Arcona Citadel Selen Meeting Room 44 ABY
Two Arconae sat at a table across from one another. The first was Marick Tyris Arconae. He looked tired, and wore his non-Exarch attire, which consisted of his simple robes and gray cloak. A cup of caf rested on the side of the table as he held the cards in his hands.
He looked up and across the table at his compatriot and said in his low, gravely voice. “Got any fours?”
“Oh my,” Atyiru Caesura Entar Tyris Arconae murmured to Captain Bly, who was, well, there, at her husband’s gravelly voice.
Orv glanced at his array and — for a fleeting moment — wondered if Marick could read his mind. But no…the Teltior was talented at resisting such subtle…attacks.
“Drek!” he spouted as he flicked a card toward his opponent. “You lucky bastard.”
Marick blinked, took the card and placed it into his hand. The array of cards, of course, was neatly organized and sorted by suite and numerical order.
“I think this entire game is pure luck…though Kirra seems to be really good at it. I have yet to beat her.”
Games of chance were silly affairs that he avoided—all too easy to lose and look a fool. Well. Avoided most of the time.
“Any eights?” Orv grunted before adding, “Well, when you finally do beat her, be sure to gloat for many many minutes. How is she at strategy games?”
Marick’s face remained calm and impassive as he slid two eights towards the Teltior. “She…seems like she could be great at them, but does not seem as interested. It’s more interesting for her to play the game itself…and win. It does not seem to matter how she wins.”
“She’s fantastibulous,” Atty asserted, a proud mother, continuing her ongoing commentary to Bly who was probably having flashbacks to her Consulship.
Orv grabbed the eights and splayed them on the table with his matching cards, then craned his neck around to look at Atty. “I don’t think that’s a word. But, I am glad there’s a spark of desiring to win. Crushing or losing to others is the right level of training at a young age as my father often reminded me.”
The Sith’s eyes focused intently. “Getting the taste for winning — particularly in games of strategy is a fantastic path into politics. Or leading battles if you are less refined.”
“I think she just likes using her abilities to get what she wants,” Marick said flatly, eyes shifting to the hovering Miraluka and then back to the table. “Got any sevens?”
Heavy steps and what almost sounded like the clang of spurs approached. Koda Kendis, in full armor, approached before grabbing a chair and making space for himself at the table. “Hope you all don’t mind a buy-in when you get a chance.” He was sitting with the chair backwards, the back resting against the table.
“I hope you soil yourself in your sleep,” Orv spat as he tossed a seven onto the table. “That’s another worthy trait. Well…not the soiling one’s self. The using of abili— Bah. You know what I mean. Tens?”
The diplomat adjusted his seat to accommodate Koda, sheltering his cards from prying eyes. “I’d be just thrilled to have you join. Maybe your luck will be better than mine. This is game three and I’ve yet to win.”
Marick shook his head. “Go Fis-hello, Kendis.” The only physical motion to greet the Mandalorian was a movement of his eyes, remaining still in his seat otherwise.
“We can play a different game?”
Atty pranced over, (“thank kriff,” muttered Bly), taking a seat and smiling. She made grabby hands blindly around the table. “Is there a game I can play?”
“Do you have any cards with bumps or something?” Orv took a sip of his water. “Or dice?” His thick, three-fingered hand reached out and pulled a card from the deck to add to his array.
Marick reached into his cloak and pulled out a deck of accessible-friendly cards. The aurabesh had raised bumps on it that worked for Miraluka as well.
“These should help, assuming she doesn’t…just try to read you mind to know what the cards are.” The Hapan paused.
“We can try Twenty One if you all prefer?”
“That beats this nightmare.” Orv punctuates that statement by dramatically waving toward Marick’s vast tableau of what used to be his cards.
“Atty. Keep out of this palace.” The Teltior taps his dome.
Atyiru faux-gasped. “Marry! My seekrits! How could you accuse me of such charades? We aren’t playing Holotionary.”
“Starting to realize where Kirra gets it from, now that I think about it…” he posited. “Anyway, Twenty One is more about all vs dealer, so it should be fine.”
Marick dealt out two cards each to Atyiru, Koda, and Orv.
Should was really the operative word there as Atty’s dimples dimpled and her pointed ears wiggled.
Orv cocked a brow as he looked at his cards—6 and 9—staring back at him. “I guess I’ll start. Hit.”
The Miraluka reached out and booped him with force.
He pulled his head back as a reaction and then caught Atty’s hands creeping toward his cards to read them. “Oh. I have a 6 and 9.”
Hands with more than 3 fingers still made him cringe after all these years.
“Nice,” Atyiru said, and, “Wink,” while she finger-gunned at Orv as Wyn had taught her.
Marick deals Orv another card. “Oh goodie. Another 9.” He gathers up his cards and slides them back to Marick, dejected.
Marick actually looks a bit sorry for Orv but nods solemnly.
“Atyiru, Koda, hit or stay?”
“Well I would rather like to stay forever, it is why I married you,” Atyiru sing-songed. She made a grabby hand again. “Hit me, baby, one more time!”
Koda didn’t even look at his cards, because, why would he need to? “Hit me.” He said, tapping the table.
Marick blinked. “Are…you sure?”
He didn’t sigh outwardly but somehow his spirit did through the Force. He flipped a card over for Atyiru.
“Positive.” Koda kept his eyes firm, unwavering for the time. “Because how amazing would it be if it’s a perfect score?”
Orv looked at Koda’s already near perfect score and was befuddled by it all.
Marick flipped the card, and to even his surprise, it was only a 2 of staves. “20,” the Hapan said.
His own cards were a 10 and a 4.
Atty hummed and kicked her feet. “A nice even number. Two sets of seven, which is just so. Don’t you think?” she asked him ever so sweetly.
“That’s a 21 total dear,” Marick explained.
“Well how about that.” Koda smirked and eased back just a bit, looking around to gauge everyone else.
“Oh,” said the Miraluka, thoughtfully. She cocked her head, then brightened. “I suppose we can have twenty one, my love.”
“Hrmph. No comment.” Orv scratched his chin and tapped the table. “Again.”
Marick flipped over a card and went over twenty one. “You win, Atyiru, that’s the goal of the game to get as close or on twenty one”.
Marick collected the cards to deal again.
Marick had to collect the cards including Atyiru throwing hers in the air as she cheered. “Yaaaaaay.”
Marick motioned casually with his wrist to telekinetically grab the fleeing fleeting cards and recovered them into the deck
Orv thought for a moment, scratched his chin, and let out a short grunt as he pushed his chair from the table. Rising, the Teltior murmured to the others, “Well…luck doesn’t seem to be on my side this evening. I have no desire to use those cursed cards—either deck—again tonight. I appreciate the time with you all…and the conversation.”
The former Chancellor pushed in his chair. “Atty. Koda. Marick,” he regarded each of them in turn. “Good evening.” With that, the Teltior left the room with a nod to Bly.
Marick waved.
Atty copied the gesture despite being blind.
.