Public [Zinder Event] Ilum's Grand Life Day Extravaganza!!! [Zinder Event]

[Naniti]

"Drills?" Naniti looked into her caf for a moment with a smirk. The Togrut's eyes raised to look into Lysander's before she continued, "A Traditionalist doesn't drill. They show you a technique and then command you to fight one another using that technique until you get it right. Once 'the fundamentals' are taught they 'open it up' to learning by combat. So, there is a kind of drilling going on. Any number of Acolytes don't survive the process; unlike the Jedi that is intentional."

"I am where I am because I learned what they taught me -- and more than they taught me -- in order to survive." Her disposition suddenly brightened. "That's why I don't complain when you want to exercise. I'm not afraid of you, Lysander. But I recognize you have even more experience than I do." Her way of growing up had come with practical experience, but it was usually in controlled environments. Lysander at some point started running off into actual war zones where things were... dynamic.

The Togruta's montrals listed to the side. "You know, I used to think the only way Sith negotiated was by killing people. Then you showed me there could be more. I'm not sure I'm sold on the idea of more being better yet; Djem So is pretty common where I'm from. Real stress reliever." Just keep slamming your lightsaber against someone until they relented or died. Sure, it wasn't that simple... unless you watched some of the younger Sith do it.

And yes, Naniti might do it too if the situation called for it. There'd been a few times in their sparring she'd been tempted to let loose on Lysander because of how effectively he'd deflected everything.

"You have a horse?" That almost sounded like something only the ultra wealthy would have given limited space on many worlds. Populated and advanced worlds, anyway. Ukatis was not quite so 'advanced.' Animals were common place, it seemed. A radically different sort of lifestyle. "Riding or racing?" There was also field work, but it hadn't even occurred to suggest that was what Nari was used for.

Then they turned to more training, and Naniti listened to Lysander's ideas. Sand made sense. Far too many things happened on sandy worlds. Moving platforms kept a warrior sharp. Uneven gravity? How esoteric. Sounded perfect. Except for that sith-eating smile on Lysander's face. "Oh?" The Togruta leaned forward. "Sounds like crashing into you should be required training. So you're prepared. Kind of like dancing in uneven gravity." Not that she meant it literally. Not at speed, anyway. Wouldn't hurt to have a good excuse to stop fighting and maybe enjoy some time-- What was she thinking? Her lekku warmed at the realization she was contemplating ending training to... what? Fraternize? But it would be nice.

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti

​

“Perhaps drills is the wrong word. Conditioning, or stress exposure?"

He glanced down into the cup out of reflex. Memory offered no faces, only outcome; adaptation on one side, removal on the other. Korriban didn’t leave anything in between either. Though, something told him her experience may have been crueler than his own. “It’s efficient, I guess. Brutal systems usually are.”

The next truth had already been noticed in her footwork, her timing, the way the Togruta recovered when things went wrong. “You don’t move like someone who learned in safety.” His posture shifted on the bench. “I’ve never wanted that from you, Naniti. Fear also has a way of making people sloppy. Or ways of making you quit listening and seeing what’s actually happening. It’s.. inefficient for everyone. Fear would turn me into some kind of symbol.. and symbols are so often misunderstood.”

Threat and reaction.. he probably could’ve kept going on about that.

A slight curve appeared. “Respect isn’t blind.. that means you're actively choosing.” The smile settled. “Those I can live with.” A cant of his head followed. “Killing is.. very persuasive. But that just ends the conversation. I prefer outcomes that can be revisited.. at least between you and I.”

Naniti’s Djem So comment earned an honest nod. It was the kind of form you chose when you didn’t want the problem to come back. Having to ask twice was rather annoying, wasn’t it?

“Riding.” Then Lysander paused, revisiting memories with his pinto mare. “But if I ever decided to race, no one would catch her.” He noticed the absence more than he expected; of course, he missed her. “She’s like a painting.. light spots here, dark splashes there.. as if someone spilled paint. It’s unexpectedly elegant.”

Finally, he reined in the smile that’d been plastered to his face. “Crashing would imply loss of control. This sounds more like.. controlled proximity?” Why was he dissecting her words again?

“You know, there’s a simpler version of this.. and I’m guilty of stepping around it.. again.”

A gentle flush colored his visage. “Balance work doesn’t actually need difficult terrain.. like ice. Or anything else. It just needs.. awareness.. or timing. Just someone else setting the pace so you’re not constantly correcting yourself. With someone you.. trust.”

He let the silence weave its way between them.

“Okay.. I’m still doing it.”

The clearing of his throat already felt more like a confession.

“We should just dance.”

Truth was usually the easiest thing to reach for; so why was it suddenly harder now?

“The Academy tunnels would be terrible for it. Which somehow.. makes it more tempting. Or a hangar bay.. ideally with someone shouting at us to move along. Not that I would listen. Or even a street.. where we absolutely shouldn’t stop.”

They both already knew how that felt.

Where it could lead..

His cheeks were definitely tinged red now.

“The place doesn’t matter, Naniti. Because if it’s with you, I’d still say yes.”

 

[Ronhar Tane]

CAPTAIN RONHAR TANE, TK-3301
OBJECTIVE I: ARE YOU MY MISTLETOE OR MISTLE-FOE?
ILUM

Despite the unexpected interruption that Ronhar had experienced during his and Prystill's dinner, everything was going quite well in his opinion. They had shopped together, eaten together, talked together, and were now going on a lovely walk together through the fantastical forests of Ilum.

It truly was the textbook definition of a "winter wonderland", Ronhar had thought to himself. Snow had blanketed most of the ground and trees, expected for the well maintained paths that Ronhar and Prystill were threading, the air was crisp and cool, but not uncomfortably so. These "Zinder" people had clearly spared no expense for tonight's event, and it had showed throughout the entirety of the evening. Ronhar was truly having a great time, and he was fairly certain that Prystil was as well.

As they continued along their trek, Ronhar glanced upward and couldn't help but notice that a strange plant was hanging from many of the trees. It was a plant that, up until a few nights ago, he had never heard up nor even knew existed. It was apparently an exotic plant called "Mistletoe", and to his knowledge, it wasn't a species that was native to the planet. If anything, Ronhar thought it was a rather ugly looking plant, and normally, he might question why such an odd plant had been deliberately chosen to decorate the forests of this otherwise nearly perfect event.

Tonight, however, he happened to have some insider knowledge on an archaic tradition associated with this so called Mistletoe. He temporarily paused as he stopped his walk, turning to Prystill as he took her hands into his. He motioned upwards toward the nearest tree with Mistletoe as he looked Prystill in her eyes.

"Say, do you happen to know what that plant is?", Ronhar asked of Prystill, though he wouldn't be surprised if someone as smart as her already happened to know about he local tradition. "They call that plant 'Mistletoe', you know? It's said that any couple who walks under a hanging branch of Mistletoe is bound to have bad luck, unless of course..."

At this point Ronhar paused for a moment, looking rather sheepish. As embarrassed and nervous as he was feeling at the moment, he was determined not to let this chance pass him by. He didn't think he'd have another opportunity like this to really convey how he felt to Prystill, and the environment around him was absolutely perfect. He really couldn't have asked for a better time and place to try what he was about to do.

"Unless", Ronhar repeated, "the couple in question happens to share a kiss", Ronhar stated, his cheeks turning red at the thought. Still, it was now or never, and Ronhar was choosing now. Ronhar swallowed as he continued locking eyes with Prystill, his hands still holding onto hers, his heart starting to beat faster and faster and faster.

With that, Ronhar slowly leaned in, desperately hoping beyond hope that Prystill would reciprocate his affections towards her...

TAGS:
Prystill Oasay

 

[Eenia Vahn]

Objective 2​

TAG: Adelle Bastiel
Wearing: [X]


All of the information she had been given was a lot to process. It seemed the pair of them had plenty in common, only those things had come about in very different scenarios. The fact that both of them had lost parents was something Eenia didn't feel the need to bring up, especially considering everything else Adelle had just told her about.

“I'm sorry for your loss.” Losing a mother was bad enough, losing one that you didn't feel worthy of was yet another thing Nia understood. Though the blonde had a doting father as well, so the lack of connection there was something she couldn't relate to personally, but had seen and heard from others enough to understand how it could weigh on someone.

But the subject of being judged made Nia level her hands out to her sides some so that she could look in the direction of said Judge. “Well, there will be no lack of petting from me.” She stated, not exactly loud, but exaggerated enough that she hoped the creature could hear her.

However, the blonde then looked down at her skates. “So long as we make it back to the bank in one piece, that is.” She mused with a hum and a semi-cheeky grin.

 

[Eurydice]

There was a moment, when Varin exhaled, where Eurydice wanted to rescind her words. For some reason, she stayed quiet, neither encouraging nor dissuading. If he didn't want to tell her more, then she would accept that. Varin chose to continue, and she leaned in just a tic.

A hidden planet?

Carcosa. It made sense then, when she couldn't place the name to any particular galactic features. A world lacking in technology, where labor was done by hand and beast.

"E-Eight feet tall?" came her incredulous whisper. Already, she'd been convinced that Varin was the tallest being she'd seen so far. To think that his father was taller – would he grow to such a height as well?

Though her mind seemed to settle on that particular detail, Varin's complicated feelings over Carcosa existed in the nervous twitch of his fingers, in the longing sigh of his voice.

Eurydice cleared her throat, a soft, awkward sound. "Carcosa sounds a little like Ukatis. It's not a very high-tech world, and most of the populace farm and hunt without the intervention of automation." She paused, readjusting her grip on the cup. "At least, that was the way things were when I left."

There was a new king on the throne, but somehow, she doubted that much would change. Things never changed on Ukatis.

Eurydice parted her lips, then held them there. A question lingered on her tongue, but she wasn't certain if it was appropriate to ask. Always, she tended to travel the safer route. For some reason, she felt compelled to do otherwise.

"Why did you have to leave Carcosa?"

The question was soft, with a gentle lilt unbefitting of a Sith apprentice.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Naniti]

"If you're patient and don't desire quantity," Naniti agreed with a clip nod. Yeah, brutality was efficient. You eventually ended up with someone that managed to meet all your requirements. Though if you took time and expenditure into account -- not even including some intrinsic value of life -- it was not nearly so efficient. Almost indistinguishable from luck on the Sith Lord's side of things. There had to be a better way. Not a gentler way, but a better one.

Maybe other Sith had figured it out, but Traditionalists just refused to see it. She couldn't use Lysander as a measure, however. Someone that'd been trained in the Dark Side since they were a child was needed to compare against herself.

Naniti blinked and tipped her head a bit to the side as Lysander described his horse. "That sounds... colorful." Spilled paint? A smile returned to her lips at the mental image.

"Yes. We should. You owe me every dance lesson you know, Lysander, remember?" Naniti's chin lifted and turned aside just a bit. "You promised. Now, I might not be a Princess, but when a gentleman makes a promise he's expected to follow through. No 'should.' Will." The Togruta smirked as she turned her chin the other direction. "Somewhere appropriate would be nice. You did say the tunnels, but that is a condition for the dancing we can both agree to change. And since we can manage flight plans away from the Academy, I think we'll find somewhere suitable."

A soft hum followed. "Do you want me to make the arrangements? I can be surprisingly persuasive when I need to be." Especially when it was something she desperately wanted to do or explore. Somewhere the instructors wouldn't see, of course. Dancing could translate to footwork for battle, but Naniti felt like they weren't going to spend a lot of time exploring all that. They were going to dance for the sake of dancing. Together. For future ballroom gatherings so Naniti didn't need to 'cheat' in order not to embarrass Lysander.

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Varin gave her a slow nod as he looked at his mug when she mentioned Ukatis.

“Thats a kind of planet I would want to live on. One with work.”

He could feel her anxiety before her next question, then she finally asked. His body temperature seemed to drop some, and it was very noticeable. He chuckled quietly to himself as to seem unbothered before he looked at her.

“I…”

His words were caught in his throat for a second.

“My home was attacked. I was forced to leave.”

He spoke quietly as his finger tapped on the table a few times.

“Lets just say…”

He took a deep inhale and then exhaled. Then he spoke with a slight tremble to his voice.

“I’m the last of my blood line.”

He looked at her with a slight shine in his eyes, before he used his hand to wipe away the wetness that was starting to build.

“Damn snow, sometimes it gets in your eye.”

He shook off his hand and chuckled lightly before falling quiet.

Eurydice​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti
​

Listening to her speak from lived ground rather than theory hit differently. If there was one thing he understood, it was the difference between repetition as refinement and repetition as survival. Everything she said suggested fluency in the latter tongue. She didn’t glorify it either, as many Sith he’d known would have.

“Then this is just where our languages overlap, Naniti. Because whatever came before.. now, you’re training with me.”

Lysander realized through teaching that it required clarity and honesty about what was being worked. Something about that was grounding, and with her, the process came easily.

“You could meet her someday.. if circumstances allow. I think she’d like you.” A laugh nearly slipped free after that. Another invitation to travel, as if he weren’t already guilty of trying to drag her across half the galaxy. Some Sith he was, undone by horses and taste testing new cuisines.

A brow lifted as amusement settled in. An inclination followed, even though she'd made a point he hadn't intended to argue. “I do remember. Every one of them. If I say I’ll do something, I tend to follow through.”

There was one word that earned a pause. Lysander’s head shifted from resting as both hands came up, cupping his face. A small adjustment, sure, but it did bring him just a little closer.

Something in her reaction drew warmth into his voice. “You could be,” the thought was voiced, tipping his head as if considering it from a new angle. “Princess Naniti.. I can see it.” He rolled the words once, twice; it was clear he enjoyed them. “Though I suspect you would find royal life rather dull. There are far too many rules and not enough freedom.”

His lips pulled back in a genuine smile, teeth and all, before he could help it. “But, I could still treat you like one.. if you’d allow me.”

Persuasive? Yeah, he’d never questioned that.

“I think you should. I’d be curious to see what you come up with.”

There wasn’t a submissive bone in his body, but there was something soothing about letting her take the reins. Who knew what kind of doors that might open. Memory pulled him back into something nostalgic. He’d always been adventurous, choosing instincts over any sense of caution.. never caring where things could land. He recognized that again now, the same way from not too long ago, when they’d traded a few quips.

The Togruta may have been unaware, but she was the only one who drew that version of him. He liked it.. perhaps too much. That also gave room to avoid asking who he was slowly becoming.

"But I'd still dance with you anywhere.. where we land doesn't really matter."

He meant it.

“Anywhere,” Lysander repeated softly.

The Covenant had a way of showing up everywhere, after all.

“It could even be in the middle of battle. If you’re there, with me.. I don’t think anyone could touch us.”

Waltzing amid destruction? Poetic enough to be irresistible.

 

[Riven]

Tags - Rio Naran

Riven nodded in thanks as a cup of hot chocolate was placed before her, cupping her hands around it to keep them warm as the beverage steamed into the cold air. Her crimson gaze settled on the drink as she listened to the Sangnir speak of the Jedi and their prior habits for, essentially, abducting prospective children with any floundering presence within the Force.

She nodded lightly along to Rio's words before her gaze shifted towards her just in time to catch her licking the cream from her lips. The short elf's attention was caught for perhaps just a little too long before she turned back to her own mug of hot chocolate. She brought it to her lips and took a tentative sip as she felt the heat of it against her face in stark contrast to the cold air around them.

Being force sensitive of course meant that it was only a matter of time until the tall woman asked Riven of her condition, her complete lack of presence within the Force. She paused at the question for just a moment before she side-glanced towards Rio and offered her answer; "I was an experimental subject. I'm not entirely sure what they did to me, but the result was that I'm... Highly resistant to the Force in general." she spoke as she took another sip from her mug.

A soft nod of satisfaction was given at the taste, a sweet treat that she didn't often partake in. Typically Riven preferred savory to sweet, but it was fine in small quantities like this, especially when it was given freely by another. "It's good..." she commented in response, "... I can't remember the last time I had something like this..." she added as set set the mug back down. Her short brief sips had of course given her a resulting creamy moustache too, but rather than lick it away as Rio had done she simple wiped the back of her hand against her mouth.

"... Honestly I'm so disconnected from Eldorai as a whole that I don't really see the purpose in learning more about them anymore... I don't know that I could even call myself one at this point... It doesn't bother me though..." she spoke as she pondered briefly on her own nature. Her crimson gaze soon returned to Rio however as she continued; "But... If that's what you want to talk about, I don't mind... Also..." she pondered on if she ought to ask the question that now came to her, "... Why are you so tall? You're... Huge." she stated blatantly.

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Eenia Vahn

Nia's condolences were silently acknowledged with a nod, although Adelle was already berating herself for bringing up a heavy topic again. Twice in one brief conversation had to be a new record for her. It wasn't the heaviest conversation she'd ever brought up but still. She was incredibly rusty at the dating game if this was how things were going.

Although to be fair, she'd invited Nia out to get to know the other Healer better. And she'd learned that Nia was clumsier than her at skating and the other woman's family dynamics so the goal was a success. Even if it made her look like a terrible conversationalist.

But the subject of being judged made Nia level her hands out to her sides some so that she could look in the direction of said Judge. “Well, there will be no lack of petting from me.” She stated, not exactly loud, but exaggerated enough that she hoped the creature could hear her.

"Be careful what you promise," Adelle said with a smirk. "She's a spukami and incredibly intelligent. She might just hold you to it."

However, the blonde then looked down at her skates. “So long as we make it back to the bank in one piece, that is.” She mused with a hum and a semi-cheeky grin.

"What, done falling for me already?" Adelle teased. "But if you're ready to have stable ground under you again, we can go grab a drink or something. And now that I know how bad you are at skating, I'm a little more prepared to help. Like a friend once told me, a few cheats come in handy."

Her preference would be to keep skating. She'd love to get better at it, to be able to skate at speed. The blades of more skilled skaters made a sound that made her brain itch, that made her want to try. But they both already had one fall each, and Nia had already taken her down once. If Nia said she was done, Adelle wasn't going to push it.

 

[Darth Nefaron]

SECOND DATE: Corazona von Ascania

For a moment, it appeared as though Nefaron would triumph.

He had placed the seed of doubt within Cora's mind, just enough to allow him to press forward.

His terrible grin grew ever wider.
​

That was until he felt the most curious thing. The Dark Side was not a place of warmth or love, for it was the domain of cold fury, of terrible revenge and suffering. The Corpse Lord had known only that chill for so long that he let out a sharp gasp when a pang of warmth struck at his black heart. Yet it did not inspire fond memories or enlighten him to the gentle embrace of the light; no, instead, it burned him, scorched his soul as his deadly lightning was embraced by a golden current. His own power was nearly turned against him as the sleeves of his cloak began to scorch, but Nefaron refused to be bested so easily by this woman and her little unborn spawn.

With a terrible grunt, Nefaron broke the stream of lightning and brought forth the storm of snow once more, yet the energy required sent him flying backward into the embrace of winter. For a time, he lay in the snow, dead eyes fixed on the endless swirl above as he seethed and let his hatred consume him. He had been bested in this battle; he would admit that, but he would not walk away from this wretched world without a prize, a trophy, a part of her that he could use again in the future. Something sinister crossed his mind, and it wasn't long before the Corpse Lord was on his feet and, with an unnatural speed, charging through the blinding snow toward the blinding beacon of light that was his Jedi foe.

Yet he did not seek to strike at her heart with some hidden blade, nor did he seek to unleash his terrible toxin to watch her face her darkest fears.

Instead, it was as if he had brushed past her in retreat, the storm of snow following along with him as he beat a hasty retreat deeper into the forest. It might have appeared as if he wished to simply scare her, to unsettle her one final time before he left this world behind and let her enjoy this pathetic little victory.

But Nefaron had taken something. A quick cut with a hidden blade as he brushed by at lightning speed, but he did not cut flesh.

Instead, the Dark Lord had been rewarded with a lock of the famous golden hair of Corazona von Ascania. To others, this would be a mere symbolic victory, yet Nefaron was a sorcerer of great and terrible skill. Hair, as simple as it was, was a part of a being, a remnant of them that could be used to terrible effect. It was not as useful as a body part or blood, but there was so much the Sith Lord could do with this simple trophy that it could torment this Jedi fool and her unborn child. Yes, he had failed to gain her allegiance, but there was still hope to drive her to the depths of madness, into the loving embrace of the Dark Side.

Oh yes, she had won this battle.

But in the end, all would serve him. ​

 

[Eurydice]

For the first time since she'd entered Varin's perimeter, Eurydice felt the frigid winter air creep into her collar. It wasn't just his body temperature that had dropped, but his presence. His tone.

Then, she knew why.

Eurydice's lips parted, pulling in shock. The whites of her eyes flared suddenly, wide in horrified surprise.

Fool, she chastised herself. You shouldn't have asked.

The Seer couldn't tell whether she felt bad for upsetting him, or feared that his mood would turn on her. Somehow, the latter didn't bother her as much while her mind raced. A nervous swallow had the line of her throat bobbing as she searched for the right thing to say – she'd never been good at offering comfort.

The last time she had, it had nearly killed her.

"I'm sorry," she said simply. Her expression melted from stiff to something apologetic and quietly reverent for the tragedy Varin skirted around. "You don't...you don't have to keep talking about this if you don't want to," she murmured. As she spoke, her thumb and forefinger worried the styrofoam base of the cup.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Naniti]

"Princess...?" The Togruta blinked at the suggestion. Her? "No, I think it would find me too exciting. I obey the Academy's rules -- most of them -- because they'll literally kill me if I don't. Not many other places would. They'd wring their hands and verbally admonish me, and I'd ignore them." The violet woman lifted her chin defiantly off to the side. A moment later she smiled in triumph. After all, she'd be the Princess, right? Pretty high up the authority chain. Who was the King and Queen in this case? Naniti probably should look into Lysander's family.

A hum followed a side-eyed look at Lysander with his invitation. "That depends." Naniti turned to look straight at him again, her chin level once more. "I'm no bird. Gilded cages get broken. But if you want to pamper me while I watch holos..." Like how? Naniti actually had no idea. Just sounded like the safest circumstance to suggest being treated like a Princess. How were Sith Princesses treated in the Order?

With a snort, Naniti shook her head. "If only Jedi were so easy to distract, or mislead." Some thought Jedi were utterly and completely incompetent. They'd bought their own propaganda -- or maybe they were just so powerful the Jedi they had personally met had been weak. Whatever the case, Naniti wasn't about to assume they'd be dumbfounded by the sight of two dancing Sith on the battlefield. Not enough to matter, anyway. Was a colorful vision though.

"Still, some people claim dancing and fighting with a lightsaber have things in common. We could explore that further if you really want to shine them on in battle." Sometimes you knew you outclassed your opponent and that was when you could take a few risks. Why? To make it interesting, obviously. No one liked an easy fight. Well, Naniti did when a city was literally and physically falling apart around them and reasonable people should be fleeing; but she totally wasn't thinking with a particular circumstance in mind. Totally.

"But I still want to learn how to impress a crowd at a ball. Maybe get the Empress' attention next time." Naniti smiled across at her co-conspirator. "Not for them. For us," she clarified in case he worried it was all to get someone else's attention. It was, but just because an audience made certain the whole universe knew just how good they were together.

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He noticed her retract into herself, a look of shock on her face. She apologized again as her hand seemed to fumble her cup. His eyes softened as he looked at her.

“Such is life.”

Another drink was placed in front of him, his hand slowly picking it up. He looked at the reflective amber liquid, the steam rising and curling around his face, the sweet scent hitting his nose. He breathed deep.

“You didn't know, and you got your answer. Always be prepared for what you might receive when you make a request.”

He took a sip, the warm liquid flowing into his body.

“I will spare you the details, but it was not pretty. An insurrection is a very violent tempest.”

He gently set the cup down, his mind decided to change the grim subject. Today was not a day to reflect on that.

“Nuna nuggets seem to be very popular with my fellow brothers in arms. Maybe we should try that?”

Eurydice​

 

[Lily Decoria]

​

Location: Objective 1 - Ice Rink Cave
Outfit: Dress
Tag: Shan

"You don't need to have a favourite type of flower, they aren't something that everyone has to enjoy but I am sure there will be plenty of time in the future for you to figure out what ones you like, dislike and perhaps what is a favourite." Lily was very subtly hinting that there was more to look forward in the future than thinking about what was missed in the past. Attempting to keep looking forward, that was something Lily had struggled with in the past and it had been people like Shan that helped her realise that she couldn't keep dwelling on things.

As they skated, Lily made sure to offer a comforting grip in his hand so he knew that she was there in case he stumbled. "Well, it still would have been nice if you greeted me first. Not every Jedi is dating me," Lily poked her tongue out at him. "And you mean a lot to me too." Lily gave a small smile as she looked down at her feet for a moment, wondering if the time was right now to mention what she had done. It was something she had done on impulse but she wasn't sure when it was the right time to share it.

"I'll have to come and visit, make sure no one else is distracting you from all the mundaneness of it all." Lily giggled, not a jealous person at all, "but it is good that you are finding some peace, and doing good work. That is the Jedi pathway more than fighting and warring. So I think there is still a Jedi in that body of yours." Lily smirked as she breathed in deeply, enjoying the chilled air.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she thought about things for a moment then looked at Shan, "so... I invited you here because I did have the app before and they notified me. But, after we signed up for the event, I deleted the app. I want to try and see where this goes more. If you are ready for that too." Lily confessed, knowing she had been the one asking to take it slow before but she still felt it was important to see if he wanted to try and see what they could become.

 

[Prystill Oasay]

Objective: Zinder Event: Let's go to the stalls
Location: Festival stalls, Ilum
Outfit: Maroon Winter Dress
Tags: Ronhar Tane

Prystill had to admit that this event had brought much more to her than she had ever expected when she signed up for Zinder. She had expected perhaps a few wild nights, easy place to find companionship when taking a break from her duties. She had not expected to accept a date from another Imperial from within the Confederation. And even when she had the expectation was not to find such a gallant gentleman.

Prystill's luck continued as she hugged Ronhar's arm for warmth. The walk through the forest was everything that the rest of the date had provided and more. Idle chit chat continued. It was quite possible that this was turning out to be Prystill's first "first date". Most of her previous encounters were not meant to have follow-up, but this was shaping up as something different as the two continued to learn about each other. The setting of the forest was absolutely breathtaking. Ronhar's warmth was required to make it ideal in reality, but in a holo Prystill could admire the beauty of the landscape for hours on end.

When Ronhar paused their forward momentum, Prystill's breath caught in her chest. She hadn't detected anything that would warrant a stop. Had Ronhar's military training suggested a threat? Ronhar's eyes looked upward, but his form didn't tense. He made no move to put himself between Prystill and whatever he had detected, which the Theelin was quite certain he would do at this point. Her breath eased out in a misty plume, as Prystill looked up.

Ronhar asked about a plant. Prystill looked but could not categorize it. It definitely was not among the pretty flora that artists had put to canvas. She shook her head only for Ronhar to inform her of what it was. She had heard of the traditions of Mistletoe but had never seen it. A smirk formed on Prystill's lips as Ronhar started talking about said traditions. Though Prystill knew what he was alluding to she had not heard of not following the tradition to become bad luck.

The pause that came at the good part was endearing. Prystill wasn't certain if he was giving her a chance to object or if he was nervous. Either or both were exceedingly ctue and Prystill batted her eyes waiting for him to fill in the last part of the tradition, the only part Prystill truly connected with mistletoe. His delivery of the punchline of the tradition certainly suggested there was a bit of nerves in him. Prystill wondered if he hadn't realized how well the date was going.

He turned towards Prystill and leaned in. The Theelin woman smiled and reached her arms upward over his shoulders, around the back of his neck. She wasn't going to let him pull away and she angled her head to easily allow him to press his lips to hers. This was the most wonderful kiss that Prystill had ever experienced. Not perhaps the most passionate. Though she hoped that would come in time. But it was filled with meaning and promise. As their lips parted Prystill held onto Ronhar's neck, pressed her cheek against his, and whispered into his ear.

In the hanger bay, where the X-wings rest,
A sprig of green hangs, a holiday test.
No holocron's wisdom or Jedi decree,
Can stop what occurs 'neath the mistletoe tree.

A smuggler's smirk and a princess's glare,
A spark of the Force in the cold winter air.
"I love you," she whispers, as stars spin above,
"I know," he replies, with a rogue's kind of love.

From the spires of Coruscant to Hoth's frozen white,
The sabers are stowed for a peaceful night.
For whether you're Sith or a hero in blue,
The tradition remains: a kiss is your due.

It was a small poem about mistletoe. She kissed his cheek and then released her arms from behind his head and settled back onto her heels. "I am hopeful mistletoe will not need to be present for you to do that again," she gave him a coy wink. "This has been quite the memorable evening. I am very hopeful there will be more to come with you."

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti
​

Silent as she poured out her thoughts, his body gradually shifted to one side, cheek nestling into his palm. Gazing up at her from that softer vantage point felt like something he didn’t want to correct. Maybe it made her voice sound warmer. Amusement slowly crept into his mouth and stayed. Lysander liked watching her enjoy herself, taking the idea piece by piece.

“Right,” he voiced, thoughtful. “Mm, you’d probably last about a day before someone tried to scold you I imagine, and then you’d look at them like they’d suggested something completely impractical, no?” A thumb brushed along his jaw. “I imagine most courts would find you.. challenging.”

Then he leaned a little more fully into his hand; a huff of laughter made itself known. “I wouldn’t dare dream of a cage.” Lightness graced his tone. “You could get that.. without a throne. Any holo you pretend you’re not invested in while correcting it every few minutes. Someone bringing you snacks.”

Without the Academy’s demands cluttering the entire idea, it sounded almost comfortable. “You'd be free to refuse all of it, of course. The sort of thing you can ignore if you want.. or just let yourself enjoy it if you don't." His brow lifted slightly. “No rules about who you’re supposed to be.”

Fingers were curled beneath Lysander’s chin. He hadn’t moved much at all, though something in his expression shifted. His view of the Jedi was.. far from generous, but he spared her the full monologue.

“Well, perhaps they’re no fools,” continued quietly, “but neither are they.. very imaginative? Even if we only confused them for a moment.. I think there’s still value in trying. Or maybe that’s simply me being hopeless and stupid enough to believe there’s room for a waltz, even in the middle of catastrophe.”

He never looked away. “It’s an idea I find hard to let go of. Just once.. us.”

Without a doubt, his curiosity extended beyond teaching lightsaber technique; he wanted to learn with her, too. “I mean, if we already know how the exchange is gonna end, there’s no harm in exploring how it gets there, right?” he mused. Was this the infamous Sith arrogance?

“Of course,” the words carried a light smile and a hint of mischief, “if the world’s burning down around us.. ok, maybe not the best time. But when the moment’s right.. we could totally create something unforgettable.”

Letting go of that easy comfort, he straightened.

A moment was taken to consider the image Naniti painted. Ballrooms instead of battlefields. This was.. a nice thought. "I think it's possible. You read space well when we train and easily adapt to every situation. And you don't mistake attention for validation. So impressing the crowd is really just a side effect. I believe in you.. we just need to start practicing. Anywhere we happen to be."

​

 

[Naniti]

Naniti smiled and chuckled softly at Lysander's foolishness. It was absurd. What kind of Sith conducted himself so frivolously? "Alright, already, Lysander. You won me over. We'll practice dancing wherever we can so people can't look away at us on the dance floor -- wherever that may be." She reached across the table, palm up and a smile on her lips. "After we're done with our drinks, do you want to start here, or is there somewhere else we should be? Whether it's the ice, the snow, or somewhere warm we'll give your outrageous idea a go." Dancing and fighting. "Next we'll be using flaming swords, and exotic outfits."

It really was outrageous. Dancing. Fighting. If Naniti's Master had ever seen her try that in the arena they'd have literally killed her in a fit of rage. 'Not taking it seriously,' they'd have said. Well, once you got a handle on the fundamentals wasn't it appropriate to experiment? Find a fighting style of your own so you weren't predictable? Somehow that didn't seem to be the reason why Lysander was adamant about the idea. Just the way he'd been sitting there watching her. With those deep green eyes.

It wouldn't hurt to try something new. He was a good teacher. That was it. Who else could she practice something unorthodox with but someone that understood the orthodox as well?

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: CT-312 //:

Gliding on the ice was the last thing on her mind; the action only added to the atmosphere as they spoke. It was easy to forget who she was and what she represented to other people. Quinn continued to smile softly.

She enjoyed listening to 312 work out the meaning of everything. The Trooper was smart, but still very unaware of the galaxy at large. Quinn figured it was because of how the clones were created and given a purpose.

But they all had a purpose, different — but essentially the same.

Quinn was raised and conditioned to be a ruler, a leader, some representation of something to a mass of people. 312 was created to fight, to be commanded… to obey.

That last thought furrowed her brows slightly as she looked to the Trooper, who seemingly was aware of their purpose and differences, but to appease the Princess, didn't lean into them. Quinn was thankful, for a moment, for a day she could forget her duty and purpose.

"Of course," she started, laughing softly as she breathed, "While enjoying someone's presence is something you could do at any time. Life is busy, and we tend to forget." Shrugging, she let herself drift slightly closer to the Trooper as they continued.

"It's nice to be reminded, at least to stop and enjoy life."

Quinn didn't comment on the locks; she was already mentally going over her calendar and when she could conveniently take a good chunk of 312's time to go through her entire security system. It was justified, the Trooper did offer.

They started to slow to a stop, and Quinn let her curiosity show on her face as she looked at the other woman. She nodded, agreeing with the notion that Zinder was meant to introduce new people whom you wouldn't have likely met. Before Quinn could say anything more, 312 began to properly introduce herself.

As 312 spoke, Quinn's eyes and her attention flickered to their hands. She didn't let it go; Quinn couldn't help but let her heart flutter for a moment at the small gesture. 312 was making it too easy, far too easy to believe that good things could happen to her. So many times before she had been dazzled and shown a possibility of having what she always wanted… but just as easily as they came, it was also always so easily taken away from her.

Quinn listened, not wanting to let her mind drift to the sadness and loneliness that often weighed on her heart. It would ruin the moment, ruin the day that had been so carefully crafted to be pleasant.

She shook her head at the question about her hands being cold. She wasn't cold, not really, but she liked the doting she was receiving from her date. Quinn enjoyed being taken care of, and 312 seemed to have picked up on that already in their short time together.

The Trooper was far more observant than the Princess had realized.

"Hello, CT-312," Quinn smiled. She squeezed the clone's hands tightly, enjoying the closeness and the feeling of the Trooper. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well…" She mused and skated closer as they began to move again.

"I hope I don't disappoint you," she spoke quietly, somewhat hoping that the woman didn't hear her. As 312 began to move again, Quinn let herself be pulled along. She thought about the other activities and felt her stomach growl. It seemed the excitement of the ice skating and the reassuring feeling from the Trooper worked up an appetite for the Echani.

"I think the stalls would be a good stop, we could grab something to eat." Quinn thought quietly, "Zinder always gets some of the best vendors for these things."

She paused and looked at 312 as they came to the edge of the rink before exiting. Once more, she gave the woman's hands a gentle squeeze and leaned forward quickly to brush her lips against the scarf that covered the lower half of the Trooper's face.

Quinn would have instead given a kiss to the woman's cheek, but alas, the covering was in the way, yet it was as much part of the Trooper as her own flesh.

Pulling back with a smile, Quinn nodded.

"Let's get something to eat."

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti​

Lysander's lips twitched into their own little smile, eyebrows lifting just a smidge in almost boyish surprise. Won her over? The thought warmed him more than the mystery caf. Huh. Well, that was kind of wonderful. He found himself agreeing, and somehow, that only made it better.

“Really?” slipped out before he thought better of it.

But then her hand was already there, answering in a language that was truer than any words. He took it and his thumb came to rest against her palm.

His brain betrayed him instantly on her following comment. Sounded like a good way to get executed or put on a watchlist. Or even immortalized in a very embarrassing holodrama.

“I suppose if we’re going to scandalize the galaxy, we may as well do it thoroughly, right?” Emerald eyes flicked back up to hers in amusement. "But.. I don’t know Naniti, I may have to draw the line at exotic outfits. I do have limits.”

“We could go back out there.” A subtle turn carried his gaze toward the lake, where blues and whites stretched. Cold, yes, but oddly beautiful. “Mm. I trust you won’t let your favorite instructor faceplant.” His attention returned fully to the Togruta, dryness edging his next words. “At least not when it’s all so public.”

Reaching out, he caught another bite on the skewer, lifting it to taste. Then, he squeezed her hand gently as his thoughts drifted somewhere beyond the moment.

In fairness, their currents boots hadn't changed; steel kissed the surface beneath them.

"Hard to pretend we're finished when we're still dressed for it."