. The Great Houses relied too much on tradition and familiar blades.

He accepted the glasses and handed one to Rayna. Their fingers brushed. He let his hand linger a second longer than necessary before pulling back, casual enough to pass, pointed enough to matter.

"Of course the Republic would be interested," he said. "Anything that keeps disasters hypothetical instead of historical tends to get my attention." He took a drink, eyes flicking to the floor again. Ulysses dipped her. She laughed. Aurelian's jaw tightened. He swallowed and continued smoothly. "And Naboo hosting half the galaxy means external support isn't indulgent. It's practical."

He shifted closer to Rayna, shoulder angled toward her, his forearm resting lightly behind her back. He felt Sibylla's gaze before he saw it. When he looked up, she was watching. Good.

"I have no problem exploring an agreement," he said.

He turned fully to Rayna now, interest sharpened by more than strategy. "Where is Silvane based?" he asked. "And don't say everywhere. I'll assume you're lying."

Another glance to the dance floor. Ulysses guided Sibylla through a turn, confident as ever. Aurelian's hand stayed where it was, light but intentional, his smile easy and dangerous as he met Rayna's eyes again.

Let Sibylla see. Let her wonder.

He lifted his glass slightly. "You picked an interesting night to approach me, Miss Lockley."

​

 

[Rayna Lockley]

Rayna accepted the glass, fingers settling around it with practiced ease. She let the moment breathe just long enough for the exchange to feel natural, unforced before her attention returned to him in full. The faintest trace of amusement lingered in her expression, not mocking, but quietly entertained by the layered emotions brushing against her awareness.

Irritation. Pride. Jealousy sharp enough to hum. Curiosity riding close behind it.

She didn’t reach deeper. There was no need. His surface thoughts were loud in the way of people unaccustomed to being unread. Rayna simply acknowledged them, the way one notes the weather before stepping outside.

“For clarity,” she said calmly, voice low and composed, “Silvane’s primary headquarters is on Nar Shaddaa. Neutral ground. Discreet. It gives us the freedom to operate where jurisdiction becomes… complicated.”

She took a small sip of her drink more punctuation than indulgence then continued without shifting her tone.

“We also maintain permanent offices here on Naboo, and on Geonosis. Local presence, local knowledge. It allows us to respond quickly without creating the impression of occupation or overreach.”

Her eyes met his again, steady and unflinching, though something wry passed through them an unspoken acknowledgment of the theater unfolding just beyond their line of sight.

“You’re not wrong to be cautious,” Rayna added lightly. “Tonight is about optics. Perception. Who is seen standing where, and with whom.”

She paused momentarily as his emotions shifted brushing once again against her mind, attention narrowing now, calculation taking precedence. Good.

“My role,” she continued, gently steering the conversation back to its purpose, “is to ensure the Republic has options that don’t involve spectacle. Silvane works quietly, contractually, and at arm’s length. We solve problems before they require speeches.”

She angled herself just enough to reassert professional space, still composed, still unbothered by the earlier provocation.

“If you decide to explore that option,” Rayna said evenly, “I’ll make myself available at your convenience for the finer details..”

Another sip. A faint, knowing curve to her mouth.

“I’m in no hurry, Your Majesty. I understand the value of timing. Tonight is no accident, all the right people would be here. ”

She waited then calm, amused, and entirely focused letting him decide how much further this conversation would go, fully aware that she had already given him exactly what he needed: information, restraint, and the sense that Silvane was a problem-solver worth remembering.

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

 

[Clémence D'Asterra]

​

"There is something to be said, I think, for the anticipation," said Clémence pleasantly, eyebrows lifting slightly. "Don't you think, Your Grace?"

She understood what had transpired and she cursed herself for failing to be on her guard. The man was, according to Tessa, a Master of the Force. If she wasn't careful she would present herself to him like an open book to be read. Clémence was not interested in being read. It was a short-cut, a cheat, not true intimacy. Not that intimacy was required in a marriage like theirs. There would be heirs and spares, of course, because that was the job. But whether it would involve anything else was much too early to tell.

"Mother often tells me that these types of events are business arrangements of another kind," she continued, glancing over to Tessa. The older woman leaned forward, her face cautious, as if waiting to see whether her daughter had absorbed any of her wisdom. "And battlefields. Something about there being opportunities for advantage if you know where to look, and enemies to thwart." She glanced at Tessa. "Am I remembering that right?"

"Very good," said Tessa smoothly. "But that is on Virel, where we know the lay of the land, and who the enemies are." Dark eyes flicked across to Orestyn. "You'll help us determine in which direction to aim the guns, won't you, Orestyn?"

Orestyn Carda ​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Objective II - The Grand Ballroom
Ulysses Renoux
Nearby: Aurelian Veruna Adelle Bastiel Rayna Lockley Bastila Sal-Soren Ivalyn Yvarro


Sibylla followed Ulysses's lead with the ease born of years in court, though she could not quite mask the flicker of surprise that warmed her cheeks when he spoke.

Is Aurelian looking?

Truth be told, her first instinct was to deflect, to laugh it away with practiced poise. Yet the fact that he had noticed at all -- noticed why -- struck closer than she cared to admit. Perceptive, then. Amused by it, too.

She flushed faintly, lips parting as if to remark that what His Majesty chose to observe was hardly her concern, that it would matter little if he were looking or not.

And yet her hazel eyes betrayed her almost immediately.

The first sweep past caught Aurelian's expression, because he wasn't hiding it -- hard, heated, confounded. Aurelian's stare struck like a live wire, and Sibylla drew in a breath that tasted far too much like satisfaction. Awareness followed swiftly behind it enough to kickstart her heart and send a thrill racing down her spine.

So. He was watching.

The second glance found Adelle instead, unmistakably furious. The Corellian's expression darkened, then vanished as she turned on her heel and stormed off, leaving Sibylla blinking in faint concern. Bastila lingered behind, offering Aurelian a look that spoke volumes. Whatever passed between them only seemed to tighten his irritation further.

Interesting.

By the third turn, just as Ulysses dipped her with elegant precision and yes, she coyishly laughed -- she lost sight of Aurelian entirely. The laugh wavered, only slightly, suddenly concerned at his disappearance and her heart gave an unwelcome twist.

Until another turn carried her gaze across the room again.

And there he was, by a darkened corner near the beverage bar. Too close to another tall, unfamiliar blonde. Far too close. Wearing that maddening, intent expression Sibylla knew all too well.

Her stomach tightened with displeasure, and immediately she pursed her lips together. Yet in the next instance chose defiance instead. The smile she lifted to Ulysses was brighter still, teeth flashing as though nothing in the galaxy could trouble her.

So, not the jealous type after all.

Sensibly, she told herself that should be a virtue. Someone untroubled by such things. Someone secure. Someone who could carry himself freely. After all, why would Aurelian Veruna, with his infamous reputation, with his scores of conquests as he had raked himself across Naboo and Plooroid III, be at all the sort to even be bothered by a mere dance she had with the Duke. He was used to such networking. Such methods of using charm and the like and to play the role expected of him.

Of her as his Voice. After all, wasn't that why he was so apt to leave her behind to chat and converse and discuss with nobility, politicians, lobbyists, and foreign envoys alike that he didn't want to bother with?

And yet it irritated her.

Annoyed her.

Ridiculous, really. She knew he loved her. They had been exclusive for the better part of a year even if it remained carefully wrapped in discretion and silence. Still, seeing him so perfectly composed in public while she simmered beneath her own restraint only fueled the impulse to answer in kind.

When Ulysses guided her back into step, Sibylla lifted her chin slightly, composure settling once more into place.

"His Majesty's attention," she said lightly, tone sweet and impeccably polite, "is quite often elsewhere. Always in service to Naboo and her people, of course."

Sibyla's smile softened then, but those hazel orbs gleamed with something quietly dangerous she couldn't quite hide.

"One must admire such dedication."

 

[Aiden Porte]

Lorn Reingard Alina Grayson
​

Lira took the mission very seriously.

She crept toward the refreshment table with careful steps, eyes wide and bright, scanning the trays just like Alina had taught her. Fruit tarts gleamed under soft light. Fruit sat piled high. And then she spotted it. Chocolate.....

Her breath caught in a tiny gasp of triumph.

Moving quickly now, she reached up and secured a small plate, choosing with deliberate care so it would not look suspicious. She glanced back toward Alina, lips pressed together to keep from giggling, then straightened as if she belonged there all along. She was able to gather as much as she could onto her plate, without it being overloaded. More particulary the chocolate.

Mission accomplished.

Lira turned back, pride shining all over her face, already certain this was the best adventure of the night. She mouthed the words to Alina.

Is this enough?

**********************

"Love life?" Aiden chuckled lightly. Since, Arhiia left without word. Love in that aspect was the last thing on his mind.

​

Aiden's smile lingered at Lorn's laugh, but it softened when the questions turned quieter. He did not deflect them. He never had with Lorn.

"She needed someone," Aiden said simply, his voice low and steady. "And I was there." He shrugged once, an easy motion that hid the weight beneath it. "Age does not matter much when a child is scared and alone. You step up, or you live knowing you did not."

His gaze followed Lorn's toward the refreshment tables, where Lira stood proudly with her prize. Something warm settled in his chest. "She gave my life more purpose than I knew it was missing," he added, honest and unguarded.

At the mention of Alina, Aiden inhaled slowly, then let it out with a faint, self-aware smile. "Alina is…important to us," he said carefully. He smirked at Lorn's look. "Nothing is going on between Alina and I, she's a good friend. She's kind to Lira."

Aiden smiled and let out a deep sigh. "I don't have time for anything else Lorn, not anymore."

He glanced back at Lorn, calm returning fully. "Lira is my primary responsibility."

Aiden chuckled and glanced around. "Speaking of, is Ala Quin gonna be joining you today?"

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

Taera 'Calypso' ​

Cassian did not let satisfaction show, even as her meaning landed cleanly. He rested his forearms lightly on the balustrade beside her, eyes forward on the soldiers, as if they were speaking about weather and not leverage.

"You have my assistance then," he said quietly. His tone stayed honorable, plain with truth.

"Should persuade those that would be the easiest first. The others can be used with lawful pressure, honest scrutiny, and the leverage of accountability. If someone is corrupt, we expose it. If someone is merely proud, we give them a way to comply without losing face."

He inclined his head once, respectful.

"You lead from within. I will support from the edges. With hope on our side, this should be clean, discreet, and effective." Cassian gave her a reassurring smile and nod. "Do you have any questions for me?"

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen's eyes followed his sister and companion as they spoke to the man, a soft chuckle rumbling from his throat as he heard the man's age. Zorrens aged slowly once trialed, something he had done quite some time ago. As a result, while Malcolm Ironmaster appeared to be the Wilder's senior, Vulpesen was old enough to be the man's father. "Before you leave," he finally spoke with a hand gently rising to give the jedi pause, "I left the order a little over sixty years ago. Back then, the order was corrupt to the core, and those who were faithful were either tied up by the shackles of politics, or killed as yet another nameless martyr for the lightside. My respect for the order has returned since my exit, but I'm afraid that I could never rejoin as a member."

His placid smile took on a wry turn which displayed one of the long canine fangs of his race. "Regardless, my sister is right. I can't count the number of times I've followed the call of the force to nameless dangers to find a path as unexpected as it was vital. Follow its call and you won't find yourself lacking in a life of meaning. Just make sure you find time for yourself. Meaning can't always replace that which makes life joyful." Vulpesen punctuated his words with a swish of his tail as he turned to Ra'a'mah . "Speaking of which, would you like to dance?"

Jax Thio Jairdain Ismet-Thio

 

[Malcolm Ironmaster]

Objective 2: The Grand Ballroom
Tags: Vulpesen , Jax Thio , Ra'a'mah , Jairdain Ismet-Thio

"Before I was born," Malcolm said with reverence. "I'm glad that the Silver Jedi have found their way back to the Light. I suspect politics and rulership were the root of the problem. Thank you for your insight. I think at this point, I'll take my leave. I feel the pull off the Force leading me on a new adventure."

 

[Ivalyn Yvarro]

Ivalyn smiled then, slow and assured.

"Good," she said simply.

The moment stretched—just long enough to be felt. Her voice dropped, not loud enough to carry beyond them, warmth threading through it as her expression softened into something openly pleased.

"Good girl." She whispered into Adelle's ear.

It was said without haste, without correction, and she watched the reaction with quiet satisfaction. "I'm glad you've enjoyed the dance," Ivalyn continued, her tone easing back into something conversational, though the closeness remained. "You move quite well." A pause, breath measured. "I imagine that translates rather impressively beyond a ballroom."

Her gaze flicked, just briefly, to Adelle's hands, steady, capable, before lifting again.

"Perhaps," she added lightly, "you might show me how you fight, sometime."

The final turn eased them apart just enough for breath.

As if in answer, the music shifted. The strings drew back, the driving insistence giving way to something slower, heavier. A familiar melody emerged, reshaped into something orchestral and aching, its weight carried not by tempo but by consequence.

The winner takes it all.

Ivalyn felt it immediately and adjusted without comment, her lead softening, no longer urging movement but allowing it to settle into something closer, more contained. Where before the dance had been momentum and intention, now it was restraint, space held rather than taken.

She met Adelle's gaze then, only for a heartbeat.

"In another life," Ivalyn said quietly, almost to the space between them, "I assure you, Miss Bastiel…"

A pause, intentional, reflective.

"We would have been unstoppable."

The music carried on, and with it the unspoken understanding that some victories were never meant to be claimed aloud.

"Alas," she conceded as the music played on, "for now the most we can hope for is your being posted to the Commonwealth." Gently, delicately, Ivalyn offered a hand.

The Grand Vizier led Adelle toward the bar, a hand lightly hovering over the small of the Mandalorian's back. She looked to the bar keep and slid a credit chit. "Her drinks are on me."

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

 

[Emilia Locke]

//: Dominique Vexx // Quinn Varanin // Feridade Parthi // Colette //:

​

Wearing: [X]
Objective II

"Excellent, I'll look forward to our meeting then. With business out of the way, id say we could relax but I think your night is just beginning I'm afraid." Emilia had already begun to step back as the conversation shifted, the movement subtle and practiced an instinct shaped by long familiarity rather than dismissal. Business with Dominique was concluded for the moment; whatever needed saying had been said, at least for public ears. But conclusion did not imply distance. Old habits and older loyalties kept Emilia within the Chancellor's orbit, close enough to signal association, distant enough to avoid intrusion. An anchor, not an interjection.

She followed as Dominique approached Quinn Varanin, observing with quiet interest. Emilia's posture stayed relaxed, shoulders squared but unguarded, her expression attentive without curiosity tipping into scrutiny. She did not interrupt or announce herself. This was not her stage, and she understood the choreography of power too well to disrupt its rhythm. Some conversations were meant to be witnessed, not steered.

Only once Dominique had finished speaking once the exchange had found its natural pause did Emilia incline her head slightly toward Quinn. The gesture was precise and restrained, an acknowledgement rather than an introduction, recognition without presumption.

"Your Majesty. Emilia Locke. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance." she said calmly. The words carried respect, but nothing ornamental no flourish of titles, no excess deference layered on for effect. Simply recognition, offered cleanly and without hesitation. Emilia settled back into stillness beside her, taking a long sip from her glass of champagne.

​

 

[Alina Grayson]

Alina lingered just behind the nearest column, her posture easy but her senses gently tuned. From across the room, she caught a fleeting glance of Aiden and Lorn shoulders close, heads inclined sharing a low conversation over the quiet swell of music. There was something in the way they stood together, like pieces of a story she hadn’t quite been invited to read yet.

Her brow arched slightly with quiet curiosity, but only for a breath. Because then

Chocolate.

She caught Lira's triumphant little gasp and the careful pivot of a child who thought she was just subtle enough to pass as casual. A slow smile spread across Alina’s face, one part amusement, two parts admiration. When Lira turned and mouthed her question, Is this enough?, Alina feigned deep consideration.

She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing as if she were assessing a battle plan.

She then leaned in a little, bending slightly to meet Lira’s height and whispered behind the back of her hand with a conspiratorial grin, “You’ve perfectly balanced ambition and stealth. That’s excellent work.”

She offered a small nod, then, even more softly: “Let’s find somewhere safe to enjoy our spoils before the grown-ups start asking questions.”

As they made their way back toward a quieter corner, Alina spared one last glance over her shoulder toward Aiden and Lorn not with suspicion, but a subtle smile. She didn’t need to know everything tonight.

Right now, she had chocolate, an adorable accomplice, and a moment that she hadn't felt since she was the young girl following her sister around, before everything changed.

TAG: Aiden Porte Lorn Reingard

 

[Casaana]

Objective III
Tag: Davik Haize

She laughed at that, full-throated and eyes scrunched up as she clapped a hand over her mouth. Even after pulling herself back under control, she still couldn't hide her smile. "You think I'm some princess? Whole blooming festival is overrun with Jedi, and here I am in my tunic. Though I suppose some people are tying to make robes fashionable." She added thoughtfully before pulling a face as she remembered something she didn't like. "And I guess some Jedi are styling themselves lords and ladies too, these days."

Taking up a processor board from where Davik had laid it out, Casaana slotted it into place under the dome of the droid's main body before poking the wiring into place with a calloused pair of slender fingers. "What sort of ships?" She finally asked. "You don't get eyes like that on a civilian freighter." Her voice was quieter now, personable and soft with the sort of curiosity that would let Davik deny her an answer without being rude if he wanted, but inviting him to open up.