Faction You Are Cordially Invited (Diarchy, House Sancetti)

[Maldor Mecetti]

Zeta-0-9 - San City
Sunset over the City
Sunrise for House Sancetti
__________________________________________________________________________

​

Lord Moff Mecetti and the Lady Vyllia Santhe died in the Empire of the Lost, crumbling to ash and ruin with the Empire that had given them status and station.

In the Diarchy, they had been reborn. High Chancellor. Chancellor of Commerce. Two of the highest stations in the Diarchy, given over to them by rulers who had once been enemies. The Diarchs- two incredible leaders who had forged an Empire of their own in a balance of Light and Shadow. Order without Cruelty. A benefit to all who lived in their domain.

It had been a new beginning for them. Leaps of faith that restored them from ash and made them whole.

And now, reborn into new metaphorical matter, they were about to be re-forged. Today was the wedding of the Lady Santhe and the Lord Mecetti. Today was the day the rarified metal of their souls would be reforged into a new alloy: House Sancetti. Preparations had long been in motion. Today, they would culminate.

Friends and Honored associates had been invited. The press were on the scene. The ceremony would be transmitted to the whole populace of the world, and perhaps even be seen on the Holonet in the wider Diarchy. That seemed likely, given that a Diarch was serving as Maldor's Second.

As the sun set, the city darkened. But nothing could extinguish the light being sparked here tonight.

​

Sancetti Tower was the tallest building in the City. Its most striking architectural feature was the aperture in its middle. In the Tapani sector, Prosperity Gateways adorned every home: Spires with openings to allow wealth and good tidings to enter one's life and bless one's family. Sancetti Tower was a giant Prosperity Gateway for the entire city. A holy edifice designed to bring prosperity not only to the citizens of this world, but also into House Sancetti as it embarked upon its first steps.

Maldor stood in the North Preparatory Room of the Chapel. He knew that Vyllia would be in the South. She of course had her own traditions and family customs to honor. Maldor was fortunate that she'd been so generous in allowing him indulgences into his Tapani heritage. Part of that heritage included the sense of vulnerability he felt right now.

No light foil at his side. It was the first time in years he'd been without it. Tapani Sector nobles at least carried replicas of the weapons at official functions. Maldor had always carried a real one. He suspected others did, as well.

But there was one function where a Tapani noble was not permitted arms: His wedding.

The union had to remain pure. Unmarried by the anxieties caused by rivals. The bride and groom were meant to be utterly pure in their love and devotion. Battle could not taint them on this holy day.

As such, Tapani nobles elected a Second on their Wedding Day. The only armed individual allowed. It was they who would meet any challenge, dispatch any danger, sweep away any harm.

For Maldor, his Second was a man he'd once traded blows with. A man who had- along with the other Diarch- elected to forgive him and elevate him to his current position.

There were few souls Maldor could call a 'friend' in this life. Perhaps Laphisto, who had vouched for him upon his entry into Diarchal space. And against all odds... Diarch Reign.

Maldor looked across at the other man, now. His gaze drifted to the Diarch's weapon, then lifted to look his friend in the eyes.

His friend.

Strange Days.

"Thank you for doing this," he said. It was purely a ceremonial position, nowadays. There would be no challengers here. No assassination attempts.

But symbols had meaning. That's why they existed.

That the co-leader of this nation was willing to put his body and sword in harm's way was a powerful symbol.

It was certainly not something Maldor would have ever dreamed asking the Emperor to do. Nor anyone in the Empire, really. The Empire was not an environment that fostered friendships or trust. Merely transient alliances in the face of greater threats.

The Diarchy... it was different. It was a revelation to someone like him- accustomed to the backstabbing of Tapani Sector politics, Galactic Alliance Senate politics, and Imperial politics. The Diarchy was not a utopia, and it still had its politics and maneuvers. But for the first time in his life, Maldor felt that the people in charge genuinely wanted to improve the lives of their people. It was not control for its own sake. Not power as a heady beverage to become drunk upon. But control and power to the purpose of mutual good.

Perhaps that was a naïve thing for him to believe.

But it felt good, at long last, to believe in something.

"And thank you... for everything."

​

Outside, in the chapel proper, guests were gathered. Some were elites within the Diarchy. Some were elites within Zeta-0-9 society, new as it was. Maldor had invited his family as a matter of courtesy, but he knew they could not attend. Not with his status as a criminal in the Galactic Alliance.

Vyllia's family had proven themselves largely untrustworthy, but Maldor hoped some few would be worth seeing here, today.

The Chapel gleamed in its finery. As did the people gathered here.

The officiant took his place under the artificially illuminated stained glass disc above the chapel platform.

Soon, the ceremony would begin.




Diarch Reign Diarch Rellik Laphisto Tertius C. Nargath Lyssara Thrynn Velda Praz Vyllia Santhe Maldor Mecetti Yorran Vosk Roxxann Tane Zara Saga Gavin Vel Matthew Varrec Makai Dashiell and other members of the Diarchy are invited to participate

 

[Makai Dashiell]

CHAPEL

Wearing | Gear : X | X | X | X | X | L3-37 | Interacting With : OPEN

Security has screened him in, checked his invitation, check his identification. With a wedding of this nature, one couldn't be too careful, especially given the holocameras he had seen floating around. Broadcast over the sector and possibly beyond, no doubt the wedding was the event of the year to crash or interrupt.

Filing into the chapel, his head craned to look at the ceiling. A beautiful piece of architecture and a stunningly romantic venue to get married in, if he had to say so himself. Given the amount of cultures and personal tastes that varied throughout the land, Makai wondered what the ceremony would entail - no doubt a blend of customs.

Not family or very close to the groom himself, Makai took a seat on a pew on the grooms side in the middle. He had enough interactions with House Mecetti - at least Maldor's parents - to feel comfortable enough to show his support. The bride he knew little of. Santhe's were well known in the corporate world, had been for generations. This Santhe he had never met however. Hadn't seen her in many of the circles corporate types tend to run in.

Fixing his bowtie slightly, his back leaned against the pew, waiting for the ceremony to start. The officiant had already taken his place, the colors of the stained glass dancing on the altar.

 

[Lyssara Thrynn]

The last time I heard that name, it was tied to a much darker affair. Today, I'm invited to a wedding I come in peace. For the occasion, I decided to wear the official attire of the Diarchy, after all, I represent it too. I've heard my master will be attending the ceremony. That alone is reason enough for me to be here.

Let's talk a bit about my wedding outfit well, I'm not the one getting married, I'm just here for the festivities. I'm wearing a black outfit with golden trim. It definitely adds a touch of class. It's a perfectly appropriate look for the ceremony that's about to take place.

I walk calmly down the main aisle, hands in my pockets. I arrived a little early, having come by way of my own personal ship. I made the trip from Bastion. I have various projects underway at the moment, but for now, I'm content to present my invitation card to the guards at the entrance. I introduce myself with a smile.

"Lyssara Thrynn, Diarchy."

I gave them only the necessary information. I can understand why an event of this magnitude would be tightly monitored and controlled. So I willingly play along I'm not here to cause trouble. Although, I admit my very presence here stirs a few nerves. I'm a little on edge, and I do have a bit of a quick trigger. I only brought a single lightsaber, my primary weapon, but it's well concealed and I have no intention of using it.

While waiting to be let in, I take out my phone to scroll casually and check out information related to the event. All I really want to do is have a good time and maybe enjoy a drink or two. I mustn't forget to relax and enjoy the festivities. After all, our host is footing the bill, and I'm sure there i'll be some excellent alcohol. For once, I've decided to dive back into the world of social gatherings. Last time, it opened some rather important doors for me so I can't afford to overlook this side of life.

tag : OPEN.

 

[Velda Praz]

​

Velda Praz turned to look at Lyssara Thrynn as she sat nearby.

Velda wasn't dressed as one might expect for the function. Her clothing was professional enough, but not elegant the way most of the attendees were. She wore a jacket of synthetic fabric, and a pair of dark sunglasses. Or... Tech Specs? That seemed more likely. These spectacles were often worn by businesspeople and government agents, allowing them to see streams of data during the course of their regular activities.

In another setting she wouldn't have stood out much. Here, she was a weed among roses.

At least she was well put together. Her makeup was professionally applied. She was clean and prim. Just not quite proper. Not for a wedding defined by such luxury as this.

"I like your suit," she ventured.

Then, "You're Lyssara, aren't you? Lyssara Thrynn?"

How or why Velda might know Lyssara's name was anyone's guess. Maybe the Tech Specs had told her. Somehow. Or maybe the fame of Lyssara extended farther than she suspected.

"I'm Velda," Praz introduced herself. She didn't smile, but neither was she sour-faced. Perhaps she was the sort of person to whom smiles didn't come naturally.

Lyssara couldn't know this, but Velda had just graced her with twelve more words than she usually offered anyone.

Lyssara also couldn't know that Velda was also armed, this evening. The blaster was small, tucked away under her clothes, and undetectable by routine scans. Whatever the customs of Tapani Sector society, Velda had her own concerns.



Lyssara Thrynn

 

[Yorran Vosk]

​

The alien sitting close to Makai Dashiell was of a species it was difficult to identify.

He had traits of both Bothans and Zygerrians, but could easily be an entirely different species unknown to the Chief Executive. It was the uniform that gave him away. If not his species, then at least his identity.

The Network of the Diarchy did not issue its agents much in the way of official clothing. Such would defeat their purpose. But the highest levels of their administration did have uniforms to designate their status and rank. This man was wearing a dress uniform, not unlike the sort found in the military. That suggested he could only be Yorran Vosk, the Vice Director of the Diarchy's intelligence agency. He'd spoken in the Great Forum once or twice.

It seemed he'd trimmed his beard for this event.

"Good evening," Yorran said, nodding in greeting to his bench-mate.

"I believe the festivities are about to begin. Are you with the groom's family?"

Yorran clearly wasn't. Not unless the Mecettis had started to marry outside of human nobility. But as a government official, he'd elected to sit on the side of the High Chancellor.



Makai Dashiell

 

[Zara Saga]

Zara sat stiffly near the back of the venue, perched on the edge of the pew like a half-dressed dagger in a velvet box. Her dress: blue, tight, and painfully backless, shimmered under the glow of the stained glass above, but she didn't notice. Pain flared in her side each time she so much as breathed like a person, a nasty little souvenir from her last unfortunate tango with Laphisto at the Crucible. Rebar. Of all things.

She had promised herself she'd behave. Big night. Fancy people. The kind of event where everything smelled like money and legacy and polite fake smiles. Maldor and Vyllia, power couple reborn from the bones of dead empires. Romance in the galactic age. How quaint.

She flexed her fingers once, subtly checking the bandages under her dress. Still in place. Still annoying. Still not enough to keep her from hurling a snide remark if the wrong cousin of the bride decided to ask her what side of the family she was from.

Her eyes kept flicking to the chapel doors.

Rokul had said he'd come. She wasn't sure if it was with her, or just... also attending. He had a way of showing up exactly when she needed someone to physically prevent her from launching herself into whatever was about to make things worse. Like on Taris.

Her jaw clenched once, then relaxed.

Just one evening. One evening of silence. Of smiling. Of sitting still and pretending not to be vibrating with anxiety and unspent rage.

If Rokul didn't show soon, she wasn't making any promises.

Rokul | @OPEN​

 

[Diarch Reign]

​

Location: Zeta 0-9 | San City
Tags: Maldor Mecetti Vyllia Santhe @Open

---

This was new. The Diarch could pretty confidently say that the last wedding he had attended had been his own. And that had been in the chandrilan custom.. he was 14 at the time. He remembered it fondly, but he pulled himself from his revery with a soft smile when the High Chancellor had spoken.

“Thank you for doing this”

Reign’s smile broadened, he was pulled from his own wedding to the one at hand. He hoped that Maldor would come to learn that there’s nothing Reign wouldn’t do for his friends, his family.

For the occasion, the Diarch had gone all out, he had researched the Tapani customs, learned the ins and outs of being a nobleman’s second, as Reign was not raised a noble himself. He was adorned in Tapani robes, made of magnificent Ginntho Silk. Although his robes were his now trademark black and gold.

In a step even further, the Diarch had painstakingly created his own lightfoil. The electrum and durite hilt shown at his waist. The Diarch may not have been raised a noble, but he had been raised a man of honor, ready to lift up and honor those with him, and destroy those against him.

“And thank you… for everything”

That struck Reign deeply. His gaze softened and he looked at his friend.

“I have given you nothing that you have not earned. I have repaid your fealty with love. Your valor with honor. You have risen above trials that would crush lesser men, would crush me.”

He paused a moment letting his words sink in.

“You’ve given up family, friends, and comfort. Humbled yourself to come to me, and transformed into something greater. I know your family is a sore subject, but among us here in the Diarchy, you are with family. Rellik and I love you as a brother, and we hope you have found family here.”

He looked into the man’s eyes as he adjusted a part of his robe.

“So it’s not you who should thank me. But I you, thank you for honoring me with your friendship. And trusting me to defend you and your beloved at this crucial time. Now come, let’s get you married, and woe be to any fool who tries to get in the way.”

He patted his friend on the shoulders and smiled. He couldn’t help but get sentimental. Reign was a warrior yes, but his heart was soft when it came to love.. to family.

 

[Rokul]

Location: San City
Tags: Zara Saga
Outfit

This was not Rokul's environment. His natural place was in a battlefield. Suited up in armour that helped him stand against the elements. Instead he was stood in some fancy venue that the ex-farmboy felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb. His armour absent and replaced with a suit, as he adjusted the tie for a moment. His desire for his appearance to be perfect was far worse in this kind of event.

He was late. Not overly. But he had wanted to be early. If you weren't early, you were late. He had to fight the urge to run. Rokul couldn't afford to dirty the suit, nor mess up how he looked in any way. He had to walk with purpose. Though what kind of purpose? He had told Zara that he was coming. Of course, he didn't tell her that he planned on it being with her. There was a lot he hadn't told her. Not for the sake of keeping secrets, but more for a lack of knowing what to say.

As he entered the chapel proper, Rokul took in the sight of the guests. He recognised some of the Diarchy members here, though that was it. His eyes scanning over for a moment, before a moment of surprise flickered across his face. The stoic expression breaking for a moment as he spotted Zara, a small smile flickering before he made his way over towards the back, and once he made his way over to her...​

"I like your dress. It...brings out your eyes."

They were basic compliments. Rokul didn't know what else to say. After all, his battlefield was with fists and blasters. Not words and smiles at the end of the day.

"It's...nice to see you Zara. You...look good."

Not an apology for being slightly late. He didn't even seem to acknowledge that fact as he sat himself down next to her and turned his attention to the front. His stoic expression was somewhat betrayed by the remnants of the smile that dwindled at the corner of his lip, alongside the somewhat anxious tapping of his index finger against his knee. ​

 

[Zara Saga]

Zara didn't turn around when she heard the soft footfalls behind her, didn't need to. She could feel his presence like a storm about to break just over her shoulder. Heavy. Familiar. Slightly wrinkled with worry.

And then there he was. Rokul. In a suit. Looking like someone had stuffed a warzone into a tuxedo and dared it to act civilized. She blinked once. Twice. There was a slight heat to her face that she absolutely refused to acknowledge. He looked... good. In a way that made her temporarily forget she'd been impaled through the spleen last week.

"I like your dress," he said, like someone reading dialogue off a notecard at gunpoint. "It... brings out your eyes."

Zara tilted her head slightly, lips parting into a lazy, predatory smile. "Wow. If that wasn't the most romantic line I've ever heard from someone who knocked me out with a chop last week. You're positively charming tonight."

Still. She could feel the tension radiating off of him like heat from a faulty power core. The way his finger tapped against his knee, a subtle rhythm betraying what the rest of him tried to hide. She leaned just a little closer, her shoulder brushing his.

"Thanks for coming," she said, quiet but not meek. "You clean up alright, you know. Could've passed for nobility if you didn't look like you were one wrong comment away from executing a tactical retreat."

She reached into the small metallic clutch on her lap, popped it open with a faint click, and pulled out a slim chrome flask. It caught the light like a secret. With absolutely no ceremony, she unscrewed the cap, took a measured sip, enough to take the edge off her ribs and her mood, then offered it to him with a flick of her wrist.

"Medicinal," she said. "For nerves. Or awkward compliments. Or pretending not to be dying inside from rebar-related injuries."

Her eyes flicked to his again, curious and razor-bright. "You okay, Rokul? You're acting like you're waiting for a sniper in the balcony seats."

Rokul | @OPEN​

 

[Lyssara Thrynn]

As I sit down as well, a woman approaches me and starts talking. She says she loves my suit. Well, for me, I went through a tailor from the Diarchy, had my measurements taken so it would fit my body shape perfectly, and slipped a few credits to get this outfit.

My interlocutor is wearing something a bit more casual than I am. On the other hand, while I'm not wearing any makeup, it looks like she's put on a little.

"Thanks, that's kind of you"
I say.

For now, we're just sizing each other up. When she mentions my name, I couldn't care less, and I'm not surprised at all. After all, I'm a member of the High Council of the Diarchy so much for keeping a low profile. My master is Diarch Rellik. I came here to make an appearance and maybe connect with a few people. Even though recent events have left me mentally exhausted, it's good to go out and enjoy a celebration every now and then.

"Yeah, that's me. Nice to meet you, Velda."

I reply in a calm tone, responding to her introduction with a short one of my own. Just like me, it seems she's holding something back. I like that about her. For now, we're sitting side by side for the wedding ceremony. No question of making a scene or pulling any kind of weapon. I only brought mine as a precaution after what I've been through, I don't go anywhere without it.

"Nice reception. The organizers did a great job. So tell me, Velda, what do you do for a living?"

After all, since she started the conversation, I might as well try the good old-fashioned way of getting to know more.

Velda Praz | Open

 

[Rokul]

Location: San City
Tags: Zara Saga
Outfit

Rokul blinked for a moment, trying to visualise himself as some form of nobility. Rubbing shoulders with people and discussing things over fancy sparkling drinks and his face wrinkled up in disgust.

"I can't see myself as Nobility. It would never fit."

He kept his focus ahead of himself, even as his finger kept tapping away at the corner of his knee. There was plenty he wanted to say but words didn't come easily to him.

"You don't need...to thank me for showing up. It's the least I can do for you. It's not a cup of caf...or a foot rub, but it's something."

Something entirely out of his comfort zone. His eyes darted over towards the flask that Zara took out, raising an eyebrow at the comment about it being "Medicinal". Sure. Medicinal. Whilst drinking wasn't exactly something Rokul was fond of, he wasn't going to say no to the other, taking a quick swig. He winced at the burn for a moment. He had never been good at keeping down most alcohol funnily enough.

With that, he handed the flask back, still trying not to look at Zara, even as he felt her gaze on him. There was a moment where he debated trying to cover up his nerves. To find some other excuse...yet blunt honesty was his main avenue.

"...Last time I saw you, I saw you impaled on rebar. I heard you scream. You sounded...human. I...wanted to help you. But I was afraid. I couldn't move."

His tone was still monotonous, though a small amount of emotion was leaking through. Fear? Worry? Anger? Who knows.

"I still see it sometimes. When I look at you. I couldn't do anything..."

He trailed off at that. What else could he say? He had explained why he was sat the way he was. Hunched over, leaning against his knee, or tapping his finger against it. He was generously nervous. Perhaps not afraid, but nervous.​

 

[Zara Saga]

Zara watched him wince at the burn of the liquor like someone who'd just been personally insulted by the concept of alcohol. Her lips curled into a smirk, sharp and amused.

"Oh stars," she murmured, tilting her head, "I've seen you take a gut punch and grunt less than that, thats adorable." She took the flask back and gave it a little approving jiggle. "Delicate flower, aren't you?"

But the teasing glint in her eyes dimmed just a shade as Rokul kept refusing to meet her gaze. Like looking at her was a crime. Or worse, a failure. Her brow furrowed slightly, a crack forming in her usual detachment. And then came the tapping. Again. Tap, tap, tap. Nerves in some sort of code.

"Okay, no," she said under her breath, more to herself than anything. She reached out suddenly and pressed her hand down firmly over his, not rough, but unyielding. A soft grip with steel under it. "You're driving me insane with that."

She left her hand there, unmoving. Warm. Then she looked at him full-on, eyes sharp and very, very awake.

"You're talking like I died," she said quietly, her voice tight with frustration and something a little more raw underneath. "Like you left me behind in a ditch somewhere. I'm right here, Rokul. Breathing. Sassier than ever. Wearing backless formalwear, which, I might add, was a terrible idea with these ugly bandages."

Her voice softened, just a bit. "I am human, I get myself in rough situations sometimes. I'm not your responsibility, I can handle myself. So stop acting like you failed some kind of moral test."

Her hand was still over his. Her thumb moved slightly, a small, circular motion, a comfort reflex she didn't seem to realize she was doing.

"And if you don't look at me soon," she added, voice lowering into that bratty whisper she'd practically patented, "I swear, I'll scream. Loud. Right in the middle of this ceremony. Something obscene. Probably very very inappropriate for this wedding."

She smirked again, brighter this time, but her eyes never left him. Not until he met them.

Rokul | @OPEN​

 

[Vyllia Santhe]

Objective: Get hitched
Location: Sancetti Tower, San City, Zeta-0-9
Outfit: Black lace-line slip
Tag: Maldor Mecetti

Vyllia stood in her undergarments looking at the beautiful dress that she would shortly be donning for the most glorious day of her life. She could hardly believe this was happening. When she was made matriarch of House Santhe she figured that her kin would force her into marrying politically. Yet here she was a few short hours from being joined to her soulmate.

The fact that only Kyallia Santhe was present from her family was a bit disappointing. The rest of the House had been invited in formality, but there was a rift between them. Someone had betrayed Vyllia on Lianna, and the house was too formal and secretive for anyone to know who stood where at this time. After today it wouldn't matter much. Vyllia would go from matriarch of House Santhe of Lianna to founding matriarch of House Sancetti. She would need to keep business ties to Lianna. The burgeoning Imperial Confederacy was good for filling corporate coffers. She knew that others in her family would prove loyal in time. For now though Kyallia was plenty enough to stand by her side as Vyllia accepted Maldor's hand.

"I have been waiting for this all my life,". Ululated whispered to herself as much as her cousin. She lovingly caressed the lumber crystal that hung around her neck, Maldor's engagement gift. "And Maldor is a man I thought I could only dream of being the one standing beside me…"

As Vyllia's voice trailed off her younger cousin smirked and moved to Vyllia's side. "Even when you are sure, this day makes every woman nervous. If you weren't you'd be supernatural. And that is Maldor's area not yours."

Vyllia gave a warm smile and placed her hand on her cousin's arm. "You are right. These feelings while silly are normal. Can you help me into the dress? I don't want to keep them waiting out there."

 

[Maldor Mecetti]

Zeta-0-9 - San City
Sancetti Tower
Chapel
____________________________________

​

Maldor would never admit that his eyes moistened upon hearing the Diarch's words.

In the Tapani Sector, praise or condemnation- love and scorn- they were all doled out as part of a cynical calculation. Everything was conditional. Nothing was free and genuine. Or if it was, you had to hide the fact. The Empire was not much different, except that he did not even have family ties to protect him.

Ostensibly, he had even less in the Diarchy.

But the reality had turned out to be so much more.

He nodded once, not daring to speak for a moment. Then he stepped up to the door of the preparatory room, took a breath, and stepped out into the main chapel area.

The officiant was already at his podium.

The solicitors were standing by.

The pews- benches for witness rather than worship- were full.

Now there was only the arrival of the bride.

His gaze went across to the opposite chamber, where she was doubtless getting her final preparations in place. His mind drifted to that moment when the Empire was collapsing around him. His position was lost. His holdings in peril. His fleet on the run.

And he had run to her.

Was it the first time he had run towards something, rather than away from something?

Was it the first time he had found value in someone else, more than himself?

Perhaps.

And Vyllia, she was worth it. On that one moment, on that one choice, his entire universe had revolved.

He wondered where he'd be now if he hadn't made the choices he'd made that day. One, to rescue her. The other, to find refuge in the Diarchy.

Recently, he'd been in a world aflame. Falling to his death. He'd been scared. Terrified.

But not simply of dying.

He'd been frightened most of all of losing Vyllia. Losing this day. Losing their future together.

Keep running forward, he thought to himself.

He looked to Reign.

Then his gaze drifted again to the other preparatory room door.

You're not running alone, anymore.

You're not running alone ever again.




Makai Dashiell Lyssara Thrynn Velda Praz Yorran Vosk Zara Saga Rokul Diarch Reign Diarch Rellik Vyllia Santhe

 

[Merion Oreno]

All out of step with the grandeur and purpose of the occasion, yet dignified in its own way, a white protocol droid toddled over to Zara Saga and Rokul . It deposited two bouquet gift baskets with the finest in Echani flowers and luxury goods, many of them ingestible and/or intoxicating.

"Greetings and salutations," said the droid, "to the both of you. This gift is in recompense and respect from Prince Merion Oreno Varanin of Eshan, who witnessed your impressive efforts at the recent duel, and who was also, recently...your shuttle pilot."

 

[Diarch Rellik]

Diarch Rellik stepped inside shortly before Maldor made his way out with his hands clasped behind his back, head slightly tilted up as he took in the glittering stained glass and the rising murmur of half-hushed conversation.

The Diarch was in a long ash Grey suit that came up to his neck. Golden embroidery and buttons pinched together with a red cloth belt.

At his side walked Xian Xiao his apprentice. He wanted to ensure she felt welcomed ane not out of place so the two arrived together.

As their made their way to the second row from the front on Maldors side they waved and said hello to friends and family. A happy wave to Rokul and Zara Saga . A knowing nod to Yorran Vosk . Lastly, but not least a "It's good to see you" To Lyssara Thrynn

As he and Xian quietly filled in he watched as Maldor Mecetti came out. A swelling of joy and pride at his friends beautiful day and happiness washed over him. He couldn't be more grateful to have come to know the man.

 

[Velda Praz]

Velda paused almost imperceptibly when Lyssara asked what she did for a living.

"I'm a special advisor," she said. "For the new House Sancetti. There's been months of work to structure the House, thousands of employees to onboard. Background checks. Permits. Legal filings. I spend most of my time with lawyers."

Another pause, as though Velda was choosing how to step through dangerous terrain.

"Dispositioning assets into a joint conglomerate has been a lot of the recent work. Mr. Mecetti was quite a collector of rare antiquities. It all has to be catalogued and accounted for before being placed in the new family governing corporation. You'd be surprised what sorts of things I had to go through."

Anyone who knew Velda would either die of a heart attack at surprise for how talkative she was being... or be extremely suspicious that something strange was afoot.

"He's wanted in the Galactic Alliance for collecting Sith paraphernalia, you know."

That was indeed a well-known fact. But hardly something an employee of the new House should be gossiping about, regardless.

Velda's attention turned to the front of the room. "There's the groom."

Diarch Rellek greeted Lyssara, and Velda fell momentarily silent.


Lyssara Thrynn

 

[Caelus Vire // NIHIL]

Armor - Phantom Skin" Infiltration Armor - NIHIL

Although Caelus Vire would have been an appropriate guest as a Chancellor of admission, a harbinger of Diarchy law unto new worlds. His duty was to his Father Diarch Rellik. So at his word, here he was. Cold, unbothered, and ready to remove anything that dared disrupt the wedding.

Nihil was under direct request from Rellik to watch the exterior but his line of command within the event was Yorran Vosk . The Silentarii was watching as though a gargoyle of stone on a perch high above on a nearby building. He would never reach out directly unless a threat was confirmed that he could not annihilate himself. So far, everything was fine.

His enhanced eyes reached through his binoculars and scanned every member that entered through the front. A signal reaching out over the Braxant run net directly to the Network on Orinakra. There were teams dedicated to relaying any potential threat no matter how small. A long range rifle at his side being kept hidden as to not attract the eyes of any smarter guests.

There was no sign of anyone who was not invited. Yet, the ease and joy of the night would not stop NIHIL from being robotic in his diligence.

 

[Xian Xiao]

This was going to be one of the first formal events Xian had been to. When she had been a new Padawan, she had gone to a dinner, but she had been so young then and hardly remembered it. Back then, she had probably worn something that wasn't right, but now she was a different young woman. No longer a child, not yet an adult. Old enough to get invited to this wedding, and she arrived with her master.

She wore a dark blue-green gown that also went to her neck. The sleeves were lace and had flowers of the same color embroidered on it. She had yet to meet anybody else and was feeling rather shy. The presence of Rellik helped her ease into the crowd, and she shook the hands of the people he stopped to talk to.

The two of them sat down, and she was pleased to know her master was happy. The setting was exquisite and far beyond anything Xian had ever seen before.



Diarch Rellik Xian's dress

 

[Makai Dashiell]

CHAPEL

Wearing | Gear : X | X | X | X | X | L3-37 | Interacting With : Yorran Vosk

Not quite versed in all the ins-and-outs of the Diarchy, Makai was well aware of some of the top players. Given he had business holdings in the area long before the Diarchy arrived, great care had been taken to at least do some cursory research on who the higher-ups were. Nothing nefarious, more knowing one's neighbor in a broad sense of the word.

"Director Vosk, a pleasure." Makai extended a hand to his bench mate, looking surprised a man of such status would be mingling out in the central pews with someone like himself. "Makai Dashiell."

Talk murmured throughout the crowd, low as they waited for the couple. Makai knew from his own wedding this could be a moment, especially for the bride. Did these things always start on time? Somehow he doubted it.

"No, no relation to anyone here. I have met with the Mecetti family several times, thought I would show my support. Least I can do. Plus, Miss Santhe is in the corporate world, perhaps it is only fitting I am here." Makai paused. Even though the direction was alien, it didn't mean this man couldn't be family.

"Any relation to the bride or groom? Eccentric uncle, perhaps?"