Populate Where the Light Gathers | THR Populate of Siskeen

[Bastila Sal-Soren]

Bastila’s breath caught in her throat when Quinn said those words. Her breath snagged like it had caught itself on a rock not because she hadn’t thought about it. No it caught because she had and she only just realised it.

Her hand tightened almost imperceptibly at Quinn’s waist, not in a possessive way, not quite; but it was definitely an attempt at grounding. Like she was anchoring herself before something reckless could surface.

For a flicker of a heartbeat, something warmer passed over her features. The feeling of want, desire and a reckless trait of throwing everything else under the speeder and being done with it. There was no innocence in the thoughts that passed over her.

Then as quickly as it came, something made it vanish.

Her gaze shifted, not away from Quinn, but it fell beyond her rather than onto her. Over her shoulder, past the glittering lights and slow-turning couples. The music softened, but that only seemed to make Bastila’s awareness sharpen.

Entrances. Balconies. Shadows near the pillars. Who was watching? Who was pretending not to. That one man who caught her eye, that concerned look from the woman near the bar, the hooded maybe Jedi ready to fall her story into the council.

When her eyes returned to Quinn, they were different. They weren’t cold, not at all. The affection was still there, the desire still present. It was just hidden behind something else, something guarded her suddenly.

“Quinn…” Her voice lowered, the softness edged now with warning. “I can’t…not here.”

Her thumb brushed against the fabric at Quinn’s back, the smallest, most absent motion, trying to add assurance to her words and then stilled as though she’d caught herself.

“I want…You have no idea how much. But not now.”

There it was. That subtle shift. The Jedi who survived the pirate holds. Senate traps. Assassins who smiled before they struck. That Bastila who they looked upon to be the next Jedi Hero of the order. The Bastila that resembled the Sal-Soren name outside of the family knowledge. The Bastila who could not afford herself happiness.

A small controlled exhale left her nose.

“Dancing with you is risky enough.” She whispered as if the words would break the world itself. There was no teasing in it. No intended banter. Just solid, painful truth.

Her eyes flicked once more around the hall before settling on Quinn again and this time the sadness in her eyes was unmistakable, even behind the guard of her Jedi self. There was actual fear there for herself and for Quinn.

“The Republic is more than what I can control.” Her jaw set faintly, maybe once upon a time if she had been made Queen of Naboo things would have been different, but her position as Sibylla’s handmaiden, Sibylla’s closeness to Aurelian, Bastila’s ties to the Senate through them both. The Republic would scapegoat her before she even knew what was happening. “They would smell blood in the water and they would destroy either one of us if they saw that look on your face.”

Her hand loosened, but she did not step away.

“I ask that you do not let go of that thought though Quinn,” she added quietly, something dangerous in her tone, something that belonged to neither Jedi nor noble, “You save it for when someone has no way of using it against you.”

Against us.

She didn’t say the last word.

But it was there.

OUTFIT: XoXo | TAG: Quinn Varanin EQUIPMENT:

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[Quinn Varanin]

//: Bastila Sal-Soren //:

For just a moment, Quinn's mind remained still. Their bodies still moving to the rhythm of the music as if nothing passed between them but casual conversation. With each step, each word that Bastila spoke, Quinn's fragile confidence… shattered.

She could feel it, see it on the Jedi's face. It softened as her breath hitched from the Echani's words. Everything was there; all that was left was to just grasp it.

But Bastila was right.

Everything she said was correct. While here in the Republic, people lived freely, Quinn knew and understood the fragility of one's reputation. Easily, she could be destroyed as well in the Empire. What benefited her was the favor of those connected to her. The Sith ruled by fear and power, but here… it was different.

Despite all of her manners and training, Quinn still felt the rejection cut through her. What made it worse was that it wasn't because Bastila didn't want to; it was because she couldn't… or shouldn't. Even if the woman lied, Quinn could feel it — it's what made her gravitate so easily to the Jedi. Her lips pressed together as she forced them into a smile, one that was practiced and meant for court. This wasn't just Quinn.

She was the Queen of Eshan and the Heir Apparent to the Sith Empire.

She was the daughter of Spencer and Ashin Varanin, the daughter and ward of Srina Talong and Darth Empyrean, niece of Kaine Zambrano… the list only grew more infamous. Quinn was a child bathed in darkness and destined for darkness, and here she foolishly reached for the light.

"I know what a room like this means…" Her eyes caught Bastila's distant gaze. "I understand… the roles we both must play."

Bastila pulled away, but didn't leave. Quinn understood the gesture, but she still reached just maybe to remind herself that, despite everything, there was something mutual… something that she could find solace in.

Her hand trailed for just a moment, the brush of her fingertips finding the tenderness of Bastila's wrist and the base of her palm. It was a quick, but meaningful touch.

"I just…" She once more found herself searching the woman's delicate features, wanting something.

"It’s just," Her features showed the crack in her facade, the strength she was trying to find to not ask a thousand questions.

"It just felt safe… for a second." Her smile softened. "I don't need now, I just wanted to know that I wasn't the only one thinking it."

Her eyes suddenly became greener as she could feel the threat of the tears that welled in her eyes. Rejection was something the young woman wasn't used to, but the loneliness that followed was too well known. What hurt the most was the knowledge that her desire was shared, but the courage to act was not.

Maybe Bastila was smarter than her, more responsible, better at navigating the world they lived in.

Quinn cleared her throat, "Thank you for entertaining me with this dance." Walls slowly began to build as the Sith Heir remembered where she stood.

"But reality beckons." She nodded in a small acknowledgement. Quinn pulled away, not wanting to put Bastila at risk anymore. While Quinn cared little for safety, she didn't need to foolishly ruin Bastila along with her. “Have a wonderful evening, Bastila…”

Stepping away, she turned to leave, not wanting to let those around know how deeply the Jedi had cut without a blade.

 

[Aileni Ifor Xeraic]

Objective: BYOO - Teen Chaos!
Outfit: Suit
Tag: Pari Sylune

Nodding his head, "cooking and baking isn't for everyone. My mother was similarly skilled where the basics were about as far as she could go. Though her spicy noodles are something I have never matched in how well she makes them. Something she does is special there. I say she is using Magick to improve the flavours but I can't prove it." Aileni laughed softly as he took a few bites from the food on his plate, grateful to have his appetite squashed for a bit longer.

Looking around the place, Aileni noted how different things were on Naboo to how it was on Dathomir. It was a stark contrast. Serenity was truly represented with Naboo while Dathomir seemed to represent what it was to be feral.

"Yeah, Naboo was always somewhere that felt too safe... Too nice when compared to living on Dathomir." Aileni mentioned, "what is it like on Chalacta?" Aileni asked since it had been the first time that Pari mentioned where she called home. Aileni did wonder at some point if Naboo was Pari's home since she didn't mention it till now.

 

[Pari Sylune]

"I've heard people say that a mother's love is what makes food taste so good," she said thoughtfully. "That it's the one ingredient you can never really replicate."

She smiled faintly at the idea, tilting her head as if weighing it in her mind. She would have bet anything that this was the secret behind his mother's noodles, that quiet, unseen care folded into every step of the process. Of course, she couldn't know for certain. Pari had never known a mother herself, never experienced that particular kind of warmth, so her understanding of it came secondhand, borrowed from stories and observations rather than memory.

Still, the thought lingered.

She listened as he spoke about Dathomir, her attention fully on his words. She had never been there, but the way he described it matched what she'd read, harsh, mysterious, shaped by strength and tradition. She knew the planet was home to witches, and even from a distance, its reputation carried weight.

Then she spoke again, her tone gentler, almost fond.

"Chalacta is a beautiful, peaceful place," she said. "It's mostly farmland with small communities and, people who live close to the land and to each other. There's a quiet kind of beauty there." She paused, glancing out as if picturing it. "But it's nowhere near as grand as Naboo. Most of the people are simple. Not in a bad way, just… grounded. Content with ordinary lives."


Aileni Ifor Xeraic

 

[Tessa D'Asterra]

"I think we may need to reframe that a little," Tessa said cautiously. "Not to jump up and down on you, at all, Duke, I hope you understand. Just a private complaint I've always had. The word gossip is such an ugly thing. It's -- misogynist, actually -- because it frames what would otherwise be just an activity as something frivolous and small. The purview of women, because they were simply made to chatter. Do you want to know how I see it?"

She turned with Carda, eyes surveying the room. The privilege on display would have been hypocritical were it not for the fact that much of it was being pledged to a good cause. Just enough to take the sharp edge off. "What is gossip when women do it is identified -- correctly -- as intelligence when done by men. Yes, even in an environment like this, with the chandeliers and the flowers, the gowns and the shrimp. An aide arrives and informs you that Talbot Tutti-Frutti, who is engaged to Mary Moneybags, was spotted in the garden canoodling with Deborah Defense-Industry and you have some puzzle pieces that might become relevant to your interests. But two women whispering about the same thing behind a fern is, for some reason, considered less."

She frowned as they continued turning, the matriarch keeping perfect time at Carda's direction. She supposed marching did teach one rhythm after all. "The thing you must know about Clémence is that she will love you -- if you let her. She will help you -- if you give her something to do. Tongues will be looser on Serrokon in her presence because your people will not know what to do with her. They will think she is young, and frivolous, and wants only to talk about fashion and gossip."

Her eyes were gently reproachful there.

"If you are concerned about not being able to connect to her, then share your world with her, and your business. She does not have my mind for numbers, but she sees connections. It may come in handy. Or... let her surprise you. I'm certain she will."

Orestyn Carda

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[Adelle Bastiel]

Objective II - The Grand Ballroom
Tags: Ethanael Halscott

For a brief moment, Adelle tensed, grinding her teeth as her jaw clenched. A title? Yes, she technically had a title. But was it a better term of address? Based on her interaction with Aurelian…

“I do possess a title,” she said, some of her previous ire bleeding back into her words. She fought with it, trying to swallow down the indignation. “But it seems to invite ridicule from those who lack context. Wolf Bastiel, if you must, but Ms. Bastiel or just Adelle are fine.”

Ethanael did not seem like the type of man to engage in that kind of open mockery, his emotions seemed earnest enough. The discomfort of potentially crossing a line read genuine and she reassured that he hadn’t with a soft shake of her head. But he lit up when she had asked about his business.

"Our business," he said, "is, quite frankly, whatever my cousin wills it to be."

When he gestured across the ballroom, Adelle followed with her eyes and immediately had to clamp down on the rise of conflicted emotions. Grand Vizier Yvarro. Of fething course she was his cousin. She very readily returned her attention to Ethanael as he explained that the business had expanded beyond its original scope. From what little she understood of those things, it sounded like it all still kept a focus on engineering while it branched out into other markets and fields that built on engineering.

That would explain his interest in aligning a napkin. He’d been bored.

He confirmed he himself was an engineer, calling it ‘simple.’ Her eyebrows twitched at the claim: she’d seen what the curriculum for engineers was and it hurt her eyes to look at. Like trying to read an ancient language carved in stone half-eroded away by time.

“I would hardly call that simple, Mr. Halscott,” she commented dryly when he finished. “Specialized, perhaps. But not simple.”

The question about herself gave her pause. Her resumé was not nearly so cut and dry. But then he specified the Iron Wolves. That she could do.

“You know of the Jedi,” Adelle said, setting down her glass. “And being Commonwealth, I imagine you are very familiar with the Sith. The Mandalorians view the Force as less a spiritual guide or avenue to power and more as a tool. We accept any Force user of any background, but an Iron Wolf is Mandalorian first.”

“Functionally, we’re Rally Masters for the Mandalorian army, the equivalent of lieutenant colonels and colonels.” Adelle rotated the old-fashioned glass on the edge of its bottom, the ice ball slowly making circles in the amber whiskey. “There’s a lot of unpleasant history with Force users—Sith, Jedi, and Mando. That the Mand’alor’s been able to not just establish the Wolves but have them accepted and respected like any other Mandalorian is no small feat.”

She picked up the glass and took a drink. “And it’s not something I expected when I found myself in Mandalorian space.”

“So when you’re not obligated to attend galas and balls, how are you finding your time in the High Republic?”

 

[Ethanael Halscott]

Adelle Bastiel​

Ethan tilted his head slightly as he listened.

"Ah."

It was both acknowledgment and processing.

He lifted his martini for another measured sip, and discovered it empty.

His lips pressed thoughtfully to one side.

He rotated toward the bartender with quiet efficiency.

"Corellian ale," he said. "One for myself. And another for my guest."

He gestured lightly toward Ms. Bastiel, missing entirely the bartender's subtle glance in her direction, the silent inquiry, the amused flicker. Ethan did not register it.

"Ms. Bastiel, it is," he concluded, settling comfortably on the formality.

He inclined his head again when she described his work as specialized rather than simple.

"You are too kind," he replied, genuinely appreciative. Not flustered. Not self-conscious. Simply accepting a professional compliment.

When she mentioned the Jedi, he nodded.

"I do."

He listened as she explained the Iron Wolves, a Mandalorian perspective on the Force. Not mysticism. Not doctrine. A tool. Something to be managed.

Interesting.

"Indeed," he agreed, fingers lightly circling the base of his glass as the ale was set before him. "Force users have had a rather unpleasant history with the galaxy at large."

His tone was analytical rather than accusatory.

He considered the Commonwealth's own approach, regulation, structure, containment, and suspected Mandalorians operated with far less bureaucratic rigidity.

"Expectations and realities in Mandalorian space," he said smoothly, the faintest warmth entering his voice as the ale replaced the martini's sharp edge, "are likely as divergent as they are anywhere. All systems project strength. Stability. The lived experience is… more textured."

He took a sip.

Then she asked what he did when not obliged to attend such gatherings.

He considered the question with complete seriousness.

"To be honest," he began, "this is my first visit to the High Republic."

His gaze drifted briefly across the grand hall.

"From what I have observed, it functions as any established state does. It projects stability. It has the resources to orchestrate events such as this. That suggests logistical competence."

A small pause.

"So thus far, my time has been satisfactory."

He lifted his glass again.

"And the company," he added, almost as an afterthought, offering her a faint smile, "has been pleasant."

He meant it as a statement of fact.

Then he redirected the conversation with polite curiosity.

"And you?" he asked. "Do you often travel so far from Mandalore?"

A beat.

"What is your perspective on the High Republic?"

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Objective II - The Grand Ballroom
Tags: Ethanael Halscott

At the bartender’s questioning and rather entertained look, Adelle gave a slight gesture and subtle shrug. Three people. Three people in one evening, buying her drinks. If only such offers came at the bars she went to, rather than the fights she found herself in somehow. Adelle drained the last dregs of the whiskey as the bartender poured the ales.

Ethanael spoke with a sort of academic tone, even, thoughtful, with a cadence she couldn’t quite define. The effect was stabilizing, establishing a pattern she could follow. Something she appreciated after the imbalances that began her night.

He complimented her. Stated it matter-of-factly but a fact could still be a compliment.

She’d yet to get comfortable accepting compliments.

“Thank you. I do try not to be a bother,” she said with a playful smile, deflecting.

Adelle lifted the glass to drink, inwardly grateful that Ethanael had picked something with a lower alcohol content. She could hold her liquor well, but that didn’t mean she wanted to push her limits.

“Often, from both planet and empire,” she said. “I live on Contruum and when I’m not doing shifts at my hospital, I pick up contracts to supplement it. As for the High Republic…”

She stopped to consider it. She hadn’t really seen what everyday life was like here—between the Mandalorian Empire’s preparations recently and her work, she was more often than not a tourist, occasionally attending parties.

“I can’t say I really know much of it. Usually when I’m here, I’m taking a break from work. A contracted Mandalorian’s business doesn’t often allow for relaxation, as I’m sure you can imagine.” Adelle stared at the head on the ale before taking a measured sip. “No rest for the weary, or the wicked.”

“Honestly I'm dreading going home a little,” she admitted quietly. “What waits there is… far less pleasant.”

An understatement. She’d be back to doing rounds in the emergency ward and the morgue while the Wildfire spice ran rampant through the Mandalorian population. Adelle cleared her throat, remembering that this guest with rather important connections more than likely didn’t want to hear about such things.

“I do hope you’re able to carve out some quiet for yourself during your visit,” she said, offering a small smile. “I think at this point the whole galaxy could use a break from all the noise.”

 

[Ethanael Halscott]

"Contruum?" Ethan repeated, a genuine smile touching his expression for the first time that evening. "We maintain a facility there. It is where we conduct much of our frost crystal research and boreal structural studies."

He paused, realizing he had interrupted. "My apologies."

The Industrialist inclined his head slightly and returned to listening, fully, attentively, as she spoke.

When she mentioned weariness, something in his expression shifted. Softer. Thoughtful. "Weary or wicked," he murmured, lifting his ale, "rest is required all the same." A small pause. "Otherwise one risks structural failure."

He did not realize he had just compared a person to a starship.

He took another sip.

"There are a few places I prefer," he admitted after a moment. "Though most of my travel is work-related."

His voice held no self-pity, just fact.

"However, if you would like… I can recommend several locations."

A faint lift of one shoulder.

"Full disclosure, most are within Commonwealth territory."

Then he remembered what she had said. That quiet dread about returning home. He hesitated, an unusual thing for him. Ethan did not hesitate when designing hull reinforcements or recalibrating shield matrices. But emotional territory was less charted.

"Well."

He cleared his throat.

"If… you would prefer."

Ethan looked briefly at the rim of his glass before meeting her gaze again. "I could meet you at one of those places." He said it as one might offer to review schematics together.

Neutral.

Practical.

"I do not intend to remain in the High Republic long," he continued evenly. "It is… aesthetically pleasing. Competently structured. But work will call me home." A small exhale. "And I prefer to work where the horizon is familiar."

Then, carefully, "When you are willing, if you are willing, you may express that dread with me. Not this evening," he added quickly, almost concerned he had overstepped. "But I could perhaps assist. Or at minimum, direct you toward someone who could."

He meant it sincerely.

The man pushed his ale aside and placed a small stack of credits on the bar. "I believe I have now remained long enough to qualify as attendance." His eyes flicked briefly toward where his cousin had last stood, calculating obligations satisfied. "I do not often do this." Ethan reached into his coat and withdrew a slim holocard, polished, understated.

He offered it to her.

"You may call."

A slight pause.

"Or, if you prefer, I would be willing to escort you from the venue to a destination of your choosing."

No expectation.

Only a composed man offering logistical companionship as though it were the most reasonable thing in the galaxy.

Adelle Bastiel ​

 

[Dominique Vexx]

Dominique's attention was with Feridade Parthi until Ivalyn Yvarro addressed her once more. Emilia was a respectable Corpo in her own right, Dominique was not alarmed she might be tempted by the first person that came along. It was all about finding the right partner, under the right circumstances, with the right deal. One had to explore all available options to make an informed decision. Granted, one did not need to explore all options in person or directly. For instance, by and large, Dominique trusted Denon's reputation preceded itself even if some sought to nail down the particulars.

The Chancellor turned her head to look over at Ivalyn as the woman sued to discuss trade. Qosantyra? "Grand Vizier," she bid a good eve' to as the woman made clear her invitation was known, and her purpose served. Straight to the heart of what she sought. Efficient. Dominique could respect efficiency.

Dosuun? An Imperial Commonwealth, no less. A difficult sell among others present in that chamber. The Chancellor, however, wouldn't dismiss the idea out of hand so easily. Though it certainly held... challenges. Yet, opportunities. And if the woman had extended an invitation it held very particular opportunities and risks.

One-on-one, indeed. Nothing had said she had to be alone the entire trip, however.

Though the invitation would prove to be more challenging than either had likely foreseen with future events on Moorja. Whether the Sith Order's presence became officially known to merely surmised was for their future selves to determine, and react accordingly.

"Miss Locke," Dominique looked to her patient companion. "Care to dance?" ( Emilia Locke )

 

[Emilia Locke]

//: Dominique Vexx //:

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Wearing: [X]
Objective II

Emilia didn't overthink the invitation.

A soft smile touched her lips, genuine and unforced.

"Chancellor" she replied warmly, "I'd be happy to."

She set her champagne glass aside with quiet precision and stepped forward, taking Dominique's hand with easy familiarity. There was no performance in the movement, no sense that eyes on them required adjustment. Emilia had grown up in rooms like this. She had negotiated in rooms harsher than this. A ballroom on Naboo was almost… restful.

As they joined the floor, the orchestra's tempo slowed into something elegant and steady. Emilia matched the rhythm naturally, her posture poised but relaxed, her steps smooth without drawing attention to themselves.

For a few moments she simply let the music carry them.

"I'm sure you need a break from all the well wishes and congratulations." she said softly, conversational rather than political. "I imagine the last few weeks haven't afforded you much rest."

The gala continued around them in its glittering orbit senators murmuring, dignitaries smiling, crystal catching the light but Emilia was entirely present in the moment. Not calculating. Not assessing. Just composed.

For once, the dance could simply be a dance.
​

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Obective II - The Grand Ballroom
Tags: Ethanael Halscott

She did pause briefly when he interrupted, his whole face lighting up with something real and not just polite. Her smile was small but reflexive: so she’d found something he was genuinely interested in.

Adelle sipped on her Corellian ale quietly as he spoke, offering recommendations of places to visit, albeit within Commonwealth territory. If the Blackwall were easier to travel, his suggestions might have had more merit. Still. She had been behind it twice now, once to Jutrand and once to Dosuun. It wasn’t impossible, just improbable.

“Suggestions would be appreciated,” Adelle said. “Dosuun, what little I saw of it, was nice.”

Something uncertain entered his emotions and he cleared his throat. It was slow coming but he offered to meet her at one of his recommended places, with all the ceremony belonging to a meeting between a designer and client. But from what little she was able to glean from their interaction, it was a big offer.

A man that did not appreciate strange people and public spaces offered to meet her, a stranger, in presumably a public space. It was not an offer made lightly.

And it wasn’t one she would accept lightly.

“Thank you,” she said, her tone softening. “That’s very kind of you to offer.”

Ethanael made to leave, stating that his obligations had been satisfied with a look in the direction of the rest of the ballroom. He then offered her a holocard, sleek and minimalist like his black suit. He’d been pleasant, genuine in that he didn’t try to hide his personality. It was a nice conversation after so many unpleasant or strange encounters this evening.

It did help that he was easy on the eyes too.

“I’ve had enough excitement for tonight,” she said, placing her glass down on the bartop and giving the bartender a thankful smile. The man had been privy to more than she liked and had been discreet about it. A consummate professional. “So if you’re willing, I think I would like an escort to my hotel.”

She stared at the bartop for a moment, weighing her next words carefully. Adelle stepped forward just enough that her voice would carry only for Ethanael. “It’d be inferior to what you’re used to, but you’re free to stay the night with me if you wanted. However, I understand if you’d just prefer to retreat back to whatever quiet sanctuary you have here.”

 

[Dominique Vexx]

Dominique smiled across at Emilia as she accepted the invitation. Her hand awaited Emilia's being free what with her glass deposited elsewhere.

Fluid steps were followed by a graceful pivot as the duo entered the floor. The Chancellor's free hand came up in support of her dance partner as they began to move in time with the music. They were equally unconcerned with whatever eyes might be upon them. Whatever judgments or whispers might be had. They could think what they will. Conjure whatever scintillating came to mind. Some things in life were out of your control; and Dominique had long since learned to roll with them.

One step at a time. Even Dominique remain quiet for a time, content to simply dance on the eve crowning her ascension to Chancellorship. Unplanned as it had been, and fraught with about as much turmoil as she'd feared. It was easier manipulating the strings from the shadows.

"I admit," Dominique gazed into the other woman's eyes, "I haven't had any time for recreational activities." Though only Sibylla knew what sort of 'activities' the Denonite meant. Naboo was one of the worst places in the galaxy when it came to a slicing scene. The extra security 'for her benefit' didn't help matters either. How could she have known all her efforts to protect Sibylla and Aurelian would come back to haunt her?

A soft laugh preceded her follow-up. "Though I have made it a habit of enjoying good company while it lasts." A smile spread easily across her lips with Emilia's hand in her's. There was no need to rush through productive meetings. What qualified as productive could change multiple times during an interaction. After all, part of being a successful Corpo was socializing and making connections. Not everyone you had to consort with was 'good company,' however.

The Chancellor's more formal, white uniform went surprisingly well with Emilia's navy blue dress. If people didn't know better they might almost think Dominique a naval officer with her evening's companion. Neither of them were distract in monitoring those in the crowd. They weren't bantering about numbers and quotas. Just two people on the dance floor moving in tandem.

"It occurs to me, Miss Locke, were you to spend more time in the Republic," as she'd suggested earlier, "we might be afford more opportunities such as this." Just an idle observation to make conversation. She spoke softly and without haste having no particular objective in mind, or respond meant to be maneuvered out of the other woman. Naboo did have a habit of hosting many ballroom gatherings, after all.

Emilia Locke​

 

[Aileni Ifor Xeraic]

Objective: BYOO - Teen Chaos!
Outfit: Suit
Tag: Pari Sylune

Aileni pondered on the point that Pari made about a mother's love being a secret, intangible ingredient that might ensure that Aileni could not surpass. "Hmmmmm..." The avid cook in Aileni's mind was determined to figure out a way to beat it. "Is there such a thing as a father's love or a child's love as well? I feel like if this is only biased towards mother's then it is hardly fair."

He might be taking the notion a little too literally but he was trusting that Pari's information held credible weight to it. It would explain a little on why Aileni couldn't match the quality but he was determined that he could observe enough to mimic. If he couldn't copy his mother's recipe perfectly, then how was he ever going to be able to develop the skills to mimic and infiltrate criminal and Sith based organisations.

"Sounds idyllic. Sometimes being grounded and forming closer knit communities is the best approach." Aileni stated, he knew that was not too dissimilar to how Dathomir was. Just Dathomir didn't have the pleasant fauna and flora like other worlds did. "Clans on Dathomir tend to feel that way as well, grounded and understanding the difficulties that life can bring."

Shrugging his shoulders, "hopefully we get a chance to go visit your home world one day. Give you a chance to show me everything that goes on there." Aileni grinned to Pari.

 

[Ethanael Halscott]

"Suggestions?" Ethan brightened, visibly more comfortable discussing geography than emotion.

"Yes, of course. Vizcanyo Bay is exceptional. The tidal architecture is remarkable, and the harbor light refracts in a way that is structurally pleasing."

He paused, recalibrating.

"You must see Sejong. Efficient transit systems. Thoughtfully planned districts."

He nodded slightly.

"Cape Velikaya is frigid, admittedly. But quite lovely. The frost along the cliffs forms natural crystalline structures that are… impressive."

He almost said load-bearing, but stopped himself.

"Oh. And Sor Yusan. Lharakyone as well."

He offered a soft, reassuring smile, unaware that his list sounded less like vacation suggestions and more like Commonwealth infrastructure briefings.

He genuinely had no idea what sort of places she might have meant.

When it came to social nuance, Ethan defaulted to utility.

If she needed rest, he provided locations.

If she needed escort, he escorted.

It was all… orderly.

"You're quite welcome," he replied when she thanked him.

It seemed only proper. A gentleman, or at least a reasonably engineered one, ensured safe transit.

He studied her briefly.

She was attractive, certainly. But most women were, as far as he understood. It appeared to require effort. Maintenance. An optimization of presentation.

He rose from the barstool and extended his arm.

"Then I am happy to oblige."

There was no hesitation.

No flicker of impropriety in his expression.

Escorting her to her residence for the evening was simply… correct.

As they began to move, she made a remark about inferiority, perhaps self-deprecating, perhaps teasing.

Ethan shook his head lightly.

"Inferiority," he said calmly, "is almost always a design flaw in perception."

He glanced at her with earnest conviction.

"With sufficient engineering, most systems can be improved. Reinforced. Calibrated."

A faint pause.

"Though some," he added thoughtfully, "are already operating within optimal tolerances."

He had meant it sincerely.

He did not realize he had just complimented her.

As they reached the exit, he adjusted his pace to match hers precisely.

"I'll remain as long as you prefer," he said politely.

There was no layered meaning in his tone.

No anticipation.

No assumption.

He simply meant: if she required conversation, or escort, or logistical assistance, he would provide it.

He had absolutely no awareness that the phrase could imply anything else.

Adelle Bastiel ​

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Objective II - The Grand Ballroom
Tags: Ethanael Halscott

His suggestions for locales to visit within the Commonwealth sounded like she thought an engineer would say. People so rarely fit into stereotypes or even archetypes so neatly but Ethanael, for all intents and purposes, fulfilled almost every assumption she’d had about engineering type people.

Almost.

Ethanael was earnest, warm even, when he found comfortable topics. He was kind and had a degree of empathy.

And not a single ounce of pretention all night, that she noticed.

But laughably, stereotypically, he had missed her meaning.

“Ah yes, the old adage,” she said, noting he had restrained his pace to hers. A kindness, since she was wearing heels. “If it’s not broke, don’t fix it. Although I imagine you might have some complaint with that turn of phrase, since efficiency and optimization are your forte.”

Adelle would have to be more direct. Later. She’d rather not incur any embarrassment for either of them by being indiscreet around the powerful and influential.

~ Exuent, pursued by a bursa ~

 

[Emilia Locke]

//: Dominique Vexx //:

​

Wearing: [X]
Objective II

Emilia felt the subtle shift in Dominique’s tone and answered it with the same easy warmth, her fingers adjusting slightly in the Chancellor’s hand as they turned through another smooth arc across the floor. The hem of her navy dress caught the light with each measured step, and she allowed herself to settle into the rhythm without thought or calculation.

“I’m beginning to think recreational activities are vastly underrated,” she replied, a quiet thread of humor in her voice. “From where I stand, the galaxy seems far less cooperative when you’re the one expected to hold it together.”

There was no probing beneath the words and no invitation to elaborate unless Dominique wished to. Emilia understood that some burdens were best acknowledged without being dissected.

At the mention of good company, her smile deepened slightly, softened by genuine ease rather than strategy.

“Well” she said, matching the Chancellor’s pace effortlessly as they pivoted once more, “I might be biased, but you’ve chosen wisely tonight.”

The orchestra lifted, strings rising gently as white and navy moved in seamless contrast across the polished floor. Emilia’s posture remained relaxed and assured. She was not dancing to impress anyone in the room, nor was she oblivious to the eyes that might linger on them. She simply did not care to let that awareness dictate the moment.

When Dominique suggested she might spend more time in the Republic, Emilia tilted her head thoughtfully, considering the idea without dramatizing it.

“So you can monopolize all my time Chancellor?" she replied lightly. “There are other avenues to make credits as well you know. Unless the offer is good enough..” a slight look of mischief shown in her eyes “Naboo has been good to me” she continued. “There’s something about this world that insists on beauty, even when everything around it feels uncertain. I find that… grounding.”

Another turn carried them past the edge of the floor, past murmuring senators and polished dignitaries.There was no weight to the comment and no negotiation tucked inside it. Just conversation carried on music, and the rare luxury of enjoying it.

TAG: Dominique Vexx
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