Faction You Are Cordially Invited (Diarchy, House Sancetti)

[Lyssara Thrynn]

I listen to her talk and she tells me she's a sort of helper for the house of the faction that's getting married, she's a sort of technical advisor, she works with lawyers, politicians, I can't help thinking she's doing the dirty work on the administration side, I wish her luck sincerely, I've never really been keen on paperwork, I leave that to Nyva and she takes care of all my accounts.

-Yeah, I can see what you are, good luck for that's. I'm a scientist, I work at the diarchy laboratory, I create gadgets, weapons, potions and other things... If you need to place an order, my comlink is open.

Even here, I'm open for business, after all, business is business. Master Rellik arrives in my presence, which makes me rise from my seat to greet him promptly. He tells me he's glad to see me, and to tell the truth, so am I.

-Hello, Master Rellik. Nice to see you too! I was just chatting with this lovely lady, would you like to join us?

After greeting her in a friendly manner, I sat back in my seat and waited for the ceremony to begin. I'm looking forward to the festivities, it's been a while since I drank alcohol.

Velda Praz Diarch Rellik

 

[Rokul]

Location: San City
Tags: Zara Saga
Outfit

"It burnt. I don't deal well with burns."

With how stoic his voice was, it'd be hard to figure out whether or not he was joking about the burns, or if he was referring back to the moment in the shuttle when he had been covered in burns from trying to make caf for Zara. It hadn't been a fun experience if he was honest...though it was a somewhat fond memory because of the Force healing he had experienced...

Yet he was snapped out of that memory when he felt Zara's hand on his own. Bringing him back into the moment as he turned his gaze towards Zara's hand and listened to her talk. It wasn't that he felt like he had failed some kind of moral test...It was just...

"...I was afraid of you dying Zara. It sounds nonsensical. But...it's how I felt in that moment. I wasn't afraid for my own safety. Or anyone else's."

Rokul sighed at that, just keeping his gaze on their hands, feeling the small comforting motion of her thumb against his hand. A reminder that she was alive. That she was fine. He didn't need to be paranoid about that. Then came Zara's little bratty whisper, and he couldn't help but roll his eyes. A small smile coming to his face as he finally lifted his head up to look at her properly, tilting his head to the side for a moment almost as if in confusion.

"...The bandages might be ugly with that dress, but you aren't. You're...stunning in it."

There we go. He was getting better at compliments. At least he thought he was getting better with them. Yet his attention was taken away by the droid that arrived...so it had been a Prince...who had caused Rokul to snap on the shuttle. Yeah. He definitely wouldn't fit nobility. He just took the goods and flowers from the droid carefully, giving it a short nod...before taking one of the flowers and reaching over to rest it atop of Zara's ear.

"There. People can focus on that, instead of the bandages."​

 

[Kyra Nex]

ARC #1 - Flames of the Rubicon
YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED
Tags: OPEN​

---

Purple and gold.

She hated the color scheme.

Not because it was garish. It was perfect. Regal. Grand. The kind of self-aggrandizing nonsense that nobility always indulged in. What sickened Kyra Nex wasn't the colors themselves, but what they meant here, tonight—hope. Renewal. The idea that love and unity could rise like a phoenix from the ash of empire.

Fools.

Kyra Nex stood sentinel beneath the towering arches of the grand Prosperity Gateway, arms folded across her chest, visor flickering in the light of the setting sun. The crowd gathering outside shimmered with wealth, silks, metallic jewelry, ornate canes, and that unbearable scent of optimism that clung to nobles like perfume. High dignitaries from every Diarchal sector mingled on the polished obsidian walk, their laughter echoing like the last gasps of a dying age.

And they called her a monster.

Her helmet hung clipped to her belt, the transparent visor catching the glow of distant floodlights. Her lips were painted plum-black, her lashes curled and defined. Even out of combat armor, she exuded lethal glamour—flawless skin, high cheekbones, predatory eyes. Her ceremonial security armor shimmered with purple-edged plating. A holdout blaster on her thigh. A baton magnetically locked to her vambrace. Weapons that might as well have been toys. A kindness, she'd been told.

Kyra hated kindness.

"Zone five clear," came a murmur over the secure comm-link embedded in her collar.

"Copy. Zone three—calm, for now," she replied, voice clipped and professional. Her tone never revealed the coiled violence that hid beneath it. Not unless she wanted it to.

There were twenty-two flametroopers present tonight. They weren't in full gear—not appropriate for the pageantry of peace. But they wore the Diarchy's crest and stood as shadows on every balcony and corner, ornamental guardians in elegant armor. The dragon's smile before it breathes.

Kyra ran her fingers through her hair, adjusting the tie of her ponytail, perfectly manicured nails brushing against her neck. Her gaze drifted toward the upper balconies of Sancetti Tower, where sharpshooters she personally trained kept their scopes scanning the crowd.

She caught one of them watching her. She smiled—wicked, knowing.

Let them stare. Let them wonder what she was thinking.

Let them fear.

Because she didn't believe in peace. Peace was a costume the powerful wore to celebrate their own delusions. That was why the nobles loved weddings. Because it was theater. Because it made them forget the cities that had burned. Because it let them pretend love could cure the hunger for domination.

But she remembered the screams of Bastion. The smoldering flesh of imperials who didn't kneel fast enough. She fed on that memory. She held it like a prayer.

And she had no intention of being forgotten in a warless age.

The crowd rustled—a hush fell over the courtyard as the first of the wedding procession emerged from the main lift. Nobles parted. Gasps and applause.

Kyra shifted slightly, angling her body between the crowd and the glass doors.

She hated ceremonies. Too many places to hide a knife. Too many blind spots covered in satin. Her eyes moved with military precision, marking every hand, every twitch, every too-loose coat or lingering gesture. The nobles smiled and waved.

She imagined setting them on fire.

The thought made her exhale softly through her nose—close to a chuckle, but not quite. Her hand casually brushed her baton, eyes flicking over to a nearby mirror-finished pillar where she caught her reflection.

Gorgeous.

Deadly.

That was the art of it.

Her eyes turned to the chapel, where Reign likely stood beside Maldor Mecetti, sword at his side. A true Second. An Emperor who had not come to conquer. Strange days, indeed.

And as the stained-glass light began to shimmer across the floor, bathing the scene in divine gold, Kyra Nex stood like a silent flame at the temple gate.

No longer smiling.

Only watching.

Ready to keep the peace.

 

[Yorran Vosk]

​

Yorran smirked.

"Perhaps eccentric. Not quite an Uncle."

He chuckled, "Though ironically, that was an early proposal for the agency's name. 'Unified National Covert Learning & Enforcement'. I liked it, actually. It sounded better to the public ear. 'Oh,' a citizen might say, 'it's that man from UNCLE.' Friendly. Trustworthy. But I wasn't given a vote."

He paused to nod at Diarch Rellik as he came in.

Then, "I've been reliably informed this new House Sancetti is establishing its own intelligence network. No subtlety in their organization. 'Secret Service.' Nothing is secret about an agency with 'secret' in the name."

He regarded Makai carefully.

"People think of intelligence services as hordes of well-dressed agents sipping wine in casinos. It's usually far less cinematic. Most intelligence networks rely on political and business contacts to glean information about faraway activities. Ordinary professionals like yourself, who happen to get around the galaxy."

It seemed there were mere moments remaining before the bride emerged.

Yorran's fingers dipped into his dress uniform, producing a datacard which he held out. The thin electronic business card was matte black, without distinguishing features. But it could download contact information to any datapad.

"Why don't you give me a call when this event concludes. A widely traveled man such as yourself surely has a lot to talk about."




Makai Dashiell

 

[Velda Praz]

​

Velda conspicuously said nothing for a moment, hoping the Diarch would move out of direct earshot. But then he was invited to join them, and her mouth twitched in mild irritation. Her face recovered its impassivity quickly, and she nodded at the Diarch.

When she resumed speaking, her voice was very quiet. Only just discernible over the din of the assembly. Someone seated to the other side of Lyssara would likely be unable to make out the shape of the words.

"Yes, I'd heard you were an exceedingly learned individual."

Another pause.

"People say other things about you. They say you've had Sith training. They say you may even be able to open Sith Holocrons."

Velda studied Lyssara intently from behind her tinted lenses.

"My employer has some in his collection. But he is merely a collector, not a Sith.

He might be willing to pay large sums of money to anyone who could open a holocron for him, so that he could study the information within.

For purely educational purposes, of course."



Lyssara Thrynn Diarch Rellik

 

[Zara Saga]

Zara's expression, which had softened notably at Rokul's words, finally, words, snapped back into an agitated scowl the moment the droid trundled over like some overdecorated malfunction in search of relevance.

The moment had been good. Real. Warm, even. And now this tin-bucket with vocal inflection issues was barging into it with Echani floral arrangements and name-dropping a royal pain in the ass.

She blinked at the droid, slow and venomous. "You're interrupting," she said flatly. No sarcasm. No smile. Just the chill of someone who'd almost had a moment of emotional sincerity and was now being handed chocolates.

She snatched the basket with one hand, because yes, fine, she wasn't above luxury intoxicants, she wasn't a monster. But narrowed her eyes at the mention of Prince Merion.

Her tone went razor-blade smooth. "Tell Prince Shuttle Seat-Kicker we said thank you, and that next time he feels inspired to show appreciation, he can do it without cooking my date like a caf-steamed vegetable."

She waved the droid off with a flick of her fingers like it was a bug in her periphery, then turned back to Rokul with a scowl that melted almost instantly when she saw he was actually looking at her now. Not at the ceiling. Not at the floor. Her.

And then he said it.

"You're... stunning in it."

Zara blinked.

Her mouth parted slightly like she was about to make a joke, some deflection, something clever, but no sound came out. Instead, she just stared for a second too long. Long enough to prove the compliment hit somewhere she couldn't dodge.

She coughed once, clearly flustered, before recovering with the kind of panicked grace only she could manage. "Okay. Wow. Did you steal that line from one of those tacky wedding holodramas?"

And then, because the universe clearly hated her, he tucked a flower behind her ear.

Zara froze. Not like she'd been caught, more like a system crash. She didn't do sweet. Or gentle. Or... flower placement.

But she didn't move it.

She reached up absently, fingers brushing the petals like she was verifying it was real. Her voice, when it came, was quieter than before.

"You're such a weirdo," she muttered, eyes flicking to his again, but there was the faintest hint of a smile curling at the corner of her mouth. "You burn yourself , have an existential crisis because I got skewered, and then give me flowers like it's the most normal thing in the world."

Her fingers laced with his, as casual as she could.

"Whatever. Don't go getting all poetic on me or I'll make you dance at the reception." A pause. "And you better believe I'll pick the fast songs."

Rokul | @OPEN​

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto had come to the wedding of Maldor Sancetti and Vyllia Santhe out of respect simple as that. The kind of respect that came from shared history, the sort that didn't need many words. He hadn't planned to make an entrance, hadn't expected to stand out. In fact, he'd assumed he'd arrive the same way he did everywhere else: armored, quiet, unbothered. People tended to find him imposing whether he meant to be or not.

But this time was different. He wasn't wearing armor. He wasn't even comfortable. Instead, he stood stiffly in clothes that hadn't seen the light of day in... Force knew how long. Civilian garb his old ones. They were practical, a bit coarse, and smelled faintly of old fabric no matter how many times he'd washed them. He'd taken them years ago from a museum on Coruscant, where the Galactic Alliance had decided to put parts of his life behind glass like some historical oddity. A protest hadn't changed anything, so he'd handled it the old-fashioned way walked in, took back what was his, and left the rest of the "exhibit" in a mess.

Still, none of that was why he was wearing them now. This had been Iandre Athlea 's doing. She'd told him bluntly, firmly, and without room for debate that he wasn't going to wear armor to a wedding. Not this one. He'd been too caught off guard to argue properly, and before he knew it, he'd agreed. Cordial, she'd said. Show a bit of softness, she'd said. It was a wedding, not a war council.

And so here he was, on a shuttle and soon about to be standing in a crowd like someone playing a role he didn't quite remember how to act out. The armor had always made things simpler kept him at a distance, let people assume what they wanted. Without it, he felt exposed. Out of place.

But for Maldor. for the years they'd survived, the fights they'd crawled out of, and the fact that someone like him had found something worth celebrating he'd bear the discomfort.Even if he kept checking for where his sword should be out of habit.

As the shuttle touched down with a soft hiss of repulsorlifts, Laphisto reached up and tugged at the cuff of his shirt, muttering under his breath with mild irritation. The fabric was stiff in all the wrong places, the collar a bit too tight, and the whole ensemble felt like it belonged to someone else someone younger, more idealistic.

It struck him, then, with a faint sense of irony: the last time he'd worn this outfit had been for his Jedi knighting ceremony… and then again for his wedding. That had been a long time ago. Too long. He hadn't exactly owned much in the way of civilian clothing back then just a closet full of Jedi robes and this one stubbornly formal set of attire, tucked away for moments that required something other than practicality.

The memory brought a low chuckle from his throat as the ramp lowered. He stepped onto the landing pad and exhaled slowly, scanning the elegant venue ahead with mild skepticism. Too clean. Too decorative. The kind of place that made a man wish for armor if only to feel like himself again.

He glanced over his shoulder at his apprentice and smirked, voice dry but warm. "Remind me not to leave you and Tarain in the same room again. He's a bad influence on you." The teasing lilt in his voice softened the words, and his smile followed genuine, if tired. A rare expression, reserved for few. Even now, even surrounded by the pomp and circumstance of a noble wedding, he was still himself. Just… a little more threadbare.

 

[Iandre Athlea]

She was glad she had put her foot down, at least twice, insisting Laphisto not wear his traditional armor. What she didn't expect was for him to show up in something that belonged in a museum.

"Remind me to take you shopping. You need different formal attire. Those are ancient and smell of mothballs."

Her tone was light, and she was attempting to whisper to him. However, their height difference might prevent that from happening. Once they landed, though, she placed a smile on her face. She had taken a dress from Zara (at her insistence) so she wouldn't only wear either her armor or Jedi robes, but she would be comfortable in it. In a way, she was similar to Laphisto and was not wearing what she liked. On the other hand, her dress was exquisite and flowed around her naturally. They were like two peas in a pod and made a great master-apprentice pair.

Wanting to be in her usual position, a step behind him, she had to remember this wasn't a battlefield and they weren't here to fight. Maybe she'd been hanging around him and the Lilaste Order too much. For once, they could relax and have a day where they didn't have to worry about anything. Walking at his side, she was in her skin and happy to be at the wedding of Maldor and Vyllia.

As they entered, she couldn't help but look around at those gathered. Her eyes paused briefly on Rellik and smiled slightly, remembering their last encounter. Waiting until Laphisto took a seat, she wasn't sure where they would be sitting.

Ian formal

 

[Diarch Rellik]

As Lyssara offered for Rellik to sit near her he felt a ting of guilt at not being able to. He cared very much for her but was told to attempt to sit near the front by Diarch Reign. Leaving room for the family but following right behind that line. Furthermore, Rellik had offered to be a part of the band for the first dance. In which case he would need to have wiggle room to get up and fade to the side of the room.

"You two enjoy yourselves. I have to find a seat where I can get up if needed. Have fun." He gave both Lyssara and the woman she was talking to a small bow. Only not giving a deeper one to keep away from crowding the isle.

Now seated with Xian, Rellik could not help but look around. The beautiful architecture, fascinating clothing of all the guests, even the subtle hidden hints of security and network agents around. Most of all he could see the striking presence of Maldor. In all of their time within the Diarchy, Maldor was accommodating, if not at times quiet. To the point Rellik had gone out of his way to tell him often how much he appreciated and valued the man. Despite his attempts, his honorable reverence held.

Now, within the moments of his wedding. Rellik could see it in his eyes. He was not worried about optics or his past. He held happiness, freedom, and love in his future.

Whispering to Xian Xiao he teased her ever so slightly. "It will be wonderful when I am able to come to your wedding." A mischievous smirk forming similar to one a father would give after saying something embarrassing.

Turning around to look at the entry way he saw Laphisto - Standing up quietly and with a small quick wave gesture for Laphisto to come his way. He reached out in the force and spoke directly into the mans mind as he had done many times before. "Things are about to begin!! Hurry and come sit with me friend as a head of our state... Also, our suits are so similar! You look great." Rellik unknowing that he now was also partially dressed like an old man.

As the large man moved around it was then he noticed Iandre Athlea . His small wave fading away as he was briefly stunned at her dress. Straightening his back and with a boyish smile he scratched the back of his head thinking about how much nicer she looked than he did. Maybe matching Laphisto's suit by accident is a sign to change tailors.

Calmly he regained his composure, a wonderful night had somehow gotten better.

Xian Xiao Laphisto Iandre Athlea

 

[Roxxann Tane]

Objective: Be a witness
Location: Sancetti Tower, San City, Zeta-0-9
Outfit: Green Dress
Tag: OPEN

Roxxann was truly shocked to be invited to the wedding of Maldor Sancetti and Vyllia Santhe though she had worked with Maldor a few times recently and met Vyllia multiple times on Lianna it wasn't as if she was a close friend. From her experience it was also not a Mecetti/Santhe/Tane thing and she happened to be the closest Tane to represent. Whatever the reason, the former Jedi padawan was happy to be in attendance.

Weddings were a time, the beautiful ceremony of the combination of two lives into one. Roxxann took in the chapel. It was a wonderful setting for such a joyous occasion. However as she looked out over the gathered people she couldn't help but feel somewhat of a failure.

She had stayed on Bastion following her injuries in order to be a liaison to the Quasesitorum. Roxxann had seen to a few important missions at the side of Diarch Reign and the High Chancellor, but there were many more important figures in the Diarchy that she could hardly recognize, much less had met. This seemed like a good opportunity to make strides in that area of her responsibilities. Plus she can witness a magical event and maybe have some fun dancing and mingling.

 

[Xian Xiao]

Rolling her eyes, she let out a slight scoffing noise at his comment. Gently shaking her head, she was about to respond when Rellik stood up and motioned for his friend to join him. Great...just the person she wanted to see. If there were anybody she would do her best to avoid, it was Laphisto. She had only seen him once, and he spewed out black flames, practically burning Zara.

"I think that's going to be a long time coming. My interest wasn't returned."

Muttering it under her breath, she quietly threw mental daggers at the dragonkin. At this time, she would behave, but Xian did try to make herself smaller than she already was and shrink away from Laphisto. Drawing in a fast breath, she hadn't told anybody about her interest in Merion or Caelus. Now she was likely blushing, and she felt a bit warm.

Diarch Rellik Laphisto Iandre Athlea

 

[Vyllia Santhe]

Objective: Get hitched
Location: Sancetti Tower, San City, Zeta-0-9
Outfit: Wedding Dress
Tag: Maldor Sancetti

Vyllia took one last look at her dress. It was beautiful, just as it had been every time she had tried it on for fittings. One wouldn't think that a woman who had run a business like Santhe-Sienar for years would expect something to be wrong with her wedding. But here she was triple checking her dress before stepping out into the chapel for a new beginning.

Her cousin walked around her as demanded and Kyallia gave a smile and a nod. "You are ready cousin. And Maldor is waiting," of all the assurances that Kyallia could give, the mention of Maldor was the most likely to get the bride moving.

Vyllia took a deep breath using the vision of her very soon to be husband and his strength to push back all of her worries. With a nod she clutched her bouquet of flowers and started her walk to the chapel. Kyallia thankfully was right on her heels.

A hush fell over the assembled guests within the chapel, its high ceilings and stained-glass windows casting a colorful glow. As the processional march, a subtle, elegant variation of the traditional Tapani bride's song, began to play, all eyes turned to the grand entrance. There, framed by the archway, stood Vyllia, radiant in her gown, a vision of grace and determination. With a soft smile gracing her lips, she began her deliberate stroll down the aisle, her gaze fixed on Maldor, who waited patiently at the altar. Every step Vyllia took was a testament to the journey that had brought them to this moment, a beacon of hope shining brightly in a galaxy that had changed so much.

Once at the altar, Kyallia moved off to the side. Vyllia looked to Diarch Reign and offered a smile and slight bow. She did not know the man nearly as well as she should, yet, but she was grateful for him and his brother all the same. Her eyes then fell to Maldor and her eyes started to water. She took a step towards Maldor, offered out her hand for him to take and smiled. "Here we are. Finally," she whispered and laughed.

 

[Maldor Sancetti]

Maldor's face brightened as her beauty came forth from the preparatory room to grace the chapel. The music played, carrying his heart aloft as he floated on the anticipation of the moment.

He couldn't help but feel that his parents would have been proud, and might even have said so, had they been here to witness this. It had been expected that he'd marry someone of status. A lady of business or a lady of nobility. But most likely also someone too old or too young. Someone with a foul temperament, a foul countenance, or both.

The chances of marrying a mistress of a powerful family who was also pleasant of personality and glorious to look upon? Slim.

The chances that it would be someone he actually loved?

Virtually impossible.

"Here we are. Finally," she said.

Maldor smiled, "Whoever said that wanting a thing was the greater pleasure over having it... never met you."

The officiant cleared his throat.

"Behold, before you, two Souls that will cease to be: The Lady Santhe, The Lord Mecetti, Each Great in their Own Time and Place. But Now, a New Time is Upon Us. And a New Place. Now, they Arise as a New Soul, and their New Place: Together. A New Day Dawns."

A pause, then: "Will the Solicitors of the Great Houses Come Forward?"

This was perhaps one of the less romantic aspects of a union between powerful people in the Tapani Sector.

Two figures wearing business suits stepped forward, each with a gold-gilt datapad in their hands.

"Is the Foundation of their New House Firm? Is the Structure Sound? Does it Reach the Proper Heights?"

Flowery language that meant, "Did both parties agree to the new socio-economic structure of their combined House and its subsidiary corporate entities, investments, and assets?"

"It is Firm," they spoke in unison, "It is Sound," they went on, "It Stands Tall," they concluded.

The lawyers were satisfied that everything was in order.

"Is it Affirmed," the Officiant asked.

"By Ink, By Seal, and by Blood," the solicitors assured him. Meaning both parties had signed the appropriate documents.

With that, the officiant moved aside, gesturing for the soon-to-be-wed to come forward, to fill the space before the stained-glass circle.

"Then Let None Stand between this Lord and Lady and the Sun. Let the Light of Life bathe them. And Let them Say the Words of Union."

​

Of words of union, several variations were allowed. He could choose from one thousand traditional recitals in the Orthodox Tapani Sector tradition. A myriad of additions, addendums, and alterations were permitted if one was a reformist. (The scandal!)

Maldor came forward, nearly touching his bride.

He bowed his head, gazing into her eyes.

"When I was Alone," he said, "you were my Companion. When I was Lost in Darkness, you were my Light. When I was Weak, you were my Strength. When I was Small, you brought me Tall. When I stood Tall, you kept me Kind. Never was I Whole, Till there Was You.

Will you Complete me, Now and Forever? Will you Keep me Solid, and Keep me True?"




Vyllia Santhe

 

[Makai Dashiell]

CHAPEL

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

Yorran's fingers dipped into his dress uniform, producing a datacard which he held out. The thin electronic business card was matte black, without distinguishing features. But it could download contact information to any datapad.

"Why don't you give me a call when this event concludes. A widely traveled man such as yourself surely has a lot to talk about."

This was the first time he had ever been given a datacard for such a thing. Intelligence? A new one and quite a first. Reaching into his own suit pocket, he produced a datacard of his own - this one iridescent blue with the logo of his company. The one from Director Vosk was placed in his breast pocket for safe keeping.

"I doubt I have anything exciting to tell you unless you want to know about ores and gemstones. However, we can speak in the future."

The half-Galan was not opposed, just mildly taken aback. However. he didn't work in intelligence. Perhaps Director Vosk spoke to those to glean any small pieces of information he could find. Critical clues typical citizens like himself were not privy to. A business man himself, he could easily understand why any piece of networking was important.

Yet time for talk was over. The ceremony was beginning. His own wedding had been extremely small - done in a grand greenhouse with just family and close friends in attendance. It had been sappy, which made total sense given who he and his wife were. The half-Galan was enjoying a peek at a different ceremony. It had the basic premise ; the joining of two as one. More ceremonial, which was to be expected with two sentients located in the higher strata of society.

 

[Merion Oreno]

It was all so beautiful. The white protocol droid, having delivered the gift baskets, wiped away a solitary surreptitious tear.

 

[Rokul]

Location: San City
Tags: Zara Saga
Outfit

Rokul hadn't said anything in response. There had been something about Zara's snapping that had cut straight through Rokul. It hadn't been directed to him, and it hadn't hurt him. But something about her referring to him as her date had made part of Rokul soften. A small smile spreading across his face. It wasn't something he had expected to hear. Yes. This was a date. In a way. But he hadn't expected it to be like an actual date...By the Diarchy, he was just starting to confuse himself by thinking about all of this.

Instead, he squeezed her hand, firmly. It wasn't as if he was trying to break her hand. It was more his way of saying he was there. The ceremony was starting now, and Rokul didn't want to ruin it. Silence was going to be the best option as he turned his attention to the front of the chapel. Whilst at the same time, he was slowly allowing himself to relax as he gently leaned against Zara. He knew he had to say something, since he doubted she'd spend the entire ceremony in silence unless he answered her.

"...You know I don't do poetry. Too many words...And even then, not enough to describe you."

Okay. Maybe he was...being a bit poetic. With that, he turned his attention fully to the wedding. He hadn't seen one before in his lifetime. His own parents had gotten married before he was born. And whilst he never expected to get married himself, seeing a ceremony like this for the first time in his life would be...nice. It was a sign of how he was slowly changing from who he was. From a emotionless Grunt that simply followed orders, to someone who was alive and experiencing things for the first time. A smile still evident on his face.​

 

[Vyllia Santhe]

Objective: Get hitched
Location: Sancetti Tower, San City, Zeta-0-9
Outfit: Wedding Dress
Tag: Maldor Sancetti

Vyllia blushed at Maldor's answer to her joking statement. That didn't last long however as things got serious quickly. The involvement of the House Solicitors was a formality that made Vyllia think of what she had actually thought her wedding would look like. Some formal transaction with signing of papers to make sure that House Santhe would not be vulnerable to whatever family her husband came from.

But Santhe-Sienar had already been folded into House Sancetti, as had Maldor's company. The truth of the matter was that Vyllia was much more interested in protecting assets from those on Lianna who had betrayed the family than Maldor taking control of their company.

As such this invasion of her happy day was a mild annoyance. She knew that it was necessary because Tapani nobles were very big on tradition and formality. Even still was trying to keep a smile on her face, until she gazed over at Maldor and remembered that it would all be worth it.

Then the Officiant spoke words that told all that the more intimate part of the ceremony was to begin. At least it would be intimate for this couple. Vyllia had seen some of the Tapani vows of tradition. They were quite stale and uninspired. She was quite happy to find the more sentimental ones, and that Maldor agreed they were more fitting for them.

As they stepped towards each other a lump formed in Vyllia's throat. She knew what to expect. She knew what was going to be said, but still the nerves were tremendous. Maldor's soft voice as he gave his vows grounded Vyllia, giving credence to the words that she would speak in response to Maldor. When his words finished Vyllia gave him a loving smile and started her own.

"My dearest love, you speak truths that echo in my very soul. Where darkness threatened to engulf, your spirit became my unyielding beacon. When the path ahead was obscured, your presence was my guiding star. Where shadows sought to claim me, your unwavering spirit became my fortress. When the vastness felt overwhelming, you were my steadfast presence.

"I was but a constellation of scattered starlight until your light intertwined with mine. And through your eyes, I saw not just who I was, but who I was always meant to be. My heart has found its anchor in you. Yes, I will complete you, now and forever. I will keep you solid, and I will keep you true. For with you, my love, our story truly begins."

 

[Zara Saga]

Zara's lips parted as if she had a comeback ready, some razor-edged remark to keep things safely in the realm of banter, where feelings could be twisted into jokes and compliments could be parried like strikes in a duel.

But nothing came out. She just… blinked. And stared at Rokul like he'd grown a second head. Or handed her a live thermal detonator wrapped in satin.

"...Too many words... And even then, not enough to describe you."

There it was again, that unpolished poetry of his, straight from the center of whatever mysterious emotional reactor kept him ticking. No grand gestures, no flowery language... just truth. The kind she wasn't built to hear without combusting a little.

Zara turned her gaze to the altar quickly, cheeks hot in a way that had nothing to do with the lighting or the flask. She didn't say anything. She, who always had something to say. The silence felt weird. Not uncomfortable... just new. Foreign. Like a room in her chest she hadn't known existed, and now someone had turned the lights on.

Without thinking, she leaned her head against Rokul's shoulder. It wasn't a big gesture. Barely a shift. But her eyes fluttered closed for half a second, just long enough to let herself breathe.

She glanced briefly across the room and caught sight of Iandre in that dress, the one she had plucked from Zara's closet. It looked incredible on her, naturally. Zara made a mental note to tell her so later. Maybe they'd talk. Maybe she'd even say something nice.

But for now, she just… sat there. Quiet. Still. Wrapped up in the gentle absurdity of being next to Rokul, at a wedding, like she was part of something steady. Like her chaos had found a place to rest for once.

She squeezed his hand... softer this time. And then, just barely above a whisper, not even looking at him:

"...Shut up."

Rokul​

 

[Maldor Sancetti]

​

Maldor's eyes watered for the second time today. He blinked the blurring world away, focusing on the face of the woman who was to be his partner in life.

Before he could succumb to the sentiment of the moment and shed a tear visible to the assembly, the Officiant spoke once more.

"Behold, the vows are exchanged.

Behold, the Second stands ready.

Who would dare to challenge this love?

Who would dare to challenge this union?"

All eyes turned to Reign, the chosen Second who would guard the uniting couple with his life, according to Tapani tradition.

Of course there would be no need for that, today. Still, one could not help but imagine one of the leaders of the Diarchy cutting down anyone who dared to speak up at this juncture. It would have been quite a show.

"No? Then let any naysayers be forever silent. For I declare the House Sancetti to be Founded by Love, by Law, and by Light."

Maldor drew closer to Vyllia, pressing his lips to hers. The first kiss of Husband and Wife.

"Now the couple will proceed to the adjacent Hall. Now they will dance their first dance. Diarch Rellik has offered to play the incepting music. Please, join them in the dance, for it is said that the more joy of dance in this moment, the greater the prosperity of their new House."

Maldor took her hand, his face alight with happiness. He led her down the aisle, into the grand hall that waited just outside. Tables for dining arranged in a circle. A vast marble floor in the center of it all: The space of the First Dance.

The custom had thoughtfully replaced a more ancient one, where the wedding party witnessed a union of a more intimate kind at the noble bedchamber.

Thank goodness for modern civility.

Maldor held her hand, took a position, and waited for the music to begin.


Zara Saga Vyllia Santhe Diarch Reign Diarch Rellik Rokul Merion Oreno Xian Xiao Roxxann Tane Iandre Athlea Laphisto Velda Praz Kyra Banuelos Lyssara Thrynn Yorran Vosk Makai Dashiell