Session export: A Ball in the Hall of Allusis

A young Zeltron woman strode in, head held high. She wore a black strapless dress that accentuated her curves. A loose non-structural section of fabric hooked over her left shoulder and bound down her arm connecting to a set of mid-humerus-length lace gloves. The skirt of the dress was flowing out into an A-frame, favoring her right side hip and draped to the floor. A toned left leg was seen through a leg split as she walked. A set of 4 inch black heels could be heard clicking along the tiled floor.

Doon had invited her, and after all she was feeling much better these past couple weeks. Her training has improved, as did her mood. The desire to go out and party like she used to back on Zeltros with her brother arose.

She knew the dress looked wonderful on her, but in order to really fit in with it, she needed to have the confidence to go along with it. Or… atleast pretend she has the confidence for it.

She shook her head, clearing the lingering thoughts that hovered so close, stepping inside. Her eyes peered at the dashing Shistavanen. He cleans up real nice.

“Commander Sulvir,” She nodded a sign of respect and greeting, as she reached for a fizzy-hopefully-alcoholic beverage on one of the platters.

She took a sip, sweet alcoholic success! Reveling in the feel of the bubbles tickling the back of her throat.

“Thank you for invite.” She considered asking more, but the looming self doubt still persisted. She took another sip instead.

Remy walked down the halls of the Helm quickly, adjusting her long gloves as she went. She hadn’t had reason to wear anything formal for such a long time, aside from when she would use a uniform. Now, she was dressed in a long, black dress that was moderately tight, but still covered everything but her arms, which bore the aforementioned gloves. She had even managed to work her saber holster into it in a way so as to not seem too conspicuous, it felt wrong to be without them now.

She was late. It was by coincidence that this event was happening right as she was returning from her sabbatical, but she had still hoped to make it after nearly four months away. Unfortunately, she had responsibilities to Gift, the large, orange Voorpak that now sat on her shoulder. She had left him on Selen before disappearing. He knew she was alive due to their connection, but he was still not happy about being abandoned, hence why he was not leaving her alone now. At least she had convinced him to spare her the indignity of sitting on her head, again.

Finally finding her way down the familiar halls, she pushed open one of the doors and slipped in, hoping not to jostle anyone. Thankfully, it seemed like things were just starting out, now. Probably best to lay low anyway. Even if she was trying to be more personable, there was no reason to become a social butterfly. Remy just moved slowly along the back of the hall, trying not to stand out too much.

Master Sulvir and Esen were here, at least. Although, she wasn’t sure she was exactly looking forward to that meeting. She didn’t think she would be missed when she had dissapeared, but after she got a connection back to the galactic networks she was practically flooded with messages, a significant portion of them being from Esen herself. Remy half expected to be attacked tonight. Not that she wouldn’t deserve it.

“Smell fish,” Gift spoke through their connection throught the Force, “Go to food platform.”

“Not yet, Gift. It’s impolite.”

Gift gave a small growl and his claws tightened slightly on her shoulder.

“Gift is bad name. Should be… Scar. Or Fang.”

Yuki entered the main hall, her presence both physical and not was almost overwhelming. She stood tall, needing no extra ornamentation for her brand of beauty. Her gown was simple, shimmersilk interwoven with gold thread. Soft slippers seemed to be crafted in the same manner and her shoulder-length blonde hair was artfully touseled.

The Twins entered behind her, obviously less interested in the party and more wanting to examine the architecture of the Helm.

“Mother,” began Niel.

“Look at this.” Finished Karasin.

Head and shoulder taller than her children, Yuki moved to stand beside them. “Very, very fine work. No expense was spared for the artisans who were called in to help design everything.”

“It would seem,” Niel said in his soft voice.

“That’s the case.” Continued Karasin just as softly.

Yuki turned and left her children marveling at the artwork and design of the hall and moved through the room, taking in everything.

Stopping a respectful distance from Doon and Esen, the Nagai curtsied slightly. “Commander. Thank you for the invitation. The children wished to come along. I hope you don’t mind.”

Karking heels

Zig clomped into the gala space in her stilleto-heeled high boots. The only reason she’d agree to them was because Vez said she should wear them more, and she was easily influenced, apparently. Her pants were leather and skintight, hugging her hips, and contouring to her legs. One never skipped leg day, even in the pursuit of science, and it did pay off. However, she did feel a bit stiff in moving around. She’d need to be pay extra attention to her footing, which would have been a lot easier if she hadn’t already been drinking.

Her vest was simple and red and worn over a white button down shirt with a black tie under a black leather jacket. Her hair was growing back, but still wasn’t long enough to have her signature braid.

Either way, someone had handed her a drink.

“Doon Doon!” Zig exclaimed as she noticed the towering Shistavnen. She offered a lazy salute at the former Captain. She also noticed Remalia, and was careful not to just throw herself at her. She offered a friendly wave instead.

She glanced up at Yuki, and blinked. Keep the inside thoughts inside, Zig she told herself, refraining from commenting about her views on women that towered over her and what she wished they would do with that height.

Her entire focus shifted when she saw Esen. Her eyes went a bit wide and glimmered. “Oh my god you’re gorgeous,” Zig blurted out as she click-clacked her way over to Esen. “Esen, you look stunning!” Zig said, her mouth open as she studied her dress. It fit her perfectly, and complimented her in a way that wasn’t ostentatious or flamboyant and was just right for her. It was just such a stark contrast to her usual fatigues and tank top Zig was used to seeing her in.

“Wow,” she smiled and tilted her head at the Zeltron, almost as if asking permission to give her a hug.

It only after that point occured to her that perhaps the guests might not have been expecting her as a guest.

Details…

Velira moved in deliberate silence as she passed through the threshold to the The Helm of Allusis, her silk dress whispering behind her. The female’s dark gaze swept across the faded stone inscriptions carved into the walls, now lost to the ravages of time. And yet Velira remained, unchanged, so long as she was able to keep herself sustained.

“This place… harkens back to the era my mother once belonged to. Perhaps one of the rare few that have been preserved,” The Anzati female remarked to herself from where she remained in the shadows. It was a particular era that was just the beginning of her long life, more than three hundred years ago, now whispered to her again through every weathered pillar and silent echo of the grand structure that lay before her.

Velira made her way to the central hall, one that had clearly been renovated since the beginning of the ancient building’s construction… At present, for a gala. A faint smile curved across her full lips. Having set aside her typical unassuming medic’s attire for the night, Velira now wore a form fitting silk gown with a lace bodice that wrapped around each curve, the shimmering fabric a shade of deep crimson similar to that of her eyes. Her dark raven hair fell over her shoulders in a series of soft waves, contrasting against the unusual pallor of her smooth skin.

“I shall have the wine,” Velira stated to one of the servers. She held her glass carefully in one leather gloved hand, not yet taking a sip, as her crimson gaze curiously surveyed those around her.

Esen’s thoughts turned in on herself at the small acknowledgement from the Commander. Perhaps she was dressed wrong, perhaps the dress wore her and not the other way around. Maybe she was bothering. Maybe small talk isn’t acceptable during these types of gatherings. Her cheeks heated and she dipped her head, stepping past the towering Shistavanen and further into the room. Maybe it was a mistake showing up afterall.

She made a mental note of the arrival of the Primarch and her children, before downing the rest of her drink and in search of another server. A place to drop off her finished glass and another refill, or five. She could always hide by the musicians and pretend she’s more interested in whatever melody they are composing.

Clicking of heels and a familiar voice dragged her away from her looming thoughts. She spotted the signature purple hair and those ears. She’d know that Zygerrian anywhere! Esen did an about turn, shuffling her way over. Zig always seemed to show up at the right time to save her from her own spiraling thoughts. Maybe she’s a psychic. The Zeltron made a mental note to ask about it later.

“Zig! Hi! You look great too, I love the vest and the tie. Heels are always a win.” She leaned in for the un-asked hug that lingered in the air. Careful of not messing up Zig’s hair. “Your hair! You cut it? It looks so cute!” She gasped in excitement.

”You should go, Nil. You get any more mopey about being lonely and I might actually feel bad for you.”

”You’re a karking bastard, you know that, Masahiro?”

So go she had. Dressed up in her finery and donned her normal, metaphorical mask. The bored Orator.

Her parents had finally removed her from the line of succession for their family. And despite her having asked for it, begged for it, fought for it… the victory felt hollow and empty. Her family had been a pit of vipers, but they had been family.

And now she was alone.

The Sephi stepped through the doors of the ballroom, donned in gold and cream. Her hair was pinned and curled and filled with golden flower pins. She had indulged herself in her favorite therapy yesterday in preparation for today— retail therapy. The dress she wore was the last she would ever buy off her parents’ money and she had made them suffer for it. Every inch was incased in some kind of gold, whether it was solid gold filagree or threads of gold sewn into the dress in smoke-like waves.

Her makeup was simple. Dark brown eyeshadow with bold, metallic gold eyeliner that swooped out in wide wings. Her lips were donned in matte brown lipstick. To top off the look were dainty gold accessories covering her ears, fingers, and a large expensive gold necklace inlayed with tiger’s eye.

Her tired blue eyes swooped the ballroom once, twice… then she sighed. What she wouldn’t give to go home and inhale a good bottle of merlot. She clasped her hands in front of her and gravitated towards the giantess she recognized as Yuki and the Shista that matched the description of the new Knight Commander. She had grilled Masahiro and Mihoshi about the decision to let another Ex-Arconan into the clan’s upper ranks, one with no familial ties to those currently loyal, and had been rewarded with flippant and unbothered responses.

Masahiro found arguing with her hilarious. Mihoshi found her borderline annoying, but interesting because of her persistence and “fire”. They both drove her mad. Neither of them seemed to understand that placing transplants from other clans in leadership would only make the coming war harder.

She wanted to strangle them both.

Instead, dainty fingers covered in golden rings snatched up a flute of champagne from a passing server without looking as she waited for the mountain of a woman in front of her to finish.

Zig actually flushed at the compliment, and unconsciously ran her hand through her shorter hair. “I um…yes, for the uh, I was trying to infiltrate the Quantum Shadows in the fighting pit. The long braid kind of is a liability so…” She looked away shyly but then seemed to recover.

“Thank you though. It’s good to see you either way. I know it’s…not required by protocol but you can always ping me even if it’s just a small thing. I really don’t mind…” She trailed off.

“I think it looks cute.” She listened intently as Zig spoke about how the hair is a liability. One she knew all too well, which is why she usually keeps hers in a tight slicked back donut bun.

“Did you want to cut it? If not, and you’re growing it back out again, could always try braiding it differently.. maybe like a crown braid? framing your face? It would be up and out of the way.” She gestured with her hand a visual as to what she was referring to.

“O-oh thank you. Ah- you as well. Anything you need. I visit the Dajorran system often, and should stop for a visit sometime– I’m doing alright now. Transfer has been complete, and I now occupy a research lab, working on a new beta drug at the moment. Its functionality is to increase the cellular levels of the enamel, helping repair damaged teeth, and preventing the damage from occurring in the first place. I ended up getting it to work, but we had some… interesting side effects,” She scratched her chin gazing around the room,

“I recently made a breakthrough to prevent these side effects with the help of that Seer at the bonfire… That was an odd experience but she pointed me in the right direction and I am forever grateful for it–”

Her eyes widened, locked onto the Echani that was standing slightly awkwardly along the back wall. The Zeltron’s gaze did laps over the woman, as if what she was seeing was not real. As if she were staring at a ghost.

Esen’s mouth went dry, all the information that she rambling off about her research, the next words she was about to say… just disappeared from her mind. She instead was just standing there, mouth agape like a fish out of water.

The only word that seemed to escape her was “Rem..” Said just above a whisper.

“Hrm… Fimsh…”

As it turned out, Remy was not very good at denying Gift his wishes. Now she stood by the refreshments table and held up small hor d'oeuvres to her shoulder, at the very least trying to maintain some portion control for him. The Voorpak was already round enough.

Then, the hairs on her neck rose. She had tagged Doon and Esen earlier, and it seemed that Remy was finally noticed, and the time had finally come to truly return home. She just hoped that at the very least they could remain friends. Taking up a long, thin glass of something thin and yellow, Remy smoothly moved to join her and… ah, Zig was here as well. A surprise, to be sure, but a welcome one.

“Good evening, Captain Kaliska. Esen. It has been some time.”

<@267489687902486530> <@189568236201705472>

Yuki gave him a wolf’s grin, showing off all her teeth. “Oh, we’ll try our best, darling.” A glance over her shoulder said there was a line queuing up behind her.

With a shrug, she gave Doon a more genuine smile and excused herself. There was food and drink and dancing and probably more than a few hearts to break if she played her cards right. Who had that been before her with Doon? Eden? Isen? She shrugged. It would come to her eventually. And then there had been the cat. Reminded her a little bit of Rin. It had been awhile since she’d seen Rin either. Was that the fate of someone who had, in effect, removed themselves from the concept of time? Yuki looked much the same now as she did a decade prior.

She shrugged to herself and smiled softly. People who were meant to be around you always found a way to put themselves in your path again when the time came. She’d see them all again if it was meant to be. For now, she had her children and that was usually enough.

<@267489687902486530> <@189568236201705472>

“Ms. Manavar,” Zig saluted lazily, almost spilling her drink in the process. “It is a pleasure to see you, it has been far too long, yes,” she nodded.

Her ears twitched as she felt her presense being noticed by someone. If it was the tall lady…well, Zuza was coming, but she still fidgeted a bit with her hair.

From her peripheral vision, a gold shimmer caught her eye. Lifting her gaze, Velira’s crimson eyes locked on the Sephi woman entering the room, and an expression of intrigue shifted across her pale features.

She swept forwards, gliding across the stone floor as a silent shadow, weaving her way around those who were seemingly enthralled in dancing.

“Greetings. I do not attend events such as these very often,” Velira began to say, now standing amongst the group. “But I must say, you have amazing taste, if your choice of fashion is any indication. And taste seems to be something that is in rather short supply, especially in this era.”

Velira lifted the glass of wine to her lips, taking a small sip. An expression of dismay flickered across her face. Though Velira generally found the effects of alcohol to be pleasing, it was notably without sustenance and flavor when compared to her typical beverage of choice, something that many referred to as ‘the soup’. A term that Velira found to be quite unrefined.

“This wine seems to lack… a certain depth…” Velira stated with the dismissive wave of her hand as she set her glass aside, turning back to the other female with a welcoming smile. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance this evening. I am Velira.”

<@264959101384130560>

“Yuki!” A young Sephi hybrid called out as she approached the tall woman. She had on a periwinkle blue dress with little white daisy patterns. Her strawberry blonde hair was down with a sapphire hairclip on the side. A gift from her late mother.

“Tell dad they are not the same color-” She kicked her prosthetic leg forward that was painted a much darker blue and had poorly painted white daisies on it.

The Mirialan heavily sighed behind Serenity. He had on a nice black suit with a tie that matched his daughter’s dress. The very same blue and white daisies on it. His soft blue eyes glanced down at Serenity for a moment before up to Yuki before he nodded to her in greeting.

“No, Dad! You’re suppose to go, ‘Ms. Yuki, I hope you are well today, you look beautiful.’ Seesh.” Serenity rolled her eyes at Castor.

Marius Edraven had heard that there was to be a ball within the Helm, though it had not been from a direct source. Most tended to ignore someone that was blind, often forgetting that their other senses were heightened as a result.

Truthfully, it had been much harder to discern what the Helm itself was, then acquire an invitation. This information had finally been revealed with a week to plan his arrival.

As a result, he had arrived not too long after the celebration itself began, though his lateness was a result of a minor difficulty.

His hired shuttle pilot had overshot the location by several kilometers and had to backtrack.

Thus, the Sentinel strode in, dressed in high quality, silken dress robes in the Jedi cut. Black, of course, with silver runework embroidery at the seams and along the sash. His electro-staff clicked along the polished floor with every other step, as it doubled both as a walking stick and visual aid for items that lacked life energy.

Rather than his normally windswept appearance, his dark blonde hair was carefully styled to enhance the look and give him a roguish air. His pale silver eyes swept from left to right, taking in the crowd of attendants and smiled at the ambiance.

Whilst he was fully aware that he would draw attention and be questioned before long, it would take a few minutes longer than normal due to the confidence in which he carried himself. It bordered on arrogance, but that was an unfortunate side-effect of his belief in his own abilities and the fact that his father had taught him to pull off the ‘Haughty Gentleman’ act to fit in with the High Class as needed, though the Sentinel Shadow could just as easily frequent a dive-bar in his usual attire without drawing undue attention.

As one of the servers passed him and smelling the alcohol wafting off of the drinks, Marius deftly reached out and plucked a glass free with his off hand. He murmured his thanks to the woman, just loudly enough to be heard.

The Primarch looked down at Serenity with a gentle - gentle? - smile. “Hello, little Serenity.” Her eyes flicked up to Castor, her smile turning a bit wicked. “Yes, Castor. I do look beautiful today.”

She crouched down, to be much closer to Serenity’s level. “The may not be the same color, but they both look good together and I’m sure your father tried very hard, yes?”

As she stood, Yuki lifted the girl and placed her on one broad shoulder, steadying her in place with an arm raised to add more seating room. “What brings you and your father here, little one? Surely, you didn’t just come to find an old crow like me?”

The demeanor of the cold, calculating Primarch was so radically different around the girl it could be believed she wasn’t the same woman who greeted Doon. She looked at Castor and beckoned him towards the tables laden with food.

“Are you in need of further assistance?” Her tone was soft, the words falling towards the man and seemingly no further. “I’d hate for you and the child to be troubled further.”

Karasin elbowed her brother. “Niel.”

He ignored her. She’d go bother someone else eventually, right?

Another sharp impact. “Niel!”

Maybe he could go find some food. If her mouth was full, maybe she wouldn’t be able to talk.

A harder sharp impact. “NIEL!”

He turned then, his eyes wild and not happy. “What?!” He hissed.

“Don’t be angry. Look.” Karasin pointed. “Isn’t that…”

Niel followed where she pointed and raised an eyebrow. “Marius. Yes. What is he doing here?”

Karasin grinned and started to lead/drag her twin towards their brother-in-law. “How cares. Let’s go bother him.”

Niel, as ever, seemed to be caught up entirely within the storm that was named Karasin. Ah well. If she was bothering Marius, maybe she wouldn’t bother him.

The escaped Force Cultist — Marius had realized they were indeed nutcases when the Council of Masters attempted to order him to breed with a female, despite his sexual preference — shivered as he felt a sense of deepest foreboding through the Force. He’d only felt a disturbance this strong once before…

And then he’d ended up bonded to a Raven that tended to steal anything remotely shiny that the physically blind man owned, then moved it elsewhere in a demented ‘game’.

The Sentinel Shadow quickly glanced left and right, trying to discern the problem, but none were clearly visible.

His first action was to drain the flute of wine in a single gulp, flitting his gaze around once more in the hopes of a server with a tray and more alcohol nearby.

Luck was not on his side… Especially since, despite being referred to as ‘spirits’, they contained no life energy. He was up a certain creek…

Marius silently swore and tried to move into the crowd, only to find that it was particularly crowded and he had no desire to be rude by bumping.

He swore internally.

Tisto practically waltzed into the room, a bottle of spicebrew in one hand. He had chosen his fanciest baby blue bathrobe, and pink bunny slippers as the proper outfit for such a formal event. It was important to look as though his work organizing the Kaal workers strike had no effect on him. He took a sip from his bottle, wondering if he should have brought it in a paper bag to look even less formal.

At the table, sipping a glass of wine and plucking at a vine of grapes, stood Zuza Lottson.

Though frankly, she could have been sat and she’d have still had to crane her neck just as much to look up truly at Yuki. Then less so to the man beside her. Frankly the only one even vaguely her height was the child. Not that it bothered the woman. A smile crept onto her face, sipping her wine as she slipped around the table to approach.

Zuza wore a simple mint green dress, sleeveless, shoulder-less and knee length. Her tattoos and the large scar spanning from her shoulder to the center of her collarbone were proudly visible in the gown.

Not planning on interrupting, she simply poised herself to be nearby, curious to meet but not so much to be rude. Nah. She’d just vibe, see if there was any interest then identify the next target. Next friend, even.

Hehe.

Kalen landed his new Lancer class freighter in a clearing near the large temple that Zujenia had mentioned in her message. She knew that Kalen was not coming into contact with alot of Lightside Jedi’s with him being a member of Clan Plaguies, so she figured she’d vicariously introduce him to some by xsending him to the ball in the hall. Her instructions were to just park and head on in. The Ball was apparently occuring in the main hall below the main entrance.

Since it was an event for a group with word Knight in its name Kalen donned his grandfathers old Jedi Generals Armour(circa 34 BBY), cloak and headed on it.

“Master Joss, will you be requiring my services at this austentacious event. I have thousands of recorded interactions at formal events such as thi…” D-3PO nattered.

“Nah you can hang out here D. Ill be back in a few hours.”

“Yes Master, I have plenty of wookie fur to clean out of the sofa seats thanks to Master Karraccas recent shedding phase.” D said as he walked back up the ramp and into the ship.

Castor gave Yuki a blank stare before he cleared his throat, “Yes. Ms. Yuki is quite stunning tonight.”

This seemed to please Serenity for a moment before she laughed.

“No! I painted it, I wanted it to be different colors but Dad thinks they are the same color,” Explained the young hybrid. She grumbled for a moment to be picked up like a little child, she didn’t need to! She was a grown person!

However, she got distracted by the next question, “When Dad got the invitation, we weren’t going to come, but I was booooored and bothered him for a bit-”

“Days,” Castor corrected as Serenity rolled her eyes and then leaned down to whisper into Yuki’s ears.

“Uncle Cole and I invented a glitter bomb in my kneecap, so if anyone tries anything, boom! Sparkles! And maybe a bit of smoke…” She trailed off as she gets out her datapad from a little square matching blue purse and started to play a new gaming app.

Castor followed them and shook his head.

“No. I have a job as a janitor. Pays decent well. Flexible schedule-”

“Ugh, a dumb job! He works every single day.” Serenity grumbled while still focused on the app. Yuki would know better than anyone that no one really works everyday, so what exactly else was he doing?

Without a second thought, Tisto wandered over to Zuza. He had not seen them since their brief sparring match, and they certaintly looked a bit better. Perhaps the lack of stress from retirement was helping them out. He took another sip of his drink. “Long time no see. Welcome to this mighty fortress of ours. How are you doing?”

Esen stared at the approaching Echani, mouth agape. Her eyes skimmed over the visible allowed skin noting any new scars or injuries. She studied her walk looking for any new limp. Nothing. A quick glance told her all phalanges of the manus were accounted for.

The Zeltron’s wandering eyes settled on the scarlet pair that had been haunting her dreams for the past few months.

The room seemed to have quieted, and the only thing Esen heard was the clicking of Remalia’s heels. The taunting rhythmic steps were like seconds counting down to her demise. As if she were dreaming, and the steps were the timer counting down until she woke up, and the eyes of her best friend would be gone again.

Her heartbeat quickened and her breathing increased. She waited for the moment she would wake. For her own eyes to open and she would be left staring at the ceiling of her room, looking at the swirls and patterns of the textured paint.

But then Rem spoke.

“Rem,” She repeated still just a whisper. She threw herself forward and securing Remalia into a much tighter than usual hug. Not caring about her own make up, or dress.

Remalia was alive. She was here.

Everything was alright.

Remy froze for a second, surprised, but quickly returned a more gentle form of the hug. Somehow, a small smile even appeared on her lips.

“I am glad to see you as well, Esen. I had originally thought you may not notice I was gone, but after I reconnected to the messaging services… well, I thought this meeting might be more violent.”

“Oh hey.” Zuza blinked, smiling though albiet a touch nervous. Their last meeting… hadn’t been great. It was a touch embarrassing, honestly.

“I’m doin’ better these days. You?”

In walked someone that no one in the hall had met before; a young sephi girl, perhaps seventeen or eighteen. She wore a flowing silken dress the colors of Kiast’s billowing clouds, and carried herself with a regal, aristocratic air, as though the dance hall was the place where she was raised.

She gave a slight bow to the gathered participants, and said in a high, clear voice:

“Good evening everyone. My name is Uka Komi, of House Komi. My Master, Edgar, sends his regards, and has bid me attend in his place.”

“Oh, you know. Starting rebellions now that I’m no longer expected to be on my best behavior.” Tisto said casually. “Got a nice workers strike going after the Empress had a rival murdered.”

“Glad to hear you are doing better.”

The half-Sephi turned around, thankful for a momentary reprieve… and silently hoping this young woman was not the source of the disturbance in the Force. He gave a smooth bow in return.

“Good evening, Miss Komi. I am Marius Apollo Edraven, though I am unaware of which House my ancestry belongs to. Please, be welcome.”

~()~

Meanwhile, just outside of the doors leading into the Main Hall, a young Pantoran with hoarfrost hair and tips dyed a pale blue to match her pale cerulean skin tone was arguing with the guards at the door. Her dark blue eyes flashed with barely restrained fury as she reiterated that her escort for the night had the invitation, yet had forgotten that she was to attend with him.

The only makeup she wore was minimal: black eyeliner and smokey eyeshadow, with silver lipstick to accentuate her natural beauty.

From the way she was pacing back and forth, almost a stalk more akin to a predatory creature than a beautiful woman in a form-fitted black dress with matching shoes and a necklace with a crystal hanging from around her dainty neck. It had a long, daring slit up to her right thigh, showing quite a bit of her well-toned leg and was clearly held up by how tightly the top clung to her average bust, all the while showcasing her near-perfect figure. The only other adornments were two sheer lace sleeved gloves, which went to the middle of both arms, though the left had a bracer.

The bracer in question, a Royal Guard TactiX Vambrace, was her only visible weapon. In case of a need to fight should it become necessary, her wife’s only demand to ensure she was protected whilst on this outing. Though, it must be said, this was also a toolkit.

It was very likely that this young woman was the source of the disturbance Marius had sensed in the Force.

-# <@227653769842655233>

Zig Kaliska didn’t wait for the right beat or moment to saddle over and go move behind Zuza’s chair. She carefully placed her hands on either side of it, then leaned down to place her face right next to the human woman’s, cheeks touching. Her eyes flicked up at Tisto. She gave him a little reverse head nod.

“You’re the punchy guy that makes friends with pirates,” she said, not moving away from Zuza. Before he could ask, she said, “I coded the Envoy Report Database. Marick didn’t bother restricting my admin, so, I do some light reading when doing patch updates. Not that it’s non-redacted for the most part…”

She lifted one hand to show raw knuckles, likely left over from her last Corellian Kickboxing session.

“We should spar some time though,” she smiled.

Then, not wanting to bother her girlfriend too much, Zig stood back up, but still stayed positioned behind Lottsons chair.

Tisto cocked his head at the new person. “Yeah I’m Tisto. Is that really all I am known for?”

He shook his head, looking down at his drink. “I suppose I should leave just the local system league. The attendence is going down in some of my matches. Granted I do send Zuza here invites but nooo, someone is always busy. Unless I am sending them to the wrong Zuza… probably should have considered that.”

After a quick sip of his drink, the Kiffar nodded in acknowledgement of the earlier offer. “Sure I’ll spar anyone. I might even win. Who knows.”

Zig tapped her chin with a clawed nail. “Hm, no you just invited the wrong half of her. We’d love to go to a league match.” She grinned.

Kalen walked down the flight of steps into the main hall. It was crowded, but not overly. He vaguely recognized a few faces but that was all. He wasn’t even really sure why he had accepted the invite to this event. It was obvious that Zujenia was in her own way trying to introduce him to more light side Jedi.

But as time grew on and the months went by, Kalen was becoming less of a devout Jedi and instead was trying absorb everything about his new home in this vastly overpopulated and diverse galaxy, straying noticably from the Jedi path his Father, Aunt, Grandpa and wild Uncle had taught him over the first 40 decades of his life.

Even though he thought of himself as a Jedi in the direct lineage of the original Jedi Order that had been nearly wiped out by the Order 66 over 60 years ago. But to an outsider or anyone who didn’t know Kalen he would appear as though he was just an eager Jedi hobbyist. His studies now were consuming pop culture and whatever rare Jedi tomes or holobooks he could get his hands on and his meditations were nearly non-existant.

His learning of his craft over the past 8 months since his return to this galaxy consisted of little more then a few tricks he had learned from Karracca and Blackhawk revolving around teleportation & amplifying his already known skills.

And what made Kalens situation even more awkward was how his training and how his ‘branch of the order’ had been forced to develope in such isolation, his concept of what being a Jedi was, was in addition to his more primary role within the ‘community’. He was always a pilot, officer, and citizen first, and Jedi second. It was a neccesity of their circumstances and the organizational drift this caused led his branch of the Order to more resemble a ‘part time volunteer group of wizards in training’ then the actual Jedi Order. Kalen being born into the second generation of survivors meant this issue was even more apparent.

He grabbed a drink from a table full of drinks…

That were for obvious public consumption and heard some say something to him “Where’d you get that cloak from?” The someone said. Kalen quickly realized that his armourweave had the Clan logo emblazoned on the back, and likely might not be very popular with this crowd. He still hadnt fully figured out why their was so much distrust and odd stares at his affiliation with them. To him, they were colleagues and friends, the fact that they were Sith was little more then a source for ideological debates.

“From the store. Tailor sewed the logo on there. I’m actually a member if you’re referring to the clan patch though.”

Crystalline hues slowly floated the the voice addressing her, watching silently with feigned bordeom while she assessed if the Anzati woman was friend or foe. Most avoided her, and those that braved her scowl when she was like this had ulterior motives.

Nildea gave Velira a once over, sipping from the champagne she had grabbed. Inferior, cheap stuff, but if she was being honest with herself she hadn’t drank all day and the hurricane of the potential hangover she’d suffer was looming threateningly in the hypothetical distance.

If she had become a Jedi… she internally shuttered at the thought. Jedi had terrible liquor.

Velira finished her introduction and Nildea noted the absence of a given surname or title— well, she might not be safe physically but at least this wasn’t a conversation to get through to her family.

“They’re Jedi, you’ll have to excuse their unfortunate lack of fashion. Something about modesty— I honestly didn’t listen in my classes.”

She offered a ring-encrusted hand to the Anzati woman. A picture of dark beauty, a stark contrast to her own angelic styling.

“Nildea Vidh, Orator for the Jedi Order and Vatali Empire. The pleasure is mine— I don’t often see one of your grace and fashion here, can I ask how you made it to this drab Jedi celebration?”

Finally, after being asked, Ruana Suoh-Werd'la gave her name and was allowed inside. Though, in retrospect, it was likely that the guards at the door decided to let someone more deserving of the petite Pantoran’s ire suffer it.

They quickly stepped aside to give the Weapons Specialist room as she stalked into the Hall.

The predatory grace she moved with, more akin to that of a jungle cat than a bipedal humanoid and the tangible aura of seething anger made others in the crowd avoid the young woman. The fact that her manner of motion seemed entirely unintended only served to reinforce this desire to not be in the Loyalist’s path.

As she approached, Ruana noticed that her brother-in-law was facing away from her and seemed to have just introduced herself to a young Sephi.

In a silken, drawling tone, she spoke up. “Dear brother, it seems you forgot something important… or, rather, someone.”

The Ranger visibly stiffened, then slowly pivoted to face his sister-in-law. Only to blanch and pale as he connected her tone of voice, comment and the emotions lingering just beneath the surface.

This time, Marius gulped and swore audibly.

The Weapons Specialist’s lips curved into a slow, seemingly happy smile. However, the way her dark blue eyes glimmered with the toothy, gleeful smile made its appearance that much more sinister.

“Good,” Ruana crooned. “You know how much trouble you’re in. And, just so you know, Jade brought me. Which forced her to cancel her date night plans with your Aunt Rowena. Expect your next week of sparring to be decidedly… unpleasant.”

If it were possible, the blind Jedi paled even further at the last.

With that ominous message delivered, and a satisfied look to her features, the Pantoran made her way toward the bar for a well-deserved drink.

Velira’s crimson eyes lowered briefly to the Orator’s strikingly jeweled hand before she accepted it with a poised grace, her leather glove enough to mask the icy feel of her skin, owed to the lack of a discernible pulse. The ghost of a smile danced across her lips.

“Modesty…” She echoed quietly, her tone lifting with faint amusement. “Such a curious notion. The Jedi drape themselves in drab, coarse fabrics and call it a virtue, as though threadbare simplicity elevates them to some imagined higher moral standing. In truth, it is little more than poverty masquerading as principle.”

Her gaze swept the chamber with cool detachment, pausing intentionally on a few of the robed figures in attendance, before returning to Nildea.

“Of course,” she continued, her tone shifting as though confessing something trivial, “I have been known to don myself in such plainness, if only out of pure necessity. As a medic, one must sometimes vanish into the background—wrap oneself in anonymity until the task is complete. A mask, if you will… Yet not one I plan on wearing forever, unlike our Jedi hosts.”

Velira paused, her smile curving ever so slightly. She chose not to voice the other role entrusted to her by the Proconsul, for the time being—the one that allowed her to prowl past the defenses of mind, savoring the exquisite thrill of a hunt conducted from the shadows.

“Ah, forgive me for prattling on, Miss Vidh. I fear I have not encountered decent company in some time. If they have chosen someone of your fashion and eloquence to be their Orator, then perhaps the Jedi have, at last, shown some measure of taste,” Her statement lingered in velvet-smoothness. Velira’s posture shifted with a sense of regality, her crimson gaze sweeping back towards the room.

“As for how I arrived at this… celebration” she said at last, her last word veiled with disdain, “A certain necessity to show one’s face every now and then. The last gala I attended was simply decades ago.”

Miho stepped off the landing pad, the tendrils of her mind drifting along the currents of air and personality. She knew who was inside the room even before she could see them.

It was a skill her brothers had made sure she learned and practiced. It helped with their own coordination on the field of battles. The click-click of Kurotsubaki’s haft on the stones accompanied her footsteps.

She thought for a moment about it and then smiled to herself. It worked for Musashi and maybe it would work for her.

As she entered the main room where others had congregated, she approached two she knew immediately.

“Velira.” She said in the hollows of the Anzat’s mind. “Nildea.” Her words echoed within the other.

“Greetings to you both.” She said to both of them.

<@607619766752116771> <@264959101384130560>

Esen pulled back, the words replaying through her ears as if it were a broken record.

“I knew you were busy, and so was I. I was expecting a few days maybe one weeks time to go between communications… but Rem. After all we have gone through, how could I not notice?”

Kalen spun around to see who was talking. It was a non descript dark haired man wearing a old brown Jedi robe.

“Wow…I didn’t realize Clan Plaguies was hiring Jedi Order Generals these days” the dark haired said as he noticed the shining armour that Kalen was wearing under the cloak.

“I dont know if they are of not. This is my grandfathers armour, I joined them because of friendship though. Kalen Joss” he stuck out his hand in a sign of greeting.

“Phyra Tul, well met good sir.” He shook Kalens hand, a bit wearily, but sensing no guile in the man.

“Seems like a happening party you got here. Uh, speaking of the Jedi Order, I was actually hoping to find some people with some info about them…” he briefly explained his story.

“Hmm space whales eh…I think I need another drink” Tul said before walking off, leaving Kalen standing there next to Tul former conversation partner.

“And you are sir” he repeated the gesture towards the quiet man who had stood and listened intently to his conversation with Tul.

<@248237225202941964>

“Marius Apollo Edraven, the pleasure is all mine,” the half-Sephi smiled, grasping the other man’s forearm in a warrior’s handshake. Kalen seemed the type to punch him in the mouth if he pulled his usual antics of greeting another male with a kiss to the knuckles, no matter how amusing it was to flirt and make them flustered.

“I don’t actually know much about the Jedi Order itself, as I was raised inside of a Force Cult that… essentially, resembled the Jensaarai. My father specializes in a lot of esoteric studies, however. Force-based Technologies, Rites and Rituals, Sith, Krath and Nightsister Sorcery… and he’s a Master Alchemist. I would offer you compliments on your attire, but I’m physically blind,” Marius explained with a polite smile. “However, I must say, your presence in the Force and Life energies make for a beautiful sight. I learned to see as the Miraluka do within the last few years. Before that, I was limited to my natural remaining senses and this.”

To emphasize the last word, the part Shaevalian-Umbaran slammed his Phrik Electro-Staff down onto the stone underfoot, catching it deftly when it bounced off of the floor. Notably, it left not a single mark on the polished stone.

“I was assigned to the Jedi of this Clan, but I believe I’m more akin to a Force Disciple. I don’t have an affinity to the Light or the Dark, but use both freely.”

“I see…well I’ve always considered myself a follower of the light side myself. But recently I’ve started to wonder…maybe the light and dark sides aren’t as mutually exclusive as my forefathers thought. Its a pleasure to make your acquaintance Marius…so, when you say my presence in then force isba beautiful sight, what do you mean, if you’re blind? What are you seeing? Like a force representation of me?” Kalen was intrigued.

“As I said, I was taught to see by a Miraluka. It’s… difficult to describe, as I’ve never viewed the Galaxy as you do. Your entire body glows with an aura that depicts your alignment in the Force, with an inner… hmm… let’s say ‘glow’ that tells me about your personality traits. For example, you see yourself as a Defender of the People… and you’re horribly lonely,” the Ranger explained softly, as what he was sharing was considered extremely private by many. “Just above your heart, I can see your emotions in a way most would be able to Sense with the Force.”

Marius frowned, tapping his lip as he tried to think of the best way to describe it. Then, he let out a triumphant sound.

“Overall, to my senses — the greater picture, if you will — it’s like seeing a clearing in a forest with a natural hotspring in the center, full of crystal clear water.”

The Jedi smiled wider as he gave the other male time to comprehend, then finished his explanation. “From what I understood, each person that learns this method of Force Sight is unique to the individual.”

“You seemed… driven. In a way you have not been before. Spending weeks at a time at work. You used to drag me around to parties and events every few days, then weeks, then…”

She paused, taking a drink from the glass she had taken. Vile stuff, but socially acceptable and classy.

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter much. I am… flattered by your concern. Needless to say, it was not an idle trip. The Force led me across the Deep Core on a… well, you may call it a spirit quest. You cannot Sense, but if you had you might see I have changed somewhat. At least, I am more convinced I am worthy of the title of Knight.”

Gift was rumbling happily on Remys shoulder, although he was still trying to emanate a fearsome aura. It worked no better now than it ever had before. The woman looked over the other and sniffed.

“Speaking of, this is the first time I’ve been near so many of the Knights at once. It is disheartening how strong the smell of the Darkness taint is here. I knew Doon had trouble with it and that he wasn’t the only one, but…”

This was supposed to be the blade that protected the ever Darkening Light of Odan-Urr. The Clan very well might be too infected to survive.

“Mmm. My apologies. I shouldn’t get into philosophy again, I have had nothing else on my mind for months. How is your medical station… thing going?”

“Yes, I think I understand. My aunt who trained us in many of the Consular skills and arts referred to it as Deep Sight…I never really truly mastered that skill, though I can often sense people’s force alignments as you say….fascinating. And I think you’re Sight might be a bit off if you think I’m that lonely. I just moved into a new house with my girlfriend actually” he chuckled no realizing that romantic loneliness wasn’t the type that Marius was referring to.

Esen stared at the Echani, drinking in the entire image as much as she could. This wasn’t a dream, she told herself on repeat.

Hearing the words that… she herself had pushed Remalia away was disheartening. She hadn’t… realized. Was her research more to her than her own best friend?

“You were always worthy.”

If anyone wasn’t worthy of Knight it was Esen. Spiraling in her laboratory for months on end. She only just squeaked to Doon to continue training two weeks ago…. After avoiding him for months and dropping training with no warning.

“Though I am glad to hear you are finding self worth. That is one of the things most struggle with. T-tell me more. Please. Your thoughts, opinions, tales of your journey—“ she cleared her throat, adjusted her posture, and tried to secure that mask that so quickly slipped. At least attempt to not be so desperate.

“I just missed you so much.” There went that mask again.

“Deep sight? Yes… that sounds more apt,” Marius replied, making a mental note of this as he continued to pay attention to Kalen’s words.

At the bit about not being lonely, the Ranger simply gave a somewhat sad smile, but didn’t say anything.

It wasn’t his place to explain such things. Or the fact that you could always surround yourself with people, yet still be lonely within.

“Yeah Aunt Pelly, she was a good mentor…I miss her alot sometimes, now that I think about it, she taught me most of the non combat related force skills I know.” Kalens mind wandered back to the moment where he saw her ship disappear in a flash of flames and energy waves as his own ship was bucked off the wake of the pod of Purgils that had brought them home 8 months prior.

Remy gave another tiny smile. Gratitude, she thought. She was still bad at identifying emotions, but it felt good to be wanted.

“Well, setting aside an untimely death, I will not be leaving again, not without notice at least.”

She drank again, this time trying to surreptitiously finish the drink. It burned, and pain was best to get over with. Last time she had well and truly made a fool of herself with alcohol the same way, but hopefully this time would be different.

“And, uh… I missed you as well.”

Whilst Marius couldn’t help but see the emotions the other Jedi was experiencing, he gave no comment. Instead, the Ranger reached out and patted Kalen’s shoulder.

When the green eyes of the other male seemed to be focused on him — the half-Sephi hoped so, as the Defender’s eyes went from where his hand was, then back to his eyes — Marius gave a small smile. “Shall we go get a drink and continue our discussion?”

He removed his hand from the other’s shoulder, lightly tapping his electro-staff against the floor.

Zuza had squished her cheek against Zig’s, not unlike a loth-cat greeting a peer. Then Zig straightened up, and Zuza slipped off of her stool.

“Uhh, probably the right Zuza. I don’t think there’s too many of us. I just moved a lot recently. How… many invites did you send?”

She spoke sheepishly, though glad they had ended up with Zig at least. Her eyes cast over the room, spotting the vaguely familiar figure of Esen. She’d been at the bonfire at Lulaire’s farm, they’d exchanged names though it had been quite late by that point. She considered options, opting to stay put a little longer but…

soon.

“Yeah, sounds good. Mines empty.” Kalen walked off to refresh his drink with his new blind/not blind buddy.

Esen blushed at the sight of Rem’s smile. Grateful that she would atleast be given warning for any trip Remalia took going forward.

She looked to the ground soaking up the words. Blush spreading across her cheeks.

At the sound of the music, and the clearing of the dance floor. Esen’s face a lit, and she made eye contact once more.

“Ah-er.. care to dance?”

Whilst Marius and Kalen began to walk over to the wetbar to continue their discussion… and likely celebrate a new friendship, Ruana Suoh-Werd'la had continued to make her way through the crowd toward a familiar, towering figure.

The Pantoran smirked to herself as she noticed a certain pair of twins making their way to intercept her brother-in-law.

“Good to see you, Mother. Thank you for our invitations to this gathering.”

-# <@227653769842655233>

Remy gives a small nod, “I am far from practiced, but ballroom dancing should be slow enough I can try. Though…”

Something seemed wrong. Remy had expected anger, sure, but Esen seemed altogether different from before. Was something wrong? She reached out and lifted Esens head so she could get a better look.

“You seem flushed. Is something wrong? Dedication to a cause is admirable, but you must remember to rest when you need to. Nothing will get done if you fall unconsious at your desk.”

She gave another small smile, “Usually, you are the one telling me these things. Funny.”

Nildea chuckled softly at Velira’s assessment of the Jedi, her lips quirking up ever so slightly at the corners. It was nice, whether this Anzati was friend or foe, to speak with someone who seemed to share her values. Though she was sure that they would probably differ on the finer points, such as her feelings on the poor or disparate… she hardly ever had moments like this. Only with–

Like the though of the War councilor summoned her, she felt the woman’s being encroach on her mind before velevet words filled her head. Nildea’s mouth snapped shut with a worrying sound before her teeth ground together slightly.

She karking hated when she did that.

The humor that had began to fill her crystalline eyes quickly died, and a sharpness replaced it. Cold, observant, wary. She knew she’d probably run in to either Mihoshi or Masahiro before the night was over, but dammit– couldn’t she have fun first? It wasn’t long before she spotted the considerably shorter woman making her way through the crowd towards them.

Nildea sighed and turned to her direction, sweeping her arm in a rather sarcastic manner before she bowed.

“Good evening, Mihoshi. I wasn’t sure when you or your alternate half would make it.” Her eye twitched a bit at the thought of Masahiro’s jokes or prattling. “Will the High Councilor be joining us?”

She would prefer Mihoshi over arguing with Masahiro any day. For a Jedi he could certainly be a prick.

-# <@607619766752116771> <@227653769842655233>

“Daughter.” Yuki said looking down at the white-haired Pantoran. “Are you playing escort for your brother-in-law? Your brother and sister also seemed intent on him as well.”

The Nagai looked down at the table laden with food and drink. “There are a few options here for you as well.”

Yuki seemed mostly disinterested, but this was something Ruana wasn’t unaware of. Her mother always seemed disinterested even in the things she was actually interested in.

“Have you been well, Daughter?”

Miho smiled wickedly at Nildea, her voice soft in the Sephi’s mind.

“You know the High Councillor irritates me more than he does you.”

Aloud, she shrugged as she spoke. “I do not keep track of his schedule. He may or may not arrive as fits his own whims.”

Masahiro may have been the one who brought her to Odan-Urr space, but he was also one of the few people in all creation that managed to irritate her to no end.

Esen was quick to shoot down the question.

“No.” Yes.

How could she tell Remalia how much she meant to her? She couldn’t spill her feelings to someone she had worked with for so long to only just recently realize she had feelings at all. That she wasn’t a robot. That she deserved better.

How Esen observed the things that Remalia gravitated towards in small bursts of pleasure, keeping mental notes. Finding out pretty quickly on that Remalia liked spicy foods, indulging until her brain barked at her for reaching the “maximum allotted calories” and going back to flavorless nutrient bars.

How many times she wanted to offer Rem physical touch to aid in emotional support, yet Esen resisted. Not wanting to cause discomfort.

Maybe the physical touch that Esen wanted to give, wasn’t emotional support to Remalia at all… but for Esen. Her greed. Her desire. Her own unsatiated craving.

How the tables turned, here and now Remalia’s fingers hooked under her chin. That physical touch. That craving.

Esen not realizing, leaned into the offered hand. Her eyes drifted closed. She was dreaming now… but a lovely dream nonetheless. One she will cherish in her memory as long as her cerebrum doesn’t deteriorate.

Her eyes blinked open, and she stood up with full posture. Snapping away from the hand.

Out of muscle memory, she reached for the lapels of her lab coat, clearing her throat. Only to find no jacket to be found.

Right. Dress. Heels. Dancing? Wait- what did Rem just say?

Probably something about not knowing how to dance.

Esen needed to recover from her foolishness and fast. The deep red blush that had bloomed on her cheeks were spreading to the tips of her ears.

“Uh- D-Don’t worry! I can lead.” Hopefully.

She went to grab Remalia’s wrist, stopping a few inches short. Hesitating. A split second went by and the Zeltron shifted her hand palm up offering it to the Echani, should she want to take it.

“Gift can come too, or if you want, I’m sure Doon would make a great babysitter.”

Ruana let a slightly malicious smile spread across her lips. “I was supposed to play escort to Marius, Mother, but my fool of a brother-in-law hired a shuttle to bring him here and neglected to inform me. As a result, Jade and Rowena are also upset with him… only fair that the twins get to have their fun.”

The Pantoran’s dark blue eyes took in the spread of food and drink. “I will grab something a little later if I’m in the mood for food. I’ve been well, aside from some familial annoyances. And yourself, Mother?”

“Mother? DAAAAD!” Serenity turned as she shouted to get Castor’s attention. Castor rose his eyebrow to show her that he acknowledged her vocal attention.

“Yuki is older than we thought! She’s a mom to this one!” She pointed to the Pantoran as Castor choked on the drink he was drinking.

-# <@227653769842655233>

Remy turned to look at Gift, she had almost forgotten he was there. Having gotten fish, he seemed content enough to squat on her shoulder, observing.

Would you mind spending some time with Master Sulvir? Just while I dance.

Gift poofed up, a sign of anger, annoyance, and worry.

You leave. Again.

Not a question, a certainty. She had hurt this little boy, sometimes she forgot he was so young.

No, I promised I would not. I will remain in this room, If I leave, you may follow.

Gift seemed to deflate a little, though from calming or sadness she couldn’t tell.

Me too weak? Hold you back?

No, no, Esen is just… significantly more excited to see me than I had originally expected. I wish to make tonight easy for her, is all.

Remy was surprised about Esens actions, but she had a suspicion as to the origin. But, Remy was expected to be dense as duracrete, might as well fill that role for now.

Gift straightened and looked at Esen, sniffing twice.

I see. Mating.

Remy almost lost composure at that, thankful that the Force bond between them was the only reason they could understand each other. She also hypothesized it granted Gift some small level of intelligence, given how much clearer his trains of thought seemed to be compared to others of his species.

No, Remy chimed, Not so blunt. It is more about… intimacy.

That didn’t sound better.

Listen, you will like Master Sulvir. Most of what I didn’t learn myself was taught by him.

Warrior…

Gifts thoughts didn’t exactly have a tone, but if they did, they would be the color of awe and anticipation. Good. That was settled.

Remy settled her hand in Ezens, but pulled her along gently, reaching her other hand to cup Gift as they spun away. As the trio passed behind <@160141735354171394>, Remy held out her hand and let Gift jump into the Shistas large tail, the Voorpak long used to climbing around in hair- or fur, as the case may be.

Satisfied with her execution of what many would call a prank, she pulled Esen in closer and cast out her senses into the Force. She would do the best she could to make this fun, even if it required cheating a bit.

Remys grace and reactions were Amplified, she Sensed those around her who were experienced with dance, and she even looked to the future slightly, to see Esens movements before she knew to make them. The end result was not any expert level performance, but she at least came off like someone who wasn’t clueless.

“My apologies,” she said quietly as they swayed across the floor, “but Gift was rather sore that I left him so long. He needed… convincing.”

The pale-haired Pantoran’s smile went from polite to amused at Serenity’s comment, then Castor’s reaction. It also aided in what little irritation had been visible in the form of a frown completely vanished due to said amusement.

Ruana reached out and plucked a glass of wine from the tray of a passing server, seemingly all without changing her focus. “Indeed, Mother adopted me when I was very young. So young, in fact, that she is present in my earliest memories,” the Weapons Specialist explained with a bright smile.

Yuki waved a hand dismissively. “And you have been a sore in my backside ever since.”

The words, sounding harsh, were said gently as though just amusingly exasperated.

“Yes, Serenity. I am a bit older than people think. By a fairly large margin actually.” Eyes as blue as a winter sky regarded the small child on her shoulder for a minute before the giantess smiled gently at her. “Ruana was all alone when I found her. I had occasion to visit her home planet a long time ago.”

Yuki turned those eyes back to her adopted daughter. “Her parents were nowhere to be found despite our searching. I asked her if she wanted to come with me and have a life of adventure and loneliness. She agreed and came home with me.”

<@248237225202941964> <@216702440140046336>

The Pantoran merely continued to smile in amusement as she sipped her wine, nodding along in agreement with her mother’s story to the small child.

“And it has been quite the adventure,” Ruana added, though it was unnecessary to do so.

Her mind was a calm cathedral of placid thoughts and faintly lingering hungers, until the very moment that Velira sensed a new presence within her thoughts. The Anzati female’s sharpened instincts surged into action in response to the unexpected intrusion.

From the shadowy depths of her psyche rose the screams—ragged, echoing shrieks of the dying, of those who had perished within her grasp. Their wails bled through the chambers of her consciousness as spectral alarm bells, reverberating through the shadowed corridors of her mind.

And then—amid the cacophony of agonized screams—she recognized it. A signature within the noise, warm and familiar. Miho. The targeted internal screams stopped as swiftly as they began, her mind falling back into an eerie stillness.

“Pardon me, it’s an old security measure of mine,” her voice murmured through the telepathic tether in apology, though a faintly amused smirk tugged at the corners of her red lips.

Then came another clear image, crafted from her memory and offered to Miho. A half-diseased wretch, its body contorting into the grotesque anatomy of a Rakghoul, skin splitting to reveal muscle and blackened veins. A single crimson bow sat neatly atop its chained form.

Velira’s expression softened into one of sincerity as she glanced over at Mihoshi.

“Your belated birthday present. And there are sure to be more of the darlings arriving soon after that first delivery,” Velira said aloud this time, her voice quiet as she spoke.

She glanced back between Nildea and Miho, her dark crimson eyes suddenly gleaming with curiosity. “I have not met this High Councillor… yet.”

<@227653769842655233> <@264959101384130560>y

The two women, Esen and Remalia, stepped up toward the dance floor, looping together in a slower dance than the music by a step.

Zuza, having been existing with Zig and an arm looped around her waist, stepped away with a hushed few words. Zig smiled, used to the Zuhanigans and returning to the conversation as Zu crossed the room.

She approached without hesistation, holding out her hands to both of them with a bright eyed grin. “Wanna step it up girls?”

Brown eyes glanced between the blue and red of Esen and Remy.

<@267489687902486530> <@147021450706944000>

Zig grabbed another drink from a passing server and leaned back in her chair as she watched Zuza go. It might have bothered her… before. But a lot had changed. Zig had changed. Instead she focused on the context, and knew that trio being together was important, and didn’t need her.

It was okay to be okay.

Remy slowed the dance, her eyes moving to track the newcomer. It was Zuza. They had only met in passing before, but they were at the very least on good terms. What was she, now?

“Well met, Commander Lottson.”

Commander fit a lot of titles, couldn’t go wrong with that.

“A dance for three partners? I hadn’t considered that, but I’m nothing if not open minded these days.”

Remy let go of Esens waist, but kept her hand, extending the other to grab Zuzas.

“If you can lead, I can follow, just in reverse.”

Maybe she was getting ahold of this “humor” thing.

Zuza rolled her eyes, though smiled, at the title.

“Zuza is fine. I’m just a merc these days.”

She took a polite grip of Remy’s hand, positioning herself with the duo to lead, should Esen accept.

Esen extended the opposite hand as Remalia, out towards the Mercenary. Still holding onto the Echani’s waist.

“The more the merrier.” said with a smile, accepting the Zuza into the group. Her eyes roamed over Zuza’s shoulder locking eyes with Zig’s gaze, where the Zeltron gave another classic chin dip, offering the invite to join the dance should the Zygerrian choose.

Shifting her attention back to the group,

“What type of dancing are we thinking? Swing?”

Zig blinked. Then tilted her head, downed her drink (though no one was forcing her to) and hopped up and made her way over to the group.

“Oh hayy,” she said excitedly, carefully extending a hand dantily towards Esen. “I mean, hullo there,” she grinned, clearly a tipsy. “…m'ladies”.

It had been ten minutes, how was she already drunk? Then again, Remy had been far worse in the past. She shuddered thinking about that.

“Hello again, Captain. Com- Lady…”

Why did so many refuse to be addressed by their titles? It made interactions like these so much more complicated than they needed to be.

“Zuza was going to lead us in some group dance, if you would like to join. I am interested to see the dynamics.”

It could also likely have concepts that could apply to squad tactics, though she didn’t add that last part. She had long learned most didn’t care for that sort of thing.

<@1382824894877794314> <@267489687902486530>

“Lettuce…commence!” Zig just giggled at her own random pun, which turned into a quick snort, then back to a giggle and resigned herself to follow Zuza’s lead while admiring the other two.

And so they went. The four of them, enjoyed the night and welcomed anyone who wished to join the group for dancing or drinks. Laughter, singing, and fun filled the halls for many more hours to come.