Session export: A Party Most Grand and Masterful

She found the Tapani Sector gauche. She had never heard of Hoth Nine Kills or Motionless in Carbonite. And this was certainly not the coronation ball she would have planned, far away from Arx, in an unvetted nightclub called the Soundmound of all things.

But it wasn’t her party, and more importantly it wasn’t her credit chit that Alethia was handing over to the manager. It was the Arx Capital Exchange corporate black chit, fulfilling its Thran-given purpose of opening the bar to all comers. Archenksova wasn’t the Grand Master’s social secretary, but Renatus wanted a party with metalcore bands and blood-themed mixed drinks and that was what he was going to get. Maybe, if the stars aligned, the drinks were strong, and the Force willed it, he would even talk to people.

Elsewhere

Zig leaned back against the hull of the Griddlehark, fidgeting with her datapad. It stopped her from chewing on her freshly painted nails. She wore a white dress shirt tucked into black, pleated slacks, no belt needed as the tailored waist hugged her hips. Her blue tie matched her nails. Draped over her shoulders she wore her black blazer like a cape.

She sent a few messages. First was to Vez, who had “agreed” to Cythral-sit Frond. The response she got made Zigs cheeks flush slightly but she was getting better at taking compliments, at least.

She knew that regardless of what the new Grand Master thought of her, or even his awareness of her, she’d have been able to attend the event. She worried about Lula. There was no way that the secret would remain…would it? There was so many things happening quickly.

On top of that, she still felt a bit like she didn’t belong. She knew it was important though. Zuza thought so.

Speaking of. She kept glancing up from her datapad and waited patiently for her partner. Zig hadn’t had a lot of chances to show off her knew ship, but it was meant to look cool while showing up places.

Zuza came running up before too much time passed.

“Heya!” She gave Zig enough warning to get her datapad to safety before flinging her arms around the Zigerrian and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I think I’m ready for a grand tour if she’s ready to get on the way?”

She glanced over the ship before returning her gaze to Zig, her smile softening. It was nice to properly spend time together again. Between the distance and their individual duties it… Well. They’d have time after the party.

Zig felt her heart skip a beat, but outwardly she just smiled from ear to ear and quicky clung to the shorter woman. That’s all it took, really, that flash of warmth and energy that existed through the Force, the universe, thermodynamics, or whatever.

“She’s called the Griddlehark after an -allegedly - doomed ship I still hold faith in from a holonovel series. But, I figured it would be a change up from transports and shuttles,” she grinned.

She padded up the small, single-person ramp and guided Zuza towards the narrow passenger area between the gunner turret and the cockpit. There wasn’t a lot of room, but it was fast and she had salvaged and repaired it herself over the past few years.

“Best of all, you’ll like this,” Zig smirked as she tapped a wall panel, and a secret compartment popped open. All that was in there was a few holonvels that, for Zig, seemed pretty tame.

“I mean, what’s the point of having secret compartments if you don’t put stuff in them, right?”

Lula gritted her teeth as she tried to find the calf’s head. The orbak kept trying to push despite the baby not being in the right position.

“It’s almost always the maidens” Hakanai complained as she tried to keep the orbak laid down to continue pushing the calf.

“Got it, slippery little…” Lulaire muttered as she could feel the shape of the head, reached back to find the shoulders and-

“Aunt Lu, are you going to the party tonight?” One of the twins asked as they approached the stall and watched the scene.

“Ya two really askin’ while my arms are elbows deep in this orbak?” Lulaire asked, amusement playing with her voice. She had been in a better mood lately. Then she gently pushed - what she assumed were hips- back and moved the calf to the right position, she only pulled each time the orbak pulled.

“Nah. Everyone knows how I feel about parties-”

“But! It’s for Thane!” Oh, now that got her attention.

“Oh?”

“His promotion!” There was a moment of pause as Lulaire turned to look at the twins, a bit of a puzzle to her face. The calf was almost entirely out, with the front hooves now sticking out.

“Promotion to-”

“Grand Master, of course!”

Lula’s grip had slipped due to the excessive lube she had to put on her arms to reach into the canal. Yet, her help was no longer needed as the calf was now out, and the calf’s mother rose to start cleaning up the calf quickly.

“I thought the Deputy Grand Master was Darth Renatus-”

“That is Thane.”

“At least, this one picked up faster…” Hakanai grumbled while looking at the orbak that was still constantly cleaning her baby.

“Me or the maiden,” Lula joked.

“Yes.” The family responded in unison as she gave them a blank stare. That explains so much, Lulaire mentally thought.

“Welllll, we want to take you shopping!” Alex grinned as Vil nodded.

“Shoppin’? What for?!”

“It says wear black, you don’t have anything black, Aunt Lu. No, black overalls do not count.” Vil crossed her arms as Alex followed with a sage nod.

Lula grimaced. She hated shopping, but it was the twins’ favorite pastime. With heavy consideration and thoughts, she grinned at the twins, grasped their chins with her hands, and her fingers squeezed their cheeks. They groaned in disgust at the fact that she was still covered in the juices. Lula planted a kiss on their foreheads.

“A'right, I suppose we could.” The twins hollered triumphantly as they quickly ran out of the barn to start planning for the day. Lula chuckled while watching them before glancing back to the calf and the mother to ensure they were okay.

That explains the heaviness on your shoulders… I’m sorry, I cannot help you carry the weight. I hope to continue to be your home, Moonlight.

Who knew the twins would be successful in finding something that Lulaire would actually be comfortable wearing? Hidden underneath her skirt were her worn brown cowboy boots. Not that anyone could really see it anyway. After thanking the driver, she glanced at the building, her fingers reached for her necklace as she nervously played with it.

Maybe it won’t be so full-

Oh, she was wrong. She was very wrong. The music wasn’t bad, but the crowd was almost already at suffocating levels.

The one fear she has, it had to be-

No. She was okay. Not recognizing anyone yet among the crowd, she made her way over to the bar.

Zuza grinned at the panel, “Absolutely right. Frack yea.”

The duo were soon on their way.

Hand in hand, Zuza and Zig walked through the entrance and into the hubbub of the apparently open bar. Whoever allowed that, was now Zuza’s favourite. She tugged Zig along, despite her height being able to navigate the crowd with reasonable ease to get to a small gap where people were making room at the bar for those ordering.

She looked to Zig, “Do you want anything?”

Zig smiled faintly, eyes taking in everything, focusing on nothing in particular but flitting between new and different things. “Gin and juice?”

“I’ll come find ya.” Zuza squeezed Zig’s hand and then crossed over to the bar, leaning up onto it a bit and making the order. She got herself a whiskey cocktail, managing to catch the bartender before they put an orange slice on the glass and avoiding that potential disaster so early into the evening.

Zig slipped her hands into her pockets, mostly to prevent herself from reaching for her wrist-comm. She had set it up to recieve and send basic notificatoins and messages in an attempt to reduce her screentime.

Zu sipped her drink before making her way to Zig with both glasses, holding Zig’s out to her.

“Do you think Thane’ll actually be here?”

A brief flicker of panic washed over Zig, but she quickly covered it up by accepting the drink and immediately taking a slow sip from the tiny straw.

Her eyes looked around, but saw no one familiar, yet.

“Bigger question is…do you think we’ll still be able to keep it a secret from Lula?”

Uji gently tugged at the collar of his dress uniform, something he was certain he would never grow accustomed to. Yet since beginning his service on the Council, he had been forced, on more occasions than he cared to admit, to wear something similar. He had yet to understand why Thane found it necessary for him to attend each and every function the newly minted Grand Master appeared at, rather than allowing him to oversee his responsibilities to the Iron Legion and the Fleet, where his presence actually served a purpose.

He could not help but suspect it was done deliberately, a small act of amusement. If Thane was required to endure these displays, then Uji would be made to endure them as well.

He suppressed the urge to sigh. Instead, he raised a hand to his comm-link and requested a status report from the Guardsmen he had stationed among the crowd and throughout The Soundmound. If he was to be confined to ceremony, then he would at least ensure it remained orderly.

“Upper tiers clear, nothing of note.”

“Perimeter is secure, though invitations are exceeding expectations.”

“All Council and staff accounted for.”

Uji responded to each in turn, a single silent activation of the comm-link transmitting acknowledgment.

He had yet to recognize many of the attendees filtering in early, though experience had taught him enough to expect how the evening would unfold. As with almost every celebration attended by members of the Brotherhood, restraint would be an early casualty.

The Fist recieved a ping on his datapad. The Exarch?

“` Tameike- While I’m sure the Guardsman are up to the task, try and make sure this ‘event’ doesn’t end up on the holonet news. Couldn’t this have just been an holomail or holocall?

Envoy Corps is working with Herald and Emissary to show that we are not irresponsible with our resources and are an ally to those the Collective are trying to influence against us.

Thank you,

• Marick ”`

“Do we want to? Its kinda a big deal.” Zuza frowned slightly, sipping her drink. “I mean, its funny at first but if theyre serious.”

Zu wavied her hand in front of herself.

Zig lowered her voice. “Of course it’s serious,” she locked eyes with the shorter woman, daring her to challenge it. “But…I dunno.”

No acts, staff running amok, and obnoxious flashing lights. Yes, this was definitely the work of a newly appointed Grand Master.

Anders almost rolled his eyes. He had expected considerably more organisation out of Darth Renatus. Then again, ut was early days, though first impressions were first impressions.

The Combat Master of the Brotherhood had deliberately taken time out of his busy schedule scarring training recruits to mingle. One did not earn a place in one’s mind from operating in the shadows. Upon occasion, one must step into the spotlight.

His cane tapped along the floor, his crimson suit and top hat made by only the finest of voruscanti tailors. He made his way to the bar, and ordered himself a drink, making mental notes of the individuals here along with him.

Zuza raised her eyebrows, a slight smile on her face but simultaneously all too knowing. “Yes you do. Gotta pick what you want to do, and who ya helping when you do it.”

She sipped her drink, glancing over the crowd and upon spotting Anderson just a ways down at the bar offered her friend a smile and a wave. He was welcome if he wanted to, shed get him later for a catch up if he had other stuff to do.

And of course, despite whatever he may say, Anders had nothing better to do at that moment. Zuza was, after all, a valuable ally. He would let all the other sycophants schmooze Renatus when he arrived whilst Anders engaged in polite conversation.

He would bide his time.

“Lady Zuza, a pleasure as always,” Anders lowered his head in greeting before his crimson eyes glanced towards the Zygerrian. “I do not believe we have had the pleasure, Madame?”

Bridge The Fallen Spear Tarthos Space

The invite came in across broadwave, Leena sneering at the comm as it hit the array. “Everyone’s gotten the invite. You still sure you want to go?” She turned to look at him, her lekku sliding off of her shoulder.

Muz tilted his head at her, the unspoken question needing no words.

“Everyone.” Leena repeated. “Brotherhood wide. It’s going to be a zoo, swarmed with people. You know, those things you don’t like?”

The sound that came from him was brief, dismissive and amused, a hand banishing the thought with a wave as he turned toward Blackwind, giving him a single nod. That gesture set the man into motion, fingers tapping a console and an order given to the pilots. It didn’t matter who else would be there. It mattered that he would be.

“Anders.” Zuza grinned a little, giving up on correcting the title today and placing her hand up on Zig’s shoulder.

“This is Zig, my girlfriend. Zig, this is Anderson.”

Between his position and Zuza’s rambling, she doubted Zig didnt know who he was.

“Do I need to have the party planner shot?”

Alethia seemed every bit as pleased as Renatus wasn’t, smiling winsomely as she handed the new Grand Master his first whiskey of the evening.

“Your staffers were quite insistent that this was what you wanted.”

Good things? He almost scoffed at the notion.

“I somehow doubt that,” he was well aware what others thought of him, and with a coy smile, Anders took a sip of his drink. Nothing quite beat Coruscanti wine, but this drivel would have to do.

A glance was all he took, and the information within the Inquisitorius Database emerged at the forefront of his mind.

Zigrah'sahe Kaliska. If their records were correct, she was something of a scavenger. She had quite the reputation for enjoying a fistfight or two.

Oh, yes. That database was quite the impressive commodity. He would keep an eye on her.

“But enough about me, how did the two of you come into each other’s company?”

“Funnny story,” Zig laughed a bit nervously. “We met on the Voidbreaker after I joined the crew. Then, after ‘Laisy left and we… broke off, there was a gala! And somehow I got lucky and got to dance with Zu and well…” she glanced at Zuza. “Er, right?”

Zuza grinned, nodding, “It kinda just happened but, in the best way. We’d been hanging out for months before, VeeBee shenangins and kist.”

She bumped her hip against Zig’s, oblivious to the duos assessment of each other and just happy for people she loves to meet.

Zig nodded sagely. “I have been trying to make more trips to Kasiya for what it’s worth. Also, I am probably due to test my mitts’ in one of your Combat Centers or whatever they are.”

She made a quick shadow box motion, but then realized she had her drink still and stopped before it could spill all over her.

“Hi,” the Firrerreo stepped into his range of view and flashed a smile. She could tell by the movement of his eyes that he was watching the scene. It also helped during the shopping; she quickly looked up the staff of the Council to try to avoid any new surprises.

Until Vil’s datapad stopped working. Something something, technology hated her, something something.

Lula continued to play with her necklace as she looked over where she assumed the bar would be, “Well, I reckon it would be moot to tell ya to rest but how about a drink to ease the nerves a bit?”

“Oh! Where are my manners? I’m Lulaire Sol'Vida,” she held out her hand.

“Uji Tameike, though I suspect you knew that already.”

Leaning lightly against his cane, Uji reached out with his free hand and took Lulaire’s in a polite greeting, his eyes never fully leaving the crowd even as the music pulsed around them.

“Sol’Vida.” His gaze lingered on her for a fraction of a second longer than courtesy required. “Former Dajorran Marshals.”

A faint smile touched the edge of his lips, less memory than acknowledgment.

“It has been quite some time since I left Galeres. It seems you have done the same.” Uji’s gaze swept the room once more before returning to her.

“Unfortunately, as to your offer of a drink, I have responsibilities to attend to throughout the event.”

“That said, you are welcome to walk with me, if you like. I would prefer conversation to idleness.”

Lula chuckled before she gave a single nod in acknowledgement.

“I sure did. I would much rather get to know the person behind the name. Not what words on some file. I find it… almost soul-less.”

Galeres. Now, that was something she hadn’t had time to really think about. Her hand finally released from her necklace as she wrapped herself in the Force. With it came a sense of calm and stillness; it felt like a tight hug. She should be able to manage with Uji. The crowd wasn’t at suffocating levels.

“I’ll do my best to be an interestin’ company then,” she said in a soft drawl.

Personal Stateroom The Fallen Spear

Violet eyes regarded the full mirror as Miho checked the fit of her appearance. The short black skirt, the fitted top, the knee-high combat boots, the extensive tattoos being shown off for a change. She smiled as she shrugged and headed towards the corridor.

Memory told her the layout of the ship, memory reminded her of the times they had all been together here. The seal that had been placed around her rooms had perfectly preserved everything. From the small trinkets and momentos to the larger, more precious stuffed animals that had sat upon the bed awaiting her return.

Miho looked at the room once more, the gentle smile on her lips one of actual, genuine happiness.

He really kept everything, she mused internally.

The Odanite left her rooms and proceeded towards the bridge, being gently guided by helpful crewmen. She wasted smiles on each one of them, taking each new path she was directed down.

It wasn’t until she was at the entryway to the command center that she began to wonder if she’d even be welcome on the bridge. The last time Miho had been anywhere near the bridge, she had been guided gently away by one of her brothers. Granted, she had only been eight or nine at the time.

Her mind reached easily through the bulkhead. Brother, may I attend?

The years had taught the impulsive younger sister at least some semblance of restraint and so, she waited patiently for a response. If none was given, she was sure she could find something to occupy her for the journey to wherever they were going.

Anders ignored the oncoming twitch in his eye. Whatever they are. How insulting!

He forced a cough, “Yes, well, I am positive that your presence would be most influential on the recruits. Perhaps a set of challenges would be in order? But how rude of me. I have neglected to include you, my dear Zuza. Perhaps your visitations to my Combat Centre is in order?”

Zig kept a smile on her face but her eyes slowly started to narrow.

Muz’s eyebrow raised slightly, his head turning toward the entryway. With a gesture of mind and hand, the air thickened around the sensors, the door sliding open to reveal his little sister standing there. The subtle chimes and tones of the equipment flowed through the opening, bathing her in the sound of the Bridge as her eyes adjusted to the brightness of space as viewed through the broad screen.

Of course.

Scarred eyes took a moment to look at her. Her, not the memory of her. Gone was the wild-eyed child, bloodthirsty and feral from the shadows and running. She looked barely younger than his own son, the result of the time lost to the ice in between. Skin left exposed by her feminine attire swirled, inks beneath forming serpents and Oni of his homeworld. Of their homeworld. Muz let the breath out slowly, nodding at her.

Thoughts swept from his mind to hers and back again like the tide. The essence of the party, the formality now infringed by a magistrate’s mistake, would demand more than his usual, as her own choices elucidated. But who was he trying to impress, what statements were needed from the Lion of Tarthos, and why it would matter remained obscured. After a moment, the words instead of concets flowed into her mind.

Let’s see what Socorra had in mind. The image of the deeply tanned woman pushing a shock of white hair back into her black locks and studying an antique artifact in a library filtered through with the words. A library that Mihoshi had never seen before.

<@141239709291511808>

Zuza waved a hand nonchalantantly.

“It has been a bit since ive swung through. You’d like a lot of what they’ve got there.” She smiled at Zig, noticing the sudden onset tension between the two and trying to work out why.

“Itd be fun, I can show you around. Though-” she tried to distract from whatever it was on this topic that had bothered the duo. “-Anders I dont think we’ve ever sparred. I’ll have to catch you for one whenever we make it over there.”

Zig nodded, then took a few sips from her straw until it made a little noise that indicated there was nothing but ice cubes left.

“I’m going to go get a refill. Anders, looks like yours is new, Zu, are you good with yours?”

“My glass is adequately filled, thank you,” Anders gave a curt nod.

“Oh yeah I’m good. Ill be here.” Zuza did take a moment to check but, it was still mostly full.

She took a sip, bouncing lightly on her heels after.

“You seem boundless with your energy,” Anders quirked a brow before taking a sip of his drink.

“Hm? Oh!” Zuza chuckled, resting flat on her feet with a slightly sheepish look. Then more devious.

“I like to think I adopted all of the energy you lot ignore. Someone’s gotta make up for all the properness.”

“I think you mean ‘decorum’,” Anders resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He knew from firsthand experience he was not going to get anywhere with Zuza on the topic. “I am, however, hoping to gain an audience with our newest Grand Master, as insecure as the position is.”

Zuza hummed, looking around. It was hard to see if Thane was even here when she was eye level with everyone’s-

“Youd be better sending him a holo message if you don’t have to have it in person.” She had began bouncing against, less prominently but notable, “I mean Thane is chill but, talking? Hes worse than Cole for not liking other people yanno? I guess professional stuff might be different but-”

Zuza shrugged, then sipped her drink, “What d'ya want to talk to him about?”

Just show up and take a picture here so she could “prove” to Mihoshi and her parents that she came. That’s all she had to do. That thought was the only thing that kept her feet moving through the front door of the establishment as she tugged the hood she wore further over her head to hide her features.

Maybe she could get away from actually talking to anyone here. God forbid she actually met Renatus while attending looking like this. Her hair was pulled into a cascade of ponytails that was teased to create a faux-hawk look and her face was caked in dark makeup to match the alt-fashionscape of the place where the informal gathering for the newest Grandmaster’s crowning.

There were too many people, too many bodies, not enough decent fashion on karking anyone— someone bumped into her and nearly spilled their cheap beer all over her outfit and the hiss that escaped her sounded absolutely serpentine. The poor soul, a Mirialan male with a spiked hairdo, scrambled away and Nildea pushed herself through the crowd into a corner.

Just a little bit longer. Long enough to feign interest. She forced herself to take deep breaths.

She hated every godsdamned minute of this.

Zig accepted her new drink and swirled it around to the sound of ice cubes clinking. She idly played with the tiny straw. She wanted to check her datapad but refrained. She checked her wrist. No new notifications.

Okay then.

She padded back towards Zuza and Anders, glancing around to see if she spotted any other familiar faces

“Career opportunities,” that was all Anders said as he lightly swirled the drink in his hand. “Ah, Lady Zigrah'sahe, I see you have made your triumphant return.”

Extending his arm, Uji waited for Lulaire to slip her free hand into it as they walked on. Despite the growing attendance, most of the guests seemed to unconsciously part out of their way as the two passed through.

“What is it that brought you to the event?” he asked. “Any particular business, or are you just a fan of excessively loud music?” Uji quipped as he offered a nod of acknowledgment to a few familiar faces as they moved from one floor to another.

Lula chuckled, “I don’t mind the loud music, it’s the buildin’. Or the crowd, rather. I would much rather calm a bantha stampede than this.” She turned her body towards him and walked to the side to avoid bumping into someone before continuing with Uji’s pace.

“I found out this party was for Thane to congratulate for his promotion. Although I have a sneakin’ suspicion that he did not plan this.” Lula sensed a slight change in Uji when she brought up Thane’s name. It was here and gone quicker than a Teek running to get food. Her hand still tenderly rested on his arm out of formality and respect.

“You really care about him, don’t you?”

Uji slowed at her words, the crowd flowing around them while his attention remained fixed ahead. For a moment, he said nothing, as though contemplating how much truth was worth divulging.

“Care is a dangerous word, considering my role,” he said finally, his voice even but not cold. “It invites assumptions of weakness or expectation.”

He turned briefly toward her, looking her over before resuming their walk.

“But yes,” he admitted quietly. “I trust him, and my trust is not easily earned. With that trust, I am obligated to fulfill the role he chose for me.”

“Invites weakness or shows intimidation because it’s also a strength?” Lula inquired with her warm drawl. Her eyes gazed over the dancing crowd, and she could’ve sworn she saw Mattie, her twin sister, vibing with the packed people. The spirit shows flickers of Mattie’s ombre hair, which was the reverse of Lula’s. She had a wide, laughing smile. As brief as she appeared, the dancing Firrerreo disappeared into the crowd.

The crowd.

She continued to use the Force to keep herself calm and not feel like a trapped animal in a cage.

“I believe he trusts you, too. You’re one of the few he’s mentioned.” She flashed him another fanged smile, “Nice to finally put a face to the name. You should come to our bonfire sometime.”

“Not bad on the pronunciation. I’d ask for your full name but the apostrophes are complicated and tend to mess with database coding,” the Zygerrian wiggled an eyebrow as slinked back beside Zuza and gave her a gentle kiss to the top of the head.

Zuza nodded slightly, smiling as Zig returned but focusing back.

“Makes sense. And, I’ve said it before but, if you need me I’m there. Recommendations or… anything else, if I can I will.” She took on a more serious tone, all too aware of certain other situations, ones that couldn’t be discussed here. Getting mildly exploded hadn’t put her off of helping a friend.

“Oo, they got the fancy whore-derves!” Zig excitedly grabbed a few and stuffed a mini skewer into her mouth.

“Aw babe, you do make the perfect table,” Zig started to giggle.

Zuza froze in place when something weighed on her head. Just for a few moments, and by the time she turned round to see what the kark just happened all there was to see was the back of a server.

Zuza blinked, touched the top of her head in sheer confusion before Zig’s giggles broke the freeze and set her off.

“What the frack-”

“Language,” Anders said.

Zuza stuck her tongue out at him.

“Mature,” Anders shook his head.

She grinned, eyes closing for a moment before sipping her drink.

“How else would you lot know if I got replaced by some spooky ghost thing?” Mischief may as well have been written her freckles, “Its a solid defensive tactic.”

As Vincent Brujah stepped out of the speeder, he couldn’t help but feel almost nude. He was dressed in a sleek, form-fitting black suit coat that he hadn’t buttoned, black slacks, black dress shoes, a black collared dress shirt with what looked to be ancient Sith embroidered on it in crimson, and of course a black tie to finish off the outfit. Still, he had been in his armor for every occasion for so long now that he felt light. He could feel the wind blowing his ponytail back and forth. No.. he didn’t like this at all.

This would be his third attempt at socialization in as many weeks. Empress Rayne insisted that he go out there and be one of the main faces of Clan Scholae Palatinae. He wasn’t quick to defy the order.

”I doubt anyone even recognizes me. This shouldn’t be so bad. Everyone who does know me knows me from my armor. Most of them haven’t even seen my face. This will be okay.” the Sith thought to himself.

He could feel eyes staring at him from behind and he turned to see his friend Jaz Holden, a Mandalorian, still sitting on the shuttle. Vincent turned back, giving Jaz a glare.

“What is it, Jaz?”

The Mandalorian fidgeted his fingers.

“Oh nothing. I was just thinking. Since you hate these things so much, and I enjoy free alcohol… Maybe it would be better if I went. We both win.”

Vincent rolled his eyes and sneered.

“Jaz, the whole point of this is to send someone important to represent the Clan. No one knows you.”

The Mandalorian’s head drooped as the speeder’s door closed and it darted away.

Vincent turned and entered The Soundmound. His ears were instantly hit with the sounds of agreeable music. That brought a grin to his face. No stuck up pretense here. He scanned the room quickly for any familiar faces, but only noted Council members and assistants who probably wouldn’t even recognize him. He walked towards the bar and took a seat, quickly flagging over a server and ordering a strong, bitter ale.

The Fallen Spear Library

Socorra squinted at the new artifact she’d zeroed in on and plucked from the shelf, turning it over with the calloused pads of her burn-scarred hands. The object seemed to wake a faint, jagged light pulsing beneath her tissue - Sith runes that normally lay dormant, now igniting like trapped magma to illuminate her scars from the inside out. For a moment, the Mandalorian looked as if she were made of fire.

The sight whetted the old Krath appetite suppressed beneath years of armor, survival, and a Sith conversion that had been violently grafted onto her soul. What remained was a constant war between the knowledge she craved and the ambition branded onto her dark skin, forced into her veins. She once could have spent a lifetime studying the relics the Grandmaster hoarded on the Spear, but Sith ambition required motion. Something done. Something gained.

A new track slammed into the woman’s earpiece, heavy bass vibrating against her skull. Her raven and white head bobbed rhythmically, an involuntary response to the aggression in the sound. It was far from the rhythmic sand-dancing and belly shimmying of her homeworld; there were no hallikset strings here. This was a taste of the music to come: raw, industrial, and violent.

She needed more of it.

Socorra mostly ignored the mental current drifting between the siblings on the deck above, letting it wash over her periphery without engaging yet. If her presence in the psychic ether were truly an intrusion, the Grandmaster would not have simply ejected her from an airlock, he would have ended her existence long before allowing her to rifle through his personal dusty collection for the hundredth time. They had shared enough mental, physical, and time-gated battlespaces for her to know the difference between a private shield and an open door.

Mostly. 😏

A small lever on the artifact tempted a flick of her finger, and a high-pitched screech erupted from it, causing her to snap her hand back.

One arctic eye narrowed and she scolded the inanimate object: “Shoo!”

She snapped the lever back into place, silencing it. As the connection broke, the pulsing fire beneath her dark skin faded with the noise, cooling back into the dull, silvered topography of her scars.

Muz’s presence brushed against her mind then. She didn’t startle; she simply projected her intent back, wrapping her thoughts in the jagged, heavy rhythm of the music playing in her ear.

What is in mind this time? Aaaadventure!

The Socorran Bharhulai’s mental voice was far clearer than her broken Basic, though her excitement bled through the telepathy.

It is concert of some sort… not Kyataran in any.. manner. But is new, is exciting, it will be fun!

Socorra lied off her shebs. She knew for Musashi it was going to be the antithesis of fun.

The woman paused, summoning the Holonet listing she’d found on her datapad.

Attire is said to be black. Photo and review on holonet seem themed. Maybe dress nice? Ah.. I bring nothing like that.

A dismissive hand waved in the air, banishing the concept of civilian formal wear. Assistance was usually required when it came to that. At least she had the combat boots. <@227653769842655233>

At a glance, one could mistake the figure drifting through the crowd’s, though those sharp, amber eyes were impossible to ignore.

Anders made a note to approach him when the moment was right…

And that moment was now, given that the man in question was not preoccupied with the ramblings of eventual sycophants.

“Ladies, I thank you for your company,” Anders gave a short bow. “I will endeavour to be back once I am available…”

He approached the cloaked figure, until their eyes met. Anders smiled, raised his glass, and made a gesture to a quiet corner of the room. Telepathy was tempting, though from what he understood, Darth Renatus would not appreciate such intrusions. Angering the Brotherhood’s mighty leader was not how Anders wanted to make a first impression.

“Catch ya later.” Zuza gave Anders a short wave, glancing over the crowd before pressing a kiss to Zig’s cheek.

She was practically buzzing with energy, “There is a lot of people here. I recognise a good chunk of them but…”

Plenty of new faces too. New stories new everything.

He had to ignore the louder thumping in his heart. Naturally, Anders was cool, collected, years of experience as an Inquisitor taught him to put his person feelings behind him when it came to the task at hand.

“Thank you for your time. Firstly, allow me to congratulate you on your newest appointment,” his tone was low, quiet enough to be conceiled from prying ears. “Grand Master.”

Zig smiled and watched Zuza go. As she went, and with Anderson’s attention moving away, Zig attemped to melt into the crowd…as much as a Zygerrian in a pant suit could.

Grand Master

She blinked and looked over to see Anders addressing Thane. The big boss man was here.

After the “PSL” adventure, she knew the Firrerreo knew of her existence, but she still wasn’t sure if they were on…casual speaking terms yet?

So, she continued to try and be part of the background.

With free roam activated, as Zig jokingly would call it, Zuza passed through the crowd and worked on her drink.

Hellos and greetings were easy, a wave to a familiar face but she ultimately didn’t stop until she needed a refill on her drink. She leant on the bar beside a very suited up guy with a pony tail. Once a server was free, she quickly ordered. “Fizzbrew please.”

Then… well.

“Heya!” She grinned, briefly glancing at the guy, noticing script on his shirt but not recognizing the language. “I’m Zuza, nice to meet ‘cha.”

The Beskarica shirt he was wearing was drinched in sweat. The black shirt clung to him as he continued to bounce up and down in the front row of the pit. The music could be felt pulsing through him more than heard. It had just been the local opening act that had played there set but Korvyn was in his element.

He loved the hard and fast music and headbanging. Bouncing with fellow lovers of the music and crowdsurfing were his escape from reality. And as the openers finished up there set he knew he need to replenish some fluids before the main acts got on stage.

He headed up the ramp to the bar for a water and a beer. Maybe even a little snack to help him keep his energy level up for the long night of metal, headbanging and mosh pits.

Reiden looked at himself in the mirror before he departed the speeder that had taken him to the venue. It would not have been his choice of attire - or at least not the color scheme - but it was what the invitation mentioned, so it would do. He wasn’t sure what would be appropriate, so he opted for something on the somewhat dressy side. Black buttoned shirt, tie, and pants. A pair of lightly weathered black boots rounded things out, a personal concession and one that seemed fitting for a concert of some sort. The shirt and pants were stitched with a pale silver thread for a bit of extra detailing. It was just enough to be different, but still subtle so as not to be distracting, perfectly toeing that line. He scowled and let out a grumble before loosening the tie he had on before taking it off and throwing it onto the seat beside him, undoing the top button of the shirt, and rolling up his sleeves. A sigh next. That felt better already.

He loathed such formal things, and especially when titles were concerned. That would certainly prove interesting if he ran into the Grand Master tonight. Despite attending the same functions a couple times, the two had yet to formally meet. Although given the years of service and various positions each had held, the new head of the Brotherhood would have most likely heard of him at some point along the way.

He would have preferred to keep his blade on him, liking to be ready just in case, no matter the situation. But that decision likely would be frowned upon, or even land him in hot water. Things with other Brotherhood members could sometimes get tense or turn at a moment’s notice, but being cautious would be the better path for this. Or at least that’s what he hoped. Worst case scenario, he could call for his droid to deliver a weapon. But things would be fine. Probably.

Reiden stepped out from the speeder, crossed the distance, and made his way inside the Soundmound. The music thrummed in the air, he could feel its beat in his body, the noise nearly deafening at first from the stark contrast, but then he became acclimated to it. The space was packed, as much with regular people as anyone connected to the Brotherhood, he imagined. He spotted the bar and decided to get a drink first.

Might as well enjoy myself while I’m here.

Vincent had just finished pouring the bottle of ale into his glass when he heard her. Placing the bottle back into the bucket of ice, the Sith turned his cold, gray eyes downward towards the source of the words. He spotted a young human woman with a short brown bob and a lustrous black gown smiling up at him.

Since being appointed Proconsul, Vincent had spent plenty of time going over the CSP roster on his datapad. This one wasn’t one of his, in fact, he didn’t recognize her at all. For a moment he considered ignoring her, or answering her civility with a nod, but here it was; his opportunity for socialization. Perhaps he could even manage to get some kind of useful information from her. Who could know?

Putting on a fake smile, the Warlord spoke.

“Hello. I am Vincent Brujah, Hand of the Empress of Clan Scholae Palatinae. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Reaching for his glass, he raised it towards Zuza before taking a drink. He’d need to keep the conversation moving as naturally as possible. Not his strong suit, but he thought back to his date with the emerald skinned Twi’lek. What was her name? Sandra? Tasha? Something like that.. It didn’t matter now. But he could take some of the lessons that he had learned from listening to her incessant babble. Make it about her. Be a listener. Pretend to care.

“Quite a party they’ve put on here. Enjoying yourself?”

Hand of the empress… Oh, the second in command. The name rang a bell, though only in the general way. Probably from when she was Consul still and communicating with the other clans.

“Yea, and the night is young.” She answered back, sipping her own drink. “Id ask you the same but you just got here didnt ya? Did you have any plans or just hanging out?”

She was an observant one. He’d have to be careful with just how honest he would be with her. Vincent had no ill intent for tonight, but the option was always there in the back of his mind.

“Yes, I’m just arriving. I have to say, I quite enjoy this to the usual pomp and circumstance.”

He smirked a bit.

“People stumbling over themselves to become the new wave of yesmen isn’t much my scene. But if the music and the atmosphere is any indication, this is a welcome difference.”

He took another swig from his glass. The ale was pungent. He had asked for bitter and they had delivered. It warmed his throat with each swallow.

“I had really mostly stopped by to ensure that our Clan was well represented and that our support was clear. I am enjoying myself thus far, and I can’t help but have a good feeling about the night for some reason. Any big plans for you?”

Zuza snorted, imagining people trying to kiss up to Thane. It didn’t go well, even in her imagination. “They won’t have much luck.”

Her drink was very fizzy, so she took it in small sips. It was good, sweet and fun, but it was definitely different. In probably a good way.

“None for me. I got tickets to a big party so, here I am. Kinda nice to chill out at party that most likely won’t end in a bomb going off right next to me.” Zuza grinned, though didn’t appear to joking. Frankly, in hindsight she did take some amusement out of that situation. It was easier than worrying about it. “Have you been around Palatinae for long? I feel like I’ve heard your name before. Quaestor?”

And broached, it shall be.

“You are a busy individual, so I will keep this brief. With Idris Adenn becoming Deputy Grand Master, you are, of course, no doubt looking for a replacement for VOICE of the Brotherhood. I would like to place my name amongst the potential candidates for the position.”

Anders was an intelligent man. He did not need it spelt out to him.

“Understood. Lord Adenn’s boots will be difficult to fill, though I do believe you will find my experience within the Inquisitorius… enticing.”

His lips curved upwards, ever so slightly, just enough to look pleased with himself as he offered out a hand.

“A pleasure. I look forward to further engagements in whatever capacity they may be.”

Vincent chuckled.

“Most meetings could use a good bombing, if you ask me. Liven things up a bit.” he said, not really putting much effort into making it clear just how serious he was.

“I recently ended my second term as Quaestor of House Caliburnus, my first being almost twenty years earlier. I had just gotten used to the quiet again when opportunity showed its face. When the Empress calls upon you to serve, it’s wise to accept the offer.”

Vincent reached back to the bottle in his bucket of ice, pulling it out and topping off his glass before jabbing the bottle back into the ice and taking another drink.

“You seem to know quite a bit. Former leadership of some kind or just keen insticts?” he asked, looking to Zuza inquisitively.

Zuza nodded, understanding the dynamic enough to get it. Leadership in some of the clans was more… intense politically than her experience had mostly been. Despite her hesistations to mention it however, it did seem her term as Consul was going to be relevant. Damn. Hopefully he didn’t turn out to be some yes man type.

“Leadership. I was Consul for Arcona for about year not too long ago. And what can I say, I’m a people person.” She offered a genuine smile, “It’s always good to hear of folks who’ve been around a while. Though… well. I hope you won’t bomb too many of your own meetings just to get out of them.”

Vincent’s facial expressions must have looked like those of a poorly trained actor. First, what probably looked like genuine curiosity at the mention of Arcona. At one time, they had been CSP’s greatest rival, but tensions had seemed to calm in the nearly 15 years that Vincent had spent away from the Brotherhood. Now, the two Clans seemed to be in a mostly neutral stance. Then, veiled disgust at the idea of being a people person. Finally a sharp grin and a light, but very real laugh at the thought of bombing his own meetings. It must have been difficult to tell if the idea itself brought him joy, or if he just found the joke funny. He turned his grin down towards Zuza.

“I will try to keep the bombings minimal and mostly focused on enemy meetings… but, no promises.” the Sith said before changing topics back to her past. “Arcona, eh? Interesting. It seems clear that they had a bright and personable leader at the helm. I’m sure that your expertise is missed.”

The Warlord’s drinks had grown larger as his palette became more accustomed to the taste of the ale.

“For me, I wasn’t sure that leadership would be my area of expertise. After all, I’m happier on a battlefield than I am in a room full of diplomats and coattail riders.” he sighed. “The sacrifices that we make to reach our goals, right?”

Zig fought the urge to headbang. Not like this. Not here.

She started to bob her head though to the heavy double pedals.

“It’s not for everyone. Not for me, that’s for sure.” Zuza tilted her glass toward him slightly before taking another drink. She was most of the way through her bottle, leaning on the bar and perfectly at ease.

“I feel you on preferring the battlefield. I mean, seriously, so many problems could be solved if they’d just bother to actually talk to each other. Lay it out there, negotiate after, rather than trying to sneaky pre negotiate and under cut and blah blah blah” She waved a hand, sticking her tongue out, “It’s worth it to some folks, so I hope it will be for you and for your clan. And that you get some time doing the more fun bits.”

She chuckled, “Do you have a weapon of choice?”

It was a good thing his eyes were scarred, otherwise Mihoshi would have seen them roll. He tilted his head downward, giving a curt nod and turning to leave the bridge, heavy bootfalls resounding as the door swished shut behind him. Leena pulled her lekku up, gently resting it back on her shoulder as Miho shifted her gaze at her. The Twi'lek blinked twice, then half smiled at her.

“Excuse me, the boss has an errand.” She spoke, collecting herself and angling for the door as well. Noting the quizzical look on Miho’s face, she let the half smile bloom into something larger. “Oh, this will be good.”

The doors to the bridge slid open, the grey-blue miasma of hyperspace illuminating the bridge as much as the lights did. He stepped into view, the subtle clack of well made leather boots on the deckplates getting their attention. In place of his usual attire was a suit, obviously tailored to him. The heavy leather warcoat was gone, replaced with a lighter, more fluid fabric, still long and black but lined with some manner of silk. A dark purple suit coat beneath, worn open to expose the black waistcoat, arcane symbols stitched into the dark fabric that played off of the light and set off the purple dress shirt, the top several buttons still undone.

Because of course he did. A Master of the Star Chamber, the Lord of the Krath, and Emperor of Kyataru would have options available, even if he didn’t often use them. He paused, looking at his little sister, letting mirth crease the corner of his eyes as he answered the unasked question.

Nothing alive could compel me to wear a tie. He turned to look at Socorra, his silent voice still ringing in their ears and heads. And since you insisted…

A moment later as if on cue, Leena entered, carrying a couple of wide boxes. Muz turned slightly, shifting his head to dart from Leena to Socorra. A few steps later, and she placed the boxes on the console nearest her, obscuring whatever panels were below. Opening the lid and exposing the garments within, she smiled at his Herald. “The Lady Tiamat sends her regards.”

<@227653769842655233>

Anders left it at that. No need to pester the man. He had done what he sought to do.

“I bid you a good evening,” the Chiss lowered his head ever so slightly and returned to the busier part of the room.

“Careful now, you hiss any louder and he might like it,” Nildea heard a voice echo behind her, the tone just shy of alluring and velvety. Its owner, the current Herald and Syndicate Boss, stood with a crystal glass — of all things — with some bubbly liquid, dressed in leather heeled boots that made her look even taller than she was. Genuine branded leather pants, which must have chafed and squeezed some uncomfortable places, and a half-cloak with a high collar inlaid with golden stitching framed her broad shoulders and clearly athletic build, while the corset and lace buster top left some of her chest to the imagination, but not much. Her makeup was in style as well: dark lips, dark eyeshadow, simple but topical. She clearly knew her couture, and knew how to show it off as her gaze lorded around her, one hand on her hip.

“Trying to hide away, miss Vidh? This is the event of the year, I would assume you’d be participating, not sneaking around.” Morgan smiled at her with an lightly teasing smile, clearly sensing Nildea’s discomfort. Despite the density of the crowd, people seemed to be giving her a particularly wide berth as they moved to and fro.

Vincent smirked at Zuza. It felt to the Sith that this was becoming more of a case study than a conversation, but for now, he had nothing to hide. The former Arcona Consul may walk away from this conversation with information on Scholae Palatinae’s second in command, but nothing more than he would be willing to brag about without prodding.

“I’ve learned to be useful with most weapons. Being raised in the fighting pits of Tatooine made that a necessity. However…”

He reached down pulling apart his unbuttoned suit coat. Beneath the coat, hanging on his belt at each hip were his lightsaber hilts.

“These two very rarely let me down.”

The two walked in silence for some time, letting the music fill the void.

Uji continued his vigil even as he considered Firrerreon’s words. He could sense her mild anxiety, a feeling he shared in such an environment, though he had been forced to adapt often enough throughout his career. As he began to respond, his commlink activated with a warning.

“Shroud agents on site. Sorenn has arrived,” came the voice of one of his lieutenants, Hale, brief but not unexpected.

“Grant access. She will have her own guards,” Uji said before turning back to his companion.

“Apologies. It is part of what they expect,” he said, even as he turned them toward the bar.

“Let us get you that drink you wanted.”

“You’re assuming she knows how to do anything other than hide away and pretend she doesn’t exist.” A gruff voice called out from off to the side of the pair.

The Odanite War Councilor, a Mandalorian dressed down from armor to formal attire, smirked as his right eye peered out over the rim of his holotac glasses toward the pair. He stood and rolled his shoulders back, relaxing the fabric of the long jacket as he collected his drink. Careful with the whiskey as he pushed his way towards Morgan and Nildea, Wulfram avoided contact with anything that would rub off on his white uniform.

-# <@264959101384130560>

A heavy hand dropped on Wulfram’s shoulder as he approached the Herald — a Barabel’s scaly hand. The large enforcer, dressed all in leather and spikes, growled under breath and ground his teeth in threat. Three more equally alarming individuals entered Wulfram’s peripheral vision, bodies coiled like a spring, ready to jump in at any indication of a threat.

“Easy, boys,” Morgan cooed to her bodyguards and gave Wulfram a once over. “Armis, right? I’m sure I’ve heard that name before.” she diverted attention and defused the situation with a mere look as the Barabel withdrew with an apologetic nod to the Mandalorian. “I apologize for my men. They’re rather…protective,” she said finally, gaze darting between the two. “By way of apology, would you two like to meet the new Grand Master? I can introduce you.” There was a mischievous glint in her eye.

<@236356564125089792> <@264959101384130560>

Zuza looked the lightsabers over, nodding along with a smile. She adjusted her dress, at the point where it exposed some of her stomach and revealed the silver glint of her own lightsaber deftly hidden amongst the fabric.

“Biggest perk of working here right?” She winked, letting it fall back into place and finishing off her drink.

“Though it does kinda feel like cheating sometimes.”

“Yes, let’s.” Alethia was there as if summoned, the bright white of her smile highlighted by her uncustomarily dark makeup. She held three full flutes by the stems with the graceful ease of someone who didn’t know it was supposed to be awkward.

“I had to make an educated guess,” she said, offering a matching pair of the glasses to the Fist and the Firerreo. The liquid inside was a lush and sultry purple, a stark contrast to the light, bubbly teal in Archenksova’s own glass. “Verjus from Naboo’s Lake Country. It’s basically unfermented wine. Tart, sweet,” here she gave Tameike a knowing look, “completely devoid of alcohol.”

<End to End Encrpyption Enabled> Marick: Tameike didn't respond, so checking with the other adult I know at the event. No one is causing a scene and/or causing any unnecessary paperwork as we try to convince the galaxy we're not the dark murder cult we used to be as we onboard a new Grand Master?

Elswhere, having finished another drink and a staffer kindly taking it away from her, she suddenly had both hands free. She continued to maintain discipline and not check her datapad, so she started to bop her head to the beat of the song. It was very similar to what was on her Get Hyped workout playlist, which was a lot of similar and obscure bands that Vez had introduced her to.

She was careful not to hit anyone around her, but did start to rotate her arms in slow circles, as if swimming in water while standing in place.

vh: ziggy is zuza drunk yet vh: is it funny vh: oh are you too fitshaced to check you datapad

Zig was about to start a full-on moshpit, even if she was the only one in it, but her ears twitched at the muted noise but vibration of her wrist-com.

Fortunately, she didn’t need her datapad to read the messages or reply. She blinked, giggled, then shook her head and used her finger to trace-text message back from the small screen.

zig: idk my bff Zuza? zig: not sure. she went to talk to peeps zig: they are playing Motionless in Carbonite which i think you showed me

Uji reached out and accepted the glass from the familiar stranger. They had crossed paths in professional settings often enough, but seldom exchanged more than a few words.

“I appreciate the consideration,” he said calmly. “It would be unwise to refuse a drink offered by my wife’s… former wife.” He finished the remark with a wry smile.

Noticing the former Headmaster reviewing her datapad, Uji’s smile turned into a sharper grin.

“Is that Marick? I had assumed if I left him waiting long enough, he might actually make an appearance.” Uji seemed to remember him manners finally.

“Archenksova, let me introduce Lulaire Sol'Vida”

Miho took in her brother’s attire an inch at a time, going from his head to his feet and then back again. One eyebrow raised curiously.

I think you would look dashing in a tie. She said softly between them. Maybe I can convince Ashia to get you one.

She eyed Leena, the boxes and was suddenly happy she brought her own clothes. Not that anyone here had anything that would actually fit her.

oo: vez you ain't at the concert? oo: how come? oo: hi zig you don't know me but i'm a fan of your work (＾▽＾)

<@371402534973341696> <@189568236201705472>

Zig froze in place. She started mutely at wrist comp. How did…

Oh. Oh hoh hoh. Vez had the ability to trip through Zigs encryption protocols, but was way too lazy to apply herself to doing so.

Whoever this “oo” was, they were good. Excitement bubbled.

She took out her datapad this time, moving to find a wall to lean casually against.

Now with a full interface at her beckoning, her fingers started to dart across the screen in a blur as she simultaneously tried to reply to the message while doing a complex trace route for more information on the source.

zig: Vez we've been over this. If you want a fourth, it has to go through consensus and whatnot. zig: hiya. owo who dis?

oo: i like messing with vez she endures my pestering A small astromech droid drove and then hobbled over to Zig with a tray of beverages with distinct blue coloring and almost a faint glow to them. oo: take one it's reactor coolant you'll like it oo: veeeez you're being antisocial

<@371402534973341696>

Zig narrowed her eyes slightly. She took the drink, then patted the droid appreciatively.

Well at least Vez knows her. So, not stranger danger?

Zig held the drink either way, not taking a sip, waiting for her compile to return some data

It seemed that Uji had too much on his mind to hear the invitation or continue the question she had asked before the invite. Perhaps later, she would name-drop to Thane that Uji was welcome to the farm if Thane wished for some company.

“Oh, that’s-” She stopped when they were approached by a woman she hadn’t met. They were presented with drinks, and she took the glass with a smile of thanks and sniffed at the drink while the two chatted.

Marick? Huh. She thought he would be here since the last time she saw him, it almost looked like Thane and Marick were having some kind of mental showdown.

Just as she brought the glass to her lips, Uji had introduced her, which resulted in Lula quickly doing a massive gulp and a small grimace. Lula was never a fan of tart.

“Howdy,” she reached out with her free hand for a handshake. -# <@371402534973341696>

vh: if they wanted me to come they shouldve booked a band with a girl singer vh: the claxon, sleetstorm, d0rth33 vh: orse are you doing the droid thing

oo: yeah of course. tanako is somewhere in the venue. i'm in le-t0 atm. i'm looking at zig trying to trace route me oo: she's so cute oo: and she's good. almost got me then oo: zig i'm right here The astro-droid, LE-T0, bumped Zig’s leg as if to poke her with the tray of glasses. A couple of more had disappeared to various patrons in the meantime.

<@189568236201705472>

zig: I know. "No" query is sometimes as telling as a sucesful one. We can totes have a discussion on the ethics of remote droid-sleeving, but i'll assume you got this lovely Lothal-series Astromech droid's consent first.

Drones were cool, but Zig had always preferred to work alongside droids and was used to being where she needed to be herself. Still, Vez wouldn’t be friends with someone not cool. Mostly.

zig: so...how long is your signal? :eyebrow_wiggle_emoji:

oo: don't worry le-t0 is my buddy. so are tanako, clogg, chip, rotor, jukebox and the babies. they take care of me and i take care of them LE-T0 beeped as Orse disconnected from his node and reconnected to Tanako and the Shroud frequency Morgan’s bodyguards had shared with the GMRG. “Fun,” she thought. oo: vez can probably confirm i'm pretty far away. oo: she has some experience with my coding oo: same system, though oo: can't be much farther than that oo: one day i can show you my setup. if you're with vez, you're alright Another droid, seemingly a protocol variant, arrived hastily and picked up the tray on LE-T0’s head and patted the dome with a clink. “Good job, LE-T0,” the mechanically generated voice had a distinctly organic timbre to it. LE-T0 chirped a high, happy beep in binary. The protocol droid moved away to “serve” more drinks.

vv: she does this vv: first time we met she had the duke rub my butt and make kissy noises

oo: (≧◡≦)

Zig smiled, watching the droids. The answer was acceptable. Clearly she knew what she was doing. Still, the galaxy wasn’t always the kindest place for droids. People always overlooked them, or treated them as lesser beings. Zig had built droids from scratch. She remembered her first one. It was a pit droid. All that she had found was its head. She pulled it out of a junk pile and started prodding at the circuitry, and managed to remake the body from different parts the young junker had found. She remembered wondering why anyone would just discard something that worked perfectly fine, and just needed some attention.

She blinked, perhaps some of her earlier drinks wearing off. She glanced down at her datapad and idly typed.

zig: ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ (‿|‿)

“Nah, I’m good fam,” Zig waved a hand. She gestured to the drink that LE-T0’s had brought over.

vh: i yelled at gui about it vh: good times

“Charmed,” Alethia said. “Don’t feel like you have to finish it. I grew up drinking the Alderaanian version so it’s my first impulse when someone needs something non-alcoholic.”

She cut her eyes over to Uji. “And yes, Marick is convinced we’ll let Ashen eat the staff and Howlader dance pantless on the bar if we don’t have his disapproving silence to rein us in.”

<@272527052396298242> <@216702440140046336>

His response was felt immediately.

Saw that, the mental reply fired back at the eyeroll.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Socorra’s mouth. The Sith-Mandalorian let the doors hiss shut behind her as the magnetic pull of the gathering party took over. She stepped onto the bridge just in time to catch the tail end of the fashion reveal.

Her single eye widened, just a fraction. It was rare to see the Lion out of his warcoat. It was even rarer to see him look like… that. The suit was sharp, tailored to a lethal degree, and the arcane symbols stitched into the waistcoat didn’t escape notice. It was a look that screamed money, power, and… Krath. Soo Krathy. Arguably, it could be more intimidating than the armor.

Ashen’s mental projection regarding the lack of a tie, and the refusal to be compelled, registered instantly. A sharp, unladylike snort cut through the bridge’s hum. The first thought was the tactical error such a garment presented- a convenient handle for strangulation. The second thought was the challenge he had just issued.

A tie. I will remember that.

It may have been a threat, given the way her ruby lip curled slightly at the thought.

Then Leena placed the boxes on the console. Socorra peered over at Miho, raising her eyebrows slightly in a silent, frantic question: The hell have I done?

Still, the itch for the surface was stronger than the dread of the sender. New experiences and adventure were on the menu, and a box wasn’t going to stop the momentum. The outfit change was executed with military efficiency. When the doors opened again, the figure standing there was transformed, though the fit was… optimistic.

The woman now sported a black eyepatch with complex gold threadwork in the shape of an hourglass covering her missing eye. She wore a dark grey shirt beneath a black vest and a knee-length black skirt cut to allow for full combat movement. Some were modified and some simply couldn’t be.

Tiamat was built like a willow; the Phoenix was built like an infernal siege engine. The grey shirt strained across her chest, the buttons fighting a losing war against her hourglass curves. The skirt fared little better, stretched over wide, powerful hips before flaring out at the knee. Though if Socorra cared, she didn’t show it. It looked mortifyingly expensive, and despite herself, she recognized the gesture for what it was.

Her white and raven hair was partially pulled back, held in place with long gold stick pins- weapons disguised as decor, as always, matching the dozens of blades hidden in clever sheaths beneath the fabric. The woman refused the formal shoes: the combat boots were staying.

“Acceptable,” she declared, testing the movement of the skirt with a sharp pivot. “Lessgo!” <@227653769842655233>

oo: i did say sorry...eventaully. and duke seemed to like it. you should check his bahavioral matrix oo: anyway i'm chippin' out. i got what i needed from morgan's datapad. juicy juicy details. bitchy queeny is gonna be pissed (>▽<) oo: don't be a stranger vez ( ɵ̥̥‸ɵ̥̥) oo: oh and great to meet you zig. With that she disconnected, leaving no trace behind her apart from LE-T0, who turned on his wheels and hobbled and rolled out towards the venue exit.

The dull throb of the Spear exiting hyperspace resonated against them all a half-moment after Muz gave a curt nod. Was it out of approval, acceptance, annoyance, or just the understanding that it was time to go. The man could be opaque most of the time. He turned toward Leena, black eyes meeting hers for a moment. The planet loomed large in the viewscreen, growing closer by the moment as a flurry of communications between the pilot and port control buzzed in the background.

“Why yes, boss.” The Twi'lek wore a wry smile with her words. “I’d be happy to fly you down there, since you asked so nicely and all.” Muz’s head did not move, but she did, walkignoff the bridge down toward the hangar with a chirp of laughter.

The bass of loud music was audible all the way out on the landing pad, their boots striking red carpet trimmed with gold that led to the venue. Muz cast a sidelong glance at Mihoshi and Socorra, making sure that they were ready before he walked forward, his paces measured, almost ponderous. No words were necessary from the doormen. They had seen the designation of their shuttle, they had heard stories about these three from times when they were not on social calls. They simply lowered their heads and moved to open the double doors for them.

The sound of Leena’s Dagger One lifting off the pad was entirely lost int he wave of sound and light that washed over them, cascading from the open doors like a firehose of sensations.

They had arrived.

<@227653769842655233>

Vincent chuckled a bit.

“I suppose it can feel like cheating… but in my experience, there’s no such thing as a fair fight. It’s another one of the grand life lessons that I learned in the pits. In war, there are no winners or losers. There are those who walk away… and those who do not.”

The Sith took another gulp from his glass of ale, nearly emptying his glass.

“If a lightsaber helps my chances of being one of the ones that get to go home at the end of the day, then I count myself as lucky to be one of the ones that has one. Wouldn’t you agree?”

It was like the universe was making fun of her. Not only was she caught being a coward, but Wulfram was also here. One of Nildea’s crystalline eyes twitched subtly. The Sephi Orator turned, pointing a finger tipped with a glossy black stiletto nail at Wulfram. She hid her surprise at the male being armor-free for once. For an old, cantakerous Mandalorian, he sure kept up with his exercise routine.

“You’re just angry because I scared the kist out of you on the beach and you can’t handle it,” she seethed at him, her eyes narrowing.

She wished the Shroud Syndicate goons would have punched him in his smarmy face. She hated that he had taken over Mihoshi’s spot. She hated every single fracking thing that had happened since Masahiro died. She hated even more Morgan’s invitation to see the Grandmaster while she was dressed like some kind of deviant.

Nildea was going to kill her assistant that bought this outfit for her.

The ex-Jedi took a deep breath and turned to the Herald, adjusting the black rings that sat on her fingers. “I apologize for the half-blind Mandalorian. Odan-Urr still hasn’t managed to beat manners into his thick skull. A meeting with the Grandmaster, you say? I’d be crazy to turn that down, though I’m not sure I’m worthy of such an honor.”

The smile that pulled at the corners of her mouth was rather forced, not meeting her eyes. She needed alcohol– she was too sober to be smooth.

-# <@236356564125089792> <@690640377262243843>

For a while, she was in a foul mood for failing to retrieve a relic that was meant to be studied.

Then she was gifted with wine and had some time in a hot bath with the fireplace roaring alongside with the company of her husband. The combination put her in a much better mood, and she was no longer upset or dwelt on it.

Some things weren’t meant to be studied and that relic was surely one of them.

“It is good to see you here, Mr. Karr.” Evelyn gave him a small smile. She wore an asymmetrical black dress with her right arm covered by a sleeve. A small, elegant shawl draped over the same arm. Her white hair was up in a fancy updo adorned with a black hair holder full of emeralds. She had on black eyeliner with smoky dark green to bring out the emerald hue of her eyes, followed by a black lipstick and nail polish.

“I never did thank you for helping Mr. Erinos and me. Come, let me buy you a drink,” she tilted her head towards the bar. When she moved to Reiden’s side, she looked over the floor and saw a familiar Chiss.

My darling, I am here. -# <@837236610684813342>

Zuza twirled the bottle on the bar counter, leaning her head this way and then that way, contemplating.

“Yea I reckon. We should have a swing at each other some time, always fun to spar with someone new.” She smiled, mischeivous but well meaning. “I’ll even buy you a drink first.”

“It is staggering at times how socially awkward our most powerful representatives can be,” Uji stated as he blatantly ignored the presence standing behind him.

He kept his eyes on Alethia as he spoke, shifting just enough to keep the Grandmaster out of Lula’s view for the moment while he waited.

“Oh, it could be worse,” Alethia said, smirking into her toniray. “I used to have to make sure Kituri showed up to functions wearing clothes. Though admittedly the cleavage and thigh made the Jedi platitudes and the scowling go over better.”

The mere mention of sparring brought a twisted smile to the face of Vincent. Reaching into the front pocket of his suit coat he pulled out a small black card with crimson writing upon it. He handed the card to Zuza.

“Drinks and a show? Sounds great to me. This card contains my contact information. Feel free to reach out any time you would like to arrange it.”

Then it hit Vincent like a metric ton of durasteel. His stomach writhed in pain where he had been run through by the Ichor sword of a white haired woman earlier, even though the damage had been mostly healed at this point. He had been searching for a lost relic that would have given him, and thus the Empire, an ungodly amount of power. But she had ruined it. The plan had to be aborted. The relic was destroyed. They were both fortunate to walk away with their lives, though they had both made it clear that they were far from done with each other.

He could feel her presence. Turning towards the entrance he spotted her. He watched as she approached his Clanmate, Reiden Palpatine Karr. His eyes narrowed and his heart rate increased. He hastily reached to the bar yanking what remained of his bottle of ale from the bucket of ice. Standing, he turned to Zuza and spoke.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Susie. Unfortunately, some unfinished business has just walked in the door, so I must take my leave. I’ll be waiting to hear from you about that sparring session.”

With that, Vincent walked away, not even awaiting acknowledgement from Zuza. He made his way slowly but deliberately towards Reiden and the white haired woman. He kept a distance for now, waiting for the appropriate moment to approach.

<@216702440140046336> <@232396983854301187>

“I have dealt with similar situations when it comes to ensuring companions appear properly clothed in public, as you can imagine given our shared association,” Uji replied with a small laugh as he took a measured sip of the offered drink.

The thrum of the bass seemed to rattle the smal Odanite’s bones almost uncomfortably. She looked around the venue, taking in everything around them.

“People enjoy being rattled to pieces?” She asked of no one in particular. She glanced at the attendants waiting to take coats, weapons and probably other small valuables one didn’t wish to lose.

Miho tapped her brother on the arm and made a drink gesture. “Private booths or the bar?”

She wondered if anyone else she knew was in attendance. Parties were supposed to be more fun with more friends, right?

Muz just let that half smile of his tilt up the corner of his mustache, creasing the corner of his eyes. He nodded slowly at the attendants, keeping his jacket with him. The finery was lightweight compared to his usual, and he would be more uncomfortable without it than with it.

Miho’s question echoed that of the attendant. “Both, please.” He spoke, his words dragging across ear and mnd alike. They were there for the party, but having a place to retreat to when their batteries were draining would be useful. Black eyes glided across the hall, darting between people, trying to find those who he might recognize in the chaos of the party. He figured that Socorra was as likely as not to charge headlong into the concert and try very earnestly at destroying the outfit Tiamat had gifted her, if only to not be required to wear it any longer. Tapping a message out on his arm, he made sure Leena could have her clothes brought down and ready for that eventuality.

Taking a step from the reception area, he moved toward the bar, his steps measured and direct, his stride uninterrupted. Reaching the bar, he raised a simple gesture for the bartender, then stepped aside to clear a way for his companions to take seats on the stools if they wanted. Black eyes narrowed. He was rather surprised that Erinyes was not behind the bar. This seemed to be her sort of thing, even if several of the bottles behind the bar were obviously from her estate.

<@141239709291511808>

Anders kept walking as if the thoughts of another had not just entered his mind. The only sign visible to anyone of the intrusion was the small curve of his lips.

He made a sharp detour towards the bar, Evelyn’s signature in the Force like a glowing emerald candle in the darkness. She had been through considerable turmoil, and Anders was not heartless, no matter what the general riff-raff in the Brotherhood might suggest.

Her favourite drink was on the menu. Perfect.

I will be there in a moment.

Vincent’s hasty departure and… misnaming left an amused if slightly bemused grin dancing across her lips. Still, she slipped the card somewhere it was likely to not be lost over the course of the evening and got herself another drink. Tatooine storm, strong in flavor and alcohol content!

It was hard to miss the duo approaching the bar.

She wove her way through, more or less appearing at Muz’s elbow as she escaped tbe clutches of the crowd. She smiled at him and Mihoshu, calling over the hubbub and music.

“Hey! It’s been a while how are you both?”

<@227653769842655233>

The familiar voice made Reiden pause, taking but a moment to register that he knew it and to whom it belonged. It was a surprise, although not an unwelcome one. Evelyn Wyvern, his memory recalled.

It had been a long time since he had seen her. Their initial meeting of stormtroopers attempting to arrest her, and then later disregarding his orders and doing it anyway, was not how he would ever have hoped to start things. Of course, he had made sure to rectify the situation and apologize. Now that captain was writing tickets for speeders somewhere on Seraph. He still thought the offending party had gotten off easy, but it was better than needing to explain to his superiors why he had killed, or almost killed, one of their officers.

“Ev- Ms. Wyvern,” he corrected himself. “It’s good to see you again as well. Please, you can just call me Reiden.” He smiled, moving towards the bar with her. “I was just making good on my word, but I’d be happy to join you for a drink.”

Socorra was itching to bounce and see everything, experience the new experience. But also did not want to be rude.

Her ear perked at the sound of a very familiar voice and she peaked around the Keibatsu pair to verify the immediate recognition.

“…Zuza?” she queried warmly, her accent just as thick as the last time they spoke, Consul to Consul. <@1382824894877794314>

Lula was at a loss for words. Was this what people normally feel like when she goes off on a tangent about her farm? Whoops.

Though she was amused at the topic of people lacking clothes and she couldn’t fathom that Thane ever-

Without warning, her cheeks grew a bit warm. She glanced back at Uji and noticed a taller figure behind him with a familiar moon-kissed skin. This brought a smile to her face and her shoulders relaxed a little despite the environment.

“Hello Thane, here, try this, I reckon you may like it.” She gestured the drink to him, figuring that since he liked tart and sweetness, it might be of interest. -# <@185936112441622529> <@371402534973341696>

Morgan’s lip twitched upward. Recognizing some potential for entertainment, she hooked one arm under Nildea’s elbow, the other under Wulfram’s and quite literally dragged them deeper into the venue. She gave one of the servers a pointed look as they passed him by, he’d bring the alcohol, preferably something expensive. it was Thane’s big day after all, he was paying.

They proceeded through the crowd as it parted for them, Morgan’s influence and some help from her bodyguards saw to that. They passed Grand Master Muz and his compatriots, as well as the former Consul of Arcona. Morgan simply nodded in respect as she pulled he two “guests” in tow. Finally they approached the small assembly of familiar faces. By their expressions, which betrayed nothing but polite visages they had perfected over the years, they seemed to be enjoying the scene, the atmosphere, the music and the company.

“My, my, what a lovely assembly.” Her smile was mischievous and telling. She gave them all a once-over, drinking in every morsel, finding holes to poke and insecurities to prod. A polite nod here, a whispered greeting there, and she was in. And yet her gaze fell on the auburn-haired beauty in Uji’s company, like a Kinrath eyeing a meal. She looked at the Grand Master for a brief moment, but that was all it took. I will tease you relentlessly for this, her eyes promised.

“Grand Master,” she bowed, deeply. Sincere, but also somehow sarcastic to those who knew her — Thane especially. “May I introduce two Odanites, Nildea Vidh and Wulfram Armis. They had such a desire to meet you in person.” She stepped aside — next to Alethia, of all people, whom she winked at — to allow the duo to take the full spotlight.

<@236356564125089792> <@264959101384130560> <@185936112441622529> <@272527052396298242> <@371402534973341696>

Brujah smirked as he heard Reiden speak the word “Wyvern”. He reached into an inner pocket of his coat and pulled out a small datapad, entering information into it. After a moment his smile grew 3 sizes. He whispered to himself the first word he had ever spoken to this Evelyn Wyvern.

“Gotcha.”

He slid the datapad back into his inner coat pocket and decided that he had waited long enough. Putting on the guise of fake happiness, Vincent approached the two. He gave Reiden a pat on the shoulder from behind and then wrapped his left arm around his shoulder.

“Finally! A familiar face in here!” the Warlord said with a smile. “But Reiden, you ol’ dog… you haven’t even introduced me to your… friend? Date?”

Without allowing Reiden time to respond, Vincent reached his right arm outward and extended his right hand to Evelyn, ensuring that if she returned the hand shake it would be with the hand he had put a blaster bolt through days before.

“Warlord Vincent Brujah, Hand of the Empress of Clan Scholae Palatinae. A pleasure.” he seemed to put extra emphasis on the word Vincent, but just enough to be noticeable to someone paying close attention.

<@216702440140046336>

“I should hope not. That is my wife you are speaking of.”

Anders practically glided in from the left, a smile on his face, though his crimson eyes appeared to pierce through Vincent’s very core. He took note of Reiden, to whom he offered a small nod.

“Your drink, my dear,” Anders offered Evelyn’s only the finest of wines, the very best that the bar could offer.

Zuza was short.

She jumped slightly, not in shock but excitement, leaning past the mass of man that was Muz and waving, “Soccora! How are you too?”

Vincent’s head turned and looked the Chiss up and down, sizing him up. He recognized him as the Combat Master. A worthy foe if the situation called for it, though tonight likely wouldn’t be the best of occasions for such hostilities.

”Wonderful.” Vincent thought to himself. ”A name and new information about someone she cares deeply for… that will prove very useful.”

His hand never returned to his side. He left it extended, awaiting the handshake from Evelyn. His eyes, however, were now focused on Anderson. Every instinct in his body wanted to turn his smile into a sneer, to light his eyes a fiery red. Briefly, he envisioned impaling the both of them with his lightsabers, but he fought the urge for now. Instead he kept a friendly look upon his face. He feigned mild shock.

“Well, my mistake and my congratulations. What a lovely couple you make.” the Sith said to the Chiss. “I do not believe that we have been formally introduced either, though I do know you as the Combat Master.”

<@216702440140046336> <@232396983854301187>

Alethia smirked and tipped her glass to the Herald, saying sotto voce, “To the Grand Master’s receiving line, long may it stretch.”

Wulfram choked back a series of insults, carefully crafted just for Nildea, as he found himself suddenly wrapped under the arm and dragged along by the, rather muscular, Morgan. Instead a playful chuckle escaped him as he turned to the Sephi and stuck his tongue out mockingly.

“You’re escaping my wrath tonight, mohawk, as we have better company.” He jeered as the group of them shoved their way through the crowd.

As the group passed Muz and Zuza, he silently mouthed to the former Arcona Consul Help ME! before the group alighted before the new Grandmaster. After the sincere introductions, Wulfram stared at Morgan and then at Alethia for a brief moment before himself bowing to Atra and rising.

“Grandmaster, Ma'am, Fist.” The War Councilor of Odan-Urr greeted each, then turning to face Morgan and Alethia, “Alethia.” At the last his tone had changed.

It had been much longer since he had seen her in person, and he had operated under a different handle then. None-too-different from his actual name, yet, she had been the one to incorporate him into Odan-Urr nearing a decade prior.

-# <@264959101384130560> <@185936112441622529> <@216702440140046336> <@371402534973341696> <@690640377262243843> <@1382824894877794314>

The hand on his back and around his shoulder came as a surprise, although he was careful not to let it show. The voice was one he recognized immediately, of course. Vincent seemed more friendly than usual, but he chalked it up to where they were and possibly anything he may have had to drink. Then the way he said his name stuck out, although that barely registered to him.

And then there was the Chiss. Of course, Reiden knew of the man through their work and from reading Inquistorius files. He hadn’t expected to see the Combat Master himself, but then again, it seemed only fitting for someone of his station to be at an event such as this.

“Vincent, Anderson,” he addressed the men, giving them a nod. “It’s good to see you both. It’s nothing like that, I assure you. Although I didn’t know that you had gotten married, so congratulations. Evelyn and I met when she and an associate were on a research mission to our home system in Caperion.” He paused for a moment, not sure how much to say, for her sake and his own. “I decided to accompany them after one of our ships intercepted theirs. A show that they could be trusted. They were operating under the authority of the Aurora Collegium, but better to be safe than sorry. Sometimes the soldiers don’t always understand the nuance of broader Brotherhood affairs, you see. It was an interesting trip. A little bumpy, but it all worked out in the end.” <@216702440140046336> <@837236610684813342>

Before Evelyn could correct Vincent, she could hear Anders sharp words cut through.

“Anders, not everyone is so observant. Thank you.” She kissed him on the cheek and took the glass from him. She reached out with her healed hand, no scars showing, with the black wedding ring band. She firmly grasped his hand and shook it. It was odd that he emphasized his name, but perhaps he was a proud man.

“Charmed, it is a pleasure to meet you. Besides Mr. Karr, I do not think I have yet met others from your clan. I heard the Empress herself was a dangerous beauty.” Evelyn took a sip from the wine while Vincent pointed out that Anders was the Combat Master. She nearly choked on her wine.

It was something he had certainly gloated about.

Evelyn gave Reiden a small smile of thanks for the congratulations on the marriage. He went on to explain their situation of how they met.

“It did, Mr. Karr. We have you to thank. Do you happen to know what happened to that captain? I had tried looking her up on the database, but it seems she was discharged.”

-# <@837236610684813342> <@466040899970007041>

When a free invite to a party was passed off, Graham was never one to say no. Especially when the potential of free booze, loud music and meeting the crazy people he’d never gotten around to checking out were all available. He stepped into the room, immediately hit by the thrum of music and pausing for a moment once out of the immediate entrance way. He had mustered up loose black pants, a sleeveless shirt with a deep V neck. It displayed abstract tattoos across the musculature of his shoulders and arms, seemingly random lines dancing up his arms and up onto the base of his neck, shading filling the gaps in an amalgamation of patterns. His hair was pulled back into a messy bun, keeping nicely out of the way of his face.

He glanced over the room, hands in his pockets and deftly navigating the crowd. Not that he could avoid bumping into anyone, but he did his best and gave his most winning smile when accidents inevitably happened. Soon, he found himself catching a familiar face not too far away. Evelyn, with her husband beside her. What the frack was his name? What a moment to realise Evelyn never actually told him, and the peacocking-Chiss hadn’t bothered to say either.

Eh. Why not. He already had a drink in hand, passing through the crowd toward the little cluster forming. He came up beside a man in a black and red suit and nodded to Evelyn with a smile, though not interrupting the seemingly active flow of conversation. A brown haired lad beside her must be the “Mr Karr” she started referring to. Graham sipped his drink, glancing over the group and enjoying causing a little nuisance for Evelyn.

-# <@837236610684813342> <@232396983854301187> <@466040899970007041>

The screaming in her head was incoherent and filled with profanities, but the mask had been placed. Somewhere in their trip across the building, her panicked expression had been smoothed over. Instead, she wore a pleasant– if not slightly bored looking –smile. Her posture had straightened and any ounce of awkwardness had disappeared. Morgan and Wulfram had caught her off guard and she would not let it happen again.

Always a dance. Always a game. Always wearing different faces for different people. Except Syrena, no for Syrena she could just be her. The Brotherhood and Empire and Politics hadn’t poisoned her yet.

The Sephi woman, quite short in stature next to everyone in the grouping, gave Thane a respectful bow. The pleasantries that would be expected.

“Congratulations on your promotion, Renatus. I heard it was not the way you wanted it to happen, but I’m sure you’ll find a silver lining in time.” Blue eyes swept the rest of the crowd gathered around Thane, keeping her expression passive. She knew the name of most here, prominent members of the Brotherhood and even in Odan-Urr. Uji the Fist of the Brotherhood, and Alethia the former Headmistress. This felt like a nightmare come true.

Her parents would die if they knew she was next to such legends. Would probably beg her to go back to their line of succession. Greedy pigs.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all. Such illustrious people we have in attendance today. I forget how many of you have ties forged together. I should have come better dressed.” Her gaze finally fell on the one person’s who name she didn’t know, her eyes narrowing just a fraction.

“I don’t think we’ve had a chance to meet before, ma'am,” she extended her hand to Lulaire in and offer for a handshake, her fingers covered in jewelery and dangerously sharp nails, “May I ask your name?”

-# <@216702440140046336> <@185936112441622529> <@272527052396298242> <@371402534973341696> <@236356564125089792> <@690640377262243843>

Uji looked around the group, taking in each figure as he mentally catalogued their behavior and individual social masks. As the chatter continued, he locked eyes with Thane for a moment and nodded to his friend before lifting the remainder of his drink and upending the glass.

“It has been a pleasure, but I have responsibilities to attend to,” Uji stated before turning his attention to Alethia and Morgan.

“I trust I can leave Renatus in your care for the time being.” He then exchanged his goodbyes and stepped away from the circle.

Thane’s comfort was returned with her own, and her shoulders relaxed. Maybe we should find a way to slip out, <Moonlight.> Lula mused. Their chances of getting out had reduced when a woman with an eyepatch approached them with two people in tow. Lula watched as Morgan’s hungry eye glanced up and down at her as she tilted her head in confusion. Her lazy curls slid over her shoulder as her brows furrowed.

Just why was this woman looking at her like a Targon pride that had found itself a nice, fat bantha herd after a period of starvation?

Despite the uneasiness, she gave a friendly smile, although she started to feel queasy. The crowd and this building were starting to bother her. A sudden, intense wave of fear was creeping over her while her skin started to turn silver. Did she let down her guard and her Force had abandoned her?

“I-” She mumbled before seeing an outstretched hand from the beautiful sephi named Nildea. If she shook that hand, it would seal her fate and box her in. She needed to breathe. She was suffocating. Her chest was tight and dread was clawing it’s way in. Her heart was pounding, and her blood was so loud she couldn’t hear the music.

She’s trapped.

Logically, that didn’t make sense.

Fear never did. She bit on the inside of her cheek. I’ve been workin’ on this fear on my own and I’m failin’ Lula snapped harshly at herself.

She needed to get out.

The walls were closing in-

She gave Thane an apologetic look.

Vulptax! She wanted to support him!

“I-I’m sorry, excuse me-” Lula said abruptly as she started to push her way through the crowd to find a space, outside, anything.
-# <@690640377262243843> <@264959101384130560> <@236356564125089792> <@371402534973341696>

She was still piecing things together, bit by bit. Whoever she had been before had made connections far and wide— it seemed wherever she went, there were people offering to help her in any way they could. Whatever they could do to undo the damage that had been done when she crashed into the lake. Erinyes had been a big help, too. Helping her explain why she sounded different, looked different, acted different, apparently even dressed different.

Everyone had made it seem like a tragedy, what had happened to her and to Alex. But she had read all her old journals, watched the holovids, listened to the recordings of her debriefs for the Dajorran Marshals. She had heard the uncertainty in her voice, seen the invisible weight on her shoulders. Forgetting… felt like freedom. And Alex seemed to feel the same way. He was off keeping his sister busy tonight, keeping her calm while the force tortured her in her dreams.

Sometimes she wondered if the old and beaten Mandalorian woman envied them. The ease of forgetting everything traumatic that had ever happened to you. Wulfram had explained to her once why Lillian woke screaming some nights, why she and him would stare off into the distance like they were transported somewhere far away. Her heart ached for them, for the invisible scars they carried.

But she had had enough of feeling sorry and down. She wanted to do something fun, and her therapist said it would be good for her. So when she got the very sketchy and markedly nondescript invitation came in to go somewhere wearing black she thought why the kark not?

Sivall walked through the front door of the establishment, only to be met with a familiar face hurdling towards her, towards the exit. Sanguine eyes squinted as the wheels in her head turned, trying to match the face with a name and a connection.

… ’I truly am sorry, hun, for everything you’ve been through. We’ve got therapy animals at the farm-

Lulaire! It was Lulaire! The super nice lady at Sol’vida farms that her Emissary work had led her to meet. But… why did she look so distressed? Raven eyebrows knitted together as she pushed through the crowd of people to reach the lady who had treated her with such kindness but no pity, reaching her hand out to grasp her.

As Sivall’s fingers made contact, the force would envelop them both. Soothing, cold, and calm. Like a cool sheet on a hot summer’s day, like the chill sea breeze. The energy shimmered them away from sight, causing a hole in the crowd that only the most adept eyes would be able to see.

“Hold on, friend,” she murmured softly before guiding Lulaire, a much taller woman, slowly to a quiet and blissfully empty side room. It looked like a cranny that servers would have used to hold a holo-pad to put in orders, but the pad had been ripped out long ago.

Once they were safely in the side room, she released Lulaire and pulled a bottle of water out of her purse, holding it out to her.

“Sorry for suddenly grabbing you but you looked like you needed saving. Are you okay? Did something happen?”

She too remained leaning awkwardly to the side, hair drooping to the floor.

“Good ‘n you?”

A small smile played upon Reiden’s lips when he heard her question. He had personally seen to the fate of the officer in question. Usually below or otherwise outside of his responsibilities, but this one was worth it. He laughed quietly. “Yes, actually. I had her transferred to law enforcement. Someone that disregards orders simply has no business executing the orders of the Empress, let alone one of her subordinates. I hear she’s working traffic duty now. I think her superiors may have been wary about why she was no longer with the military and the fact that no reason was given in the paperwork.“

Internally, Vincent giggled to himself. She really didn’t recognize him at all. His armor had proven even more useful than usual. The situation amused him, but also made it clear that if he wanted to send a message to her tonight, he would have to be more brazen. Smiling at Evelyn, Vincent prepared to reply to her comment about Empress Rayne, but then he felt a presence next to him. Looking to his side he saw the tattooed man in a black, sleeveless V neck shirt. Suppressing his surprise, the Warlord spoke.

“Holy kark, man! Where did you come from? Sneaking up on someone is creepy as druk. You know that, right?”

<@232396983854301187> <@216702440140046336> <@837236610684813342>

Morgan turned her back to the gathering as if to sip from her glass, instead giving Thane an eyeroll that nearly made her go cross-eyed. She moved in, passing Alethia with a soft bump of her behind — cheeky, almost accidental, but knowing — and stood at his side so that only he could hear.

“You spoil all my fun.” That remark was sarcastic, but the next one wasn’t. “You should bask in the spotlight just for tonight. You’ve earned it more than anyone.” She turned to the gathering again, a sweet smile crossing her lips as her hand passed over his back in a reassuring pat. She wasn’t usually physical with Thane, except when she wanted to make a point. Sure, the pretense was tedious at times, but that was his life now. She swayed to the music and downed her drink, placing it on a passing server’s tray.

“Alethia,” she turned to the Praetoress and extended a hand, that mischievous smile flickering to life again. “Care to dance?”

<@371402534973341696> <@185936112441622529>

The Firrerreo flinched at the touch, her muscles tensed. The call of the sea breeze was too alluring and comforting for her to pull away. Her eyes darted around the room, at the walls. The space was open and there were no crowds here at least.

She heard the Chiss voice and looked at her, her pupils still dilated from the anxiety as she glanced down at the water bottle. Her trembling hands reached out to grab it, which caused her to frown and take in a deep breath to try to calm herself.

“Thank yo-” She lit up when she realized who it was.

“I’ll be!” her drawl coming in thick, “Sivall!” Lulaire grinned for a moment before uneasily glancing back at the walls. She watched them for a bit longer to make sure that they were not going to close in on her anymore. It felt like she could breathe again. Her tangerine eyes went to make contact with Sivall’s sanguine eyes.

“No. I’m not, but I will be. I reckoned I jumped on fightin’ my fear a bit too soon. I didn’t expect this many people.” Then she chuckled and shook her head while opening the water bottle.

“Sure glad to see how many support Thane.” She took a sip from the water bottle.

“How you been?”

Alethia smiled, raising her glass in a faux salute to Renatus and the Odanites. “Grand Master, Madame Aedile, Wulfram. If you’ll excuse me, it seems I’m being kidnapped by a criminal cartel.” She tossed back the remainder of her Toniray in one smooth motion and dropped the empty glass on the server’s tray, offering Morgan her newly freed hand.

So many moving pieces in a scant few seconds. Each of them sat in their own seat of power, garnered through politicking or erstwhile positioning. The young woman beside him seemed more, unnerved, however, especially as Nildea reached out to exchange pleasantries and Uji broke away from the crowd. When Lulaire excused herself and abruptly left in a near panic, Wulfram’s eyebrow raised. Thane, ever the same, remained collected and at arms length, keeping professional but informal with those brought to his attention. Much to Morgan’s chagrin.

While the Sephi woman beside him was left in the lurch, Morgan and Alethia made their exit as well, prompting the Mandalorian to stifle a smirk.

“As you say. Enjoy the rest of your night, then. I hope your compatriot is well.” He returned to the Grandmaster with a curt nod before turning on his heels and pulling Nildea away.

“Two councilors, and a consort. With at least one of them sent off in a panic. My, you’ve really outdone yourself this time Nihil.” The Mandalorian cajoled as he ribbed Nildea with his elbow.

Scanning the eyes of the crowd as he drug the walking disaster away he spotted a familiar figure and smirked.

“Maybe my night won’t be so bad afterall. Pretty sure I just spotted my son-in-law. Try not to make yourself a complete menace and enjoy the bar a bit, would you, Nildea?” -# <@264959101384130560> <@185936112441622529> <@690640377262243843> <@216702440140046336> <@371402534973341696>

Morgan caught Alethia’s hand, the Praetoress’ almost too-cool skin against her own, hooked her around her waist and pulled her into the press of bodies deep, deep into the dance floor — where the music hit the hardest and privacy went to die.

The floor throbbed like a living thing, bass and drums snarling through duracrete and bone, guitars tearing through air. For a brief moment, Morgan allowed herself to indulge in the sensation as her Force-gifted senses, finally unrestrained by Wulfram’s presence, spread out to suck in the rawness of it all. It was loud enough to drown out conscience. Hoth Nine Kill shattered space from overhead, speakers thrumming with blaster-hard impacts, the vocalist’s rage curling through the crowd like fog and desire. Lights strobed red and violent, catching on sweat, leather, and durasteel.

The beat slammed down heavy and relentless as she let it roll through her shoulders, her hips, instinct taking over where guile usually lived. She turned barely enough to face Alethia as they went through the motions, close enough to feel her warmth , to smell something clean and expensive under the club’s sweat and ozone.

<@371402534973341696>

To be more disgusted by the language by Brujah, or the presence of one unsightly Farrow? Decisions, decisions.

What was it about the modern galaxy that the plebians that existed within it could not grasp the simple concept of manners and etiquette? Was Vincemt an orphan, or were his parents neglectful in disciplining him?

As for Farrow. At what point was the man invited? Who invited him? To say Anders did not trust him was the understatement of the universe. He had eyes close to the man. One did not simply return from the dead like Darth Sidious without sufficient cause.

“Your language is abhorrent and tasteless, Mr. Brujah. Though, I must agree with the sentiment behind it,” Anders took a small sip of his drink, his piercing eyes turning to graham. “To what, do we owe the pleasure of your visitation, Mr. Farrow?”

His tone was low, dark, and hung in the air.

<@1382824894877794314> <@216702440140046336> <@466040899970007041> <@232396983854301187>

Graham had to resist laughing at the suited guy’s shock. It wasnt on purpose, but frack-

Awh dammit party pooper.

The smile that had begun to play across his lips dimmed though Anders was unsuccessful in snuffing it. He sipped his drink as Anders took the time to make his name sound like a bad taste.

“Cole didnt want his invite and turns out my passkey to join yall hadnt expired either. So, while I enjoy pleasuring you with my presence, I came here for my own fun.” He winked in Vincent’s direction and diverted his focus to him, “I hope I didnt scare you folks too much, right?”

He did look to Evelyn, for a moment, trying to gauge how much he should exit. Graham hadn’t expected the blue guy to be this pissy still.

<@216702440140046336> <@466040899970007041> <@232396983854301187>

Noise layered on noise. This was entirely out of Morvyn’s comfort zone. Music thudding through the structure, voices bleeding together, the smell of alcohol hanging thick in the air. Morvyn didn’t move right away. He stood where he was and took it in, eyes tracking the room. As he scanned the room he feel others watching as the togruta stood anxiously. He made mental notes of where the exits were. Parties like this never stayed simple for long. At least not in his clan.

Too many people he didn’t know. Too many variables. That’s when he caught sight of them.

Vincent and Reiden, off to one side, in conversation with a few others Morvyn didn’t recognize. They looked comfortable enough. Not closed off, but not exactly inviting either. He waited a moment, listening to the rhythm of the exchange before deciding to step in.

When he did, it wasn’t direct. He approached at an angle, slowed a few steps out, and stopped short of crowding them.

A small nod first.

“Vincent. Reiden.”

His voice stayed low, calm, meant for them and no one else. He glanced briefly at the others in their group before tilting his head in greeting.

<@1382824894877794314> <@466040899970007041> <@216702440140046336> <@232396983854301187>

Vincent laughed lightly at the Combat Master’s remark before putting on the most obviously fake show of being offended that he could muster. He clutched at his chest with his free right hand.

“Mr. Anderson, your words pierce my heart like the light of a sun pierces the darkness at dawn…”

He gave the Chiss a sad look complete with a big, pouty frown before turning his attention to Graham. The fake sadness was gone from Brujah’s face and was replaced by a look of mild amusement. The Combat Master clearly despised the tattooed man, though he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps this could serve as a distraction long enough for Vincent to complete his intended mission.

“You’re fine. I’m just not quite used to being taken by surprise. It must be this abhorrent and tasteless music, or perhaps the great company.” he said, his smile growing.

He extended a hand towards the man.

“Vincent Brujah, Hand of the Empress, and you are?”

Before Graham could answer, Vincent heard the familiar voice of Morvyn. He turned, leaving his hand extended towards Graham.

“Morvyn, it’s good to see you. You never were one to turn down free drinks, were you?”

<@837236610684813342> <@1382824894877794314> <@216702440140046336> <@232396983854301187>

“Oh, law enforcement? You were very forgiving, Mr. Karr. I am glad her punishment was not too severe.” The hybrid grinned at Reiden.

Then another asshole showed up.

Evelyn watched the interaction between Graham and Vincent as she immediately brought the wine to her lips, and the urge to improperly knock it back was strong.

A grown man meeting with another who was just as childish as him. Wonderful.

All she had to do was remember what happened the last few times she had gotten drunk. Ironically, two of the very gentlemen who had been with her while she was intoxicated at different times are here. So instead, she took a small controlled sip.

She can just get drunk when she gets home or find other ways to take out her energy. Vincent’s language didn’t bother her as much as it did for Anderson, considering her upbringing with war pilots. The things they had said…

She suddenly missed Aketa. She turned to look over at her husband and smiled if he looked at her. Her emerald eyes glanced over to the new visitor as she said nothing. Instead, she was observing.

There was something strange about Vincent. His mannerisms and his voice…

She can only hope he wasn’t another past drunken night result of hers.

-# <@837236610684813342> <@1382824894877794314> <@232396983854301187> <@111293136042504192>

Morvyn’s expression shifted just enough to match Vincent’s energy. He didn’t let a smile form, but instead shifted his tone to a more inviting one. The kind that passed for humor or sarcasm in rooms like this.

“I tried,” he said evenly. “Really did.”

His eyes flicked briefly to the crowd, the noise, the trays weaving through the mass of bodies.

“But free drinks tend to ruin my self-control.”

A staff member passed close enough. Morvyn didn’t hesitate. He reached out, took a glass from the tray without asking what it was. He lifted it in a small, casual acknowledgment to Vincent.

Then he drank half of it in one motion. He wasn’t rude or polite. Morvyn made sure it was enough of a balance to make it clear he wasn’t here to sip.

“Still terrible music,” he added. “But I suppose the company balances it out.”

His gaze moved briefly to the others in the circle. He gave no reaction beyond awareness before his attention returned to Vincent and Reiden.

“So,” he said, settling into place without pressing further into the group. “Who have I interrupted?”

<@1382824894877794314> <@837236610684813342> <@466040899970007041> <@232396983854301187>

Graham shook Vincent’s hand, allowing space for the man to move up so Morvyn could be properly included in the growing circle.

“Graham Farrow.” He introduced himself, offering a one shouldered shrug, “And not interrupting too much that wasn’t already interuppted. But hey, it’s a party right?”

He watched the server walk by, nabbing a glass off of their tray when they passed by. Now with two drinks in hand, he adjusted for stability in case someone bumped into him.

<@111293136042504192>

“Morvyn. No surname,” he said simply. The togruta gave Graham a short nod as he introduced himself.

He paused for a moment to look down and stare at his half empty glass. Then his shoulders gave a low shrug before he finished the rest of the drink. It was as easily as he had done with the first half. He set the empty aside as another tray drifted past and replaced it without breaking the rhythm of the conversation.

Only then did he glance back to Vincent. His eyes briefly dropped to the glass in Vincent’s hand.

“So what are you drinking tonight,” he asked, casual. “I feel like I should at least pretend to make an informed decision on the one.”

<@466040899970007041>

Morvyn. Yes. Anders recognised the name. The Inquisitorious database was quite the cog in the machine of the Brotherhood so to speak.

Six-foot one, thirty-one years old, two-hundred and fifteen pounds. Favours Djem So despite inferior physical capabilities. Possibly bolstered by the Force?

It was the only explanation that made sense. He decided he needed to recall Vincent’s dossier too. Information was, after all, the first play of warfare.

He caught his wife’s eyes, and the way her smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. It was morose, a sadness lingering behind her features.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him.

“Anderson,” the Chiss introduced himself to Morvyn. “Combat Master of the Brotherhood.”

<@232396983854301187> <@216702440140046336> <@466040899970007041> <@1382824894877794314>

Reiden grabbed a drink from a passing server’s tray and grinned at Evelyn before taking a sip. “Well, while I do have influence, it does have limits. I wasn’t sure I could fully transfer her out to civilian life without drawing too much attention, and I thought it best to keep the whole situation as quiet as I could. There was no need to draw more attention to something that never should have been an issue to begin with. So law enforcement seemed to fit the bill. And I may have had a contact pass along to her superiors that she might prove problematic.”

Really, things could have gone better, but the end result of the mission was handled as well as it could be. He still felt bad about it, but he was glad to see that both Bril and Evelyn seemed to have taken it in stride over time. Or at least they were now. He still remembered the look on her face when the two had left the holding cell to board their ship. If looks could kil…

His eyes turned to the new arrival, this Graham Farrow apparently. Then Morvyn stopped by next. He gave a nod to each of them, but his mind was at work, wondering what would come next. There were always a lot of people at these events, including plenty he didn’t know. One never knew what to expect.

This could prove interesting

“Reiden Karr,” he replied to the other man. He left out any titles. It wasn’t so much his style, and he found himself in an odd place of not knowing exactly what to say. But those who knew him or of his reputation would know. Those who were curious might look into him. Ultimately, it made little difference to him. <@1382824894877794314>

Alethia tossed her hair loose and closed her eyes, letting the beat surround and suffuse her. She languidly draped first one arm, then the other, over the taller woman’s shoulders, not quite draping herself over the Herald, but at least making it very easy to follow her movements without looking.

“You seem your old self,” she said in that awkward half-shout one had to use to whisper to a person from the middle of a concert. “It’s nice.”

Morgan felt the shift, the weight of Alethia’s arms pressing lightly down on her, intentional in the way she surrendered to the rhythm. It drew a low, amused huff from Morgan’s chest. She tilted her head as her breath brushed Alethia’s ear, just enough for her to hear. “My old self? Getting nostalgic?”

The music surged again, drumming like a pulse as Morgan leaned into it, rolling her shoulders to the beat, entranced by the feeling it evoked. One hand slid down Alethia’s waist, gentle enough not to harm, firm enough to say Keep up. She jerked both of them across the dance floor, deftly evading other dancers as it filled up even more.

Vincent nodded at Graham’s comment with a light smile. The Combat Master seemed to have taken Vincent’s antics in stride, but the Warlord could tell that he was simply more focused on whoever this Graham was. Perfect. Now Brujah could bide his time in forcing Evelyn to realize exactly who she was in the presence of. The Sith swigged down the last drops of his ale and watched as waitresses walked past with trays of drinks. None of the drinks on their trays looked to be to his preference, so for now, he simply placed his empty bottle on the tray of a passing waitress and pointed down at the bottle, signalling for another.

Vincent returned his gaze to Morvyn for the time being.

“The bartender called it kri'gee. I hadn’t had it before tonight, but it matches my tastes quite well. If you like your ale to taste like the bark of the Tree of Life, I’d recommend it.” he said. “Just remember our discussion at the Wolf’s Den and try not to find any unneeded trouble.”

The Sith smirked at the totruga.

“If you think ruining my fun has great consequences, I’d hate to see you find out what happens when you anger the Grand Master.”

<@837236610684813342> <@216702440140046336> <@1382824894877794314> <@232396983854301187>

Morvyn tilted his head at the Chiss. “A pleasure, Combat Master Anderson.”

He followed the bottle as Vincent set it aside, then nodded once at the name of the ale. He took a slower drink this time, but stopped short of finishing it as the reminder of the Wolf’s Den settled in. The glass remained in his hand for a moment before he lowered it.

“I remember,” he said evenly, the humor fading just enough to show he meant it. “And I hear the warning. Kri’gee sounds like something I’d enjoy,” he added, quieter now, “but tonight isn’t the night.” He placed the glass in his hand on a passing staff tray.

The mention of the Grand Master earned a small nod. He settled back into the circle without reaching for another drink, content to let the night continue without issue.

<@232396983854301187> <@216702440140046336> <@1382824894877794314> <@837236610684813342>

The Shaevalian-Echani enjoyed Anders’s gesture to comfort her by putting an arm around her waist and pulling her close to him. Meanwhile, she gave Graham a pointed look with his drinks as if to remind him of the last time that happened when they were together.

Graham was a grown man. The man thinks heavily with the other head, but he was an adult. If he wanted to screw with any of the people here, that was on him.

Her attention remained on Reiden, “I understand having certain reach and limitations. I can say, I would hate it if such a thing happened to me.”

Morvyn made a comment about the music. He didn’t seem to enjoy it either, which was frustrating for her as well. She was looking forward to dancing with Anders and let out some steam but this was not the place.

She does not ‘mosh’.

Once Morvyn greeted Anders, she decided to tease him a bit. You certainly do adore being called master, Evelyn mentally said to Anders.

Her emerald eyes made contact with Vincent’s own before looking over to the tray. Just by the glimpse, none of them was to her liking. She drinks down the final sip of the wine that the Chiss had brought over earlier. Though this place’s finest ‘wine’ was a disappointment but tolerable. She was getting vibes from Vincent, but she could not place what or why. Evelyn heard Vincent’s warning to the Togruta as she placed her empty glass on the passing tray.

“Clan Scholae Palatinae were always a bit unruly, are they?” she gently teased to Reiden. Although she was aware that each Clan certainly had its moments.

-# <@1382824894877794314> <@466040899970007041> <@232396983854301187> <@111293136042504192>

The group was generally beginning to split, not enough that it wasn’t still one mass amongst the crowd but enough that Graham had been more than content to sip from his drink, offering Reiden a nod of affirmation. He had no idea who the bloke was but, he’d been chill. Which, comparative to some people was nice.

Evelyn gave him a pointed look and he followed the gaze down. Oh. Two drinks. Nice! He knocked back the remnants of his first drink, passing it off not long after and contently nursed the newer one. He bounced ever so slightly in place, confused as to why so many people who didn’t like the music had come to a place with specifically.. this music but hey weirdos be weirding.

He knew little of the clans, Cole had given him enough of a run down to know that Evelyn had said the name of one at least but it was a good moment to just hang out. And to periodically observe the… odd amount of attractive people in here. Damn.

Anders resisted the tug at his lips. He did oh so enjoy being called Master.

His attention was briefly diverted towards the direction of the Grand Master. Perhaps, one day…

For now, his attention returned to the present, and a more than fitting response for his wife.

I am Master in more than one realm, my dear.

His mental tone was more than a little suggestive.

Given Farrow’s attitude and lack of self-restraint, he decided to keep an eye on the man. He also did not agree with the way that Vincent eyes Evelyn with wicked intentions.

Anders did have his lightsaber, though there was more than one way to cause damage, ways that Anders specialised in.

<@232396983854301187> <@466040899970007041> <@216702440140046336> <@1382824894877794314> <@111293136042504192>

“Im great!” Zuza grinned, attention grabbed by the servers appearance and nabbing a cocktail. It looked like it should be fine.

She sipped it, detecting no citrus and relaxing for another sip, looking out on the crowd.

“I would hate to have it happen to me as well,” Reiden admitted. “It might be possible for her to make her way back in time, or maybe someone could recruit her. It’s all out of my hands now and I can’t do anything to stop that. But at least for now it should be a fitting reminder to follow orders and allow time to reflect on what happened.”

He let out a near imperceptible sigh. He didn’t like that he had to punish the former captain, but he knew that he had to do something, and that was the best he could come up with at the time. Although there was a part of him that wanted to do something more severe, that would have felt like a disproportionate response, no matter how satisfying that part of his mind would find it.

At Evelyn’s next comment about his clan’s unruliness, he hid his grin by taking a sip of his drink. He could think of several examples, but knew it would be best not to say anything. Certainly not with the new Hand right there. “We do have our moments, I’ll admit.”

Vincent smirked at Evelyn’s “unruly” comment, and then even more at Reiden’s restrained response. A waitress walked up to the Sith and handed him a fresh bottle of kri'gee. He lifted the bottle to take a drink but stopped himself in favor of speaking.

“Unruly is certainly one way to put it.” he said, the smirk ever growing. “In my experience it keeps things from getting boring. Besides, any real craziness is usually the result of an underlying issue. Someone with a grievance that they’ve yet to air out. Someone who feels slighted. Sometimes it is as simple as two people fighting for possession of the same item…”

He let the words linger for just a moment, making sure to turn his head and make direct eye contact with Evelyn.

“But I’m sure you wouldn’t know anything about that.”

With the smirk turning to a twisted half smile, he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a large gulp.

<@216702440140046336>

Evelyn just stared in almost disbelief at Graham as he simply chugged down his drinks. Well. He was an adult and not her problem. Evelyn hid her smirk, You will have to prove it to me again later, darling.

Evelyn gave a gentle hum in acknowledgement towards Reiden comment. She was in the military for awhile and when they were on shore leave… there had been moments.

Graham, having chug down slightly too quickly and distracted by all the beauties that was in this club, this would had gone over his head. How this scared young lady he met so long ago was no longer the timid cowering one.

Morvyn was getting a new drink.

Only three would had noticed. Anders, with his arm around her, would feel every muscle in her body tensed as she gave off the vibe as a mountain lion silently circling it’s prey before it attacks. Reiden, had seen her angry when they last met but this went nearly beyond it.

And Vincent. The one who was paying attention for her reaction would see the copper rings at her emerald eyes flashed only for a moment. She was not a fool to attack him where there was just not the Grand Master, but a few of the councils themselves. Who knows what else would be lurking in the shadows.

“No. I suppose not. After all, it would only take a special boy,” Evelyn said icily, she slightly turned to look at Anders but made sure Vincent was in her peripheral.

“Dear, let us go somewhere else.”

-# <@837236610684813342> <@232396983854301187> <@1382824894877794314> <@111293136042504192>

Anders knew the moment he felt Evelyn tense that boundaries were dangerously close to being crossed.

“Indeed, we bid you all a fair evening.”

That was half true. To be honest, he find the majority of the company rather pleasant. All except the one responsible for Evelyn’s state of being. He shot Mr. Brujah a look. The kind that spoke volumes. If he so much as followed them, then Anders would not be responsible for what happens to him later.

Not at the party, no. Anders had more decorum than that. There was a time and place, after all.

“Perhaps some fresh air is in order?” He asked to Evelyn.

Vincent had trouble containing his moment of joy, but he did. She knew. Moreso, she knew that he knew who she was now as well. Escaping the situation was a wise move on her part. No matter how much hate ran through their veins, this would not be the place to act upon it. The Warlord raised his bottle of ale at the departing Andersons, making sure that he was still within Evelyn’s line of sight.

“Leaving so soon? What a pity. Mr. Anderson… Mrs. Anderson…”

As the words “Mrs. Anderson” left his mouth, he created an illusion that only Evelyn could see. A dripping skull made of blood covered his face. It looked almost identical to the skull that covered the face of his armor, only more realistic. She could hear as the nonexistent drops of blood dripped from the teeth of the skull and splashed off the floor below.

“Until next time…”

<@216702440140046336> <@837236610684813342>

With a round of cheers, Motionless in Carbonite finished their set, each band member taking a swig of drink before exiting the stage. Behind the curtains, a female Zeltron carefully tuned her instrument, readying her nerves before she was to preform. A slow smile came to her lips. Finally. This was what she had dreamed of. After a hasty retirement from her Governor job back in Kaal, Syrena had nearly jumped at the opportunity to accompany Hoth Nine Kills on tour, when news had reached her desk that they too were leaving the city.

“Showtime,” she whispered to herself with a smirk, motioning with her hand for her band members to begin. Two hulking rancors lumbered onto the stage, one pink and one purple, currently donning torn black t-shirts and spiked gauntlets. They began beating their large fists down onto the stage to create a steady drum rhythm, the bass reverberating through the room.

A door on the stage floor opened, and in one sweeping motion Syrena flew upwards, a pair of chrome-feathered wings extended from her back, gleaming under the spotlight. Except this time, she had traded her typical sparkling dresses for form fitting leather pants and a cropped off the shoulder t-shirt to match. Smudged black eyeliner ringed her shimmering silver eyes, as well as hues of dark pink now streaked through her wavy pale blonde hair. While in midair, Syrena began to strum her hallikset, an electric sound reverberating from it that harmonized with the crashing beat of both rancor’s drumming.

As she glided down to the stage, the hallikset snarled alive in her hands— an infectious rift that snaked through the speakers of the room. Behind her, the rancors slammed their fists into the stage in perfect time, as living war drums.

Syrena’s grin widened as she leaned into the mic, her voice smooth, with a darker edge as she began to sing.

“I’m gonna fight ’em off… A seven nation droid legion couldn’t hold me back…”

Syrena laughed and sang louder, tapping the stiletto heel of her boot to the beat.

“I heard the Hutts talkin’ in the Outer Rim, Sayin’ I ain’t nothin’ but Jedi scum— Now I’m talkin’ to myself in space, because I can’t forget. Back and fourth through the Force, behind a hologram…”

The rancors stomped harder, and Syrena launched into the air in a spinning arc, wings flashing chrome under the lights.

“Seven nations in the Core!” she sang into the mic, her voice rising with the song, “couldn’t hold me back…”

The further Wulfram dragged the ranting and raving Sephi from the Grandmaster, the more his smirk grew before he spotted a figure off in the distance and his face twisted into a full on smile. His grip loosed and he dropped the woman, unceremoniously, into a pile on the floor, only waiting long enough for her to collect herself and lob some form of threat or another at him before he replied.

“I’m sorry, Princess, but I’ve got a son-in-law to go pester. Don’t cause any worse of a scene, if you can help it. I’m sure Miho wouldn’t take well to losing both Masahiro and you in the same week.” The Mandalorian cajoled before he meandered off.

He shoved his way through the crowd, until he found his prey: Cole Farrow, or, at least the man he believed to be Cole.

Delivering a full bodied swat onto the man’s back he wrapped his arm around him and shouted over the music of the club.

“SON! I didn’t expect to find you out here, where's—” He froze, noticing something was off.

This man was entirely too tall to be Cole, but, they looked too karking similar. -# <@264959101384130560> <@1382824894877794314>

Graham had thankfully already sipped the top off of that second drink, though some inevitably still spilled as someone pulled him into something akin to a hug. His eyes widened in surprsie, a laugh finding its way through the complete bamboozlement as he shifted enough to get a look at his surprise hugger who-

Son? Did he mean Cole-? Pffff! NO WAY! Cole would never let anyone approach him like this. Nah. Plus he looked nothing like Cole, so this guy was drunk. A grin crossed the Farrow’s face. It was fine, either way, and easy to take in stride. It was hard to see in clubs even when sober and this guy was down an eye too. He responded cheerfully, patting the man’s shoulder with his free hand.

“I think you’ve got the wrong guy my man! I’m new around here. You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, I mistook you for my son-in-law Cole from a distance. Things are just a bit chaotic in here, now that I’ve got a good look at you, you’re definitely not him. Just close enough to mistake in the crush of everything” He joked as he patted the gentleman on the back again.

“Names Wulfram.” He said as he gave Graham a nod and turned to look back toward Nildea.

“Graham.” He responded, casually.

…There had to be more than one Cole in the galaxy right? One.. that happened to look like him. Cole wasn’t married either but-

“Liiike, Cole Farrow?” Graham decided to test the waters, sipping his drink.

“Oh, guess the galaxy is a lot smaller than I thought.” Wulfram chuckled as he turned back to Graham. “You two related?”

What the fuuuuuuuck. So who was this. Son in law so… Sof’s family sooooo. Sofila’s daaad…?

“Hah, yeah, uh, he’s my little brother.” Graham’s smile became somewhat nervous. Cole was cagey about information. This was sketchy territory. “You’re Sofila’s dad, right? Or something?”

The gears began to turn in Wulfram’s head. Cole’s past, the people he worked with and around, faces that may want to hurt him, and by proxy his daughter. His hand twitched for Stark Resemblance but he kept the same smirk on his face as he looked the man in the eyes and carried on the conversation, seemingly at peace with the whole of the situation.

“Yeah, she’s one of the wild bunch. I wasn’t aware Cole had any living immediate family, especially an older brother.” The Mandalorian returned as the smirk faded from his face and he took a step back. “Care to fill me in?”

-# <@1382824894877794314>

Graham caught the twitch. He was suddenly aware of the slight seperation between him and the rest of the group. Evelyn and Anderson, who were the only fracks here who could confirm his story, were actively in the process of walking off and calling for help could trigger things just as easily. Thankfully this would be round 4 or so of people trying to kill him on finding out he was alive, so the rust was clear at least.

Frustration rose in equal measure to his anxiety.

“Yeeaah, our father did a great job of lying to everyone including Cole. I didn’t know he didn’t know. I’m good to talk this out but maybe not where we’re having to yell every other word.” Graham shifted his shoulders, stretching as though uncomfortable but with some motive. He’d come unarmed and the minor display would confirm that as far as visible weapons went. Not that… he needed weapons but still.

Keeping up was a pleasant and easily managed challenge for a woman who had spent a considerable portion of her childhood in dance classes and followed it with a lifetime of combatives training.

“Hardly, pet. I just missed the playfulness.”

Socorra felt the familiar itch under her skin. The vibrating floor, the screaming instruments (and people), the smell of ozone and sweat. It was a flavor distinct from the violence she knew how to control. It was raw. And she wanted more.

Her arm reached over the bar, fingers curling around the neck of a full bottle of whiskey. A pause, then a hand dug into the pocket of her vest, brushing past a spare throwing blade (or dozen) before finding something small and smooth.

A river stone emerged, clumsily painted with lopsided streaks of primary colors - one of the traveling rocks her son had painted, meant to be found by strangers. Without a word or a glance at the bartender, the stone was set into the damp ring where the whiskey had been.

She snagged a cold beer from a passing tray with her free hand and turned back toward Zuza, a wicked glint in her pale eye. <@1382824894877794314>

“Scuse me. I see a man I must… harass.”

A genuine, unpracticed smirk cracked across Socorra’s face. Muz and Miho received a short, clipped dip of her chin, then a pause. Breaking usual discipline, a burn-scarred hand settled on Zuza’s shoulder. A rare touch from the taller woman, gentle despite the lethal weight behind it.

“Is good to see you, Zuza,” she added. “Taldryan treat you well, or I come knocking. After you kick their shebs in first, of course.”

The hand withdrew. The bass thumped in Socorra’s chest as she moved through the crowd, whiskey in one hand, beer in the other, angling toward the far end of the room and sliding neatly into the empty space beside her target.

Korvyn.

Despite being a Shadow, he was hard to miss. Tall and well-built, looming over the bar, drenched, breathless, looking like he’d gone twelve rounds with a Wampa in a sauna.

“Director,” came the wry greeting, the mutual title of past lives accompanying the beer as it slammed onto the sticky counter in front of him.

The stool beside the man was claimed with the heavy, unceremonious thud of a drop-pod hitting a landing zone. The tight skirt allowed little grace, so she banked her weight into the sit, an intentional collision against a man built like a blast door. There was no budge and no apology. Just a quiet claim on his space as Socorra took a long pull from her stolen whiskey.

Sweat dripped from Korvyn’s beard, beading on the plating of his cybernetic arm. Along with a band tee, he looked… human. Decompressed. Hardly a cog in the Imperial machine anymore.

Her own cybernetic dipped back into a pocket, producing a small compressed pill. Dropped into a puddle of condensation beside his bottle, it hissed and bloomed into a damp, cool cloth.

“Here,” she rumbled loud over the bass, sliding it his way. “Useful advice I pick up. Never leave home wit'out towel.”

A smirk followed, the toe of a combat boot tapping against his as a single arctic eye traced him over.

“You getting terrible at Imperial, Korvyn. Too much chaos. Not enough cadence.”

Another swig.

Socorra’s gaze returned to the churning pit of bodies, watching the violence with quiet, appreciative hunger.

Morgan’s brow lifted at the quip. Pet? It wasn’t…unpleasant, but she’d have to sleep on it. All at once puzzled by Alethia and distracted by the events on stage, she spun them half a turn, not graceful or clumsy, just confident. She let Alethia’s training do the rest as they moved away from the band and the rancors.

Morgan turned her undivided attention to her dance partner only moments later. Oh, but you love to play your games, empress. The smile was still there, with just a hint of understanding. “I can be angry at the world and still be playful with you.” She spun Alethia like a top and dragged her in again. “Is it that lonely on the top? No one fun to keep you entertained?”

Alethia laughed softly, enjoying the significantly reduced volume. “No, I try to keep the top as far from entertaining as possible, and Renatus seems inclined to oblige me. But Arx can get a bit sterile even for my tastes.”

Morgan rolled her eyes. Arx was too posh and pompous even for someone with her ego. She preferred her recycled air to that dump of a planet. “Why do you think I put the Matron in the Shroud?” They moved again in lockstep, as naturally as breathing. Alethia was truly the better dancer, but Morgan could keep up, unless the Coruscanti should decide to take charge.

“The Matron’s not your vibe, I understand. But the Warmonger might be. That old Interdictor I stole from under Evant’s nose is just the raider you need to loosen up a bit. Maybe hunt some Collective ships? Maybe another Dreadnought?” Morgan chuckled. “Now I’m getting nostalgic.”

Aurelis stepped off the transport, looking around at the exterior of the venue for a moment, and by the sound of it she hadn’t missed the bands, good.

She presented her invite at the door and stepped inside. Mostly in black, knee-high boots, black rather strappy pants with crisscrossing buckles, a wine-red tanktop under a long sleeve gauzy top. Her hair usually braided, cascaded in curls across her shoulders to mid back.

She stepped over to the bar, leaning on the counter while she perused the alcohal menu.

Aurelis flashed a charming smile, speaking just loud enough to be heard herself,“ Smuggler’s Moon and a house beer.”

Syrena’s boots struck the stage with a clean, deliberate confidence, her chrome-feathered wings catching the lights as they unfolded. Behind her, the two rancors lumbered into their roles of drummers. One purple, one pink, both draped in torn black shirts and studded gauntlets, they continued pounding their fists against the stage in a heavy, synchronized rhythm. The impact rolled through the floor and into the crowd, with enough bass to rattle glasses.

Syrena struck the chords of her instrument in rhythm and the sound tore through the space, sharp and electric. Her fingers moved with a performer’s precision. When the melody climbed, the Force followed. Thin, controlled threads of lightning gathered around her hands, crawling over the instrument’s frame in brilliant webs of flashing white light. Each surge was carefully measured—dangerous enough to impress, yet carefully restrained enough to remain spectacle rather than slaughter.

As the performance intensified and the electricity dissipated, Syrena leaned towards the crowd. She launched herself from the stage without hesitation, carried by hands that surged upward to catch her. For a brief stretch she floated above the party, still playing as she passed over the crowd, her wings extended in a gleaming arc.

When she returned to the stage, she did so with the same ease, landing cleanly and driving into the final sequence with a sense of celebration. Syrena drew the final chord out into a long, electric echo, holding it for a moment as the rancor’s drumming picked up pace. Then she cut it off sharply, letting the sudden silence hang for a heartbeat, and the crowd erupted.

Syrena lifted her instrument overhead, breathing hard and flipped her cascade of pale blonde hair back over one shoulder. She stepped back to the mic with a joyful grin as she and the rancors took a bow.

Her silver gaze swept across the party, savoring the thrill of the applause, before locking onto Thane.

“Thane!” she called into the mic, voice still carrying the energy her performance. “Congratulations, to our new Grand Master!”

The crowd answered with another roar, and Syrena raised her instrument in salute before stepping back, wings folding.

“And now,” she continued, turning back toward the stage with a flourish, “let’s keep this night alive… give it up for the next act— Hoth Nine Kills!”

<@185936112441622529>

In a surge of smoke, Syrena and the rancors exited the stage to the left, where the massive creatures soon began their post-concert feast with provided food. Pulling the hood of her cloak over her head, she slipped into the audience, eagerly on the search for a drink for herself. Suddenly, she stopped upon sighting the newcomer ordering Smuggler’s Moon.

“Hey! You. You look familiar. Have we met before? Maybe back on Tatooine? Oh! Are you the one who sold me those Fantazi mushrooms? Do you happen to have any more?”

<@186977617356783616>

The redhead had straightened and turned towards the stage for the announcement, amused by the ‘electric’ display of congratulations for the new Grandmaster. She had just turned back to the bar when the voice that had just been onstage caught her attention and started with her rapidfire questions. Aure responded with a thick Imperial accent,“ I don’t believe so, I haven’t been to Tatooine in almost 6 years and no, I don’t sell products.” she answered the questions in the order of their asking.

“No, I prefer taking enemy ships from the inside. Remember Ghafa Ordam?”

Aurelis’s gaze drifted around the venue as she waited for the hooded blonde. Spotting something near the back she smirked. Turning back to the bartender,“ add a bourbon straight as well please.”

“I do.” Morgan grinned as she recalled the ugly Nautolan bitch. “You handled that beautifully. And it was fun. You’d make a good pirate.”

Reiden watched the interaction between Vincent and Evelyn. Something just felt off about it to him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He shook it off, deciding to let it be for the moment. After all, he could be imagining things.

“It was good to see you again, Evelyn. I hope the two of you enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Then the discussion between Graham and the new arrival caught his attention. The name Sofila seemed familiar to him and it took him a moment to place it. He recalled his first trip to the Shame Corner after initially hearing about it. He had met a few people that day, but one stood out. A Mirialan woman, very friendly, high energy. Talkative. She had a long name, but Sofila was definitely part of it. But how many of those could there be in the galaxy? It was probably someone else.

“Hmm…” Syrena paused for a moment, grabbing hold of a tall glass of ale from a server’s tray and quickly downing it in one gulp. Her gaze shifted curiously to the rest of the scene, as she continued her search for mushrooms. “Never been to Tatooine, eh? That’s okay. You’re not missing much. It’s very dusty there. And hot,” She said with a laugh.

Spotting another group of people, her gaze wandered towards Reiden and a woman named Evelyn. Syrena trailed over to them, her gaze hopeful.

“Hi! Do you guys have any fantazi mushrooms? Or glitterstim?” The Zeltron female whispered.

<@232396983854301187> <@216702440140046336>

Aure watched the Zeltron wander off, the woman had misheard her, she shook her head, picking up the bottle and two glasses, turning and heading for the back of the room. Without visual cues it was easy to sneak up on someone in someplace as loud as this. She walked up to her targets side, her face obscured from the side by the curls. And simply held the bourbon out in front of his face.

<@466040899970007041>

Maybe it was the music. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the rancors distracting him, but for the second time of the night Vincent nearly jumped out of his skin. He almost dropped his bottle of ale as he flung his arms upward, but managed to keep hold of it.

“KARK!” he screamed as he turned to see who was holding the glass that had suddenly appeared in front of him.

His gray eyes met with the dark green eyes that he immediately recognized. It was the woman he had recently encountered on Voss and again over a decade earlier when he was hunting for the Jedi that he held responsible for his mother’s death. Vincent reached up with his free hand and grabbed the glass from her.

“Aure… good to see you again. It’s almost strange not seeing you covered in someone’s blood, but I have to admit… you clean up nicely.”

Aure looked down at herself, at her clothes. “Flattery of that sort sounds wierd coming from someone of your status.” she teased, turning her body to look at Hoth Nine Kills playing on stage.“ Didn’t take you for someone who attended these kinds of things.” she took a solid swig of her own beer, bopping along a little to the beat.

The Warlord smirked at her comments. He raised the glass of whiskey and gulped it down in one large drink. After all, why not? He had accomplished his goal of socializing and making his presence known as well as discovering the identity of Evelyn. He felt deserving of a bit of leisure. He placed the glass on the tray of a passing server before returning his gaze to the Aurelis.

“Usually you would be quite right. I’m not much for parties. There’s too much work to be done. However, it’s not every day that a new Grand Master is crowned.”

“ Always too much work to be done, credits to be made, corporations to topple.” she grinned mischievously,“ However, even I, and perhaps in the future you. Can appreciate some good angry music to take the edge off.” she bumped his hip with her own. Maybe she was just teasing him, maybe seeing how far his limits of friendliness were. Even buzzed. Who knew what her motivations were. After the hip bump she took a step away, even after the closeness an action like that required, she had enough sense to put a little seperation between them, out of respect of his rank.

“Fresh air would work.” The clubs were nauseating and honestly, not their type of venue.

Evelyn felt her throat tighten as the hairs stood at the back of her neck at seeing the skull. She felt the heat on her hand, just begging to wield her sword. Music faded and the drip drops of the blood was the loudest sound for her. Copper rings appeared around her pupils.

She should’ve stabbed him through the heart when she had the chance. But instead, for some last-minute decision, she had spared him. Even made sure his droid was in position to help him. While they did try to kill each other, she had some honor and respect when it came to battles.

All she can hope was that the blade was excruciating to him.

Next time they meet in battle, she would no longer care about honor.

You had the chance to let it be. Evelyn was pissed enough that she wanted to try to humiliate him.

Now **kneel**

A beautiful pink-skinned Zeltron had approached Anders and herself, requesting drugs. Evelyn could not recount the last time someone had asked her for drugs. What, did she looked like a dealer? Evelyn stared at her, considering her next words. What kind of person would go up to strangers and ask for such drugs?

And it wasn’t a smart move either, not all strangers are kind. Something she learned so early on.

Evelyn was not in the mood for this. She maintained her icy appearance and kept her guard up in case Vincent retaliates. Yet, from one woman to another…

“My husband and I are ready to step out. No, we do not have… those items. A suggestion, if I may? I would not trust strangers’ drugs. If you excuse me.”

-# <@837236610684813342> <@466040899970007041>

Vincent’s eyes shot back to Evelyn at the sound of her voice intruding his mind. He had gotten to her. He knew so before, but it was abundantly clear now. Good. Nice residences were so unaffordable these days. He could get used to living rent free in her head.

Upon her last word, the Sith felt a forceful urge to drop to a knee. He felt his right knee begin to buckle and his waist begin to lower towards the floor. His eyes lit up red in anger that he had trouble controlling. Before he could fully dip to the floor he felt a hand tightly grabbing his right hand. It was just enough to snap him back to his senses. He sneered at Evelyn, his eyes still fiery.

You only continue to breathe air because I allowed it. I will not kneel to you. You are far too insignificant for that. Farewell Evelyn. The next time we meet, I will end you.

Trying to recompose himself he turned to see Aurelis with a firm grasp of his hand.

<@186977617356783616> <@837236610684813342>

She’d seen the tense up, the wash of heat as his anger spiked. Stepping back closer she’d snagged his hand as he started to lower his height dipping below her own. She squeezed hard, making him aware of the present when he finally composed himself, she gave his hand another firm squeeze before letting go. She stayed put however, her expression firm, deadly, but her tone did not match her eyes, it was teasing,“ Come now Vincent, a Warlord does not lower himself for anything, or anyone besides his Empress and maybe his wife. If they were one and the same he’d better be smashing his head to the floor.” the cold expression broke into a smirk. She then backed away, turned back to the stage, drained the rest of her cocktail and took a swig of beer, and sang quietly to the music.

Like nothing had happened.

Syrena blinked for a moment. She suppose she could’ve said that she had planned on consuming the drugs later, or even selling them off herself. But alas, the woman before her did have a point.

Her silver gaze shifted between the snowy haired female and the human man with pale gray eyes. Syrena could sense an aura of unease between the two, pulled tight as a wire. And even without her abilities, she could clearly read it in their expressions.

“…Okay,” she said slowly and a bit curiously, yet in a lighter tone. “I have to ask.”

Syrena clasped her hands together, looking between the two of them expectantly, as well as the female she’d spoken to earlier that now stood by the man.

“The vibe feels totally off here. I can’t help but wonder if you two are always like this, or if I just walked into a bad moment.”

“So,” Syrena continued. “What is it? Old rivalry? Competition? Or did one of you steal one another’s drink at a cantina?”

She paused as the woman began to excuse herself, nodding in understanding.

“Must’ve been the stolen drink narrative. I’d be upset too,” Syrena mumbled quietly.

<@466040899970007041> <@216702440140046336> <@186977617356783616>

Anders had his suspicions that there was more going on beneath the surface than he was led to believe. Of course, he could simply read her thoughts and learn the truth himself, though he was not about to break her trust.

And then there was this scum.

No. This person was an unfortunate soul desperate for a high to temporarily fix their miserable existence. There was only one course of action available to him.

<@216702440140046336> <@607619766752116771>

“I’ve had worse jobs,” Alethia laughed. “Though now that you mention it, I’m not sure who ended up with the infamous party yacht.”

Morgan laughed from her core drawing some attention from other dancers around them. “You think it’s a party yacht? With all the ledgers, cargo manifests, strict rules and contracts we abide by, the chit-and-chipping between who gets what part of the cut? I won’t even mention the gambling debt, petty debt, personal debt, debt to me personally…hell even personal slights are recorded and managed by the bosun. There’s enough paperwork on my party yacht to fill a Star Destroyer. I wish it was that fun to be a pirate. I think you’d fit in just fine.”

“Oh, well, I don’t care much for grog, but if there’s paperwork…”

Evelyn’s grip tightened around his arm as she ‘guided’ Anders away from Syrena. She was not in the mood to get into another argument about using mind trick on people even though she just did.

Her stomach twisted. It made her sick to use such an ability even though Anders had been helping her learn how to use it. And the fact that it almost worked…

Who was that woman that managed to pull Vincent away? It didn’t matter. Evelyn was not the kind of person to go after others if she had a goal. Her target was that, a target. Not the others around it.

Once they had managed to get outside and a few steps away from the door, she quickly stepped to front of Anders. She needed a bit of a distraction. Her hand rested on his cheek, raised herself to tip toe and kissed him. She pulled away and looked at him.

She knows he would want answers about what happened in there.

“If I tell you, you have to let me handle the problem myself.”

Vincent’s eyes narrowed as they followed the Andersons. The situation appeared to be over for now, but he knew that in all reality the fun had just started. Only time would tell when they would meet again, but the Hand of the Empress would certainly be far more prepared for their next encounter.

He turned to see Aurelis facing away from him, as if nothing had happened. The more he interacted with the woman, the more she intrigued him. He was just about to approach her when Syrena appeared and asked about mushrooms. The Warlord’s eyes had already begun to fade back to gray, but as he met her eyes he took a deep breath in and let the red within them fully dissipate.

“I do not have mushrooms, nor do I know where you could find any. I do have a pack of deathsticks if that appeals to you?”

His gaze returned to Aurelis as he waited for an answer from the Zeltron. Why did she keep helping him? What was in it for her? Asking her so frankly wouldn’t be his approach, but the question lingered on his mind. The concept of friendship was foreign to the Sith, for the most part. Surely she had something to gain, but what?

<@186977617356783616> <@216702440140046336> <@837236610684813342>

Aurelis for her part ignored the interaction, focused on the music. At least he’d calmed down, after a moment, she made a decision. He was looking at her, she waved with two fingers with the hand holding the beer, and mouthed,If I don’t see you later, then I’ll look forward to the next time our paths cross.

She stepped foward towards the crowd, stepping sideways into it to get closer to the stage, stepping out of sight.

<@466040899970007041>

Siv nodded alongside Dusa’s words, listening carefully.

“Sometimes we’ve gotta take that jump, you know? Test the waters against our fears— otherwise we never get better. We never grow. It’s okay to fail, as long as you never give up.”

At least, that’s what she had been telling herself. The Odanite’s eyes hovered over Lulaire, watching the color return to her skin, her breathing even— making sure there were no complications. Even though she had lost everything, this still remained. The overly observant nature, the calculation, like it was written in her DNA.

It probably was.

Sivall crossed her arms and looked back out to the teaming crowd, moving in motion as the songs and beats changed.

“I’m doing okay. Adjusting, I think. It sucks, knowing what happened to me hurts other people more than it hurts me. Alex, my husband apparently, seems to be more aware of it than me some times— but I think that’s because he’s got a constant reminder in his sister. Of what we used to be.”

She sighed softly, but not like she would before. More of an annoyed sound than the sound of someone carrying a crushing weight. And she was annoyed, annoyed there was no good answer or perfect fix for their amnesia. No one-size-fits-all bandage to sooth the ragged absences in other people.

The chiss medic waved a hand absent mindedly, as if waving away the thoughts. That was neither here nor there.

“Enough about me though, I’m not the one having a panic attack in a public place. Is there anything else I can get you? I unfortunately didn’t bring my go-bag with me this time so I don’t have any medicine that might help.”

Dumped. Unceremoniously. Like nothing more than an annoying pest. And to add insult to injury, Wulfram left with a reminder that her only friend was gone. She didn’t let the emotional gut-punch show. She didn’t let the tears threatening to ruin her perfectly smudged makeup go any further than the burning in her throat. A burning she was about to drown.

With a huff, Nildea stomped over to the bar, dodging undulating bodies as she went. She was done with the thinking. Everything was going to hell, and she should have just declined the invitation to this party, but she knew she was expected to go. So she did.

Thankfully the bartender was quick and efficient, and soon several shots of what could have just been straight jet fuel were down.

She huddled into the bar, hoping to disappear. There were so many people here. Hopefully Wulfram would lose her in the crowd. She could feel them all here, hear some. So many faces from the brotherhood had turned out to celebrate their new Grandmaster or to try to claw importance from his shadow.

The Sephi woman grumbled into another shot and knocked it back.

Such a miserable, unforgiving world.

Wulfram stared at the man over the rim of his HoloTac glasses and tilted his head slightly to the left, as his non-dominant hand tapped the rim of the lenses to silently take a picture of the man as he adjusted them up the ridge of his nose. His right flexed, tempted again to reach for his blaster, to sort the problem in the here-and-now, to keep it from becoming a problem in the future. Rage built under the serene mask of the old man, without direction or reason. Uncertainty as he was fed two narratives, one by his son-in-law, one by a stranger. His ears pounded with blood before the sounds of the club started to filter through and his senses returned to him.

He scrolled the control on the HoloTac and zipped the photo of Graham to Cole before he took a step back, in a practiced motion he rolled his shoulders which lifted and straightened his jacket. The momentary lift revealed the pair of RSKF-44 Blasters held at his hips, his beskad tucked behind the left holster.

“I don’t know who you really are or how you know of my daughter, but you’re a hair’s breadth from getting a bolt through the better parts of you. What we’re going to do right now is go our separate ways, and if I see you anywhere near my son-in-law or daughter without them clearing you? There isn’t a body in this Galaxy that’ll find all the pieces of you.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Thats- cool.” Graham cleared his throat, not staring at the blaster but clocking it. This was getting silly, really, how many times did people need to almost kill him before deciding he was in fact alive.

Dammit Cole you didnt tell them!

“Round four electric door.” He chuckled, tattooed fingers tucking hair behind his ear as he turned away from Wulfram. How many people had told him hed be dissected across the galaxy in his life now? That had to be at least a dozen.

It had been scary when he was 15. Frack he was screwed up.

Dammit Cole!

Lula grinned, “I always get back on the saddle. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve been bucked off.”

Lula glanced back out to the crowd and was, honestly, surprised to see a pair of rancors here. It was not often that someone had the ability to tame them but even then, there was a hint of worry. Even the tamest of animal, things can still happen. She scanned the crowd and saw Thane.

Who looked towards the rancor and had a rather amusing disbelief expression. This caused Lula to chuckle. She reached out to him and sent comforting thoughts, a warm sunlight on a chilly day. She was pulling the Force to embrace her as well, helping her calm down and handle her fear better.

“It’s a weird perspective isn’t it?” Lula started, “It’s like how many people feel guilty when an animal is hurt but once they are healed, most times the animal doesn’t fully remember but those who saw it, still carry it around. Though the one that got injured? Just back to being it’s happy self. I’m sorry for you two.” She gently pulled Sivall into an embrace and kissed her on the cheek. She pulled back, her hands gave Sivall’s upper arms a reassuring squeeze. “One moment at a time, okay?”

Lula shook her head if she needed anything else, “I’m okay. I think someone may have been usin’ suppression of some sorts and it caught me with my pants down.” She released her grip and went back to looking over the crowd-

‘You’ll fall into the darkness…’ Matie’s voice echoed right when Lula saw a familiar male Chiss. Her throat caught and the ritual that Thane and her shared, dropped. Was now the time? Did Matie meant that she was going to become dark if she approach him? That can’t be.

“Speakin’ of gettin’ back on the saddle.. there’s something I have to face.” Lula flashed Sivall a smile, “will you be okay?”

-# <@185936112441622529>

“Always,” she reassured Lulaire, making a “shoo” gesture with her hands. “Go have fun.”

It was rare that Aurelis could lose herself in anything, especially in a crowd like this, but music was the only thing that could pull her from the shadows that made up her head, high walled guards that protected her emotions, her heart in the form of an icy darkness. The thump of the base drums, the deep resonance of the stringed instruments that echoed in her chest like a heartbeat, gave her something singular to focus on. Drew her attention into the sound and away from the anxiety of a crowded room. Colors of deep reds, dark golds and flashes of white whirled behind her eye lids as she moved with the crowd and sang along.

How long had it been? Too long. Over a year since she’d been able to let loose like this. Two years of silent missions for a now prominent figure in her world. And far back in her mind like a little crimson cloud, sat her new acquaintance, as if she could simply feel them and their position in the room. She could not explain why, nor really guarantee that what she thought she saw was accurate. But that little crimson cloud remained. Along with a little silver and violet cloud that she had always associated with Mihoshi elsewhere in the periphery of her mind.

<@466040899970007041> <@227653769842655233>

Syrena’s expression across the rosy features of her face brightened at the mention of deaths sticks, like he’d just offered her a rare delicacy instead of a terrible life choice.

“Oh!” she said, almost delighted. “Death sticks.”

She clasped her hands together with a soft laugh.

“Vincent, is it?”

Syrena stepped a little closer and tilted her head, studying him curiously.

“So… no mushrooms,” she repeated, nodding slowly, “but you do have death sticks.”

She paused, then smiled politely.

“That’s… very resourceful of you.”

She held up a hand.

“I’ll pass, though. I’m trying to more responsible. After this party, I’m going to enter my wellness era.”

Syrena’s smile widened.

“And by responsible, I mean I’m trying to avoid waking up tomorrow with several new tattoos and a parking ticket for a ship I definitely don’t own.”

She exhaled a small laugh and smoothed her outfit as if resetting herself.

“But thank you. Truly.”

Her gaze drifted briefly in the direction the others had gone with a shrug.

“Okay, now I’m curious,” she couldn’t help but say. Syrena glanced back up at Vincent, eyebrows raised.

“Where do you even get death sticks?” The female Zeltron asked, a look of amusement shimmering in her silver gaze. “Do you have a dealer? A contact? A guy who meets you in a shadowy alley and whispers ‘I’ve got the goods’ all dramatically?”

She gave a soft laugh and shook her head.

“I mean— this isn’t exactly something you’d pick up at a corner market. What’s the story? What’s your story?”

Vincent’s smirk returned. He extended a hand, gently shaking the hand of Syrena.

“Yes, it’s Vincent Brujah, Hand of the Empress of Clan Scholae Palatinae.”

He released her hand and returned it to his side, lifting his bottle of ale to his mouth with his other hand. He took a swig and let the liquid settle in his mouth for a moment before swallowing it down. His anger was fading quickly. He looked at the Zeltron with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

“About the deathsticks, that’s one of my favorite perks of being an authority figure on Seraph. When I find someone dealing them to the public, I confiscate the deathsticks and have them arrested.”

The Warlord raised his free hand and air quoted the word “confiscate” with a grin.

“It’s strange, but whenever I’m running low, the evidence somehow gets lost in the system.”

Syrena’s silver eyes went wide in exaggerated alarm. She immediately straightened up, shoulders back, chin lifted—suddenly looking far too official for someone at a party.

“Oh no,” she said with a gasp, in a much more serious tone. “Oh no.”

She lifted a hand as if stopping an oncoming speeder.

“Sir—put the ale down.”

Syrena then reached into an imaginary pocket and pulled out an invisible badge, holding it up with absolute confidence.

“Officer Valkar,” she announced in a more business-like tone. “Seraph Neighborhood Watch.”

She gazed at him, nodding slowly.

“Hand of the Empress…” she repeated to herself. “Okay. Wow. That’s… definitely a title. A respectable one at that.”

She leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a dramatic whisper.

“So what you’re really telling me,” she said, “is that you’re committing crimes… while holding evidence of other crimes.”

Syrena gasped, one hand flying to her chest. She suddenly pointed at him, her expression turning more stern.

“Alright, Sir. Hands up! You’re under arrest,” she declared. “And no sudden Sith moves.”

Syrena paused, staring up at him intently for for two full seconds. And then she broke the act, bursting into laughter.

“I’m kidding,” Syrena suddenly and earnestly said, waving her hand dismissively. “I don’t even know what the laws are here. I’m just vibing.”

She tilted her head, grin widening and amusement shining brightly in her gaze.

“So tell me,” she said. “Is that your official perk list? Or do you also get free drinks and preferential seatings at executions? Of course, I’ve never been to one of those, so I wouldn’t know. Free drinks would be a pretty sweet perk though.”

Watching Vincent with the redhead before was interesting, to say the least. They seemed like they knew each other somehow, almost friendly in a way, albeit possibly more one-sided, but still. Very curious.

Then there was the Zeltron. He didn’t have anything for her, so Vincent’s response saved him in that regard. But he found the whole exchange between the two of them to be all too amusing. He knew that there were often drugs at concerts and it wasn’t so unusual for someone to ask others about them. But something about this just struck him as funny. Perhaps because she didn’t look like the type he would have expected?

Hearing Vincent talk about how he acquired the deathsticks, though, was of possible interest. He filed away the information for later. Not that he would use it against him, at least not yet, but it may prove useful at some point. He maintained his own network of contacts and informants, but it never hurt to develop more, through various means.

He signaled the bartender for another drink. Raising the glass, he smelled the contents before taking a sip. Familiar notes danced across his tongue as a warmth passed through him. Corellian whiskey was often his drink of choice. It was both a small nod to his origins and a selection of quality, and this being partly a celebration for the new Grand Master meant that this was top shelf product.

The intermission between bands made the dance floor more sluggish as people naturally spread out to grab drinks. Morgan used this opportunity to take their dance away from the floor just as the new band took the stage. Quite elegantly (and apparently effortlessly) she lifted Alethia, spun her around in a final pirouette and plopped her right next to Thane as he was starting to enjoy the music (allegedly). “This band isn’t really my vibe.” She winked. “You were wonderful. We should do this again,” she spoke in Alethia’s ear over the beat. A droid passed by, serving them fresh drinks.

<@185936112441622529> <@371402534973341696>

With this intermission, just as Morgan predicted, Aurelis headed to the bar herself. Maybe 2 feet from Reiden, stretching a little before flagging down the bartender, patiently waiting for her turn with the rush of patrons. Requesting another Smuggler’s Moon and water, no point in getting dehydrated on a dance floor with alcohol in the system. She drained the water in one go when it appeared in front of her, it took another moment or two for the cocktail to emerge, she nodded to the bartender in gratitude, leaning against the bartop and sipping on her drink.

<@232396983854301187>

Lula’s smile remained as she nodded and headed towards the exit where she saw the pair was going to.

Lying was an option. Anders had made a career out of it and certain points in his life. He had lied about being loyal to Darth Lenora. He had lied to Draca about the destruction of the Jedi Enclave he came from. They were not lies really. Just stretches of the truth. He had been loyal to Lenora until the moment he killed her. He never informed Draca about his enclave because the young man never inquired.

He could do it again, promise Evelyn that he would not interfere. Of course, that in itself, was stretching the truth.

Alas…

“I cannot promise that. You are my wife. If someone has wronged you, they have wronged me in turn. I will not allow harm to come to you if I can prevent it. However, I will listen.”

Evelyn’s eyes narrowed. She knew perfectly well what that meant because she had done the same. She was ready for an argument until a Firrerreo approached.

“Sorry for intrudin’,” Lula started as Evelyn stood by Anderson side.

“Mr. Anderson, you and I need to talk, can we do this outside?”

Evelyn tensed up. Why would this woman want to talk to him privately and away from public eyes?

“It’s a bit too loud here,” Lula explained quickly. She could feel her heart pounding. It was one thing knowing who he was and another thing actually facing him.

Evelyn glanced towards Anders, “I can get us both drinks while I wait for you.”

Anders did not take his eyes off of Evelyn until she was out of sight. There was an argument brewing, though he would not budge on his stance. Neither would she. Perhaps that was why they worked the way they did. They were both too stubborn for their own good.

“Whatever this is had better be important. I am in no mood for frivolous inter-”

Anders stopped when he caught a look at her properly. That hair was unmistakable. Those facial features took him all the way back to Iridonia. That fateful day.

You’ll pay for this… You’ll pay for this…

The ghosts of his past haunted him still. His mouth hung slightly open for a moment, his eyes slightly widened until he caught himself. He coughed, composing himself.

“Very well. Lead on.”

Lula was slightly surprised at his irritation towards her but his emotions quickly changed when realization set. She was struggling to get a read off of him which meant he had some kind of concealment going on. She couldn’t sense any regret or sorrow. Not even pride.

But one thing was for sure, he does remember her sister. He remembered what he did to the conclave.

It confirmed that the Kiffar was right. He was the killer.

Once they were outside, she felt relief from being away from the crowds. Her skin was no longer crawling and she didn’t feel like she was being suffocated. She turned to face Anderson, her arms crossed as she studied him for a moment.

“I am not goin’ to ask if you know who I am if you remembered what my sister looked like. For twelve years, I had her items. I had every chance to find out who you are but I did nothin’. It wasn’t until she approached to me that I finally went to a Kiffar and discovered your name.”

She paused for a moment. She remembered discovering all those bodies and her sister… That poor boy. They never found his body. She searched the desert for weeks and months to find him. It was assumed that the desert had swallowed him. Yet, Lula never gave up hope. She constantly checked towns that were nearby to see if anyone had found him or taken him in. It was hard to hold onto hope each year but she did.

“Then on the thirteenth anniversary, I felt a disturbance in the Force. Matie, my sister who you killed appeared to me again. I reached out to Jedi Conclaves… Master Trellis or the padawans on Ahcho-To did not respond.”

She grimaced, “I was the one that found them. I was the one that went to each one, piece by piece. I closed their eyes. And I made damn sure they were buried as whole as possible,” her voice broke as she cleared her throat to choke down the tears that wanted to spill.

“I needed to know why. You were silent for thirteen years… Master Trellis… those Padawans, they did not deserve such slaughter, Anderson.”

While enjoying his drink and the music, he noted the redhead from before had taken up a spot near him at the bar. She had gotten a cocktail and some water. A smart idea. He was trying to enjoy himself, but it likely wasn’t wise to get completely trashed at such a function. Not that he would generally do that anyway, but despite the venue, this was neither the time nor the place.

“Looks like you’ve done this kind of thing before,” he noted as he turned to face her, pointing to the now empty glass of water. “Good thinking.”

Aure looked over at Reiden and blinked, Vincent was on the other side, how had she not noticed this man earlier. “ Quite a few times.” she said,“ Try to catch 3 or 4 a year, learned my lessons about hydration and protecting my drinks early.” She flashed him a smile. “ You know Vincent? I’m sorry I didn’t say hello earlier.”

The way she spoke was friendly, any sensing around her showed nothing but curiousity.

“Good and important lessons to learn, for sure.” He let out a short laugh and nodded. “Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s so loud and busy here, I was mostly caught up with enjoying the show. And yeah, I do. We both work for the Empire. He’s…my boss, in a way. Well, one of them. I do a few different things, but my home is there and I’ve been with them for a long time now.”

Aure turned, leaning with her back towards the bar,“ I’m aware of his position.” she said with a nod. “ I’ve done occasional work for the Empire, mostly Intelligence gathering inside corporations, nothing notable.” She swirled the glass of liquer in her hand and took a sip. “ Officially have not resided within Imperial territory in almost 16 years.”

He grinned and took a sip from his glass. “I’ve done a little intelligence work myself, although usually as a field agent or working sources. But I’m more of a boots on the ground and in the battle type. But when there’s a mission, you do what you can. And having people to call on, the right people for the right jobs, is always important no matter what you’re doing.”

“ I traded my comlink ID with Vincent with an open ended offer to do any sneaky jobs, and I’ll give a discounted rate for my services.” she smirked. The moved her drink from her right to her left hand, then held it out for a handshake,“ Aurelis Phaelor.”

“That sounds like an offer that’s too good to pass up, then.” Reiden looked at her briefly, his mind making a snap decision in the moment. His own drink swapped hands as well and he shook her outstretched hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Aurelis. I’m Reiden Palpatine Karr, advisor to the Scholae Palatinae Empire.”

Zuza had begun to drift, another drink or two or…. so in by the time departed the bar. She was happily ~abuzz~, wandering through the crowd when she spotted the familiar shape of Evelyn through the crowd. Tense, put together, white hair and-

Yep that’s her.

She hurried a little, less adept at navigating crowds with direct intent but managed to catch up by the time Evelyn leaned against the second bar in the club.

“Hey!” Zuza got on the small step, raising up enough to rest her elbows. Her eyes were alight with energy, and smile broad across her face, “Evelyn, it’s good to see you.”

Evelyn was already thinking of how to debate with Anderson. Even counter debates he may give. Her eyes watched the doors now and then as she waited for them to return so she could order the drinks. She didn’t want to do that now and have it rather disappointing by the time they were done. Was this why they stayed together? Out of love for debates and -

Her mind drifted to darker areas until a call of her name broke her out of it. She straightened up and glanced towards the shorter woman. She wondered if she knew that Graham was alive. Well, if she did not, she may find out unless Graham had found a new little toy to play with tonight already.

And the last time Evelyn and her met wasnt good. Evelyn had lost a bit control of her emotions but now she had a better handle of it.

“Ms. Lottson.”

Aure smiled as he took her hand,“ Reiden, suits you.” she said with a nod. She let go of his hand and produced a little stack of cards from inside her belt, the bottem one was metal and black, but covered by a small stack of less impressive cards.“ Last time I ran into Vincent he gave me a contact card, and I figured doing the same would be easier, so call me a copy-nexu.” She grinned and handed one to Reiden,“ Here, my contact information.”

“Pssh, I know and Anders do the last name thing but seriously, Zuza is fine.” Zuza waved her hand before settling it so she was holding her glass with both hands.

“I’m glad both of ya could make it. Haven’t seen you since the uh, well, job. And we didn’t get catch up time after that, considerin’. You still flying?”

Vincent raised an eyebrow at the antics of Syrena. His face became stone-like and cold. He leaned in closer to her and spoke softly.

“You’ll never take me alive…”

Keeping his eyes locked onto her he leaned back, giving her some space. Then a smile returned to his face. He looked over her shoulder to see that Aurelis had returned and was interacting with Reiden. His smile widened.

“I’m just messing with you as well, of course.” The Sith said as he once again leaned in, perhaps a bit too close to the woman. He kept his voice quiet. Not quite a whisper, but light enough that only the Zeltron would hear him.

“You see that man over there?” he asked pointing to Reiden. “I have it on good authority that he grows and harvests the best mushrooms in the Outer Rim. Now, he doesn’t like to bring attention to it. He’ll deny it if you ask him, but remain persistent and I’m certain he’ll have what you’re looking for.”

<@186977617356783616> <@232396983854301187>

“We both do formalities, yes.” Evelyn listened as she sighed softly. Zuza was the second person to ask about it. First being Graham, though he phrased it differently and had her questioning herself.

When was the last time she flown? The blizzard at Kasiya? No, Zuza and herself had a moment after the Battle of the Old Gods.

Since then, she was buried deep in research for artifacts for the Envoy Corps. Had been training and reading everything she could learn about Nightsister magik. And whenever she visits Anders? He had his own pilot and the fact that woman couldn’t even respect her station to keep it tidy-

“No. It had been awhile since I pilot. You are the second person that had brought up the topic to me recently. Mr. Farrow being the first.”

Syrena listened to Vincent, letting out a soft laugh. Even she had to admit that for a Sith, he seemed pretty chill—aside from the general air of foreboding and secrecy that he gave off.

The moment mushrooms were mentioned, her entire expression changed. Her eyes widened, her posture straightened, and she turned her head slowly toward Reiden focused in on him.

“…The best mushrooms in the Outer Rim,” she repeated softly, as if Vincent had just recited a sacred prophecy.

Syrena placed a hand on Vincent’s shoulder and nodded in gratitude.

“Vincent,” she said, “I thank you for this valuable information.”

Then, without another word, she spun on her heel and began walking toward Reiden and Aurelis with purpose. Or at least toward the premise of illicit mushrooms.

As she approached, Syrena’s smile remained charming and relaxed, but in her mind the thoughts began to swirl.

She’d tried the Jedi thing. The meditation. The discipline. The calm. The endless moral restraint, or at least what she could manage. And yet, it had never fully clicked for her.

Maybe that was why the notion of Fantazi mushrooms appealed to her so much. If she couldn’t find enlightenment the proper way, then perhaps she could find it the irresponsible way.

An enchanting spiritual journey through the Force, but with more colors.

She came up beside Aurelis first, flashing her a bright smile and a wave, then turned her attention toward Reiden with wide-eyed sincerity.

“Hello!” Syrena said cheerfully, folding her hands together. “Hi. Excuse me. Pardon the interruption.”

She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice to a whisper.

“I have been informed,” Syrena continued, “that you are a humble agricultural artist.”

A pause. She nodded to herself.

“A grower. A cultivator. A man of the soil.”

Syrena glanced briefly over her shoulder toward Vincent, as if confirming the source of her intel, then looked back to Reiden with renewed determination.

“I’m not asking for much,” she said, eyes shining. “Just… something small.”

She lifted her hands as if presenting an invisible offering before explaining herself.

“Here’s the thing… I’m trying to go on a spiritual journey.”

Syrena’s face remained completely serious for exactly two seconds. Then she added, in a slightly more honest tone,

“…Or at the very least, I’m trying to stare at nature somewhere and have a life-changing revelation about myself.”

She nodded once, firm.

“So,” Syrena said, leaning in again, “do you have the mushrooms?”

<@466040899970007041> <@186977617356783616> <@232396983854301187>

Perhaps they did not. Destroying that enclave had originally been the order of his Master, Darth Lenora. When Anders had so much as suggested that they let them live?

He still had the burn scars to prove her displeasure.

Though, Ach-To? Yes. That was a slaughter. There was no question of it. One that was necessary, given his history. Who wad to say the Jedi would not return to seek vengeance against him? Who was to say that they would not try to take Draca from him.

He could not let that happen.

Not again.

“Allow me to answer your question with another question,” Anders straightened his posture. “How far are you willing to go for those you love? Of course, many say they will go to the ends of the galaxy, but rarely ever act on such a premise. I am one of the few that will. Your sister… was the unfortunate casualty of my hand, though my hand was forced by the orders of a madwoman. You appear to know who I am, yet I do not know of you, miss…?”

“Honestly, it’s not a bad way to handle things. I’ve done it myself from time to time. They’re especially helpful when on a job and you’re in a group and can pass it out when things are done. People are always looking for reliable services.” He took the card and looked it over before slipping it into his pocket. “I’ll be sure to keep you in mind if something ever comes up that would be suited for your skillset.”

When the Zeltron came over, he didn’t think much of it at first. Just another party guest or concert-goer looking to make conversation. But her words didn’t make sense. Confusion settled in before he realized what she was talking about, and her final words confirmed it. When she looked over her shoulder, he saw Vincent there. And that’s when he knew that he had been set up. He glared at the man before looking back at the woman. Trying to be polite about it, he let her get it all out. But he figured he’d have a little fun with it.

He offered her a smile. “Hi. Listen, I don’t know what that guy told you,” he said, pointing to Vincent, but making sure the other man couldn’t see what he was doing, “but he’s one of the biggest distributors I know. Except he hides it well. I mean, look at him, then look at me. Which one of us fits better? Anyway, he deals in mainly seeds, not plants, so he might have something for you, but it’s not certain. But you see that woman back there? White hair, resting schutta face?” He pointed behind him without looking, not knowing exactly where Evelyn had disappeared to and not realizing he wasn’t actually pointing to her at all, but someone else instead. “Her name is Evelyn. She might know something that could help you.” <@607619766752116771>

Aurelis raised an eyebrow,“ Wow, get your facts straight, Mushrooms don’t grow from seed, they grow from spores. If you’re going to feed someone a story make it at least relevantly accurate.” Aurelis said in a joking manner towards Reiden, leaning back a little to subtly toss Vincent a casual wink. She turned to Syrena and physically took her by the shoulders and turned her towards the other bar across the room. “ The white haired woman over there,” Aure said pointing over Syrena’s shoulder giving her a near first person view. “ That’s the one you want.”

A subtle revenge, maybe a little devious. Evelyn had been standing close enough that the direction of Vincent’s glare earlier had pointed her out, she’d caught Reiden’s drift. “ She is shy though, wouldn’t want anyone to know who revealed where they got their information.”

<@466040899970007041> <@232396983854301187> <@216702440140046336>

“Damn. I’m sorry mate ” Zuza noted. Evelyn… loved flying. But then again even Zu knew how busy the woman was. She raised her glass, sipping from it and then glancing back over her shoulder at the mention of Farrow.

“See this is where formalities get me cause, uh, which one? And yeah, I know ya know.”

She couldn’t see either but Zuza also… couldn’t see over the crowd. She turned back to the bar. Her smile remained. “I only found out a few days ago.”

Syrena stood there for a moment, blinking as the conversation rapidly turned into a full blown conspiracy web involving seeds, spores, and now women with white hair that apparently possessed what she was searching for.

Her silver gaze flicked from Reiden, to Vincent, then to Aurelis—who very confidently grabbed her by the shoulders and physically redirected her as though she were a lost tourist. Which in a way, she in fact was.

Syrena allowed herself to be turned, nodding gratefully.

“Oh! That one,” she said quickly. “Yes. Okay. That makes sense. She has the exact posture of someone who knows things.”

Syrena gave Aurelis a grateful wave, then began making her way toward the indicated woman with a sense of caution given what she’d witnessed earlier.

As she neared, she smoothed her outfit, adjusted her posture, and put on her most innocent smile—the one that said Hello, I’m harmless, despite the fact that her two beloved pet rancors may suggest otherwise.

“Excuse me,” Syrena said politely, voice warm and friendly. “Hi again!”

She paused, then leaned in slightly, lowering her tone.

“I was told…” Syrena continued carefully, “…by someone who definitely did not look suspicious at all, that you might be able to help me find something.”

She held up her hands quickly.

“Nothing that illegal,” she added. “Nothing dramatic. Nothing that will get either of us locked up. And definitely not glitterstim.”

Syrena’s smile widened.

“Just mushrooms.”

She waited for a reaction, then added, in a more earnest tone,

“And before you say anything—yes, I am heeding the warning you gave me earlier. Thoroughly.”

She lifted a finger, as if reciting rules.

“I will be consuming them responsibly. In a safe environment. With hydration. Possibly with a blanket.”

Syrena nodded firmly, as though this was a sacred oath.

“I’m… just trying to go on a spiritual journey. A real quest through the Force, y’know?”

She glanced upward briefly, as if the Force itself might be listening.

Her tone grew a touch more dramatic, yet still earnest as she continued to explain herself to the woman.

“I’m attempting to become a better Jedi,” she said, then immediately grimaced and waved a hand. “Or at least… Jedi-adjacent.”

Syrena leaned in closer, an expression of concern shimmering in her gaze.

“Because apparently meditation and inner balance are not working fast enough, and I’m starting to suspect I’m doing it wrong.”

She straightened again, smiling brightly.

“So,” Syrena said, clasping her hands together, “if you happen to have any mushrooms, which based on what I’ve been told, I am very sure you do… I would be extremely grateful.”

She paused, then added with a soft laugh:

“And I promise, if I have a vision, I’ll keep it to myself. No one else will know that your mushrooms are what helped me achieve enlightenment.”

“Well, except for Zuza, who just heard this entire conversation…” She said with a wave.

Syrena straightened, clasping her hands again, and gave Zuza a polite smile.

“If anyone asks,” she continued with a wink, “this conversation was about… herbs.”

She nodded firmly.

“Very legal herbs.”

Then she leaned back toward Evelyn, voice dropping again.

“But yes,” Syrena whispered, “mushrooms. The Force kind. The spiritually educational kind.”

<@1382824894877794314> <@216702440140046336> <@232396983854301187> <@186977617356783616>

Evelyn requested water from the bartender while she listened to Zuza.

“That is a good point but you already caught up.” Ah. Well, that’s one less concern she would had. She didn’t want to be the one to tell her, at a party made for the Grand Master. Especially without Cole and Graham’s permission.

“That is good. I hope he had a better greeting from you than he had from all of us, lately.” Evelyn admitted. Things were being a bit slow. He still haven’t met the one he wanted to meet just yet, but at least Graham was being patient and understanding through it all.

She can only imagine it was an adjustment to him as well considering he thought Cole was dead for years. The Zeltron approached again and Evelyn was wondering if she came to apologize or-

Nope. Evelyn listened to her and was glad Anders wasn’t here. The tongue-lashing the poor woman may have receive. Though, Syrena had hit a small spot that existed in Evelyn’s ice cold heart. She understood not having a teacher growing up-

Or did she? She did have a teacher but her memories of learning was locked away for a long time.

“I understand the frustration when you feel that something is not occurring as fast as you wish. Maybe that is why you are struggling. Perhaps the Force wish for you to learn patience?” The water had arrived and Evelyn took a sip before she held it in her hand and turned to look back at Syrena.

“I regret to inform you whoever had given you the information was sorely wrong. I have no time for such impractical activities. In fact, being here is stressing me out because I have better things to do at work. However, my husband and I felt it would be professional to at least show up.”

-# <@607619766752116771>

Zuza looked between Syrena and Evelyn, having slowly been using her drink, turning around totally not suspiciously and biting her lip to not bust out laughing on whatever the frack was happening right now. It was hard to contain the giggles bubbling up, preparing to burst out and it was requiring maximum effort to not just fold over and cackle.

During some part of this, her cheeks had flushed, Evelyn’s neutrality and sheer doneness with everything giving her enough non-giggle time to get a grip.

“Sy, this is the least likely person in this room to have drugs on ‘em.” Zuza snorted, raising the back of her hand to her lips and blinking up at the ceiling for a moment. When she continued speaking, her was set approximately an octave higher, “Good to see you too though.”

<@607619766752116771>

Aure watched from the distance with a smirk, drained her cocktail and without looking set it on the bartop behind her. The other woman talking to Evelyn was shaking from covered laughing,“ Well besides ourselves looks like we amused at least one other.”

<@466040899970007041> <@232396983854301187>

Reiden knew that Evelyn likely wouldn’t feel the same way, and she’d be disappointed and possibly angry if she found out he was the one that sent the Zeltron over to her. But she seemed to be in a bad mood and in need of cheering up. And he technically had a fifty-fifty shot at the plan working. Even Evelyn had to relax somehow, right? It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that she might indulge in a little something recreational. Or at least that’s what his mind came up with after indulging in a couple drinks.

As Reiden watched, he tried - and failed - to suppress a laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, then turned to Aure and grinned. “Yeah, it looks like we did.”

Anders knew that look well. On the surface, people put on a mask, a projection of whatever it is they wished the galaxy to see of them. Underneath, was the true core of the person. Who they really were. The side they wanted to keep hidden.

He leaned in ever so slightly. “Try me.”

Lula did not expect the Sith to actually wish to know what the answer was.

“I would go far and do a lot but I will not kill.” Lula started. “If they had some sickness, I’ll pour into research to get them better. A vaccine. Answers. Something. If they were taken from me, I will do everything I can to find them and bring them home. But I will never kill. It’s not my choice to decide who lives and who dies.”

Then she sighed, “we are not Gods. We should be here to help and heal. Not hinder and destroy.” She hated everything that happened on Selen. The fact that the Old Gods there were actually Force Users that people worshipped and feared and that sickened Lula. Not to mention the monstrosity they had created. How much pain did it take for that to happen?

Vincent walked up to the bar, taking a place between Reiden and Aurelis. He smirked at Reiden.

“You’ll have to forgive me for that. Consider it a test to see how quick on your toes you are. Well done.”

He turned his attention to Aurelis.

“And you… sending her to the actual Evelyn?”

Vincent made a chef’s kiss motion with his hands. He finished his bottle of ale, placing it on the bar top. The night was starting to get late, and he had managed to accomplish more than he had even planned before he walked into the club. Looking back and forth between the two, he spoke once more.

“I’d usually be out of here as quickly as I could manage, but I suppose I have time for one more drink before I hit the trail.”

He flagged down a bartender and pointed to the empty bottle on the bar, watching as she grabbed another and brought it to him.

<@186977617356783616>

Aure flashed Vincent a wicked grin, turned towards the bartender and pointed at the bottle and held up 2 fingers. She was curious why he had stepped between her and Reidan, it’s not like he was out of earshot. She picked up both bottles when they were dropped off and handed one to Vincent. She held one of them up to him,“ Cheers, to petty revenge.” she grinned,“ and look at you.” she nudged him with an elbow,“ Opting to stick around, is it the alcohol? The company? Find any ladies you’d like to appreciate their butts in leather?” she joked with a grin taking a swig.

<@466040899970007041> <@232396983854301187>

Syrena listened to Evelyn with a level of focus that surprised even herself. The Zeltron’s expression softened slightly as the woman spoke—less theatrical, less mischievous—her silver eyes instead narrowing with genuine thought.

Patience. Perhaps truly learning that was to be her destiny, as much as she didn’t want to.

Syrena blinked once, then slowly nodded,

“…That,” she said quietly, “is… unfortunately a very good point.”

She held the silence for a moment longer, now sipping from a glass of ale,

“But also,” Syrena added, her tone brightening again as she waved a hand, “I would just like to formally state for the record that the Force is terribly unreliable.”

She gestured vaguely toward herself, as though presenting evidence.

“I have been trying to procure enlightenment for weeks. I’ve meditated. I’ve reflected. I’ve stared dramatically into the middle distance. I even tried sitting cross-legged in complete silence in a cave—”

Syrena shuddered.

“—and all I got was the realization that my mind is loud.”

Her gaze flicked to Evelyn’s water, then back up to Evelyn’s face, contemplating on that certain essence of calm neutrality that she seemed to carry.

Syrena gave a small, sympathetic nod.

“Also, I respect this,” she said, gesturing toward Evelyn with a grin. “Truly. You’re like… the embodiment of professionalism. You came here out of obligation, and you’re already mentally at work. At a party.”

She tilted her head.

“I… left my office job not too long ago myself. Finally decided to go hit the galactic road with Hoth Nine Kills, and take The Pink Turtle Tour Bus for a spin. That’s my ship by the way,” She admitted with a laugh.

Syrena’s attention shifted to Zuza, who was visibly struggling not to collapse into laughter.

“And you!” she exclaimed, “how wonderful it is to see you again as well!”

Syrena couldn’t help but say with a warm smile.

“Hm… Not the right person for drugs, eh?” she said as she took another sip from her glass, nodding once. “Noted.”

She lifted her hands.

“No mushrooms. No spiritual shortcuts. No chemically assisted Jedi revelations.”

Syrena sighed dramatically.

“I will simply have to become enlightened the traditional way,” she said. “Through suffering.”

She paused, then gestured around the party.

“…And networking.”

Syrena offered Evelyn a small, polite bow of her head.

“Thank you for the wisdom,” she said, genuinely. “I will take it to heart.”

Syrena glanced back at Zuza again, her expression brightening.

“I promise I’m not always like this.”

She paused, then added with a playful shrug.

“…Actually, that’s a lie. I absolutely am.”

<@216702440140046336> <@1382824894877794314>

Vincent clinked bottles with Aurelis and then began to take a big drink when she made her comment. At first, the Warlord turned toward Reiden, looking like he might just spit the entire mouthful of ale on his face out of sheer surprise at the comment, but Vincent forced the liquid down. Instead of a spit take, Brujah had a coughing fit as some of the ale managed to work its way down his windpipe. The bartender looked on, half concerned and half amused, but Vincent waved her off and tried to regain his composure. He turned to Aurelis, his eyes suddenly stern as he finished gasping for air.

“Ms. Phaelor… how incredibly vulgar and inappropriate. Is a bit of professionalism too much to ask for?”

Then his grin returned, as wide as ever.

“Nah, I’m just giving you a hard time. I think I spent a minute or five too long around those uppity Andersons.”

Shaking off the last of his coughs, he took a swig from the ale to calm his raspy voice. He gazed briefly around the room before returning his eyes to Aurelis.

“There are certainly plenty of all of those options here, but I’m not truly sure. For once, I find myself in a relatively good mood. That’s such an infrequent occurrence that staying a bit longer than usual feels like the right course of action.”

<@232396983854301187>

His response, the near spit-take leading into a severe coughing fit caused her to chuckle and then openly laugh. Even through his scolding her, something in his voice, she laughed. Wiping away a small tear that escaped,“ Oh you should have seen your face.” she laughed still for a moment longer, attempting to catch her breath.

After a moment she slowed her breathing,“ I’m not sure their uppity attitude is the cause.” she chuckled,“ It’s just your nature isn’t it, work comes first, always. Mr. The Hand.” she said, her voice turning thoughtful. “ We had spoken earlier about that.” she took a solid swig of the ale. “ But see, I told you, didn’t I, some good rough music, a couple beers to take off the edge…”

She drained the rest of her bottle,“ and with two goals attained…” she smirked,“ I think I’m off, going to find something to eat before I head home. Work never ends these days, and depending on my boss, I am not actually sure when that day will start.”

She reached behind her to set the empty bottle down, turned and placed a credit chit on the bartop and slid it towards the bartender, a tip. She smiled at Vincent, then around him at Reiden.“ A pleasure to meet you Reiden, and good to see you Warlord Brujah, until our paths cross again.”

She stepped away then and sauntered to the exit. Food first, probably a cantina halfway home. As she walked out the door, and thought back to the interaction, she looked down and smiled to herself, chuckling. “ Oh I think I may be in trouble…” she whispered, heaving out a sigh to the sky, chuckling again,“ Kark….”

<@232396983854301187>

“And that, my dear, is why you will fail,” Anders almost scoffed at her answer.

“Life is not so simple. What if you were given the choice to save your sister, but the result was that everyone else at that enclave that night met a brutal end? What would you do? Would you save your family, or condemn innocent lives? What if killing them was the only way to ensure a sickness never spread? It is not always about choice, but what is necessary. That is the harsh truth of this galaxy. Yes, it is unjust. It is bleak, nauseating, and wretched to the core. That is something I aim to correct.”

Evelyn wasn’t sure what was so funny and why Zuza was so tickled. They were just having a conversation. It was true that she may be the least likely person in the party to have the mushrooms, but Evelyn failed to see what was so humorous about that.

Was she really so out of touch now?

“Yes, The Force is unreliable. What makes you think the mushrooms will work?” Evelyn pointed out.

Ah. The mind was too loud. Now that, Evelyn understood all too well. Her OCD does not help matters. Every time something that triggers a high emotional stress in her, Anders would come home to find her cleaning so hard, sometimes she bleeds. Yet, that has not happened since Darth Dol ambushed her.

Evelyn raised her eyebrow at Syrena gesturing to all of her and about her being professional. The Zeltron continued as Evelyn was unable to provide any help or answers, having discover that she can use the Force recently herself.

Once Zuza and Syrena started to chatter, she was glad to no longer be involved in the conversation as she took a sip of her water and glanced back towards towards the door.

-# <@1382824894877794314>

Reiden was a little confused as to why Vincent approached in the manner he did and why he had felt the need to test him but said nothing about it. As far as he was concerned, he’d more than proven himself over the years across various scenarios. But it wasn’t his place to question that, at least not in such a public place. For all he hated about the formalities and such, he did respect the positions of those leading things.

He choked out a laugh at the woman’s comment, glad he hadn’t been taking a drink at the moment, unlike Vincent. But her observation was correct. It was interesting, to say the least, to see a different side to the new Hand. He was usually all business - as Aurelis had mentioned - but seeing him stick around here, and even throwing a party previously was a good sign in his mind. The man was settling into his role well.

“Yeah, it was nice meeting you, as well,” Reiden responded, raising his glass to her. He watched her depart before turning to Vincent, grinning. “That’s an interesting friend you got there.” <@466040899970007041>

Vincent smiled at Aurelis as she left the club. As she departed his eyes turned to Reiden and he was back to his usual cold self. The cheeriness, the relaxed demeanor; gone. It was as if someone had flicked a switch in his brain.

“I suppose that’s one way to put it.” he said. “She’s certainly interesting. One might even say that she’s useful. Time will tell just how useful.”

He could almost feel Reiden’s surprise.

“Oh, grow up. Don’t you know the Devil when you see him?”

He downed the rest of his ale in one big drink and placed the bottle back on the bar. Looking to Reiden again, he spoke once more.

“Everything I do, everything I say, every fake smile I wear is for the good of the Empire. Now if you’ll excuse me, there are plans to be made.”

Without another word Vincent turned and left the club.

Lula had no words for him. He truly believed in such a world and the Jedi knew better than to say or convince him otherwise. Such the way of the Sith. So consumed in their own obsession.

Some Siths had been proven that there was time to pull them out. Anders seemed to have fallen into the sweet grip of the dark side. If she had the chance to save her sister, she wouldn’t. Some things were not meant to be changed. Unfair yes, but it was okay. Death was part of the natural cycle. Although, she much rather that everyone died of natural causes. Yet, she knew without the ugliness, there weren’t be the beauty she sees everyday. He felt the galaxy was unjust and unfair. She saw the galaxy as a wonderful, whimsicial, and curious place to constantly learn. The more he talked, the more anxious she started to feel. She was uncertain it was because of grief was bubbling up or the fact he didn’t answer her yet.

Her skin started to turn silver as her pupils dilated, giving her a more animalistic appearance that the Firrerreos were known for.

“You didn’t answer to why you inflicted such horrors,” Lula growled, her sharp canines reflecting off under the brightness of the lights from the club and the street itself. The pounding of her heartbeat in her blood was getting so loud.

“They were only Padawa-” She stopped herself.

“No.” Lula whispered as her skin started to turn back to gold. She was centering herself and her heart started to slow down. Her pupils went back to normal. Lula knows it wasn’t a good idea for her to linger around his presence any longer. She needed to go back in. Despite her fear.

“No matter. They’re one with the Force and are at peace. I ain’t seekin’ revenge. I just wanted you to know that the other Jedi Conclaves I have connections to are on alert for a Sith. They do not know who you are. No one will as long you do not attack another one. Let us have that peace. We’ve been hunted so long as is. Please do not force my hand to revealin’ who destroyed those two conclaves. I’m aware the consequences will be on both of us if I must. At least, this is your choice.”

She started to walk towards the club door.

“May the Force be with you. May you be shielded from the wind and may you find peace someday.”

Foggy red, now in scratches came into the back of her mind. She turned halfway, her gaze narrowing in on Vincent.

So…that’s how it is. Figures

For a second their eyes met across the thinly crowded platform. It felt like cold met the void. He was calculating, cold, menacing. She was the void, looking at her was like looking into nothing. Like the first time they parted ways.

Her expression, eyes, flat, blank, like a ghost the crowd, ignored. Flecks of deep red splattered across her cheek, she swiped them with her thumb, and licked it.

There was that smirk, but this time, it did not reach her eyes. Her eyes, held…nothing.

She made some gestures with her hands, sign language, stuck her hands in her pants pockets and turned, stepping into the taxi that just pulled up.

(In sign language: Goal 3 attained)

A silent ping went off in the club of an individual’s commlink. Pest control complete

<@227653769842655233>

Her mind was resilient, but cracks allowed him the presence he sought. He could see her memories of that days, the longing to find the last survivor not accounted for. Her skin turned silver as he probed further. She was feisty. That was certain.

Of course. She sought closure.

Anders retreated from her mind, and before she could turn against him, he uttered two words to her. Just two. They might have meant the whole universe.

“He lives.”

Lula winced and her hand went to her lightsaber hilt, ready to defend herse-

She froze. Her eyes widen as she watched Anders through the slight pounding headache that was now slowly fading away. She didn’t sense any deception and it felt genuine. She had so many questions. But it didn’t matter. Maybe she wasn’t meant to know it. Yet, there was a very important question she had to ask.

“Is.. he happy?” There was the possibility that he wouldn’t know. Why would a Sith take in a young boy after all? But maybe, just maybe, he knew the answer.

“Yes.”

That was truly all he needed to say. What was he going to do? Tell her that he could not stomach the mere thought of murdering an eight year old boy?

Anders had a reputation to keep, after all.

Lula’s shoulders dropped as her body relaxed. She was still annoyed at the mental intrusion he did but it was already done. She had questions but she started to think that it was meant to be left alone.

Perhaps one day, if it was meant to be, she’ll see the man that Draca had become. Although, there was the lingering fear that Draca was part of the Dark side if Anders had taken him in.

“Thank you,” was all she could say as she entered back into the club, her skin shifting back to gold. After squeezing through the crowd and kept her heartbeat in check, she ignored the slow creeping sensation to get out of this-

She found Thane along with two other women who she haven’t really met yet. Once the Firrerreo approached, she smile radiantly, flashing her fangs. ‘Everything felt alright again. She was still not used to such an odd feeling but it was nice.

“Hi, handsome.” Her eyes went to his drink as she glanced around to see which bar was the closest. She could use a few sips. Meanwhile….

So, when were you goin’ to tell me?

-# <@185936112441622529> <@371402534973341696> <@690640377262243843>

Morgan smiled wickedly as she observed the newcomer, her recently forgotten need to mercilessly tease Thane resurfacing again. She’s ballsy! Only a while ago she looked like she was about to puke. I wonder what happened? She leaned in to Thane’s ear. “I think introductions are in order, don’t you?” Without waiting for him to answer, she leaned in, hand extended. “Morgan. It’s a pleasure to meet someone who can actually make him squirm.” She was measuring Lula, sizing her up, evaluating every movement, like a researcher observing a mouse in a maze. Out of curiosity, sure, but also to find an attack vector, an in where she can poke and prod and, as subtly as the situation would allow, pull Thane by his nerves out of his comfort zone.

Zuza had managed to regain her senses. She finished her drink off, placing it onto the bar behind her. She grinned brightly at Syrena, waving an unconcerned hand, “I’m not much better but- by the stars. You really commit when you have an idea huh?”

She rubbed below her eye, perhaps feigning or maybe actually wiping away a tear of laughter. Leaning back against the bar, she spoke with less giggles. “I’ll be back in O-U space soon, visiting Kiast again so we can catch up proper then.”

Then, tilting her head to Evelyn, “I won’t be out long though, I’ll let you know when I’m back if you let me know if the Astral Drake is in system yeah?”

Zuza was absolutely going to get Evelyn to joy ride. From what she knew, how little that was, it was time for Zu to return a favor.

Lula’s expression soften as they maintained eye contact for a bit longer. I try to see people more than just their titles, <Moonlight.>

She turned to look at the band and was listening for a moment. She had never heard of them and wasn’t sure what she thought of them.

She maintained her friendly smile with Morgan as she grasped her hand and gave it a firm shake. Then her brows furrowed in confusion. She released her grip and quickly grabbed the drink that Thane had brought so the server wouldn’t had to wait too long on them.

“Squirm?” She glanced towards Thane and looked a bit perplexed.

“I don’t believe I- Oh,” Her cheeks reddened. “Do you mean….”

-# <@690640377262243843>

Morgan slid across the gap and stood next to her, close enough to speak in her ear while looking at Thane. “Oh, I know just a bit more than you think,” she lied. “He’s usually so broody and dark, but when he sees you, all beauty and grace…” she mimicked fainting. “I didn’t even think he had a heartbeat, but I can her that thing thump-thump-thumping all the way here.” She patted herself on the chest with every thump. “He’s practically blushing, don’t you think?”

<@185936112441622529>

Lula stared at Morgan for a bit, her face still rather red. At first, she was concerned for Morgan’s health but her expression didn’t indicate that she was in pain. Just pure drama. Something that the twins back home usually do. She heard the question and glanced over to Thane.

Course. She never saw him blush so he wouldn’t here, in a club of all places. However, she had noticed the deadpan look. With a clear of her throat, she brought the glass to her lips to hide her smile as she took a sip and pretended to look elsewhere.

Despite people trying to respect other spaces, some simply don’t care as she shifted and moved out of the way but it was crowded to her liking. It was obvious it was starting to get uncomfortable. Goosebumps started to form and she could feel the desire to run. Lula glanced around and saw the upper level was less crowded. Maybe that can help her not feel so antsy?

She was rather disappointed in herself.

“I think I’ll take a breather. It’s so lovely meeting you, Morgan.” -# <@690640377262243843> <@185936112441622529>

Reiden shrugged and sipped his drink. “Nothing wrong with that. You never know when you might need someone to take care of something specific. Useful people come in handy. I’m no stranger to working people to achieve an end or keep them in mind for certain tasks.”

His own expression changed as he looked at the other man. He held his tongue, not saying what he really wanted to. Now wasn’t the time. He had met devils before. Vincent didn’t even come close to them.

“We both have served the Empire. Never forget that. Enjoy your evening.”

“Company from one of the most handsome man here,” that can give a Vultpex a run for it’s credits? Lula grinned as she finished that thought in his mind.

Her voice softened but was still loud enough, “I’d love that.” She wanted to talk to him and she wasn’t sure if he was able to come home after this, considering of his new rank and it happened today. It occurred to her she may see less of him.

So as she told Sivall earlier, one moment at a time.

Morgan slid away from Lula, like a snake hiding under a porch, and found herself at Alethia’s side again. “I am…invisible.” She whispered so only the Praetoress could hear, and she did it with a wide smile.

The energy between her “drinking buddy” and his paramour was electric. There were no grand gestures from either, but the way she enjoyed his attention more than anything in the galaxy in that moment spoke volumes. Morgan had felt as he did before, she had held that attention as well.

She had tried to disrupt it to get on his nerves, to be playful with him as they usually were. All snark and mirth. And it might have worked…for a microtick. In the past he would have grunted or rolled his eyes, or retorted with something worse and they’d laugh it off. Lula broke that notion with a word.

Instead of saying anything more, she grabbed a whiskey glass from one of the servers that seemed to hover around them constantly, softly raised it in cheers to the star-crossed lovers, and continued to enjoy the music. You deserve a bit of happiness. Don’t frack it up, she wanted to tell him, but she kept her mouth shut. It was their moment, and she’d stay invisible.

“I’m slow learner.”

A small smile crossed Korvyn’s lips as the Arconan passed him the towel. It was a small one but he took it in his human hand and wiped the sweat from his face and beard. It was true what she said. He had come to appreciate his life outside of the Empire. He had spent most of his life in service to Clan Scholae Palatinate. From his early beginnings as a spy for the empire to leading the Imperial Security Bureau.

He slipped the towel into the side pocket of his shorts. He would likely need it again before the night was over. Hoth Nine Kills was about to take the stage and he had plans to be in the mosh pit front and center of the stage. But first a beer for hydration. He didn’t even savor the taste as he picked up the drink Socorra had put before him. He just picked it up and slammed it back, chugging it with a skill and speed that came with practice. The empty glass hit the bar with a loud thud.

“It would be a shame to miss the last set. Any objections to a more chaotic dance this time.” He said as he pulled the desert native up to her feet. Grabbing her hand he left her down to the mass of people gathered in front of the band. The pair joined into the sea of people bouncing up and down like waves in the ocean.

Lula gave both Alethia and Morgan a small farewell wave as she placed her hand on his. She raised her eyebrow at the parting of the sea people.

“I already invited Uji to visit us sometime. You can invite them too, if you wish.” Lula said as she tilted her head towards the two women. When they got to the Mezzanine, Lula let out a quiet sigh of relief, it was less crowded. She turned and her back leaned against the railing so she could look at Thane.

“When I told you about Matie’s and the conclave murder, I requested to let me handle it.” She looked over her shoulder for a moment, wondering if Anders had walked back in yet. She looked back to Thane.

“The… killer is here.” It felt odd saying it. “I went to talk to them and asked of a request for them to not attack any more conclaves. I’m not sure if they will but at least I tried.” She sighed deeply, hoping he will not attack another conclave. She didn’t want to fight him. Or try to arrest him.

“There is good news,” Lula gave a small smile, “the little boy I’ve been searching? He’s alive and well. I didn’t detect any lies from them.”

Lula leaned into his small embrace. Her breathing had become steady and the fact they were in a crowded building was starting to bother her less. Maybe it was because she didn’t feel as compacted as she did on the floor. Maybe it was because of his small gestures.

She saw a certain Force spirit as the ghost zoomed around the lower floor. Matie was never like this when they were young. She was constantly plagued by visions so she never got to be herself until she died. Then she was gone as fast as she appeared. They both just stood there in the silence, calmness washed over them.

Lula felt her heart skipped a beat. Her parents had always said they were proud of her but it was different coming from him. She liked it.

“I.. did almost lose control,” Lula admitted and shook her head. “Matie’s not comin’ back.” Then Lula smiled, “well, physically that is. She’s around.”

“And I’m proud of you,” Lula admitted. “Many… people would not be okay with little information. Honestly, it would drive me nuts a little bit. I will respect but…” She sighed deeply. She just wanted to give Anders a chance to not attack anymore conclaves.

Yet, she does trust Thane not to go after him. Perhaps, one day. She had her own emotions to process after today.

“Although, I will admit, they did use mind interrogation on me and it had put a mood on me. My head’s still ringin’ a bit. With that said…” She leaned in to whisper the complete sentence to Thane.

Wulfram wheeled to step away as Graham turned, only held as he heard the man’s quip from behind him. Tired he exhaled and pressed his hands down on his jacket, overtop the grips of his blasters to secure them as he stepped backwards and with a practiced motion flipped his head backwards into Graham’s. Usually done in harness, the Mandalorian hissed as his kov'nyn collided and the shock passed through his skull, before he adjusted his head against Graham’s shoulder.

“Y'know. If someone just threatened me, the last thing I’d want to do is make some sarcastic comment while they’re still in earshot. Especially if you’re gonna be loud enough I can hear you over the frakkin’ noise in here, kid.” The Mandalorian chirped as he flexed his shoulders and matched his elbows against Graham’s to make sure if the younger man moved he’d be able to react.

“Just a bit of advice from an old man. You talk way too much.”

To Graham’s credit, he took the blow well. He only took one step back and while his eyes watered his body had tensed into a defensive stance. He cussed, remaining still as Wulfram spoke and then chuckled dryly.

“My old man told me that too once.” He inhaled sharply, mulling over his options. Maybe it was the booze or maybe, just maybe, having three peopel try to kill and now some random old frack in the queue too, was putting him at the end of his damn tether. He didn’t need fatherly lectures dammit! “Maybe people should stop threatening to karking kill me and I wouldn’t need to defend my damn self. Get off for fracks sake-”

Graham shoved with his arm, sending Wulfram off a few steps, his feet set back for stability as he then stepped back to make some space, arms raised enough to defend.

Graham had grown more agitated with the situation, understandable. He had only egged it on by pushing back after his comments. As his annoyance reached a fever pitch and he shoved Wulfram off of his back, arms forcefully propelling him away. The Mandalorian turned on his heel, drawing one of twin blasters as he took two steps back from Cole’s supposed brother, leveled it on his chest, and eyed the exit to the club.

“Like I said before. We’re going to go our separate ways Graham ‘Farrow’. I’m going back to my political delegation, you’re going that way, and I won’t see you again.” He motioned with his blaster toward the exit.

“And if you have any more choice words, you wait until you’re outside to share them. If you don’t want people to think you’re too yappy, maybe you really should address why so many people have threatened you this year alone. Even if our situation is a miscommunication, obviously some other folks want you dead, and I’ll vacate the pretty space between your ears before I let you bring that back on me and mine.”

Evelyn hissed under her breath, “excuse me,” without waiting for a respond from either Zuza or Syrena. Her emerald eyes seemed to glow as green fire engulfed around her body, she slipped between the two men. One hand close to Graham’s chest as she stared into Graham’s eyes.

The other palm facing Wulfram’s chest. Then her fire died down but her stance did not. She doesn’t know the words were exchanged between them but she didn’t want things to escalate further than it needed to be. Especially since she had no idea what’s Graham stance on the Brotherhood and if they saw him as a liability…

“Mr. Armis, I will call your wife,” Evelyn said, her eyes not leaving Graham.

“And Mr. Farrow,” she gave him a warm smile. “will you be kind to escort me to outside?”

If you have any shred of understanding how bad this can get with you being new to the Brotherhood, in a club full of its brothers and sisters, keep your mouth closed and take me outside.

Wulfram quirked his eyebrow, raising his blaster before he flourished it and returned it to its holster in a singular motion. His remaining good eye scanned the woman between them. White hair. Check. Slender, but not dainty, build. Check. Somewhere between Five to Six feet? Check. Bright colored eyes. Check.

Wait. Her eyes were emeralds compared to Alethia’s sapphires.

He squinted. Either Alethia had invested in cloning services with slight genetic difference, or he was face with to face with her daughter…

The way she spoke spoke volumes.

“E chu ta. Who is this piss poor imitation of Alethia?” He cursed as he turned and began to walk away from the pair of them.

“Whatever, get him out of here before he gets himself shot.” The Mandalorian shook his head and meandered into the crowd to find his, no doubt drunken, compatriot from Kiast. -# <@1382824894877794314> <@216702440140046336> <@264959101384130560>

Graham had been maybe a single breath from saying something stupid. In fact, he almost did it again when Wulfram spoke about getting himself shot but Evelyn’s continued stare that was way too fracking nice set him straight. She hadn’t smiled at him yet at fracking all so this probably meant he was deep in the kist. Which wasn’t fair! He came back to reunite with his damned family and every other week someone new felt the need to test his realness. It made sense with Cole. This was getting ridiculous. This is why he left in the first place-

He set his jaw, forcibily maintaining his silence as he stepped away from Evelyn’s hand, allowing her to step up beside him before walking outside. It took a minute to make way through the crowd, espeically while trying to not leave Evelyn behind, but the cold night air hit them before too terribly long.

All Graham could do was brace for whatever nonsense he was about to be yelled at for.

Evelyn heard Wulfram’s comment but made no response as she kept her eyes on Graham, ready to do more if his lip even twitched. It wasn’t the first time someone had mistaken her for Alethia and thankfully, she hasn’t found herself in a situtation where that could be bad.

Normally, Evelyn would let things take care of itself but Graham and herself had just told someone that he wasn’t dead. And that someone had to take time to recover from it.

She’ll be damned, hells and back, if he actually dies and she has to be the one to give such news after everything.

Evelyn saw Anders walked in, Sorry darling, something came up. Give me a moment. As Graham and her walked out. Her hands rested on her arms as she crossed them and watched Graham expectedly to go on a verbal venting rage.

Ding. A text notification hit Wulfram’s comms less than a mintue after he walked away.

That is Graham Farrow, my brother. We only recently discovered he survived, I apologise for the late update. Please feel free to let others within the family know. It is undeniably him, I have exhausted all ways it couldn't be.

Graham was unusually still when they stopped, a small ways from the door so normal people, one’s who weren’t dealing with dumb kist, could meander in and out away from the conversation. He stood rigidly, staring out across the city scape with his jaw clenched. He glanced at Evelyn after a minute, spotting her fracking calm face. Waiting, just waiting. Great. Good for her.

He snarled to himself, nostrils flaring as he took another step away and pressed his fist again the wall. His shoulders shook with the effort to not break a knuckle, breathing great heaving breaths before finally turning around on Evelyn, “Well come on then! How did I frack it up this time? What did I do wrong this time? Was it existing again, cause it was existing last time too.” He laughed bitterly, “Or was it something I said? Should I just zip it shut like Cole does, or you and your pretty husband do? After all I mean, why would would anyfracker be happy to see me?”

Graham hissed, pressing his palm back into the wall, “Go on. I’m sure there’s something!”

Wulfram’s HoloTac pinged and he checked the response from Cole. The frustration apparent on his face twisted into a near hysterical smirk as he looked off in the direction the pair had wandered and he shook his head.

“Welp, the bastard was telling the truth. I can see why folks wanna kill him though. Gonna blame Sofila for this one though, the one time something big happens and she doesn’t come running to tell me? It ends up *actually being relevant to me. Not like Cole was going to tell me before the next family cookout.”

Evelyn let him rant as she listened. Part of her believes he just needed to get it out of his system.

“Are you wanting to yell or do you want me to respond?” Evelyn questioned, knowing full well that Graham would had also done the same to her if the situation was reverse.

“However, I will say this. I am certain little star will be happy to see you, Graham. Do not forget that.”

“I don’t know!” Graham raised his voice and then, stepping away from the wall, sighed heavily. He began pacing, still somewhat shaking despite it all.

“At this rate I might be fracking dead again before I get to meet her. I left because I didn’t want to die and then I make the call to reach out and now I’m nearly dying again! You know how many times I’ve nearly died in the last seven years till now? None! Zero. Nothin’, not even a whiff of a knife at my back or a gun to my heart. It-”

He rubbed his face, still pacing as he did. “This isn’t your problem Ev. And if you stand here too long Anderson’s gonna think you’re cheating on him or some shit so-” He waved a hand toward the door before crossing his arms, leaning his back against the wall. “I’m fine. Just pissed off and maybe a bit too drunk for it.”

“If my husband cannot trust me, then he had the chance to get those divorce papers signed a year ago,” Evelyn admitted, annoyed about the issues between the men. If Anders wouldn’t go for the kill, she would be happy to let them duke it out.

Then it hit her.

That also showed she didn’t trust Anders to be alone with Graham. Evelyn stayed stoic even though her heart was aching. How could two broken souls love each other so fiercely and hurt each other just the same?

“She will need adjustment but we both can count on that she will not try to kill you.” It didn’t occur to her that this could be taken as a small joke since she was thinking logically.

“I am sorry this is happening to you, but remember, this is not permanent. Oh, and Graham? Do not ever call me Ev, again. At least, give me that respect.” Evelyn started to head back in.

“Evelyn. Right.” Graham’s voice had quickly dimmed into a dull tone. To her it was respect but for him… “Won’t forget again.”

He glanced at her back, half way to adding something else before forcing himself to shut the frack up. Graham waited until she was gone before shifting to sit down, back against the wall, and pulled out his holo. His ride wouldnt be back for a while and paying extra to exepedite the service wasnt worth it. So, he pulled up a mindless game and did his best to distract himself.

“Your party is getting rowdy, Ms. Archenksova,” Morgan smirked as she observed the displays of machismo popping up from time to time. “Should I expect a good fight to pop up in a moment?” She raised her eyebrow. “I wonder. Will I see you breaking a nail…or maybe a jaw?”

<@371402534973341696>

“My party? No, I let Renatus’ much neglected staff plan this, if only to demonstrate why it would be better if I plan things going forward.” Alethia paused for a moment, eying the spat. “I hope that idiot didn’t approach Evelyn thinking it was me.”

“She does look like you. Did you become grandmother when I wasn’t looking?” Morgan sipped on her whiskey like she wasn’t being a schutta about it.