Session export: Repose and Refreshments

“Animals can be cared for here in our excellent stable accommodations, honored guest!”

“Oh,” said the colorful hybrid. “Okay. Yes, Sir.” He stooped a bow, then hurried off in the direction indicated, calling along to his companion close to his side in Shiryyywook, Come, Alk.“

The little gentlemott trotted after, wearing his booties and a small vest a merchant had assured him would be suitable for such an occasion when he’d asked about for clothing suitable for the description on the invitation. She had not wanted to take it herself, eyeing the chewed and soaked state, but that was fine; Rue could read it. If Alk had been invited to a party, they had to take him!

The hybrid was happy. His readings and previous hints from friends indicated parties were good things.

They went on down another metal hallway, Rue feeling quite familiar with the closed-in space of the ‘ship.’ It made him miss camp and the sky and the sound of the ocean. Was that normal, to miss? He would have to ask. He’d write it down to remember.

The next room had sorts of divisions made of gates like at the farmer’s market, but metal and not wood. It smelled less like hay and animals and grass. In fact it was empty except for them.

"Oh.”

Well, perhaps their own room was meant to be a party?

He hugged himself a little, cold. His dress was meant for the sun, but Elly said it was nice and it was not for playing in so surely it would fit a ‘formal’ occasion? But the ship was chill, and so was this room, and so was the feeling of being alone.

Except he wasn’t alone again in metal walls. He had Alk. Who trotted over and nosed at the gate so he could get to a trough that held rich greens. Beautiful leaves. He recognized many of them and many he did not. Exciting!

Rue smiled, creeping over. “Yes, that looks wonderful, doesn’t it? ” he chirped. “Let’s eat!”

The sound of treated leathers and high-heeled boots heralded Valara’s entrance to the restaurant. The ship captain certainly looked the part with a variety of belts, straps, and dangling jewelry covering her form, hidden further beneath the drape of a floor lengthed black jacket with gold trim. She ran a gloved finger across the brim of her hat before tossing her long, flowing golden hair.

Only the caramel skin of her face was visible as the rest was hidden either by her attire or marred by a full body glove terminating at her neck.

The Kiffar clicked her tongue while red eyes flit from face to face. Then the smells of the restaurant assaulted her nostrils.

“How charming. Moreover, this aroma is divine. Oh yes, this should be entirely satisfactory, provided that no one behaves inappropriately,” Valara murmured to herself before adopting an ‘at ease’ pose, her arms crossed behind her back. She marched with purpose towards the bar, intent on obtaining a beverage to better gird herself towards any accidental contact.

That was the one true downside of socializing and the risk of it made her twitch.

Alex exited the Herald of Entropy, adjusting the collar of his black button-up slightly. The fabric of his burgundy paisley bow tie had bunched up a little underneath the folded-over fabric and he used one finger to reach beneath and untwist it. As he approached the attendant droid he reached into the interior pocket of his plum-and-burgundy paisley tailcoat to withdraw the invitation he had received - printed on paper which Alex felt was a nice, elegant touch over the more usual digital communications these days.

“Captain Alex Draconis of the Voidbreaker II, party of one,” he casually drawled out his name and title as he passed over the invitation. This was far from his first high-class event, though it admittedly had been quite some time since he last attended something of the nature. At least this one was less likely to be filled with other nobility all chattering endlessly about this estate they just bought or this trip they just took. The droid scanned the invite and, having verified its authenticity, motioned toward the lift as its doors opened.

Taking a deep breath, Alex centered himself and stepped into the lift, prepared for yet another soiree.

Katrila’s gown made it seem as though she glided into the Kalevalan’s opulent foyer. She appreciated any opportunity to don the garment, though they came rarely these days; not only did the gnostra fiber weave drape her form elegantly, but its cream dye and gold detailing complemented her fur’s tortoiseshell pattern. And the statement collar was just plain fun.

The Togorian nodded politely as the attendant droid greeted her with a gesture toward the hololift that would whisk her up to the Starlight Lounge. She knew better than to bring weapons to such an intime soirée—not that she trusted anyone with her possessions, anyway. The prospect of an evening filled her with a strange mix of excitement and unease. Her reputation would not precede her as she had become accustomed. She had kept her head down in the Brotherhood, preferring the obscurity of her own affairs. But enough shelf-stable accommodations on board the Katnip and readily available street food scarfed down between meetings and missions meant she salivated at the mention of a gourmet meal taken in upscale surroundings.

Soulful strains of piano and sobriquet greeted her as she entered the lounge. The edges of her mouth curled into a smile as she caught the melody. Humming quietly, she savored the formal and intimate atmosphere. The soft music and ambient chatter provided a soothing backdrop, but she couldn’t quite shake the butterflies. She noted the patrons that had arrived already, some congregated around the bar, others already seated at tables. A few purposeful but fluid steps led her off to the side of the bar, where she gazed out one of the grand windows. She took in the stunning view, contemplating the starry expanse before approaching anyone.

Vincent Brujah paced outside the door of the restaurant. Clad in his full Dark Age Sith Armor, he appeared ready for battle, not a night of fine dining. To Brujah, the mission was simple; gather any intelligence that he could regarding the other Clans of the Brotherhood.

Nevertheless, the Sith felt completely out of place. He was more used to grabbing whatever would tide him over from the vending machines or cafeterias on Seraph than he was having a gourmet meal. He wished that he could afford the luxury of a death stick to calm his nerves before entering, but he would need his senses at their peak for this evening.

With no further hesitation, the man clad in solid black (save for the blood red dripping skull painted onto his helmet) entered the restaurant. As he walked in he was greeted by an attendant droid, who carefully placed Brujah’s lightsabers and various other weapons in a box and scuttled away with them. After a brief pause the droid returned.

“Sir, would you please give me your name?”

With the push of a button on the side of his helmet a whooshing sound echoed out as the seals released and the helmet opened. The Sith pulled his helmet off and held it to his side. His long black hair was pulled up into a bun. He gave the droid a mildly amused look and then spoke.

“Vincent Brujah, Quaestor of House Caliburnus of Clan Scholae Palatinae.”

“Oh yes! Your name is right here! Though, I would be remiss to say that you shouldn’t require armor tonight…”

“Let’s all hope you’re right…” The Sith hissed.

The droid began to point Vincent towards his table, but Brujah waved him off and approached the bar, taking a seat at the far end. A bartender droid approached. Before he could mutter out a word, the Sith spoke.

“Corellian Ale. Keep them coming.”

“Yes sir!” the droid responded and went to pour the drink.

Brujah gazed around the room. It truly was a marvelous place. What secrets would reveal themselves to the newly appointed Quaestor tonight, he wondered.

Yuki ducked slightly as she stepped through the entryway to the main hall. Straightening up, she held her helmet out to the droid collecting weaponry with her lightsabers tucked delicately within. She hated being without them, but the Force was her ally and the Nagai knew she never walked alone. With a smile, she leaned down towards the man and spoke in a deeply melodious voice.

“Yuki Suoh of the Jedi Order.”

The man nodded and announced her arrival moments before the golden giantess stepped to the bar with a smile. The Primarch had always had a fondness for good libations and better fare.

“Starshine wine, please.”

As Yuki waited, she ran her fingers through the mass of pale blonde hair, giving it a tousled look before shaking her head to settle it in place.

The man returned with the glass of wine that was dwarfed by her hand and smiled thinly, his eyes watching as the Jedi held the stem expertly.

Turning to watch the guests, arrived and arriving, the Nagai smiled serenely and sipped at her wine. It had surprised her to receive an invitation to such a place, but she would never be so rude as to decline.

“Good food, good drink, possibly questionable company. I always get to have all the fun,” she mused to herself.

Rue flinched in startlement and dropped his gaze, and apology half tumbling out to such a tone and dress, then stared for a moment as he realized he was being spoken to by a droid.

He had not gotten to meet a droid close up yet. He’d asked if he could meet Kerissa’s, but…

…but that was never now, he supposed.

“Oh,” he said, glancing about. He gnawed one knuckle. How did one address a droid? Did they have genders. Did they not. What were the rules. “Is this one…not allowed here, Master?”

He hugged Alk gently while the Mott ate some very appetizing leaves.

Yuki watched over the room, blue-gray eyes attentive and curious. The man behind the counter seemed interested in her and throughout the room other interesting looking sorts had already arrived. She sipped her wine slowly, allowing the refreshing taste to whet her palate.

Casting about, she eventually settled for taking a seat semi-close to the musicians, closing her eyes and listening to the music.

Vincent seethed a bit deep inside, but by now he had learned to keep a straight face through his temper. He loathed small talk. Years of anxiety made him question the usefulness of it. He reminded himself quickly that he needed to fit in and look natural. He turned to Rictun with a half smile. The Sith could sense the curiosity within him, but his attention was best served observing for now, and not allowing himself to get distracted.

“Some of the best brews I’ve tasted came from the Corellians. It sure beats the slop they serve in Mos Eisley.”

He raised the glass to Rictun and then took a large drink before setting the glass back down on the bar. Turning his attention away from Rictun, Brujah reviewed his surroundings. It seemed quiet for now, and the general temperament seemed… pleasant. While he wasn’t expecting to enjoy this setting, it was certainly comfortable. Turning to the general direction of the entertainment, he feigned interest, ever the while concentrating on what he might overhear as the guests filled the room.

Poison? Ah, yes. Alcohol would certainly fall under such a classification were it not so widely consumed recreationally. Valara raised a brow, scanning Rictun down then up, in that order, before turning to the serving droid.

“Alderaanian Starshine Wine, if you would be so kind, Droid,” she requested, a faint smile touching her lips. With a sudden smack, Valara’s hand slapped the counter to signal she wasn’t done with her order. “Do double the volume in the serving receptacle. It would be an exceptional inconvenience to come back sooner than I endeavor to.”

So it was the rules. But Alk was the guest…

“If this one can eat also, yes, no meat, please,” he hedged shyly, gnawing harder on his hand. He swallowed the strong metallic flavor, tail curling tight, and said, “Sir, Alk here was the guest invited, who received the invitation, not this one. Should he not be escorted to the dining area if he is the guest? He is dressed for the party. Sir.”

Valara accepted the utterly filled glass with a delegate grasp. Still, her fingers were positioned as far from even the most fleeting of contacts with the serving droid.

“They’ve only just begun. Would be presumptuous to make such a declaration without all the variables fulfilled,” she replied to Rictun. “Though, it appears you have me at a disadvantage, as you allude to knowing of me yet I know not of you.”

The Kiffar punctuated the statement with a deep inhale as she both breathed in the scent of the wine and allowed herself a careful sip.

Alex approached the main room, nodding respectfully at the droid who was there to greet him. As he moved toward the doorway, he caught sight from the corner of his eye the open door to another nearby room where another droid appeared to be addressing somebody inside the room. Over its shoulder, Alex caught sight of the small mott he had befriended at the Spring Festival and what presumably was one of “his people”. It was clear from the booties and vest that Alk had come here to attend the party, but had been shunted off into this side room.

That simply will not do, Alex thought to himself as he stepped past his own attendant droid and toward one end of the bar, and if I do not hear the clopping of mott feet in this establishment in short order, I believe I shall have to find a way to rectify that situation myself.

“I would like an aged abrax, my good man,” Alex addressed the bartender before turning to look out the window at the specks of light strewn across the view. As a glass was set on the bartop next to him and given a rather generous pour, his attention was caught by another patron admiring the view.

“It is remarkable, is it not?” he began in a casual tone as he took one step closer to the Togorian so as to engage the conversation. “No matter how many times you see it, no matter how many times you may have flitted between one to another of those brilliant points of light, there is simply something about the sheer infinity of it all that grasps the soul.”

Chirruping at the gentlemott to summon him, Rue and Alk trotted after the droid. As they walked, the hybrid weathered the storm of a nagging curiosity, wearing more holes in his knuckles before he finally asked.

“U-uhm, S-sir Master Droid? Apologies, may this one ask a question?”

While gazing off at the band, the words from Rictun perked Brujah’s ears with attention.

Is he on to me? Am I giving a tell? Brujah thought to himself. “Of course not, you’re being paranoid. It’s clearly a coincidence.”

Vincent turned back to Rictun.

“Wise words. You have the right of it there. Nothing worthwhile comes easily.”

Vincent lifted his glass and gulped down the rest of the ale. Setting the glass back on the bar and pushing it away, he spoke again.

“I believe I’ll have another.”

Once more, Emere Galo was reminded why she hated leaving her house and unwinding or having fun. Such activities were subjective and noncommittal. Despite using every evasive maneuver she could think of to get out of going on this… outing, the persuasive words of her progeny ensnared her. Unsurprisingly, all of that came at the price of having the loyalist stripped of everything that looked remotely like anything sharp enough to cut through butter.

After sneering at security, she was finally let into the establishment. Her dark eyes scanned the fancy restaurant. None would be wiser if she were impressed, based on her stoic features alone. She perceived each person as a threat until otherwise determined. The Human walked to the bar and had a seat, waiting to be served.

Emere glanced up at the droid and only spoke two words. “Club soda.”

Her eyes followed the second voice and landed on the Anzat. She remained silent.

“This one was just… wondering…” He fiddled, comforted in this strange place by Alk beside him, carrying the tip of his tail in his mouth, as if to munch on it. “Sir Master Droid said ‘I’ in reference to itself. This one has been told this is correct, for people. How did Sir know, how to refer to itself?”

Emere was thoroughly unimpressed with the stranger who thought he could read her. She sipped on her beverage and continued to pretend he didn’t exist.

Vincent took another long, thoughtful sip of ale. Rictun was right, this really was a terrific brew. The slightly bitter aftertaste begged for another drink after each sip, but Vincent would need to ration himself to keep his head on straight.

While things seemed peaceful for now, there was more to this evening than he could put together with the information he had at hand. The various chatter around the room left him with little to return to Seraph with in the way of intelligence, except for maybe Rictun. He knew too much, and the more he spoke, the more he seemed to know about everyone.

“A psychic?” Brujah wondered to himself.

While it seemed perhaps a stretch, years of tactical training had taught Vincent that if it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it probably is one, even if sometimes the duck ends up being a rancor. The Sith couldn’t help but feel a bit naked without his lightsabers, but for now he seemed safe enough without them. Still, there was more to learn here, and perhaps the intelligence that he could bring back to the Empire could pertain to something other than the Clans of the Brotherhood. Turning so that his back was intentionally facing Rictun, Vincent projected a very quiet thought telepathically, doing his very best to make the voice sound natural rather than making it clear that this was a message directed at his mind.

“Say Rictun, what’s your favorite gruel spot on Tatooine? It’s been too long since I’ve been home, perhaps you know better than me.”

Rue pondered that, nodding. “This one always knew its place and designation since it was created also. It was meant to be so, created to be so. But now people that call it – me – friend say its creation and life was not correct. Wrong. I don’t know what to do but try to learn the new rules, for wanting things and being not myself.” They had arrived at a doorway, and there were people inside. Rue locked up at the entrance, suddenly terrified of it all: the opulence and formality reminded so much of the Masters and Mistresses, and yet that was not here, and there was warmth and strangers and Alk kept going so he had to keep going or it was going to hurt his tail. He looked back at the droid, blinking tears of pain while his spine pulled.

“Does Sir Master Droid have a name or designation? This one is is Experiment: Senth Peth Forn Krill Resh Dorn Twenty Nine Zero Zero Three Four Nine Nine One, but it is– I am also called Rue.”

At this point, Valara cast a sidelong glance between Rictun and the other fellow at the bar. Clearly there was something going on between the two that she wasn’t privy to. Rude.

Taking another careful sip from her glass, the Kiffar ran the fingers of her free hand through her curtain-like, wavy gold hair. It was comforting, just one reason among a litany for growing it out.

“I would find it incredulous to think anyone present hadn’t come by way of invitation, considering…” Valara’s words trailed off with a gesture all around them. Her meaning was obvious.

<@466040899970007041> <@1056685516441006091>

Out of one ear, Alex caught the telltale clip-clop of bootied hooves on the elegant floor, indicating to him that the mistake had been rectified and his little mott friend had been granted entry to the main hall. A smile formed as he nodded slightly to himself, making a mental note to go around later and greet the elegant and well-mannered creature. While it was a little disheartening that there would be no opportunity to engage in the light chaos of facilitating a “jailbreak” from the other room, at least this way the mott could enjoy the event unmolested.

Katrila plucked a crostini from the tray the droid toted, offering a soft word of gratitude to the droid before popping it in her mouth. As she chewed, the bread crunched. She savored the creamy tang of the chèvre before noticing the tart burst of cranberry and sweet, earthy depth of the figs. The man approaching her might have heard the “mmm” of her gustatory delight when she finished.

“Yes, remarkable. I’m afraid I don’t stop to appreciate it as much as I ought to.” She enunciated her words clearly and carefully, her gaze fixed on the view for another couple beats before turning to face her interlocutor. “Surely you remain in tune with the beauty around you to channel such poetry.”

<@102435651189743616>

Alex considered for a moment, taking a sip of the lovely, smoky abrax he had been given. With a slight tilt of his head, smile still on his face, he set the glass back down on the bar.

“I suppose in the long run, I have forced myself to look for that beauty where I can find it,” he waved his hand in a gesture not only to indicate the starscape beyond the window but also the lavishly appointed environs of the lounge they found themselves in. “Too much of our lives can be too easily filled with the darkness and dirt and grime of necessity. If one does not take the time to appreciate the beauty inherent in even the simplest of things,” he reached behind the bar to grab a small sprig of mint used as accent and garnish to some cocktails and held it up, slowly twirling it to catch the light in different ways, “then it is all too easy to have found your path has led to dark places and darker thoughts.”

A sort of shadow passed across his features as he spoke, his smile still remaining but a bit of the twinkle to his eye having faded, the edges of his lips drifting downward just slightly.

“I have seen more than my fair share of the ugliness of this galaxy, but do my best not to dwell on it. Far better to focus on the things which make life worth living while we have it, I say. After all before you know it, it can all,” he blew a burst of breath toward his hand as he released his fingers and the leaf he had been holding seemed to vanish into thin air, “disappear.”

“Usk-Senth-Dorn Five Four Two,” Rue repeated, trying to match the name-designation to the body itself. He had not had to tell droids apart before and was nervous he would mistake one dressed similarly. Not only would it be hurtful, but such errors would mean punishment.

Or– would they?

“It is nice to meet you too, Sir. Or. Is Sir correct? Do you have a preference? Deepest apologies.” He hesitated. “This one does not require anything, Master USD-542. But Alk here was about to eat some lovely greens, and this one admits it would have liked some too…”

Saffron eyes darted around, and the fear was nearly paralyzing. Alk was sensitive to his moods these days, and every the gentlemott, stomped his bootied feet and pushed against his leg, bodily between him and the others present.

“What are the rules here? This one does not want… punishment. It wants to do things right and for Alk to have a good time and be happy.”

<@1056685516441006091>

Vincent turned to give Rictun a smile and nod. Clearly he would have to be careful even in his thoughts, but at least for now his suspicion had been confirmed. As he took another measured drink from his ale, he heard Valara speak. Forcing himself not to roll his eyes at what he would refer to in private as “rich people talk”, he spoke in her general direction.

“Clearly. I believe the questions would be; who invited us here in the first place and why have they seemingly not arrived?”

Katrila nodded along, carefully observing the man’s expression as he pontificated. His words struck a chord: an intense focus on what remained to be done had left her somewhat irritable, prone to snap at her employees, spiraling tone in her quarters in the evenings when she was left alone with her thoughts, unable to act. Her new acquaintance seemed to speak from a place deep down, too, though the nearly imperceptible changes in his face could be a skilled actor’s bent toward the theatrical.

“This evening certainly invites one to a joyous presence.” She waved to the bartender and gestured to Alex’s drink to indicate she’d like one, as well. “And what makes your life worth living, Mr…?” She allowed your voice to trail off to ask his name on top of her question.

Rue listened intently, nodding his way into a deep bow to show he understood out of sheer habit.

“Yes, Sir, this one I understand.” The rules at least were very straightforward. He had no weapons, he would never steal – and both Elly and Kerissa had explained as best they could while he read about property laws and land rights and burglary as opposed to theft – never harass anyone, and he never wanted to fight or hurt anyone–

A flash and a scream, a hand tightening on his tail until it cracks, furrows digging in and tearing away…

Rue shook himself, blinking back into the moment with a clatter of cutlery nearby. Alk was chewing on his skirt. He gently pried it free with a soft, grumbling wrrerr no and redirected to some of the fruit in his pockets. Not as good as anything they must be serving…

“If Sir could please choose for us, that would be quite nice. Where do we go?”

It was absolute that Rue dropped all the way to the floor and bowed when the woman glided in, between her air of authority and fine dress. He stayed there as she gave a toast, supplicant, while Alk chewed on things.

The Twi'lek’s entrance was mostly missed by a woman tucked off behind one of the decorative pillars in the dinning room. A decision that had seemed pleasant at the time but now as the human glanced up from her datapad, hoping to catch a glimpse of the address and introduction, she regretted it…somewhat. It was not like she had not witnessed Seela Tomel’s display before.

Either way, a sigh left her lips and she watched what she could once the proprietor entered closer to the bar area. Carmace Sandchil then turned back to her totally not work and idly tapped away at the datapad – the one she had had to bribe the guards who had wanted to confiscate it like it was a weapon, and she knew who was responsible for those orders. Another sigh. She brushed her straight black hair behind her ear and adjusted her glasses, before resolving herself to completing her objective tonight to the sound of music and good food.

“Oh, of course. Where have my manners fled to? Captain Alex Draconis is how I am known around these parts. As far as bringing meaning to my life? I suppose there are a few things. Chiefly?” He gestured toward the window once again with his glass. “I have not yet seen all of it, and so long as I have not there is always the possibility of something new and exciting to be found.” Alex picked up the fresh tulip glass of abrax the bartender had just finished pouring and held it out to her. “And as for you, Miss…?”

Alex patently and willfully ignored the entrance of the evening’s hostess. Something about the tone of her voice, or perhaps the way she carried herself as she had exited the lift immediately reminded Alex of the type of person which had made all those noble to-dos in his past life such miserable affairs.

Vincent turned his attention from Seela back to the service droid behind the bar, taking another sip from his ale.

“Well, she’s something else…” he said quietly to the droid.

“You don’t know the half of it.” it responded.

“Katrila.” She allowed a smile to grace her feline features as she accepted the tulip glass of abrax, her hand brushing the human’s. She raised the glass to her lips to sip the aquamarine liquid, savoring its refined complexity almost as much as the moment of connection that melted her butterflies away. “It’s a pleasure, Captain. Making your acquaintance, that is. And my raison d’être: the thrill of new experiences, the indulgence of new sensations, the diversity of beings you find yourself sharing fine meals on yachts with.” Her green eyes glinted playfully as she explained. “I’m so grateful my work allows me to experience even a sliver of what’s out there.” She gestured out the window before turning her attention to the bejeweled Twi’lek. She knows how to make an entrance…

As Seela finished her greeting, Katrila noticed a lull. She seized the opportunity for a gesture, tapping an extended claw on the edge of her glass. “I’d like to propose a toast,” she said, projecting her voice to the far wall just as one Coruscanti actor had explained the technique to her over breakfast the morning following a bravura performance. Katrila raised her glass. “To our hostess, Ms. Tomel.”

Of course Rue instantly gave his hand over as he was obviously bid, and moved however she wanted him to. He also promptly answered, “This one’s designation is Experiment: Senth Peth Forn Krill Resh Dorn Twenty Nine Zero Zero Three Four Nine Nine One, Mistress, ma'am. But it is also called Rue.”

But then the gears seemed to start turning on how she’d knelt to get him, and how someone else had raised a toast, and he was in the way of the Mistress, and oh no. He blanched with all the different directions he could have errored in. Either he’d been too formal or he was taking attention from the Mistress. Or both. Mother Moonlight help him. In his panic he defaulted to simpering and manners, and looked at the floor as he introduced, “And this is Alk who was invited. If Mistress wishes to thank her guests then please grace her thanks to him.” A pause. “He dressed up.”

That was the term Elly had used at least.

So ordered, Rue scurried away with utmost haste to the nearest possible chair; he’d have gone right back down to the floor at the order of taking a seat, but had been drilled enough times by now to know that that wasn’t what people outside expected of such a phrase. Everyone in the outside desperately wanted him to use the furniture.

It was awful. But that was fine. It was the rules. And some things were not so bad. Tables were quite brilliant and potted plants absolutely wonderful– plants inside.

Alk went with him, though he seemed intrigued in greeting their hostess at greater length to inform her of her loveliness and fine spirit with appropriate noms to the hand. He snorted when her touch fell away quickly and Rue bid him leave it be.

Alex raised his glass as well in the toast that was initiated - to do anything else would be improper, of course. He grimaced as he took a sip from his drink, the delicious flavor soured a bit by having at once again having to play nice with someone who at the least carried themselves with the air of thinking too much of themselves, though the events of the evening would tell whether that was their actual manner or not. Turning back to Katrila, his smile returned to a genuine one.

“It seems the course of the meal is soon to be served, so I imagine seats should be taken. If you would care to join me? I spotted a friend of mine earlier, and will be heading to say hello to them,” Alex gestured toward the tiny mott who had taken up position near one of the tables and began heading that way. As he approached, he leaned down and - with a flick of his wrist - produced the sprig of mint again which he held out to Alk.

“Hello there again, small friend,” he looked upward while still leaning down in order to address Rue, “and I would guess that you are one of this lovely creature’s people? I had the pleasure of making his acquaintance at the Spring Festival near Eos City, but other business drew me away before I had a chance to meet any of his associates. I am Alex Draconis; pleased to meet you.” <@244244163002892288>

Compared to the completely servile demeanor the hybrid had shown thus far, he actually tensed when the stranger approached and reached not for him but for Alk, slipping suddenly forward, catlike, to wrap his single thin arm protectively around the Mott’s chest and shield him somewhat from the man. But upon hearing the explanation, and seeing both the offering and Alk’s own accepting huff for the treat which he ✨daintily✨(not) began to eat, Rue eased. His white-knuckled grip and trembling body remained as he instead transitioned into another deep bow and replied.

“Apologies, Master. This one did not know you were Alk’s friend.” A bright smile lit his face, despite his tremoring. “He is the most wonderful and lovely. And the festival was quite exciting. Yes, Sir, this one– I am one of his people.”

And that– yes. That was wonderful. To be Alk’s people.

“Pleased to meet you, Master Draconis. This one I am Rue.”

“Wonderful, Rue. And while I do appreciate that is likely some part of your habit - whether nature or training - I would prefer if you did not call me ‘Master’ anything if you are able. ‘Captain’ is alright if you feel the need for some form of formal title, though really just plain ‘Alex’ is fine.” He smiled brightly, giving Alk a quick headpat before standing back up. “There are some associations from the past with ‘Master’ that I would rather avoid. I do understand if you are more comfortable with it, though, and will accept it. Would you mind terribly if I were to join you and Alk at your table for the meal? Possibly my new friend Katrila as well, if she comes this way? You seem pleasant company for the evening.”

Rue blinked under the onslaught, rapidly weighing the options given and struggling between deferring to the man’s preferences and deferring to his normal self when he was permitted to do so, which he was supposed to be practicing doing what he “wanted,” now, as a “person.”

But he should respect the Master’s wishes… But that would make the Master unhappy, and be for his own benefit, which was Always Wrong…but if he made himself uncomfortable to please another was that not also selfish because it was actually comforting and easier and… And…

The gentlemott nudged his leg, and he thought, oh, Alk with some despair. Would that you could tell me what to do! Alk always knew exactly the right thing or what he wanted, excepting of course what was appropriate to chew.

“Mas– Captain…Alex,” the hybrid struggled to compromise, a tactic which Elly had taught him was common and called a settlement in legalese. It was when neither party got everything they wanted but some of it, she said. “Of course you and your Katrila friend may join us. This one is not worthy of such company, but is pleased for it for Alk.”

He proceeded to scurry over to the table again and pull two more chairs out with a bow, joining the one Alk was sniffing.

Katrila sipped her drink in the toast she proposed. It had become far too uncommon, toasting. The tradition, a ritual imbuing further meaning into a sensory indulgence, appealed to her. Maybe it was the lack of such social niceties in her youth and everyday life that led to her penchant for such gestures. No matter.

She followed Alex, secretly relieved not to have to insert herself into another interaction with a stranger. The captain’s introductions would certainly ease things. The Togorian lowered herself into the chair pulled out for her. “Much obliged,” she said to Alk before glancing at her tablemates.

Rue bowed again to the feline woman, murmuring, “Yes, Mistress,” before waiting for Alex to sit.

<@102435651189743616>

Upon consideration, Alex knelt down briefly again in order to assist Alk with climbing into a chair. It was a little bit of effort - even at his small size a mott was a mott and they were quite hefty creatures - but the combined efforts of man and mott resulted in Alk standing with hind legs on the chair and front legs on the table, now curiously nudging at the silverware of his place setting. Alex laughed in his deep, boisterous way as he took his own seat, nodding his head in a slight bow to Rue as acknowledgement for pulling it from the table for him.

“I do believe that normally in polite society it is consider rude to have one’s forelimbs on the table but, for the sake of balance and propriety, I think an exception can be made,” Alex reached over and gave Alk a little scritch behind the ear. “Who knows? Perhaps our young gentlemott here will set a trend!” He smiled widely at Katrila and Rue as he picked up the elegantly designed menu. “Now then, I believe it may be time to weigh our options for the meal this evening, lest we scramble when the wait staff comes our way…” <@629429326290485286>

Rue finally sat himself, more perching in the seat than anything else, then mirrored Alex in reaching for the menu. His multicolored, glimmering brows furrowed and the same lashes fanned as he blinked in confusion while looking around the table.

“Ah, p-pardon, Mas– Captain Draconis, Mistress Katrila, but. Which things is this one to weigh?” His tone was respectful as possible, but held a note of dread. Assessments of strength were ones he tender to fail, particularly since his amputation; punishment always followed.

“Ah, apologies there, friend Rue,” Alex smiled gently, “it is a turn of phrase - I sometimes forget that Galactic Basic can be a bit of a clunky language. It simply means that we need to make a choice for what we would each like to have for our meal from the options on the menu. Generally speaking, you choose one from each section: an appetizer, a main course from either the primary or vegetarian options, one dessert, and a beverage to accompany the meal. Sometimes they will do a full set course, where they bring out small servings of everything for the table to sample and eat at their pleasure, but based on the way this menu is presented I do not imagine that is the case here.”

Rue listened intently, staring back at Alex as if he hung on his every word; and he did, relying on the master of etiquette for rules of conduct here.

“This one understands, Sir,” the hybrid murmured, bowing his head, and then looked to the menu while gnawing holes in his cheek. An appetizer, a main course, a dessert. That was very much food. What if eating it all sickened him again?

Well, so be it.

He began reading, looking for items that he knew what they were and were not meat.

Rue paused, relief evident in his body, then dipped his head. While it was a recommendation, it was sorely needed and gave the hybrid more guidance.

“Yes, please, Sir Esdee. Thank you.”

Alk, being a gentlemott, waited politely ten seconds before starting to eat the tablecloth.

Vincent quickly finished his second ale, motioning to the service droid to bring another. His anxiety was beginning to get the best of him. People were taking seats, and that would mean he’d have to as well sooner than later. Maybe he’d even have to socialize with one of the many unknown faces in the room. A real dream come true.

“Maybe I should have had that death stick” he thought to himself

Tapping the bar in cadence with the four fingers on his right hand, he began eyeing the room for a good spot to sit. Somewhere just far enough from the heavy talkers to hear what they were saying without being obligated to join in on the conversation. Perhaps a back row table. Having his back to the wall would be his preference, especially without his lightsabers. He chastised himself internally for being so foolish as to let a droid walk away with his best methods of defense.

“So here I sit in a room seemingly filled with Jedi, Arconans, mind readers, and Gods know what else and I’m without my sabers. Not only that, but the best intelligence I’ve gathered so far is that the mott likes the taste of fabric. Fantastic.”

Looking back to the droid he spoke once more.

“Make that two.”

A party? On the Brotherhood’s turf?

As the Councilor in charge of social functions external relations, it was Erinyes’ self-assigned duty to inspect this new festivity. After all, the Brotherhood’s reputation must be maintained, and the faculty at the venerable Zeltros Institute of Interstellar Relations had taught her that the key to diplomatic success was the quality of one’s state functions. There were standards to be upheld, and it was her job to uphold them.

It was also an intelligence-gathering mission. When Erinyes had tried to convince the Voice that a Core Worlds power player was making its way into the Brotherhood’s sphere of influence and needed to be contained, Idris had been remarkably unconcerned. A mere “restaurant chain?” Please. Everyone Rimward of Commenor had heard of the Starlight Lounge, not to mention Seela Tomel’s other restaurants. They were wildly popular—the kind of attraction that would draw prospective recruits to Brotherhood-controlled space. Someone needed to investigate them.

Fortunately, the management at the Starlight Lounge had done their homework and realised who the real power was in the Brotherhood’s service industry. They’d been happy to extend the Emissary an invitation to their inaugural tour. As a courtesy, Erinyes had agreed to travel in a diplomatic shuttle instead of bringing her own yacht. Funny as that would’ve been, the diplomatic messaging it would’ve given off wasn’t worth it.

And so, fashionably late, Erinyes strolled through the yacht’s halls and up to the doors of the Starlight Lounge. She’d skipped her usual outfit for a magnificently-tailored cocktail dress—one of Foxen’s designs, slinky as all get-out yet still elegant.

“Your name, madam?” the host droid asked after securing her lightsabers.

“Seraine Ténama.” Erinyes held back a wince, not even liking her given name when she used it herself, and presented her identichip for the droid to scan. “Don’t announce me.” Getting the full VIP treatment—as opposed to the “standard” VIP treatment that everyone got at hoity-toity establishments like this—wouldn’t let her see what the Starlight Lounge was really like.

“As you wish, Madam Emissary. Please enjoy your evening.”

With that, Erinyes strolled through the doors and into the lounge, drinking in the sights along the way. The patrons seemed like the usual cast of characters one would expect to see at a Brotherhood function, complete with armoured wallflowers at the bar. With a mixture of sympathy and amusement, Erinyes waved to the bartender and approached the one that looked the least comfortable.

<@1056685516441006091> <@466040899970007041>

Yuki came out of her own little world created by atmosphere and music with a soft smile. She looked around the room and took note of new arrivals. Not only did their host arrive, but several others she had seen out and about in the galaxy as well.

She took a sip of her wine and grimaced, the liquid no longer cool and closer to room temperature. The Nagai shook her head, blonde waves rippling, as she set the glass down and turned to listen to the music some more with a smile on her lips once again.

A small amount of confusion lingered in her mind. Had that been a Mott sitting at one of the tables? Curiouser and curiouser. Yuki lifted her glass once more and took what seemed to be a delicate sip.

“Alk, wrrrggg rruhgwgw weh,” Rue said in his rudimentary Shiryyywook, and pulled some more herbs from his pouches with his tail. He distracted the Mott with them as he tugged away the table cloth with his only hand. Then he smiled at Alex. “Mint symbolizes virtue, Captain Draconis. Quite right of you for Alk.”

“I wish I could tell you I had put that much thought into it, Rue,” Alex spoke while still considering the menu, “but the honest truth is that it is just what I happened to palm from the bar for a little legerdemain.” An idle flick of his wrist as he continued to read and two sabacc cards appeared in his hand. He casually flipped them about as he turned to address the service droid.

“I would like to have the crystal soup, roast duck for the entree, and the sorbet for the dessert. And if you could be so kind,” as he reached for his mostly empty glass the cards vanished again, “if you happen to pass by the bar I could use another abrax my good man.” He smiled as he handed off his menu to the droid and turned his attention back to his companions at the table. <@629429326290485286>

A quick glance over the bar told Erinyes that her beloved tsiraki was out of the question. The brands the Starlight Lounge carried were all top-shelf, to be sure, but none of them matched her taste well enough to be worth the credits. Such was the burden of owning a distillery. “Cassandran choholl.” Strong, fruity, and expensive seemed like a good way to start the night. While she waited, she perched on a stool a couple of seats from the armoured Sith and his drinking buddy.

<@1056685516441006091> <@466040899970007041>

Rue gasped at the appearance and disappearance of the little pictures.

“Sir! Master has the magicks also. Master is blessed by the Goddess.”

Katrila quirked a brow at the diminutive mott as he chewed the tablecloth, then chuckled. Alk, together with the obsequious Rue and the urbane (and, apparently, magician?) Alex, made for a delightfully motley crew of dinner companions. Interesting, yes, but delightful. She anticipated many stories would come out this evening.

A hint of amusement mingled with an air of cultured curiosity as she studied the menu. So many delectable options. She imagined the different flavors, her tongue unconsciously making two quick, controlled movements across her lips. As Esdee passed by, she flagged him down with a subtle gesture. “For the first course, I’d like the Corellian spiced soup with smoked bantha ribbons. Then…the wine-braised roast gartro. And the spiced ronto crêpes to finish, please.” Her order completed in a confident yet understated tone, she concluded with a satisfied nod. The meal was meat-forwarded, to be sure, but well rounded. Her carnivore tendencies had won the night.

She waited for the server to depart before addressing the table. “Indeed, Rue. You’re quite the illusionist, Captain.”

“You both give me too much credit, I fear,” Alex waved one hand dismissively, the other raising the glass to his lips to drain the remaining contents. “These are but simple parlor tricks, and could scarcely even be considered ‘illusions’ compared to the things accomplished by those gifted with use of the Force. Anyone with sufficient dexterity and the time to practice could manage this,” he set down the now-empty glass and picked up the cloth napkin from the table, unfolding it and inspecting it briefly before refolding it and placing it back on the table by his silverware.

“If anything, to be quite frank, I am ashamed at how clumsy my hand work still is given the centuries I have put into the practice of it.” <@244244163002892288>

“This one thinks it is amazing,” Rue remarked, blinking placidly at the mention of Alex’s age. He seemed unconcerned. “This one could never do something so grand.” His eyes fell to the half of his arm. “Even before. This one merely has the gifts the Goddess grants, which are Hers, not its.”

As they were speaking of illusions, he lifted his only palm, and there grew a tiny, iridescent flower made of golden light, faintly tinted with green and white. It curled taller and wound out in vines and petals, sparkling above the table, immaterial but pretty.

“Why, thank you.” Erinyes raised her glass in appreciation. It had been a long time since someone had called her “miss”. “I’ve heard a lot about this place. It’s exciting to have a Tomel establishment this far Rimward.”

A loud laugh of delight burst from deep in Alex’s chest as he applauded and gestured toward the flower as he turned toward Katrila.

“Now that, you see, is truly fantastic. A true illusionist, in the most direct sense. What you do,” Alex leaned in a little to get a closer look at the glowing plant as he addressed Rue, “is artistry, while my acts are but tomfoolery. Do not sell yourself so short, my friend.” The intricate details of the vines and flowers intermingling were fascinating.

“The power itself may come from your Goddess, but it is still your talents that shape them. I promise you that, even were I granted this very same gift, I would not have the creativity to form something so extraordinary using it. Notwithstanding where the ability lies, the imagery comes from you, and that is the greater part of the thing!” He tilted his head to get a better angle to inspect the bloom. “Magnificent…” <@629429326290485286>

Katrila watched the exchange with a faint smile, feeling a warm sense of camaraderie. Her usual endeavors held a great sense of gravity, and while she had expected a hoity-toity atmosphere to escape it all, what unfolded before her reminded her of the beauty and diversity of life.

“The Captain is right, Rue,” she added, admiring the glowing flower, its delicate tendrils and petals that shimmered int he dim light.. “Your gift shows a certain creativity and…heart.”

<@244244163002892288>

If either of the two had ever witnessed the collapse of a star or a sealed container breached in a vacuum, they might compare that to watching Rue implode then. The hybrid’s skin took on a bit of a pallid silvery tint even as his cheeks flushed, his eyes grew wide and pupils slit with something like fright, and his shoulders hunched, limbs drawn towards his frame, shrinking in to be smaller as if he could kneel in a ball on the seat of the chair. His tail wrapped about his knees.

The flower winked out of existence as his concentration broke, then flickered timidly back to life in time with his stutter.

“M-M-Mistress a-and Ma-ster are t-t-t-too kind,” he managed, eyes lowered. “This, this one o-only is gifted as a conduit. And it did not create this! It is a lathyrus, or sweet pea. A flower. I-i-it m-means gratitude a-and e-epherm-al happiness. The G-Goddess made it as She did all things of creation. Th-this one is g-grateful to be able t-to en-en-tertain.”

<@102435651189743616> <@629429326290485286>

(Alk meanwhile had lost interest in the tablecloth, less because Esdee said anything, since he was a Mott, and more because he was busy sniffing around for better leaf things.)

Brujah took another large drink from one of the two ales sitting in front of him. The scarlett haired woman that had just walked in and taken a stool near him seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place who the Zeltron was. He wondered if the alcohol was affecting his memory, but then it hit him like a brick wall.

“The Emissary!” he thought to himself. “Perhaps this night is not yet a waste for intelligence gathering.”

Still content to listen in without interrupting and drawing attention to himself, the Sith kept his ears open to any information that may benefit his Clan.

“I visited the one in Coronet City last time I was on Corellia for a whiskey tour. Fantastic place. They did a ronto prime rib roast the night I was there, and it was magnificent.”

She took another sip from her drink and slipped off her stool, then circled around to the more conversational man’s other side. After all, literally talking past the Sith warrior—at least, she assumed he was a Sith, judging by the style of his armour and the tinge of the Dark Side that accompanied it—was just rude.

“What do you think of the Starlight Lounge?” she asked the conversational one. “Does it meet the same standards as her planetside locations?”

<@466040899970007041>

“Ooh, that sounds like the voice of inside information.” Erinyes took a sip from her choholl and grinned. “What kind of magic does she have planned for us tonight?”

“Regardless, the intention is not so much that the design itself is your original creation, but rather that you were able to memorize and recreate it in such detail. I do not know if you are aware of this, Rue, but such a thing is far from common to be able to do. Even I myself, having a near-perfect memory, would fail in the ability to translate that memory into imagery. To wit!” Alex pulled a datapad from within his tailcoat, extracted a stylus from it, and began a quick sketch. After a short moment, he turned the pad around to reveal an image. While it was recognizably Alk, the level of detail was at best rudimentary, and one would only have known it to be the young gentlemott due to proximity to the real thing.

“Even a week from now, I would still be able to reproduce this image exactly as I have here, such is one of my talents. But this is the best that image would be; even were I to spend an additional hour working on it rather than the scant few minutes I just have, the return on that time invested would be minimal at best.” He gestured toward the faint but still-present illusion of the flower at the table. “Had I the gift to create an image as such, while I could get some of the basic details right - there would be leaves, the petals would be the right color and close enough to the right shape that nobody would think twice - there is no way I would be able to produce it at such a quality. Had I not seen it spring into existence as I did, I would have believed it to be genuine table decorations arranged by this gaudy establishment.” <@629429326290485286>

“My my,” added Katrila as she watched the interplay. “I’m afraid I have nothing of the sort to add. Between your prestidigitation and your artistic prowess,” she gestured to Rue and Alex, respectively, “I find myself rather dull company.”

<@244244163002892288> <@102435651189743616>

The words echoed in Vincent’s ears.

Insider information. Insider information. Insider information.

Only slightly disappointed to hear that the intelligence would be on the courses being served tonight, his mood was picking up. The ale was stronger than he had anticipated, and he could feel his inhibitions loosening. Perhaps with another, he’d even work up the ability to start a conversation; small talk and all. He guzzled down the rest of his first beer and slid the empty glass to the back of the bar. Turning his attention to the scurrying droids, he wondered if he should find a seat.

Erinyes studied the menu with a practiced eye. After a moment, her eyebrows went up. “Fried thwip? I haven’t had that since the last time I visited the Fondor Shipyards, and theirs was drier than the tech-sharing agreement we talked about.”

<@466040899970007041>

Overhearing the conversation, Brujah turned his attention back to Rictun.

“Sounds delightful. I think I’m most enticed to try the duck. I’ve had plenty of Tatooine-style duck in my day, but something tells me that this will be a step above the rest.”

Vincent smirked.

“Born and raised on that cursed planet. I left the fighting pits in my late teens to be trained by the Brotherhood. There’s not much left there for me now except a small, beat up hut in the desert and memories from long ago, but I still stop by as time and warrants permit.”

“Oh yes. It was a rough upbringing, to be sure. I often wonder how life would have been different if not for the death of my mother at the hands of a Jedi. That event hardened me, and my father was a useless gambling addict without my mother around to reign him in.”

The Sith took in a deep breath, his mind filling with memories.

“Fortunately, the Brotherhood has provided me with everything I needed to survive and thrive. The training that I received turned me from a top tier Shockboxer into a weapon of death and destruction, as the previously mentioned Jedi learned the hard way.”

A small smile crossed his face remember the day of his revenge.

“But that’s a story for another time, in a less pleasant setting…”

Vincent clinked glasses with Rictun and took a big swallow.

“Surviving is a feat in and of itself. Everyone seems to have something or someone to fight for these days. Even in relatively peaceful times, personal wars and vendettas rage on.” the Sith smirked slightly. “If nothing else, I am happy that my services are needed and my connection to the Force grows stronger by the day. Though I have proven much to myself in this life, I look forward to surviving long enough to reach my true potential and prove myself to all who would listen.”

Brujah waved a scuttling droid over.

“I’ll have my meal at the bar. Hutt’s Delight, Tatooine Duck, and the chocolate mousse.”

Pushing another empty glass to the back of the bar, he spoke again.

“And another one of these.”

“Ah yes, the Brotherhood’s legendary program for giving wayward children a purpose in life. I should really think about expanding that.” She sipped at her choholl, letting memories of her own past come to the surface, different in form yet eerily similar in feeling to Vincent’s.

“Mm, Tatooinian duck… I can’t say I’ve had that often. I assume it’s much better than their wines if you can order it without gagging.” She squinted at the menu, trying to decide which of the dishes caught her eye most.

<@1056685516441006091>

Brujah chuckled.

“I can certainly understand that sentiment. Not much of value has come from that system, especially in the way of delicious food and drinks. However, if you manage to find one of the few Chefs on the planet that care about their craft as much as they care about lining their pockets, you can find some rather delightful food and drink there.”

The smirk dropping slightly from his face, he continued.

“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. I am Vincent Brujah. Quaestor of House Caliburnus of Clan Scholae Palatinae. If my research has done me well, I believe you would be the Emissary, correct? I have to say, the program to bring lost children to the Brotherhood benefited me nicely. Who knows where I’d be today if someone in power hadn’t taken notice of my connection to the Force.”

A thoughtful look crossed the Sith’s face.

“With the doors of the Brotherhood wide open these day, I imagine many more children could be saved from terrible fates and taught to find their true strength, whether that be in the world of science, or politics, or war, like me.”

“That’s what we’re hoping. It’s just a matter of finding them, or making sure they find us.” Erinyes gestured around the restaurant. “Hence all the travelling. It’s hard to find new recruits when the Brotherhood can be so insular at times.”

“Yes, I can imagine that is frustrating.” Brujah responded. “But I can’t imagine the joy it must bring when you find someone just in time. When you can save them before the harsh realities of the world break them of their hope, or finding that diamond in the rough that doesn’t even know their own power or what they are to become…”

The praise going on seemed to make the hybrid actively implode further, but also gave some direction. He regarded the image of Alk with great delight, and much curiosity for how Alex did it, though that might be a latter question.

“My Lady Mistress Katrila is wonderful, as is Sir Captain,” Rue praised softly. He did not understand the ‘guadiness.’ “If …if Miss and Sir like…Would this one be of service in offering a s-story? It o-often told them with these imaginings.” He indicated the flower of light.

<@629429326290485286> <@102435651189743616>

As the droid wait staff began to approach the table with the first course of the meal, Alex nodded excitedly.

“Of course, Rue,” his wide smile beamed across the table, “if you wish to share the tale with us. I am always one for a good yarn to be spun,” Alex paused for a moment, thinking back to earlier interactions, “- that is, a story to be told - accompanying a fine meal!”

He raised his soup spoon as the bowl was placed in front of him by the waiter, nodding toward the droid in silent acknowledgement of its service, then crinkled his nose a bit at the edible silver leaf garnish, pushing it off to the side with his utensil. Such ostentation was a bit much for his taste, and he found it could often be a cheap attempt by a chef to elevate an otherwise middling dish through means of presentation. <@629429326290485286>

“Indeed. Though, it’s just as often that the signs are there before we arrive. Rumours of children or young adults with strange powers, that kind of thing.”

As another serving droid came by, Erinyes turned her attention back to the menu. “Ooh, Lobster Bisellian… it’s been a while since I’ve had that. And a bottle of the Kasiyan Lacrima Alabaster if they’ve unloaded it, or if not, have the sommelier surprise me with a diamond that’s crisp, fruity, and preferably not Alderaanian.”

“There aren’t enough of the really good Alderaanian wines left,” she lamented to Rictun and Vincent as the droid left, “and a lot of ‘Alderaanian-style’ wines nowadays are mediocre imitations with pedigreed price tags. People think they can just plant a batch of Alderaanian grape seeds anywhere and get the same result, instead of finding the right vineyard. Of course, that’s why I’m here—to try to convince Ms. Tomel of that.”

<@1056685516441006091>

“I just think the term ‘Alderaanian wine’ is horribly overused. People don’t call Vendemmia ‘Alderaanian’ even though it’s made from Aquilae grapes, but Nouinac Branco gets away with it because there aren’t any Alderaanian vintners to sue them.” Erinyes scoffed and finished her choholl. “If I tried marketing Dark Elixir as ‘Corellian’, the Corellian Distillers’ Assocation’s lawyers would be kicking down my door the same day.”

Rue briefly watched Alex perform this task, taking note that he was apparently not supposed to eat the metal leaves if any were given, before he closed his eyes and his metallic brows furrowed, his long lashes glinting and throwing multicolored glimmers across his cheeks. While the other two – and Alk – tucked into their food, the hybrid lifted his single hand and began to narrate.

When Rue spoke next, it wasn’t so much oration as slow-spun singing, syllables set to meter and a melody unheard, a hymnal of seasons and secrets. His incanting was deliberate, smooth and sweet.

Before the pairs’ senses, there came a bloom of blackness, deep as the void of space. It was an empty pocket above their tabletop, swallowing the tops of their glasses. It emanated a gentle cold.

Then in that darkness came a tiny glow of light, pale and silvery.

“Once, there was Nothing. The World was wide but empty, full of things with no Soul. The Mother Goddess saw this barren earth, and knew its potential, and so She wept for it, and bled for it, and from those waters came the Stars of Her Eyes.”

The single glow resolved into what was clearly a moon, misty and yet full, revolving slowly around them as She passed through phases. With each rotation like an eyeblink a droplet fell, a falling star, and streaked across the sky to land with a burst of light.

From each point of impact, the light turned to vines and grew. Trees. Forests. Flowers. Animals and then humanoids and villages. The whole of life began to sprawl out in silver starlight spinnerets, while above the Moon watched over them, a doting Mother.

“The Goddess loved all Her Children, and guarded them always in the Dark as they grew. Hers was Life, and Change, and Twilight, and the passage of the Grave. Where God was fire and fury, and the whole world would burn before Him, Hers was to shape from those ashes and return them, to grow anew from them, to gentle and protect. Hers are the Stars and She is the Moon, and always She is Watchful.”

The phantom world grew slowly colorful, rich greens and blues and golds of sunflowers and sunlight and succor. Deep reds for spilt blood and the blossoms of poppies. Vibrant violets for ribbons and for flaming celosias, picked joyfully by a magenta Twi'lek child who ran to her mother and danced with them. In miniature, both Alex and Katrila emerged in the flowers.

“We of the People still Sing Her stories, for once she Sang for us, and gave us the seeds and roots of our spirits. Once she took what was empty and breathed Life. Her love is in all of us, and it is this magic we spin and tell of tale from tail to tail.” He flicked his own tail through the illusion, seemingly sweeping it all away like a swirling cloud of colorful smoke and light. It broke up in shimmers, waterfalls that spilled gently down to the tablecloth and dissipated entirely like morning mist struck by dawn’s first rays. “And every tale told is told to a friend, who is we know is a blessing, and a fellow under Moonlight.”

As the last of the Illusion winked away, the hybrid sat back, looking suddenly tired, and coughed into his shoulder to cover it. He took a long drink and peeked at the pair in obvious trepidation, awaiting judgment.

(Alk, who didn’t see shit, just kept eating his leaves.)

“Mhm. Largely self-taught.” After all, if you drink enough of something, you’ll eventually pick up patterns. “I also own a distillery and winery that I’d intended as a retirement job, before Dacien asked me to be Emissary.”

Vincent forced a half smile.

“Yes, that sounds quite enjoyable. I don’t make nearly enough time recently for enjoying the finer things in life, but if tonight is any indication, it’s something I should prioritize. I do enjoy smaller distilleries, where the spirits are made from a place of love for the drink, rather than love of the coin. Much like we were saying earlier about Tatooine and food. When someone truly cares about their art… that makes the art itself all that more enjoyable.”

“Well, if you visit Kasiya, let me know in advance. I’ll be happy to arrange tours and tastings. Now that the distillery and winery are off the ground, we’re starting to shift our focus to more food exports.”

Erinyes paused for a moment when the serving droid returned, and sipped from her newly-arrived glass of wine. “Ahh, they chilled this perfectly.”

<@1056685516441006091>

As soon as Rue began the story-song, Alex was fixated with rapt attention. He continued to eat his soup, but it was more an automatic function than anything focused on. His eyes flickered back and forth across the images being projected as he listened to the words, taking in every detail he possibly could. He had always found it fascinating, the different perspectives on creation and how we all came to be here, and how every culture had their own version of it but there was always some small grain of similarity no matter what.

As the images began to form into a world full and teeming of life, Alex’s spoon was set aside - he had had his fill of the soup and was now far more interested in the scenery being presented. One hand idly reached out and provided gentle scritches atop Alk’s head as the young mott chewed away at his leaves while Alex’s full attention was locked in on the story. He smiled in delight as the two miniature figures of himself and Katrila were formed, an obvious variance on the story it seemed likely Rue had told and shown many times before. As his friend leaned back in his chair, Alex clapped appreciatively whilst the images faded.

“And so then your gifts, and these words - this story - was given to your people by the Goddess as well! Absolutely fascinating! I am afraid my people do not hold much in the way of gods and goddesses, and when we do speak of them it is usually to curse them as cheats and cowards. You seem to have a much more loving relationship with yours, and I find that just lovely.” <@629429326290485286>

“If you’re a fan of smaller distilleries, I’m sure you’d love what we produce on Kasiya. Our Dark Elixir whiskey is proving to be so popular that our competitors are accusing us of using sorcery to produce it. Isn’t that ridiculous?” Erinyes grinned broadly.

<@1056685516441006091>

Taking another large sip from his glass of ale, Vincent nearly did a spit take at the mention of alchemy. His face turned a bright red as he coughed and gagged, trying to regain his composure. A droid scuttled over to check on him, but Vincent waved him off, wheezing out the words.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. Ale down the wrong pipe, that’s all!”

He did his best to shake off the coughs and regain his breath. He quickly did his best to return to his normal stone faced demeanor, while the alarm beacons rang out inside his head.

Alchemy in use to create high end spirits! Now, there’s some intel worth bringing back to the Summit. That’s bound to get more attention than than Mott’s taste for tablecloth.

With a rather loud clearing of his throat, Brujah forced a smile back at Erinyes and Rictun.

“Ha! Yes! What a crazy thought!”

Now to place his foot in the doorway before it ended up closing on him.

“I’d love a tour of the distillery on Kasiya. If the spirits are so good that youre being accused of such… devious methodology… it must be worth the trip, and whiskey is a personal favorite of mine. I’ll look to book a trip there during my next downtime.”

<@645466919415054357>

Rue flinched visibly at Alex’s insulting of his own gods and goddesses, and looked down and away when he spoke of loving relationships.

“The Goddess is kind,” he murmured, sinking to a whisper almost unheard over the tinkling of silverware and various conversations about food, distilleries, and alchemies. “God is not. His Domain is of power. Control. Obedience. Immortality and time. Tempest, flame, punishment. He is everything. He is beyond death. The Goddess creates life but He will destroy it all as it suits Him. This is His will and way.” His head bowed and he quivered slightly. “Sir Captain should not misspeak of the gods. Sir is…very kind. This one would not wish to see him pained.”

Katrila watched the interplay between her companions, listening intently to Rue’s tale, haunting and beautiful as it was. Only the whirr of the serving droid gliding to the table broke her concentration.

Artfully presented, the soup, braised gartro, and stack of crêpes would look scrumptious in warped and stained plastic containers, but the fine china only added to the dishes’ appeal. The wafting aromas enticed her enough to momentarily forget the one-of-a-kind story unfolding before her. As she nodded gratefully to the droid, her flat, pupillae-covered tongue extended to lick her jowls. She took a spoonful of the soup first, its complex blend of spices and the smoky richness of the bantha ribbons danced on her palate. The perfect balance of heat and flavor somehow comforted and invigorated her at once.

Katrila’s attention returned as Rue finished his story, flinched, and looked down. “Thank you, Rue,” she said gently, voice soft yet sincere. “Although I’m not exactly religious myself, it’s fascinating to me how others interpret the divine.” She paused. “At the very least, you learn about the believer if not the believed-in.”

<@244244163002892288> <@102435651189743616>

“You won’t be disappointed. I highly recommend pairing with a food tour. We take pride in our ingredient quality.”

As if cued by the mention of quality ingredients, the serving droid arrived with Erinyes’ lobster Bisellian. The crustacean was split lengthwise and artfully arranged on the plate, representing the waves from whence it came.

Erinyes gathered up a forkful, careful to wrap the lobster meat and its rich sauce in the melted cheese, then took a tentative bite. The results were immediately gratifying: the sweet, tender yet toothsome meat was a perfect contrast to the crunchy broiled cheese, and the acidity of the brandy sauce cut enough of the richness to prevent the dish from being overly heavy.

The Emissary swallowed the bite with a happy sigh, then went in for another. “This is wonderful,” she said, pausing to rinse her palate with a sip of wine.

<@1056685516441006091>

Seemingly keen to avoid any further criticisms of his God, Rue latched on to Katrila’s statements. “Mistress Katrila enjoys learning of people then?” he tried. He hadn’t touched his food, and seeing as all three table mates were eating, meekly took a bite. His eyes widened, and he gave a surprised mrew from in his throat.

Meanwhile, Alk, having demolished his plate, was looking around. He spotted a pink woman, and recognizing her, did the gentlemottly thing to do and dismounted his seat in order to trot over and say hullo with the most appropriately wet of hand kisses.

<@645466919415054357> <@102435651189743616>

Thud. Thud. Thud. Snuffle.

“Wh–” Erinyes turned when something wedged its way under her wrist and lifted her arm up. Indignation flashed through her mind, wondering who or what would try to physically drag her hand away from her meal.

The appearance of a horn made her stop short in confusion. Then she saw the mott’s face, and burst out laughing.

“Well, hello there! What are you doing here?” She retrieved a piece of lettuce that had garnished the lobster from the plate, and offered it to the mott.

<@1056685516441006091> <@466040899970007041>

The Mott delicately took the proffered leaf with utmost grace and slobber and monched it on down. He gave another bunt to Erinyes’ thigh before hopping down and then right back up, little toed feet braced on the bar top so he could peer at the other two nearby and present greetings. The gentlemott gave a grunt.

Vincent felt a light nudge on the leg just as the droid was arriving with his appetizer, Hutt’s Delight. A plate was gently placed in front of Brujah on the bar next to his ale. The scent of the smoked Nerf strips mingled well with the spicy aroma of the Tatooine cactus salsa. A satisfied look crossed the Sith’s face before he felt the nudge at his leg. Looking down he saw Alk, who grunted gently at Vincent.

The Sith smiled what appeared to be a genuine smile as he leaned down to pat the mott on the head a couple of times.

“You must be Alk. Well, friend, I’m afraid I do not have any tablecloth to offer you, but here… hopefully this will suffice.”

Vincent grabbed a piece of the Hoth ice lettuce from his plate and held it out for Alk.

<@244244163002892288> <@645466919415054357> <@1056685516441006091>

Alk happily ate up the additional lettuce and attention, his haunches wagging. When a hand extended his way, he appropriately placed another greeting kiss– with much slobber and a few bits of leaf.

Meanwhile, Rue was finally recovered enough from the raw flavors dazzling his taste buds to notice Alk had gone. He gasped and stood up quickly, fumbling from the fancy and heavy chair he’d perched in. “A-a-apolgies,” he stuttered to Alex and Katrila, especially since he’d just asked her a question. “I have to find– Alk– oh!”

Thankfully he at least spotted the Mott quickly over at the bar; there weren’t any other animals about that weren’t roasted. Flustered, he tripped that direction, calling, “Alk! Wwwrerggghh.”

<@1056685516441006091> <@645466919415054357> <@466040899970007041> <@629429326290485286> <@102435651189743616>

The ruckus of the bright-coloured personage rushing towards the bar caught Erinyes’ attention, and dug at something in her memory. Oh, it was– hrm. She didn’t actually know their name, come to think of it, just their connection to the gentlemott hoovering up all the nearby lettuce.

Nonetheless, she half-rose from her chair to greet and hopefully calm the person, who seemed to be very frazzled at the prospect of Alk… being Alk in public. “Oh, you must be Alk’s person!”

<@1056685516441006091> <@466040899970007041> <@629429326290485286> <@102435651189743616>

The hybrid pulled up short and flowed down into a kneeling bow that spread his skirts like a blossom across the floor, much like he had to the hostess, Mistress Seela. And, much like to Captain Draconis, he stuttered an apology.

“A-apologies, Mistress, Masters,” a nod, bowing head, went to both Vincent and Ricturn as well. He looked up then at Erinyes and rose, fretting to nibble at a knuckle before speaking again with a nervous but true smile for the belonging to the Mott. “This one is Alk’s person, yes. Apol-ogies, this one did not know you also were his friend. it seems he has made many friends whilst Hunyi and I were unawares, though that makes sense in the retrospect, given he was invited to this party. This one thought he was stealing your food. Apologies.”

His hair in its crown of floral twists shimmered and shifted in the lights as he dipped his head again, tail coiling where it was cut free of a small hole in the dress. Alk, finishing his greeting of other guests and his offerings of lettuce, hopped back down and trotted to Rue, standing again on his hindquarters for pats. The hybrid chortled and gestured him to heel with a soft growr of Shiryyywook command before proceeding to love on him.

<@466040899970007041> <@1056685516441006091> <@629429326290485286> <@102435651189743616>

“Oh, not at all. Alk is far too dignified for that.” It was… okay, well, it probably wasn’t true. Motts gonna mott, after all. But, Erinyes was making a career out of saying nice things. “It was a friendly reunion, and there’s no better way to celebrate a reunion than sharing food and drinks.” Spying a container of celery stalks for garnishing drinks on the bar, Erinyes levitated a handful of them to herself, then offered one to Alk.

“I’m Erinyes, by the way.” She smiled at the riotously-coloured hybrid. “Nice to meet you.”

<@1056685516441006091> <@102435651189743616> <@629429326290485286> <@466040899970007041>

Alk sniffed at the celery, then seemed to deem it acceptable, perfectly used to things floating around him. Rue, though, gaped, and then covered his mouth and bowed briefly again.

“Mistress Erinyes, this one is most blessed to meet you. It is very nice. My name is Rue.” He glanced back at Alex at the table, then to her. “So many gifted by the Goddess here. Truly we are blessed. And blessed for such friendship and kindness as yours. Thank you.”

A startled look crossed the hybrid’s face, and he immediately bowed again. “This one is sorry! We did not mean to the steal anything. Please, this one will provide recompense…” His thoughts raced to try and recall anything Elly had said about reparations for theft, but all his friends had told him was of its illegality and punishment. “Please, only jail this one. Alk does no wrong, he needs to go home to Hunyi…”

Seeing his new friend in obvious distress, Alex decided it was an opportune moment to move to the new center of the action. He stood up from the table and strode across the floor, coming up behind Rue and placing a gentle hand on the hybrid’s shoulder.

“It is okay, friend Rue. It is a saying, a turn of phrase, much like I employed earlier. What our friend - I’m sorry, I did not catch your name,” he smiled at Rictun, “- is saying is that you and Alk are dressed beautifully. And that, of course as always, Alk is a charming gentleman.” <@1056685516441006091>

“Oh.” Rue relaxed nominally again as Alex explained another turn of phrase. He ducked his head, the swoops of his ears burning. “A-apologies, Master Niafla. This one is still learning of the rules and the world here which is very different from as it was before. It interprets much literally.” He looked to Alex. “Thank you, Sir Captain Draconis.”

The hybrid perked slightly. “Yes, Sir,” he answered immediately. “This one has never experienced anything alike it. The only comparison it can draw is to when it was given a great deal of various ‘street drugs.’ Before the myocardial infarction and mass organ failure. A certain confusion and euphoria.” Once he’d gotten started in answering a question, it seemed he had a tendency to keep chattering. “Every food this one tries is new. Hot chocolate tastes like sunlight on the skin feels, which is. Very good. I do not know what I have just eaten or what was happening in my mouth, but it was so much that for a moment I couldn’t speak. Alk very much enjoyed his salad though. He told me so. It was quite right.”

The hybrid melted again under any sort of praise. The duck of his head was now agonizingly, anxiously shy again, much like to Alex and Katrila’s compliments, rather than servile or scared. “Thank you, Master,” he whispered, “this one shall treasure them all. And Alk of course. We were very pleased he was invited to this party.”

All was eating up the attention and continued to steal the show, doing a little stompies as he was pet, his little bow tie pert in place.

“Nice to meet you too, Rue.”

Erinyes took a sip of her wine to cover her expression as the other interactions played out. This… whatever species he was was a curious one. It seemed like he hadn’t had a lot of experience out in the galaxy, to the point that somehow, the mott was the more streetwise of the pair. That must make for some fascinating stories.

Before Erinyes could inquire further, though, business called. Past all the Alk-centred commotion, she spotted Seela Tomel working the room and chatting with other distinguished guests. It was time for Erinyes to make her approach.

After excusing herself, Erinyes made her way across the room to the Lounge‘s proprietress. “Ms. Tomel? I was hoping we could have a word.”

Perhaps the alcohol was at play, but Vincent had become enamored with his appetizer. The crisp Hoth ice lettuce mingled with the Tattoine cactus salad in a most pleasant way that both cooled the mouth while tingling the taste buds with spices. The nerf strips were perfectly cooked and to Vincent, seemingly marinated in vinegarette that gave the meat just the right amount of tang to complement the rest of the dish.

Looking up from his plate for a moment, he noticed Erinyes, Rue, and Alk leaving the immediate area. Brujah managed a small wave to each and one last pat on Alk’s head before turning to Rictun.

“I have to say, this appetizer could be an entrée of it’s own. The differing feelings and textures are so pleasant. Truly excellent.”

<@1056685516441006091> <@645466919415054357> <@244244163002892288>

“Very much so. The Starlight Lounge is in a league of its own. We’re lucky you decided to grace Brotherhood space with its presence,” Erinyes said, and meant it. It was nice to give compliments that people actually deserved, instead of idle flattery to soothe some diplomat’s wounded ego. “I hope this isn’t a one-time visit.”

“Quite so.” Vincent managed to get out as he finished off the remainder of the appetizer, swallowing it back with a gulp of ale.

“Truly this chef knows their craft and how to coordinate flavors in an intriguing way. Clearly Ms. Tomel has an eye for talent. It would seem that she has spared no expense.”

Nearly as soon as Vincent had finished speaking a droid grabbed his empty plate and sat down the main course of Tatooine Twin Suns Roasted Duck. Brujah eyed the crisp golden-brown hue of the bird, shining with glaze and paired with figs. To say that it looked delightful would be an understatement.

“It is very good,” Rue chimed, echoing the Master who was speaking. He was happy to see Esdee’s familiar face deliver the ‘entreé’ to the Master, and wondered at if he was meant to be eating that as well, and if he was keeping Captain Draconis from his own meal. But also… “What is the difference between ‘appetizer’ and ‘entreé?’” he asked shyly of those still gathered.

(Alk was now visiting every table, saying hullo and receiving the lettuce that was apparently meant to be his!)

<@1056685516441006091> <@102435651189743616> <@466040899970007041>

Vincent looked up from his plate at Rue with a smile. While most generally social situations made the Sith nervous, he felt rather at ease tonight. Those who knew him better might not even recognize a Vincent Brujah this relaxed and… happy?

“Well, appetizers and entreés are different parts of one big meal. In the food industry, they call them courses. So, tonight, we’re having a three course meal. It comes with an appetizer, which is the first course; an entreé, which is the second course; and a dessert, which is the third course.”

Brujah tried to determine if his explanation was clear enough. He decided to expand.

“An appetizer is usually a small portion of some tasty savory dish to tide you over while your main dish is being cooked. The entreé is the main meal, in a bigger portion than the appetizer. The dessert is usually a sweet treat to cleanse the palate after the meal.”

<@1056685516441006091>

Alex smiled and signaled to one of the passing service droids, indicating that himself and Rue (and Alk as well, if the mott’s wanderings drew him back this way) would be taking their next course here by the bar where they had found themselves. A flurry of carefully coordinated action at their previous table, and dishes were transported swiftly, being set before them. Alex eyed the duck on the plate before him and tapped inquisitively at the crispy skin of the fowl.

“Interesting…” he said, nearly under his breath as he took his first bite. “Sweet, with the slightest hint of a piquant tanginess behind the juiciness of the meat. About as admirable an approximation as one could manage in a kitchen, far removed from the desert suns and earthen ‘ovens’ of the Ghorfa on Tatooine. I will not deny the possibility that it may just be perceptive bias because of the experience, digging up the meal from where it baked beneath the sands after a long day’s ride through the dunes, partaking of it all in the fading light of the suns as they set on the horizon… There is something lost to it, eating it here,” he gestured with his fork toward their surroundings, “in this monument to pride.” <@1056685516441006091> <@466040899970007041>

Rue listened intently to Vincent’s explanation, seeming rapt in attention to it. His fingers itched, and while the droids and dishes were suddenly rearranged in front of them thanks to Alex and he was subtly ushered to sit at the bar with the Captain, Vincent, and Ricturn, he pulled a small notebook from his satchel and began writing down all the man was saying.

Tuning back into the conversation as Captain Draconis sampled the duck and spoke of the loss of something in the food and the decor, he quietly waited for a pause of silence before saying, “Thank you, Master, Sir, for the information,” to Vincent. And then, oblivious to any slight, asked shyly of Alex, “so Sir Captain likes it? This is…good. The food is good.”

Though he had yet to touch his own again, dutifully waiting for both Vincent and Ricturn to also eat. <@466040899970007041> <@1056685516441006091> <@102435651189743616>