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

[Naniti]

Naniti swung around in time with Lysander so once they came around they could align for another pass. She was aware of the others skating nearby, but the Togruta paid them no mind -- so long as they didn't draw within striking distance or start to charge. Some battles took place in dynamic settings with visual and audible distractions.

"That's not control," the violet Togruta responded calmly despite the focus apparent on her face, watchful of Lysander's movements, "that's discipline, adaptability, and... comradery." The stick was twirled off to one side between her fingers. "Control is an implied absolute. The very thought snares people in an illusion of certainty. Nothing is certain. Being out here, on ice, just makes it more obvious. And that's why I find you intoxicating, Lysander. You're someone I actually want to be around by choice without expecting to 'gain' something. Someone I can... trust." A smile graced her lips for a few seconds. "I've never experienced that before." Comradery was only something in books until she met him. A romantic dance under the eyes of an Empress -- maybe she hadn't been watching, necessarily -- had been another. Both of which she found appealing, and wanted more of despite all her Sith training saying it was 'inadvisable' at best and a karking stupid idea that would get her killed or worse at worst.

"You better not," Naniti's voice rang out with a smirk in its wake. Going easy on someone in 'training' without their agreement was just looking down on them, is how she viewed it. When the Togruta said her Master had been a traditional Sith she meant in every worst way possible. Training wasn't training without a great deal of group pain. That wasn't something you survived only to have people treat you like a fragile doll.

As the distance closed and Lysander brought his weapon up a few choices came to mind. Under the circumstances though, she felt meeting him head-on was the best approach. It wasn't about winning, but developing and reinforcing the fundamentals. But Naniti fully intended to win one day.

Naniti swung both hands up over head with the stick angled down and to the side in an effort to catch Lysander's strike. The awkwardness of the guard would only last a second -- if allowed to run its course without him bothering to counter -- before she'd try to force his weapon up, possibly around, to leave him open for a lethal blow. There was even a sharp scraping of ice as she turned her body into the block at the last second to help absorb more of the energy; the more she cancelled out, the less strain from his weapon bearing down on her own. There was the risk of him managing to overpower the block, which would drop the stick and make balance more difficult; but Naniti was curious to see how much upper body strength he'd put into it.

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Eurydice]

Of course - sometimes it took a wildfire for something new to grow from the ashes. There was some sort of lesson, or perhaps an old Ukatian proverb bouncing around her skull, that meant roughly the same thing.

Even the field that had been torched in the Sith's assault of her homeworld had been turned into a vineyard. It turned out that those particular grapes thrived in alkaline soil conditions.

Ashes into wine, as it were.

There was something else that stuck out: he'd hurt people with fire. Despite the relative warmth of her companion, Eurydice shivered.

Right. He was one of them.

Then, he offered the little flame to her. The girl stilled in place, startled. The bright flicker of fire reflected in the glass of her eyes.

"…What?" she asked, stupefied. "That's…no, I cannot. I don't know how. I'll only burn myself."

Yet, she didn't step away. Was it out of curiosity or something more?

"How can such a destructive force heal…?"

Varin Mortifer

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti
​

The parry was to be expected, as envisioned, and anticipating her timing wasn’t entirely challenging. But again, the ice introduced a variable that wasn’t easy to account for. The scrapes of skates on ice were becoming a chorus. Balance was a negotiation of its own..

The vibration raced through his wrists, and teased an already brittle concentration. There was the twitch of deltoids and forearms too, naturally prepared to either push, pull, or pivot. But the lake betrayed Lysander, and one skate caught enough to wobble his stance.. which forced the guard a fraction late. It wasn’t perceived as a failure.. just a need for recalibration. A calculating mind began downloading the data of their duel.. the rhythm, every micro detail that would be used for the next phase of this dance.

Lysander's knowledge of anatomy aided him; the arms alone could not hold the line without the proper support of a strong torso. In the end of this first exchange, the stick was forced upward, but only partially.. in a way that taught him something. An opening was there, had she wanted it, a riposte in spirit.

A glide backward on his right skate helped stabilize him. With the left, he regained balance.

“I, too, find myself drawn to your presence,” Lysander said with deliberate slowness. His eyes traced the Togruta like scripture, searching for any fracture in the cruel veneer of their world. “This camaraderie you speak of.. that’s no illusion, Naniti. It’s a rare constant in the storm that consumes our path.. and I like it.”

A pause was measured in breath. “To trust you.. that feels like the rarest discipline I’ve dared to practice.”

And with the next push off the ice, he moved with a clean stroke, pulse quickening. “Don’t hold back on me again.” The distance was closing. “Next time you have an opening,” a tilt of the shoulders, a duelist’s poise.. “Take it.”

Something in him loosened, like embers breaking into flame. The next inhale was sharper with heat that wasn’t from exertion. Passion, focus, the edge of anger.. who was to say? But the dark flowed through him all the same. Not violent.. but very much alive. Now, he would reflect that with the next attack.

The stick swept toward her right side.. a feint. A saber would have sold it better, but instincts were instincts. Midway through, his fingers adjusted, his elbow cutting inward, collapsing into the true strike. The lunge followed, shoulders rotating to deliver the line straight at her own stick. Catching it was rather ambitious. Turning her balance with it? Even more so.. but worth the attempt.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

A rebuff, then cold, cold fingers wrapping around her hand. For a moment, all that Cora could focus on was the uncomfortable sensation of being caught in his skeletal, icy snare.

Even his touch was sickening.

The first chill swept through her, trawling over her spine and turning her stomach. It was as if her body, unable to fathom the potential reality that he was suggesting, rejected the idea as if it were a bacterial invader.

Hesitance crept into her expression, and she yanked her hand away just before his grip loosened. Both hands cradled the curve of her abdomen, in a bid to protect her unborn child from even the will of the Force itself.

Despite it all, there were times where Dark still whispered to her. Cora had managed to resist the siren’s call, but Marr blood ran through her veins. With any luck, it would prove too diluted in her children to be of much danger.

Would I kill them?

It was an incredulous thought, one that earned Darth Nefaron a glare colder than the great churning ice storms on Hoth.

“So you do know what love is,” she murmured. “Just enough to wield it against me.”

He was trying to get under her skin and exploit the safety of her unborn child to usher her to his side, but that didn't make the feelings he stirred within her any less potent.

Cora forced her expression to settle and lifted her chin.

"I believe you offered my father something mutually beneficial as well - or so you made him to believe," she scoffed. “How am I to know if what you offer is any different?”

Consideration slipped into her mind like a midnight-black shadow; what if Nefaron was right? The Alliance had collapsed, the Jedi had scattered, and the Republic was beset on all sides by enemies. Would the Mandalorians risk their relationship with the Republic by joining the Sith in war against Naboo?

Even now, she felt as though she were a puppet dancing on unseen strings. Cora shifted on one foot, a hand remaining at her stomach while the other dropped to her side.

Remember who he is. Remember what he has done.

Imagine what he will do.

"A temporary Alliance,” she summed, “to combat threats that we both face. Aligning with any Sith would be gamble. The only Sith who'd ever sought to hurt me so dearly has been you, Nefaron."

Cora stared at the proffered hand, her expression tensed in true consideration.

"Safe?"

Soft clouds of breath drifted past her lips as she huffed something close to a laugh.

Then, quick as lightning, she pulled the saber from her belt, and swung. The blue blade hissed to life milliseconds before it passed through the gaunt, frigid wrist that connected the hand extended in egregious proposition.

"The safety that you offer is a lie."

Darth Nefaron

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Her surprised and slightly startled reaction to controlling the flame was expected. Many shy away from the destructive force and the control required to keep it in check. But she did not shy away this time. It could be blind curiosity or even boldness. The firelight danced in her eyes as he held it in his palm.

Her next question brought a chuckle of amusement to him.

“Its probably best I show you.”

With his free hand he brought it up to one of the branches, running his thumb up till it reached a twig that he snapped off with ease. Raising the snapped end of the twig to the flame he burned it slightly to harden the wood defining the break into a point. Varin then removed his jacket hanging it on the branch and slowly rolled his sleeve up. The brands along his arm were much clearer to see, as they pulsed with a dim faint orange glow.

He then gave her one more soft smile and began to run the sharpened stick down his wrist. Blood gently dripped down to the snow, giving a faint sizzle as it melted the ice below it. But now as he cut downwards, the wound began to burn slightly, sealing the wound and casting the dead flesh to the wind. The wound was nothing more than a past event. What showed now was flesh that seemed unpierced.

“Cannot and will not are two different things. Anyone can control flame, some just believe it is above them. Flame is a gift, not a nightmare. I can make sure it doesn’t burn you. Besides, how would you know if you have never tried?”

His hand remained offered, a final chance for her to step out of the comfort zone.

“I didn’t come here to scare or hurt anyone.”

for once

Eurydice​

 

[Riven]

Tags - Rio Naran

As Rio's hand left her own after the shake of greeting she couldn't help but notice how slowly and deliberately the taller woman trailed her fingers across her hand in their departure. The action drew Riven's gaze as her crimson eyes lingered upon the hand for just a moment. Had she guessed that the intent was to entice or draw her attention? Probably not, she just thought it was a little odd. She can't say that she didn't at least like it though as her gaze flicked back up towards the taller woman for a moment.

She would've also looked to all the stalls and the like on display if she could even see over the crowd of people... But in response to her first question she shook her head, "No... I just got here... Have you? I'm fine to do whatever you'd like, I'm not really that..." she glanced aside awkwardly, "... Good at this..." she admitted. It was best to get her ineptitude for social situations out of the way early she felt.

The question of her species raised however, and while Riven had made the same connection with a mere glance towards the much taller Eldorai, she hadn't said anything for there were plenty of species around with long pointed ears. She gave a nod of confirmation in response. "I am, yeah... Mostly, at least..." she replied, such an answer perhaps helping to explain her short stature. "... I didn't grow up around others though, just my sister..." she added.

Her crimson eyes returned to Rio for a moment longer, pausing to take a better look at the woman before her. The stare was noticeably not focused upon Rio's eyes, she found it difficult to do that after all, but they did take her measure in every other aspect but perhaps a little too obviously.

"... Do you mind taking the lead with this... date...?" asked the short elf plainly.

 

[Saul Whesai]

Saul just shook his head as he followed her off the ice, still trying to comprehend what was happening. Looking mystified as he watched her skating blades retracting into her boots, he would what mechanics inside made them work. It took him awhile to realize that she was already leaving and he had yet to take his rental skates off. If she bothered to look back, she would see the Android bouncing on one foot like a madman to put his boots on while trying to keep up.

The Android finally managed to jog up from behind Fallon just as she was paying for their drinks. A sound came out of his mouth when he saw her paying, and he wanted to at least pay his way. Ones only knows a arm and leg they were charging. Fallon asking if he was all biological on the inside didn't exactly help him make words...

As their food came out, Saul give up trying to talk, finding a table for them to take a seat at. As he took the mug in one hand, the other would try to sneak his share of credits into her pocket. He couldn't let the Lady take away his dignity so easily, even if she was a rich heiress.

The spinning eventually stopped and he managed to recover his senses enough by the time she offered her mug out. "Umm... Yeah, Cheers." Atleast the hot coco's taste was almost worth the price. It was then that Saul fully lost his mind. Spearing piece of donut with one of the toothpicks provided, he offered it out to Fallon to try. "Tell me if its any good." This leap better be worth it or he might be taking a hard hard fall.

As they countined with their meal, Saul had one question on his mind. "So... what was it like for you growing up? Being raised like you were must have been interesting." Maybe it was his jealously getting the best of him or maybe him just wanting to know what the other side was like, a side where there was actually happiness. Either way, he was curious what it would be like to grow up in an ivory tower.

Fallon Draellix-Kobitana

 

[Kito]

//: Valaine Valentine //:
//: Attire //:

There were already so many people enjoying themselves. Kito watched as pairs glided gracefully over the ice, holding hands and staying close to keep warm. She smiled, excited to be on the ice as well soon. Kito had always wanted to attend one of these social events, but never found a reason to. With the silly little app she joined, there wasn't much traction, but at least she had someone to take with her.

After a short conversation of trying to convince the Sangnir, Kito waited quietly, holding a pair of skates that were Valaine's size in one hand. In the other was a small box, carefully wrapped with a red bow. More people flooded in and out of the rink and the surrounding areas. Kito kept an eye on the gate, waiting — feeling almost nervous.

It wasn't the first time Kito had met Valaine. They were close friends; she cared for the dark-haired woman and looked forward to seeing her. Still, she couldn't help but feel eager to see her friend.

It was an interesting mix of people; it felt like it didn't matter what government you fought for, which side you aligned with, or where you were from… Everyone just wanted to have fun and celebrate the winter and Life Day.

Kito couldn't help but enjoy it. Ilum itself was a planet so prosperous in the Force and in Jedi history. She remembered coming here when she was younger to collect a stone for her lightsaber, infusing it with her force energy and then constructing the weapon. It wasn't with her, but she mused over the second lightsaber she ever created. The hilt had not been with her in a long while, but where it was — felt right.

Shaking her head, she leaned against the rink wall, the cave keeping the place cold enough to house the ice. Kito hoped the red sweater was bright enough for Valaine to find her, but as she glanced around, several people wore red…

It was, in fact, a holiday color.

Sighing softly to herself, Kito hadn't realized — this being the first time she celebrated Life Day.

And happily with someone she cared about.

All that had to happen was for Valaine to show up.

 

[Naniti]

The Togruta gave a slight shove so she'd swing back out away from Lysander as he spoke. A move meant to open up a little distance for the next exchange. Her blue eyes peeked out from the corners at the man as he spoke. As he agreed. He... he liked it? Of course he liked it. But he said he liked it, which was better than just thinking he did.

Why? Why did it matter so much? Naniti didn't understand, but maybe for once that was okay. One of those... inexplicable feelings she'd read of in literature? Something she didn't need to research, dissect, and understand its parts.

And it meant something for him to trust her. It meant something to trust, but Lysander didn't know everything. She didn't know everything about him either. Maybe he had some dark secrets; all she knew were the things time, circumstance, and desire had yet to force her to explain or expound upon. To blindly trust her was a risk. Did he appreciate how much? Did she?

A small smile touched her lips as they stood facing one another.

Just a flicker of thought about how odd that he'd try almost the same strike again formed before Lysander thrust his stick forward. Naniti held the long beam in both hands with little choice but to defend. At the same time, however, she shifted her left skate a few degrees. The hard strike would register, but the violet woman then sought to use the blow and her own core muscles to pivot around the outside of strike. Her arms rose again, but this time to bring the stick up vertically along her back to keep Lysander from catching her back in the turn.

As she came out of the pivot, she only had a split second to check on Lysander's stance. Had he managed to move his stick? To where? Had his momentum continued, which added a gap however wide between them? With her own weapon required to come from over head, Naniti tried to figure out if a nearly vertical strike or a horizontal one for the neck would work. She doubted the latter; if his stick were in any sort of ready position an attempt at his neck would leave her midsection wide open.

A twitch upward twitch at the corners of her lips followed their clash. "Was that an invitation to go all out? I don't think our audience would survive."

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti
​

Lysander’s breath hitched slightly, fog curling from his lips as the ice protested. Blades slid, forcing constant micro adjustments in ankles, hips, and core. The crack of sticks colliding punctuated the air, a shock that shot from his palms to deltoids, and into the chest. And it was more than sound.. vibration, tension, an intoxicating electric pulse that sent the senses alight. Afterall, the blonde had always been something of an adrenaline junkie.

Naniti’s pivot registered in the corner of his vision. Sure, he could read it, but the ice had its own will.. dragging slightly beneath him. Another half-second recalculation. But he followed the movement’s path, shifting his own weight again, feeling the slip of balance in the right, and the left forced to compensate.

His focus lifted with her arms, trying to calculate the angle of her defense with the dance of anticipation in his blood. Had it just been the two of them on the lake, the scrape of her skates would’ve been a clue, something to follow. An overhead swing cut through the air. Without a conscious thought, his lithe frame moved. When their weapons collided, there were small contractions in his biceps. So, he loosened his grip, to absorb the flow, and let the strike slide past.

A slow exhale pressed through his nose. When the violet Togruta spoke, he scanned the open center of the lake with detachment. Skaters drifted here and there.. couples weaved in arcs while holding hands, and there were shadows of movement in the peripheral. Based on his calculation, there was plenty of space..

He refrained from pressing the next attack. The guard position settled, as natural as breathing. "It was."

And then emerald green returned to her; only her, as on Desevro, as on Jutrand. The rest dissolved.. blurred into background noise. A tilt of his head sent strands sweeping across. “They seem busy enough,” Lysander affected in a nonchalant tone.

The crescent line etched upon his youthful features deepened. “Maybe you’ve already let it fade.. but the last time we moved together, the world was gone.”

A crease formed between his brows. “Let me see what you’re hiding. I can take it, Naniti."

 

[CT-312]

//: Quinn Varanin //:
//: Ilum //:
//: Attire //:
//: Objective 2 - He was a Skater Boi and I was a Skater Gurl! //:

Through the bond, CT-312 felt something of a warmth. Foreign and rising. Something inside Quinn briefly brightened. Familiar. As CT-312 listened to the Princess as she stepped onto the ice, something quieter followed. A small heaviness, the warmth pulled. Fading inward. Retreating. She didn’t know what name to assign either sensations. Setting the ‘feelings’ aside in memory, gradually learning their shapes. Trying to understand them.

The Scout’s arm held firm to steady her grip. The moment Quinn’s fingers tightened around her hand, CT-312 subtly shifted her weight. Anchoring herself on the slick surface, standing still with her feet aligned. Letting the Princess adjust to the unfamiliar terrain. Blue eyes took note of each micro-wobble in her knees and ankles. CT-312 didn’t move until Quinn was ready and comfortable to, only then did she ease beside her. The question was returned back to her.

She gave a slow brief nod. “Yes. I’ve skated before.” Confirming. “Not like this.” Not for leisure, not beside someone, and definitely not for… whatever this was. CT-312’s hand slipped into her jacket pocket, retaining warmth. Her other hand stayed. Elbow tucked close to her side for stability as her hand that supported the Princess’s held outward. Firm and steady. It was there if the Princess needed it. “For snowy missions that required stealth reconnaissance.” The Scout’s eyes flickered across the lake’s reflective surface. Tracking nearby skaters to ensure no one drifted too close. “Not as quick as a speeder, but far less detectable. Faster than walking across a frozen body of water.”

CT-312 angled her head. Just enough to keep her field of view forward while still watching the Princess in the corner of her eye. Quinn’s legs. The way she pushed off with each skate. Clear indicators for the Scout of comfort or lack thereof. She cataloged each motion. “It’s been a while for me too.” CT-312 admitted. What was the saying? “It’s like handling a speeder. The body remembers.”

They continued a lap around the frozen lake. Reflections of the softly glowing crystals rippled beneath their skates. Scattered around the skating area, something in her periphery caught the Scout’s attention. A plant life that didn’t match Ilum’s known flora. A flower that didn’t look like it would be able to survive such a cold climate. CT-312’s lenses adjusted and BARCA began an immediate analysis. “Some of the plant life here seems… off.” Quietly noting to the Princess. “Best to steer clear or be cautious.”

She shifted her body into a gliding stance. Her front skate pointed forward while her back leg pushed in slow controlled motions. Ice skating in a mohawk, body half-turned toward the Princess. With her left hand, CT-312 transferred Quinn’s grip over. Letting their palms meet securely as her right hand hovered just above the Princess’s lower back. Ready to brace or catch her at the slightest sign of imbalance.

The Scout remembered the Princess mentioning Eshan previously. During the initial period when she first began receiving assignments under her. Something about The Winter Solstice? At the time, CT-312 marked it off as courtesy. Extended to her because she had been an ‘acting chaperone’. But now, the Princess mentioned it again.

CT-312 could have easily had BARCA pull up Eshan’s information. Its inhabitants, environments, culture… ‘like’ was too general. Too plain. Anyone could just ‘like’. “Particularly. What about Eshan are you most fond of?” Curious.

A flash of memory struck. A dress around that time. The bathroom window she’d picked open. Guilt lingered faintly. “Did you ever get those window locks replaced?” CT-312 looked at the Princess, head tilting a fraction. “If not, you should. It was easy to pick open.” As her newly appointed role of head of security, that detail mattered more now. “I can check later. If it’s still an issue, I’ll find a suitable replacement.”

As they continued skating, CT-312 felt the Princess’s hand tighten now and then. Small intermittent tenses. Each time, her hovering hand gently and briefly touched Quinn’s lower back. Steadying her with a firm controlled contact.

Her eyes kept watch of the Princess’s legs. Recognized the subtle tells: the shift in grip, the micro dips in ankle alignment, the tilt of weight forward and backwards. CT-312 leaned in closer, voice in a low murmur near the Princess’s ear. “Try to keep your knees slightly bent.” She waited. Focusing and observing. “Lower.” CT-312 wasn’t good with compliments or encouragements. She didn’t know the right words. 'Good girl?' No, that was incorrect. 'Good job.' No, recently learned that could sound sarcastic. Needed to be direct and confirming of the noted correction made.

CT-312 leaned closer again, tone soft and confident. “Good.” Her breath through the scarf ghosted the Princess’s cheek as her attention and eyes were to the changes made. In a low voice, “Just like that. Nice and low.” Her gaze lifted briefly to the Princess’s face. "I got you. I won't let you fall."

She slowly released Quinn briefly. "The lower you get…" Sliding ahead to demonstrate. CT-312 sank into a deep bend. Knees angled, center of gravity low. "...the more stable you are." She exaggerated the bend to prove the point. "More Power— " With minimal effort, pushing off with a single leg, the blade bit into the ice. Gliding forward with impressive speed. "is easily generated with each push." Still in a deep stance, CT-312 carved a tight turn. The ice made a biting sound as the inside skate’s outside edge gripped the ice. In a controlled movement, she slowly transitioned into crossovers. Her free hand reached out briefly to skim the ice as her fingertips trailed across its cold surface. Going in a small circle before slowly rising from the deep knee bend as CT-312 skated back to the Princess's side.

A slight pause, realizing. “... Ah. Apologies, Princess. I didn’t mean to overstep. I’m sure you know all this already.” She extended her hand again as her other hand resumed its palace hovering at Quinn’s lower back. “I’m not… trained for this.” CT-312 admitted. “Protocols didn’t cover any of it.” she waited. Half-expecting a reprimand. “I’m trying. But it’s not my area of expertise.” Her head turned slightly as the Scout surveyed the other couples around them. Her breath fogged softly through the scarf, a quiet sigh. “I’m out of my depth. I’m working on it. Just not good at it… yet.” As they kept skating, CT-312’s attention remained split between The Princess’s footing and their surroundings.

Speaking suddenly, "But I don't mind." CT-312 looked at Quinn. Direct eye contact, clear and steady. “Talking.” A small nod. “With you.”

The Scout looked forward across the ice. Trying to process the atmosphere. It was… nice, in a way she didn’t have a name for. Slowly asking, “This event—” skating without a mission pressing on her felt strange. Unfamiliar. “Life day. I don’t understand it.” Gesturing lightly with their joined hands. "I've never done Life Day before. Is this normal?" Skating beside Quinn, a familiar company she trusted eased some of the stiffness in her voice. "How does it work? What are we supposed to do?”

CT-312 hesitated, a feeling she rarely experienced. Clarifying: “The profile— My profile… was not supposed to be uploaded. Accident or not… “ her voice softened with sincerity threading through it. “... the outcome isn’t something I’d change.” CT-312 glanced at Quinn’s face, checking her expression. Gauging for any shift in tone or tension. She’d hope the circumstances hadn’t caused any irritation or disappointment.

In an earnest and cautious tone, “Are we operating under… formal or informal terms here?" CT-312, genuinely, was trying to understand.

 

[Darth Nefaron]

SECOND DATE: Corazona von Ascania

Her blue blade cut through half-dead flesh with little resistance.
​

For his part, the Dark Lord only winced as the saber severed his hand, recoiling for but a moment after his appendage fell to the snow without so much as a drop of his black blood being spilt. Still, the silence that fell over them was thick; even the gentle wind seemed to die out as the Jedi struck at the Sith Lord. She claimed him to be a snake, a devil spawned from the blackest pit who would use every cheap trick and lie he had to pave his way to power.

She was right, of course.

But she'd blunered.

She struck an unarmed man. ​

One might argue that no Sith Lord is ever truly unarmed, but Nefaron offered her little threat. He made no move to attack her, no attempt to terrorize the children in her charge. She struck at him because she saw him as a threat and took steps to eliminate that threat before it could develop further.

The Dark Side circled them both. She could deny it, but she enjoyed what she just did.​

The silence was finally broken as Nefaron began to laugh. Quiet and almost restrained at first, but it wasn't long before that restraint was gone. He cackled, his back straightening out as seemingly ancient bones cracked and popped as he stood to his full height, no longer hunched over in his guise as the old Sith. Perhaps the worst of it came when his severed hand seemed to squirm, fingers flailing as they sought out their master. Nefaron was not quite dead, nor was he entirely living, but whatever he was, he was fueled by the raw power of the Dark Side at its purest, a feat achieved through great cruelty and sacrifice that the Terror Lord was more than happy to inflict on the galaxy.

And on her.

"At last, there is that fiery spirit I saw on Ukatis! Now, release your anger and strike me down!"

Of course, she couldn't do it, could she? No matter how angry she was or how disgusted by his actions, she could not bring herself to kill him with her heart full of anger. It was for that reason alone that he would never defeat him, for love was nothing when compared to the dark fires of rage. Nefaron could only laugh, for this game was one he had seen played out countless times to the benefit of the Sith. With his free hand, he reached out and pulled his severed appendage back to him, the thing now akin to a spider as it crawled back to its place at the end of his arm. The sound of flesh melding and bones snapping could be heard as it wove itself back into place.

She'd made the opening move. Now it was his turn.

The wind that had died down now roared back to life, snuffing out the fire and dragging with it a torrent of snow, smothering the pair in a sea of white. Nefaron disappeared into this sea, relying on his sorcery in place of a lightsaber.

He had been truthful in that regard at least; he'd brought no weapons with him.

"I should just kill you now, leave you to be forgotten in the desolate wastes. Perhaps I'll take your ring as a memento, or maybe I should return it to that wretched husband of yours? Oh, how angry that would make him, perhaps angry enough to charge into Sith space to seek me out? It would be yet another death that falls on your shoulders!"

The voice of Nefaron echoed from all directions, but the real blow came as one of the rocks he had offered as a seat now came flying from the storm, aimed directly at the Jedi.

"Then again, better to let you live until the creature within you is ready. Oh, Corazona, I will make your child a monster, and there is nothing you can do to stop me. That is..."

Now it was time for his final offer.

"Unless you serve me in their place!"​

 

[Ronhar Tane]

CAPTAIN RONHAR TANE, TK-3301
OBJECTIVE III: LET'S GO TO THE STALLS!
ILUM

Just a little more...

Ronhar continued to gaze intently into the eyes of Prystill Oasay , mere moments away from determining the type of gift she might want without directly asking her. He needed just the slightest hint of eye movement, the smallest sign from her...and there it was! A quick glance revealed that Prystill had at least some passing interest in a booth selling crystal ornaments. They would surely make a fine gift, and Ronhar would be more than happy to purchase some for his lovely date.

At this point, Prystill gave Ronhar's arm a light squeeze as she batted her eyes at him. Ronhar raised his eyebrows in surprise: had she figured out what he was doing? A sheepish grin spread across his face. This girl was sharp, and that was something liked very much in a partner. After all, what was the point of dating someone if they couldn't keep up with you intellectually? Ronhar continued to grin like an idiot, but his smile quickly soured after hearing the next words out of Prystill's mouth.

"Hey…Are you Nej Tane ? Is it possible you two are related?"

Ronhar spun around impossibly fast to face the new arrival. He was a similar hight and build to Ronhar, minus the cybernetics, and clearly he was someone that Prystill must have known beforehand. Ronhar found himself getting unreasonably annoyed at the man's presence. What the hell was he doing? He and Prystill must have matched on Zinder at some point, but clearly she had said NO to him and YES to Ronhar! Why was he here now? Trying to interrupt Ronhar on his date? Trying to steal Prystill away from him?

My oh my, was Ronhar getting jealous!

Equally as important however (at least to Ronhar) was the fact that Nej Tane had managed to sneak up on him completely unaware, completely catching him by surprise. That was something that rarely happened to Ronhar, who was always nearly on alert and keenly aware of his surroundings. How could he have allowed this to happen? He had been so engrossed by his partner that he had scarcely realized someone was coming up behind him! Ronhar couldn't help but remember a story he had been told by one of his instructors when he was in the process of training for Salvage Team Six. It had been a story about a guy named Darth Malgus, who apparently had been a great and powerful Sith Lord of old. The story went that Malgus had a lover who had followed him to the gates of Coruscant during the Sith's attack on the planet, doing everything she could to help the Sith Lord. However, Malgus ended up killing her himself because he feared she had made him weak, and he was determined to gain as much power as he could as possible.

Ronhar was pretty sure that the point of the story was to show how much the members of Salvage Team Six needed to sacrifice to get onto the team, but all he had taken away from it was that Malgus was an absolute idiot. Seriously, the Sith were a bunch of freaks as they were, so that fact that he had found someone who had actually loved him seemed like a small miracle. Then again, to be Sith was to be always striving toward ever greater power-no matter who or what got hurt in the process.

Regardless, Ronhar had dismissed the story then, but perhaps there was something to it. Granted, Ronhar wouldn't be murdering his lovers or partners any time soon, but it was something to think about. Still, he had a far more pressing matter to attend to. He rose to his full height and crossed his arms over each other in a sign of visible irritation.

"Not that I know of", Ronhar muttered as he visually looked the man up and down. He had no idea who this person was, to say nothing of the fact that they shared the same last name. This was the second time Ronhar had met another "Tane", and it was the second time said Tane was getting in the way of his plans. Still, it was a step up from the last one who had been actively trying to kill him.

"Captain Ronhar Tane, TK-3301 of the Mahporeem Imperial Remnant and Imperial Confederation", Ronhar said to Nej as he extended his hand forward in a handsake, fully intending to squeeze the man's hand as hard as he could without breaking it. "Is there something you need from us?", Ronhar asked with just the slightest hint of threat in his voice. Hopefully Prystill wouldn't think too badly of him, but there was no way in hell he was going to let another man get in the way of what was currently a near perfect date.

Especially before he managed to buy the damn gift!

TAGS:
Prystill Oasay
Nej Tane
OPEN

 

[Eurydice]

Eurydice watched with tentative curiosity as he revealed better the runes on his arm. The twig, heated beneath his grip, was shaped into a charcoal point that pressed against his pulse.

Show her? Don't tell her that he was about to…

"What are you-!"

Her hand flexed suddenly when he drew blood, fingers curling as the instinct to stop him was supplanted by surprise. The water of life, she'd heard it called. She'd seen her share of it during her cloistered life as a Seer, and more than she'd ever wanted to on Anoat beneath her master.

And then, guided by some magic or force that burned within him, wounded flesh began to knit itself back together. All that was left were ashen flakes of dead skin – and they soon scattered with a chilly breeze.

Eurydice's hand lifted to hover over her mouth in silent awe. Her eyes dropped to his offered hand. Silence reigned in the quiet moments that followed.

The girl reached out, and in a moment of astonishment and lost inhibitions, ghosted her fingertip down the line of healed skin. A faint warmth pulsed beneath her touch, traces of heat that lingered from newly sealed flesh.

"Oh," she gasped softly her mind returned to her, and pulled back – but not completely. A crimson flush painted pale cheeks as, again, she hesitated.

Then, she took his hand. Uncertain, a little scared, but ultimately willing to try. It had been so very long since anyone had spoken softly to her, since anyone had looked upon her with a measure of kindness. When she next spoke, it was with wavering caution.

"What...is your name?"

Varin Mortifer

 

[Shan]

Location: Ice Skating Cave
Tag: Lily Decoria

"Oh. I was just joking. I...didn't mean...anything about like...the actual names...I just meant...because y'know...roses are normally considered the romantic flower...not Lillies. And...well...I should...shut up. Yeah. That sounds good."

Shan tugged at his collar for a moment, giving out an awkward laugh as he listened to Lily explain her family's naming conventions. It made sense to him of course, even if Kat wasn't included amongst those names. You always had one child in a family that went against the grain in some way. And more often than not, it wasn't the child's choice. Shan was sure that Kat hadn't chosen to be named that, but that was something he didn't want to think about. His focus wasn't meant to be on Kat, it was meant to be on Lily.

"I say that now Lily, but I'll always say it. Few people in this Galaxy have a beauty on your level, and there's only one person in the Galaxy that has both your beauty and your personality. And that's the one person I would spend hours with. I wouldn't want to be with anyone else."

Strangely enough, Shan didn't seem to challenge Lily on her statement. He wasn't someone who had high standards himself when it came to dating...But at the same time, the only person he had seriously dated in the past was Colette. Of course, he had a few dates here and there afterwards, but it had never went anywhere serious. Even when Shan went to study for his doctorate, he had been more focused on his studies than on socialising.

"I'm pretty sure I have my laces tied up properly...It's fine, if I fall, I'll trust you to catch me."

The Mirialan reached up to take Lily's hand, holding onto her carefully to make sure he wasn't going to fall. Balance was something that Shan didn't really struggle with...but balancing on ice was a completely different story. He was sure it would all be fine though.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Her initial shock caught Varin’s attention as he watched her reaction. She did not know him, but even then, she showed some kind of resistance to prevent him from hurting himself. Her fingers gently grazed down the freshly healed wound, the new flesh that was reborn in the wake of the wound. It had been so long since he felt such a soft touch. It caused him to shiver ever so slightly. For once, the mark she left from the feeling left a cold sensation on him. His arm tensed for but a quick moment, before it melted back to a relaxed state.

Then her hand gently filled his palm, the flicker of soft flame hovering above her hand danced softly. The warmth spreading over the cold flesh that her hand was doused in before. The flame morphed into the slithering dancing shape once again, following her fingers first, then down to her wrist. As if mending her hand from the cold.

The moment of softness was such a welcome change to him. His cheeks began to feel a bit warmer than usual.

"What...is your name?"

He was surprised by the question, though he had no idea why. He never even thought to introduce himself. The surprise caught him a bit off guard and he stumbled over his words.

“Oh…um…I’m...Varin, Varin Mortifer.”

His eyes wandered slightly over their surroundings, the peaceful quiet from the snow that swallowed up the sound around them, even speaking in hushed tones felt like he was speaking in a raised voice.

“Apologies..”

He spoke softly before he chuckled lightly, catching himself then clearing his throat.

“What is your name, madam?”

The flicker of the light brightened slightly, and within that moment he became lost to her gaze, before he blinked a few times and looked away. The runes on his arms gave a very soft subtle beat almost matching the pace of his heart.

“Do you need a jacket? You can borrow mine, I have no real need for it truthfully.”

Eurydice​

 

[Naniti]

"I let it fade? I let it fade? Me?" Naniti chuckled to herself as one hand lifted from the stick to stroke one of her lekku. "I let it fade. Lysander," her hand fell down to join the other in supporting the long weapon, "I want to save the Machine because if it dies, I die." She muttered off to the side, "You die." At normal volume, the Togruta continued, "Not because of them. You think I'm worried about them?"

His violet partner didn't wait for a response. A sharp scraping of metal on ice launched the Togruta forward, with sweeping strokes used to build as much speed as the distance between them allowed.

There was no howling at the night sky (or cavern ceiling), no fangs or wings sprouted, and no monologue dropped; the moment she'd launched herself forward, however, there was a noticeable shift in her 'aura' in the Force. It'd become the sort of wild, raging essence he had expected once before. Back when he said she had surprising control for someone with such rage from a story of her childhood. And her eyes had turned a bright blue instead of a deeper, darker blue focused solely on Lysander.

Her course was aimed to take her close-in to her partner, but sailing by after what was likely to be a strike Lysander defended against. That was fine. It was expected. Naniti would swing around in a relatively sharp turn in and effort to come at him from the side then. Another blow would try to test his defense near the waist. Once again, she'd swing around to approach from what had been his back (at the start). A swing for the chest followed, and she'd swing for his left (at the start).

It was important to test him, because on the next pass she intended to swing up toward his center; the real strike was when she started to go by when her skate would flare outward suddenly aimed to strike the side of his own. Naniti had noticed the instability. Lysander's efforts to stabilize. It was an obvious potential weakness one should exploit, but there'd been no urgency to do so earlier and at the relatively slow pace he would have seen it coming. This time, however, Naniti wasn't focused on exploring technique and having a conversation. He wanted to see the young woman that had beaten and sliced her way into her Master's graces to be given the chance to attend a cut-throat, no-frills school like Desevro.

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Braze]

Tags: Toby Perris ​

Braze had actually grown a little since the last time he had spoken with Toby. Not much, of course, as his small stature was still owed to relentless physical training, sleepless nights, and the kind of lifestyle that never allowed proper rest. Even so, the change was there if one looked closely.

He had spotted Toby across the way, and his pale features brightened instantly. Recognition lighting up in those eyes. Braze tucked his comlink into a pocket and stepped forward with a bounce in his stride.

"Hey, you made it~" he chirped, warmth bubbling in his tone. "Nice to see you again. My, oh my... Just look at how you have grown."

His eyes drifted with open curiosity, taking in every detail. "That is a super cute scarf, by the way."

He could not help the small tug of envy curling beneath the surface. Others from his age group had shot past him in height and filled out with broader frames. They looked impressive. They looked strong. Braze looked at Toby and felt a tiny twist of that familiar jealousy, but it softened into something fond.

His jade green eyes lifted again, meeting Toby's gaze with direct, unguarded intensity. Braze held it for a long moment, unabashed and warm.

"So, care to grab a nice hot drink to keep warm?" he asked, voice softening into a near purr. "They have a lovely hot chocolate stand. My treat~"

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti
​

Levity appeared to be paired with something sharper underneath. A retort began to dance on Lysander’s lips even as his mind was clouded in thought. But he remained silent, tracking the blur as she closed the distance. Each of Lysander’s skates could’ve been a different creature, demanding attention. Fingers would remain loose on the stick, guiding it through a meditative arc as he sought a rhythm to match the change in hers.

Rotating his forearms, he let the stick angle absorb the first impact while shifting his frame onto the outside edge of his right skate. The vibration traveled up his arms, which was when he let a familiar spark turn into something more.. a pulse that matched the dark energy coiling in his chest. Was it irritation? Thrill? Didn’t really matter. Every motion would feed that fire, and he was all in. And he liked it that way too.

When Naniti struck from behind, his body barely reacted in time. The stick met hers at an awkward angle. His skates betrayed him; the momentum forced a stutter in his stride, a stumble that made the ice feel less like a lake and more like a battlefield.

Just like their prior exchange, he was forced to wrench his core to compensate, this time finding only partial control. The next strike arrived.. a swing aimed at his chest. The rebound of his own stick caught him across the torso.

Then, there was an unexpected contact flared against the side of his own skate, twisting his footing and sending them both sliding at crooked angles. Control finally slipped through his fingers, and he sank to one knee.. but it would not be in defeat. There had never been surrender in him.. it was just a natural response to the shift. One hand pressed into the ice, glove tasting the lake's cold. No excuses. The skates were irrelevant; she found a gap, and he allowed it to happen. Naniti’s prowess certainly was its own allure..

Now, this was no game. It was a true duel. Hesitation was a cost he could no longer pay. Lysander was already back in motion.. faster this time. The first strike arced low, a horizontal sweep meant to test the distance; and unlike the others, it was directed with more force. A second would come diagonally, fueled by the torque of his forearm, from waist to shoulder. Finding that elegance true to Form II, his frame pivoted from the outside edge, hips turning to channel more power with the flex of muscle.