The small Proconsul stood off to one side of the entrance to the private gardens that opened once a year for this singular festival. The trailing flowers reminded her of a home she had long since lost. She had forgone her usual attire in favor of a pair of red, pleated pants that flowed loosely around her legs, a white shirt and a loose-fitting robe with a stylized dragon emblazoned on the back with the head resting on one slender shoulder.
She watched as guests filed into the gardens, greeting those who passed her with a warm smile. Her violet eyes kept drifting to the flowers and their soft pink colors.
Perhaps it was time to take that trip home after all.
After a moment of her own silent contemplation, Ruana Suoh-Werd'la stepped up beside the Councilor of War and placed a gentle hand on Mihoshi’s arm. “Are you alright, my friend?”
As her wife couldn’t attend due to a new commission for a cybernetic (some unlucky bastard had his lower extremities completely blown off in a mining accident), the Weapons Specialist had accepted the invitation to attend the Festival as the Proconsul’s co-host for the evening. That said, Artemis had sketched up the outfit she wore tonight, a combination of Kyataran influences — in honor of her own mother, Yuki — blended with Sephi symbolism.
The Pantoran had dressed in a far more demure manner for this gathering, and had gone for a form-fitted sleeveless black kimono that reached halfway to her calves, accented with golden designs depicting the Tree of Life, as well as a knotwork border. Over her shoulders was a sheer golden-blue shawl, which trailed down to her waist. The outfit for the evening was finished with a pair of pale gold heels, with what appeared to be golden vine-chain just above her toes.
Her appearance was finished with lightly applied makeup, again in black and gold to bring out her dark blue eyes against the dress. Her pale blue and white hair was done up in a Sephi braid that trailed down her left shoulder.
It was impossible to tell if the Weapons Specialist was carrying a weapon, but this gathering was not for violence.
Indeed, anyone attempting to cause such would be swiftly dealt with by the Royal Guard in their duties to the Palace.
Sofila fidgeted out of excitement the entire time they were on the way to the event that they were invited to.
Her hands constantly went into her light blue jumpsuit’s pockets. When they were in, she flapped them a few times like a penguin with a silly giggle and pulled her hands out and clasped them together. It seemed that the Mirialan was rather pleased that it had pockets. Something she proudly announced to Cole a few hours ago when she emerged from the hotel’s bathroom with a rather loud, ‘Cole Cole Cole, it hassssss pockets!’
They had arrived and for the time being, the vision of the gardens had taken her mind off of pockets.
“Oh woooooow,” exclaimed Sofila with a soft sigh at the end. Her shoulders dropped, the beauty of it all had helped her relax. Her hand went to Cole’s as she gave it a squeeze. She was going to let go for his comfort until she saw how everyone else was dressed which caused her hand to subconsciously squeeze slightly harder as her brows furrowed in concern for a moment.
There were long robes. Fabric trains. Things that are easily stepped on.
Oh. Oh nooooo. Sofila winced slightly, she was going have to watch her footing.
<@432543120635461643>
The tall Chiss fiddle with his ribbons one last time, using the window of the transport as a mirror. He rarely wore his full dress uniform, but for a visit to the palace, even off duty, it was the minimum required. Len had shrugged off the ceremonial dress uniform as too ostentatious.
The cut of the uniform was similar to the Republic Navy uniform of the clone wars with Odanite insignia on his hat and belt. His polished rank badge, that of a colonel, was above a series of medals and awards for service to the Clan and their hosts. The green-gray uniform’s tunic was piped along the closure, neck, and wrists with forest green, the branch color of the Army. The pants, which Iode thought could be shorts or capris for how little you could see, were tucked neatly into calf high mirror shine black riding boots. Len had previously during the formation of the OUSC petitioned to the selection board that shin boots would be just fine, however the board turned it down. Before leaving home, he had removed this DL-44 and holster locking it away for the evening along with his datapads and dossiers.
As the transport came in to land, Iode checked his pockets one last time to make sure he only had his ID, keys, and a few credit sticks. After a quick check, he pulled his tunic to smooth the wrinkles. The doors opened filling the cabin with the sweet perfume of the gardens. The soft sounds of the gathering filling his ears as he stepped out of the transport. The few guests on board shuffled towards the gate with carefree gait and the Chiss followed behind.
Remember, you have to relax, Iode told himself.
As she wandered through the garden, Sirra was increasingly certain she was in the wrong place. Almost as certain as the fact she had been set up.
Nothing about the Voraskel Palace felt right to her. It was too sanitized. The city itself was free of the predators which so often prowled such concrete jungles, while the gardens had been neutered. She could feel nothing of Kona’li Isle’s unfettered savage beauty in them, as carefully cultivated and ordered rows had stripped away the very thing which made such places feel alive. Others had spoken at length of the city’s beauty, but as Sirra probed the surface thoughts of its people and the creatures who called it home, it felt hollow to her.
Passively looking over the new arrivals, Sirra again cursed her old teacher. Nikora had spent the nights leading up to the celebrations wearing down Sirra’s defences, pushing her into joining the event for her own benefit. When Sirra had finally caved, she had been able to extract a few concessions of her own while being dragged off by the Nautolan to be fitted for a dress. Chief among these had been for Nikora to put in an appearance. Nikora had readily accepted, but a suspiciously timed accident had caused her to miss the shuttle flight from Tythas City mere moments before its departure.
It will help you get to know the rest of the Clan, Sirra recalled Nikora urging. You need to branch out and speak with more of them. She had the distinct feeling Nikora’s crimson armoured bulk would not put in an appearance until the celebrations came to an end.
As she watched the latest arrivals filter through, Sirra couldn’t help but feel a sharp spike of envy at a few specific attires. Her eyes lingered first on an individual who had arrived wearing a blue jumpsuit, and then on a Chiss in military regalia. Either would have been far more comfortable than the violet hakama and parchment white hakamashita she was clad in. Something told her neither would be interested in trading clothes.
Miho smiled sidelong at Ruana. She had been spending a lot of time with the sister of her bodyguards and her wife. The small Proconsul definitely preferred them over the hulking twins. “Just longing the view of home.”
She shook her head. A trip home would come when it came. Until then, the small visits with her brother would do for now.
Miho watched Sofila enter the gardens and gave her a smile as she and a man - probably her own partner - wandered into the gardens.
The next had been Len Iode. She liked the man, wondered why he looked like he was about to start shaking and made a mental note to make sure he was alright.
The next guest through the gates was someone she had only heard about from Ruana and Artemis. She watched Sirra closely, keeping her thoughts as shielded as possible.
“I wonder how they convinced her to come today.” She mused to Ruana. As far as she could tell, Sirra only preferred places like she herself did. Places of danger, places of adventure.
Places exactly unlike this. She raised a hand to adjust a hat she didn’t wear before letting it drop again. It would be time for fighting again soon enough.
For now…it was time to enjoy everything life could offer.
Cole contently interlaced his fingers with Sofila’s, looking out on the scenery. It… truly was beautiful. As was the display of far fancier clothing than he assumed from a familial invitiation. He nodded in response to the smile offered by a young woman in the entrance, making sure to do in a way that Sofila would notice it and greet her as well.
The Human was dressed in his usual white shirt, with a pair of dark brown slacks on. A pistol was concealed at his hip though only noticable to the trained eye. Simplicity at its finest. That didn’t quite seem to be the theme here however.
“Wulfram needs to detail his invitations better I think.”
Sofila saw movement and she squinted at the teenager woman that was waving at her. Who was she? She looked familiar. Kark.
Oh kriff! Okay, dig in, focus, why she look familiar, obviously have to do something with Buir but which Buir, oh for kark- Miho! That’s what it was!
She started to mumble in low voice for Cole to hear as she waved back, “I think her name is- huh?” She glanced down at Cole, her brows slightly furrowed in confusion. Detail the invitations?
“What do you mean?” Sofila asked as she was more worried about stepping on someone’s fabric and offending the culture than what she was wearing.
The Pantoran gave a gentle nod in response to Mihoshi’s comment about missing home, moving her hand up to lightly squeeze the Kyataran’s shoulder.
Ruana’s head turned to where the War Councilor indicated, dark blue eyes widening as she spotted Sirra. “I imagine it would have taken a lot… and even more arguing to get my little sister into a dress.”
It was an open secret that Celevon had blood-adopted the young woman, a topic that never failed to renew an argument about his continued usage of Alchemy, Rituals and Sorcery with the Council of Urr. The more staunch traditionalists amongst them had deemed it abhorrent, to not only reveal but encourage a teenager to actively partake in a ritual that they deemed a ‘Dark Art’.
The Pantoran shook her head, the pale blue and white braid swaying with the movement. The only real effect of the ritual was that Celevon had been added as a third biological parent, which had barely altered Sirra’s physical appearance.
Speaking of…
Ruana began glancing around, physically turning her body to look into the gardens. She could almost sense a questioning feel from Mihoshi. “Looking to make sure my father-in-law isn’t causing trouble,” she mumbled.
It took another few moments before she spotted the Shaevalian-Umbaran, seated within the shade of one of the blossoming trees.
Actively trying to avoid eye contact with the others and quietly wishing the garden offered a few more shadows, Sirra uncoiled her mind and reached out into the Force. The surface level thoughts of those about her were a jumbled mess of joy, concern, surprise, and a wealth of emotions besides. Some minds, particularly that of the Chiss officer, carried the same hardened sense of being alert in the fanciful environment. Those stemming from others among the new arrivals were far more joyful but carried a tinged quality of surprise, accompanied by images of individuals in flowing attires getting snagged collapsing. Sirra’s shoulders slumped slightly in relief, knowing others were outsiders here as well.
It was only when her telepathic probes brushed against a familiar mind that Sirra paused. Looking up, she caught sight of Ruana conversing with a younger woman with a mane of black hair observing the new arrivals. Sirra managed a smile and an awkward wave in spite of a sinking feeling in her stomach, already mentally resigning herself to Artemis’ teasing once Ruana brought back word of her appearance at the gathering.
“Ah, you must be the former War Councilor’s child.” A silken voice said as a white-haired Sephi-Arkanian stepped beside Sofila, his gait accompanied by a tapping of a ruby-topped cane on the garden floors.
“Lets see, he has quite the progeny. You’re not the Kushiban, Asani, nor the Pantoran, Arden. Too old and loud to be the mechanic child, Erin. You must be Sofila, then, the daughter who recently relocated to the Taldryan Republic? Please correct me if I’m wrong, there are a lot of you after all.” He chuckled, as he tapped his cane twice, turning to look over her companion, before his gaze returned to hers.
A pleasant but direct introduction. The High Councilor knew who the woman was, her partner wasn’t an unknown either, even if there were details in the SeNet Dossier that were not complete per se. Knowledge and vigilance were the two best tools for someone in a position such as his to keep on hand, and he would always keep those around him aware of the fact that he was vigilant of what happened in his sphere.
“Where are my manners though? I am Masahiro, a humble Jedi of the Acolytes of Urr, another guest of the Empress today, all the same.” A brief pause was followed by the man giving a bow with all the flourish, demeanor, and grace of a born and bred noble.
“May I ask just who this handsome gentleman is, accompanying you during this fine festival?”
“Dress code.” Cole had succinctly replied before noticing the direct approach of a Sephi with even more high class attire. He knew the Armis family and the glance indicated more than a strangers interest. It set Cole on the back foot in recognition and he had to fight the instinct that this was a threat. If their claim was true then he was a Jedi.
Hah. Trusting people. Especially those of nobility who had been taught to hide every flaw behind their sliver spoons.
Cole took the lead on introducing himself, nodding at the bow before offering his hand to shake, “Cole. We relocated from Arcona together.”
Quietly, a woman in a plain white robe-like dress decorated in many flowers would take her place by Masahiro’s side. Her black hair was tied up in a neat bun with a glass flower pinned in it that matched the flowers on her dress– a spindly flower with many dark, thin petals, almost akin to a spider with many many legs. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her, fingers that seemed a little too long tipped in long, carefully manicured nails that boasted a bold red line at the tips.
A nice outfit. Not too dressy, especially next to her accompaniment, but still classy all the same.
“Don’t worry, he does this to everyone Sofila.” Sonyo softly spoke with a soft smile, “I think our High Councilor enjoys making people squirm just a little.”
The Pantoran-Arkanian hybrid bowed her head softly to the couple in front of them, closing her startling gold eyes as she did. A sign of respect. Soft brown eyeshadow was dusted across her eyelids, accenting the golden dot below each eye. The bow lasted for just a heartbeat before the Jedi straightened.
“You might not remember me but I spent some time in Arcona as a diplomat. I returned to Kiast slightly before Sivall’s departure. It’s nice to finally meet you two in person, she has said many good things about you both.”
-# <@216702440140046336> <@432543120635461643>
Not many people could manage to sneak into a party wearing an austacious golden and black gown with all the bells and whistles, yet Nildea somehow accomplished doing just that. The Sephi seemed to just spawn into existence at the bar of the venue, as if someone had dropped a model from the sky. The Orator brushed her copper locks off of her shoulder with a flick, leveling an exhausted stare at the poor soul tending the bar.
“I’ve had a long day. It takes a lot of work to look this good. I need as many Tattooine sunrises as you can legally serve me.”
With a practiced flourish, Nildea swept out the gorgeous gown she was wearing so that she could take a seat on one of the stools with her legs gracefully crossed. She placed her hands, adorned with enough golden jewelry to pay a child’s college tuition, on the bartop while she waited.
The bartender just stood there, gawking.
Nildea’s eyes narrowed, crystalline blues sharpening into hardened sapphire.
“Did I stutter? You will be duly compensated. If you make it extra strong I might even tip you 100% instead of 50%.”
That seemed to unfreeze the waitstaff. Suddenly there was a flurry of glasses and bottles. Nildea sighed once more, raising a hand to rest her cheek on it. Where there was alcohol, she was sure to make an appearance– but she was too sober to be out doing social things, and that needed to be remedied.
Miho watched the guests with a soft smile. It had been a while since there had been some sort of festivity. The war on Quermia had taken up much of her time, the battlefield once again and always calling her back to it.
She nodded almost absently at Ruana as she wandered off to corral her recalcitrant father. While Miho liked the man, he was absolutely a nightmare when he chose to be.
Sofila and Cole, two she had only briefly heard about from her predecessor seemed to have been caught in the High Councillor’s trap and she felt a pang of pity for them. Having been on the receiving end of his attention more than a few times, she knew how off-putting the man could be.
Miho moved from her place at the entrance to begin circulating around the guests, she would enjoy the view later after everyone had gone for the evening.
The first one she approached was the Kiffar, with a smile and a soft greeting. “Hello, I’m Mihoshi. Thank you for making it.”
She held a hand out to the young woman who stood nearly head and shoulders taller than she was. The Twins and Yuki had told her some things about Sirra, but she always liked to meet people on her own. “Would you like to accompany me for a time?”
<@326457564994994176>
“Hi,” Sirra said, flinching at being addressed. Caught up watching Nildea’s displays and trying to make sense of her antics, she had completely overlooked the other woman’s approach. It took her several moments to register what was said and a few more to consider how best to respond. “Um, yes. Thank you,” she managed a slight smile and a nod.
How did people manage this? She had promised not to rely too heavily upon telepathy for communication and to converse with others only through spoken word. Even now though, she still felt the method was clumsy. Ill formed and insufficient verbs did little to compare with exchanging thoughts, images, or emotions directly.
As Sirra tried to consider what to say next, she began to recognise something discordant about Mihoshi. What little she could pick out in the Force felt more aged than expected, as if an older soul had been caged in a younger physical shell.
With the abundance of the festival underway, it was time for the performance to begin. A reptavian screech gently echoed in the distance, as the shimmering amethyst wings of a Keeradak stretched across the sky. With an elegant flourish, the Keerdak arched higher, tucking her wings in closer to perform a spiraling twist. The creature glided through the air effortlessly, dipping lower to the ground. Suddenly fanning out her wings to slow her descent, the Keeradak created a gust of wind that sent a shower of blossoms fluttering through the air.
As the massive Keeradak known as Veryth came to a landing, an elegant female rested side-saddle, a strap firmly securing her to the creature. Unfastening herself, she gently tossed her cascade of windswept hair over one shoulder, letting it fall in a cascade of pale pink waves. Syrena Valkar wore a dress of iridescent golden silk, the fabric flowing gently around her form with floral embellishments.
She made her way to a clearing at the center of the gardens, and took center stage before those present. With the simple clap of her hands, the white light of a spotlight began to illuminate where she stood. “Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you to the palace. And without further ado… I would like to cordially present to you, Ballet de la Rancor!”
Nearby musicians began to play a series of gentle string and flute music that echoed through the gardens, reflecting a pastoral atmosphere. The spotlight moved to highlight a massive Rancor with shimmering pink scales, standing poised at the ready, wearing a tutu that consisted of an inordinate amount of flouncy blue tulle and sparkles.
The Rancor known as Zephira delicately lifted her clawed arms above her head and haphazardly stood on one leg, spinning in a pirouette, casting elongated shadows that danced alongside her. Emerging from a sudden swirl of pink clouds, an illusory second Rancor appeared to the crowd, mirroring the movements of Zephira. Syrena leapt alongside the creatures in focused movements, her dress lightly fluttering around her form with each graceful step.
Syrena’s entrance was Frenek’s cue. Offstage, he gave his newly acquired Fathier a vigorous pat. The sheep-like creature, whose name was Gasket, jostled its way into the clearing and began to leap across the width of the stage, bucking in large jumps. With each jump, it shook a basket, tossing heaps of multicolored flower petals across the ground. As it completed its romp through the limelight, Gasket leapt offstage on its own accord, proceeding to prance toward the bar where a Sephi female was currently seated, tossing more flower petals her way. -# <@264959101384130560>
Frenek closed his eyes and sighed. This was his moment now. Stretching out his tight-fitting collar one last time, he leapt onstage in what he hoped was at least somewhat graceful. Then, stumbling toward Syrena, he lifted her by the waist as high as he could and twirled his heart out.
Sofila’s brows only creased further when he mentioned the dress code. She looked at her outfit. The others. Hers. Others. Hers.
“I- pfft eh-eh-” She stammered as she was taken off guard by a stranger who was right beside her which caused her to hop back slightly in surprise. Then her eyes sparkled with friendly-ness when he started to rattle off her sibling names.
“I know there is, right?!” Sofila exclaimed on the comment of her big family, “Some days I just wait for a call that I got another sibling!” Then she realized that maybe she was being too energetic and quickly placed her hands behind her back, her fingers going to the fidget ring and silently moves it.
Oh no! I don’t know how to bow, wait, curtsey? Kriff, how do you- kark, is it legs cross, or pick up dress- I AM NOT EVEN WEARING A DRESS- Hold up, is that what Cole meant by dress code? Her mind was stilled when Cole introduced himself and offered his hand. Didn’t do a bow or anything as she blinked in confusion.
“Oh,” Sofila whispered in awe at the attractive woman that was by Masahiro’s side. Maybe she stared a bit too long.
A bit.
“Sorry! Did anyone tell you are so beautiful! Wait- Auntie Siv? A-ah! Y-Yes! It’s so good to meet you two, apparently.” Confusion was still in, they knew all about her but she knew nothing about them.
Par for the course.
-# <@432543120635461643> <@236356564125089792> <@264959101384130560>
It didn’t take long before Sofila’s attention was stolen by the whimsical and wonderous, if not a bit odd, entrance. Petals blown everywhere as a few had fallen onto her curly purple hair as a female made an announcement along with the words, ‘Ballet de la Rancor’.
Ballet- Okay, I am in trouble.
Oh no. Was this place too fancy for her? She assumed someone was going to show up in a rancor costume and the story would be about some prince saving a prin-.
Absolutely wrong.
Her eyes widen in awe and bewilderment as she watched the rancor, her jaw opened rather unprofessionally at the whole scene.
Mihoshi smiled at Sirra and turned towards the stage, the Keeradak’s display was impressive. The rancor always made her a bit concerned. Where Syrena had found one like that was always a source of confusion.
“Does it surprise you like it does others? She brings that beast nearly everywhere with her.” Miho’s voice said in the Kiffar’s mind. The presence of the Proconsul’s mind was vast, powerful, gentle. She continued to smile as she watched the show, looking at Sirra from the corner of her eye.
“It’s okay. I prefer talking this way, myself. Much easier.” Her words continued to filter through the light connection between their minds. “You noticed, did you? Sometimes life takes you on a different journey than you expected.”
Mihoshi turned her eyes back to the spectacle, taking everything in with a smile. Regardless of what else could be said, they definitely knew how to put on a show.
Sirra’s answer didn’t come in the form of words but a wave of emotions. First a feeling of relief that someone was giving her permission to exchange thoughts telepathically, followed by a clear sense of being out of place. A short sequence of clipped scenes from years passed followed to give context; anxiety into being forced into a school environment of others her age to help protect someone of importance. Embarrassment and frustration at being unable to adapt to taboos and unspoken rules within her class that barely made sense. Then finally relief at a return to relative normality when an old enemy attempted to kidnap them, and Sirra could respond with all the violence that was second nature to her.
“The most normal thing to me here is the rancor,” Sirra eventually responded. She shared a brief feeling of Zephira’s emotions, picked out from the creature’s mind. “She at least seems happy along with her companion. The others are… They are complicated. Most are confused. Happy. Some desire a great deal of alcohol right now.”
Watching the performance and looking between the others, the relative silence besides the performance gave her several moments to consider what to say next. “Do you…” Sirra tried, voicing whatever came to mind next to no one in particular. “Where do you think she got the dress from? Even Hutts don’t normally order clothes that big.”
Celevon was quietly cackling to himself under the shade of the tree, watching the Rancor do a ballet all the while keeping an arm aloft. Whilst the Shaevalian-Umbaran was dressed nicely, this was the scene that Ruana walked up to.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” The Pantoran’s voice came out sharper than she intended, but it had the effect she wanted.
Her father-in-law froze, then slowly turned to face her. “This isn’t what it looks like?”
One finely sculpted eyebrow rose, the doubt in Ruana’s expression utterly clear as one foot started tapping. “So… it doesn’t look like you’re about to create an illusion of some sort to sow chaos during a festival?”
There was a sigh from a few feet away before the figure of Marius Edraven shimmered into view, having given up and dropped the cloak of Force energy. “No, Father was holding me in place so I couldn’t escape during the distraction of the Dancing Rancor. Will you let me go now?”
“That depends. Are you going to run? If I’m forced to attend, you’re going to suffer with me after your comment.”
Whilst Marius scowled, glaring sightlessly at his father, Ruana bit down hard on her lower lip to keep a giggle from escaping.
The music gently rose, signaling the finale to the ballet. As it did so, the rancor that had been an illusion began to evaporate into a dispersal of blue winged butterflies, before they all faded away from view completely. The Keeradak flew to join the stage, dipping lower to encircle both where Syrena and Frenek twirled, soaring around them in a graceful spiraling motion to mirror their movements.
As the music drew closer to the end, Zephira outstretched both clawed arms and crouched lower to carefully angle her stance. In one final movement, the Rancor suddenly leapt across the stage, landing on one leg in a spin, sending a soft tremor through the ground as she did so. And with that, the music ceased, and the ballet came to an end.
“You did amazing. I’m so proud of you… You’ve come such a long way, Zephira,” Syrena beamed happily to her Rancor, giving the large creature a hug. Turning back to the stage, they each faced the audience, taking turns bowing. “It has truly been such a pleasure preforming for you all tonight, on this wonderful Festival of Flowers!”
And with that, Syrena exited the stage, looking forward to visiting with the others, and began making her way towards where she had spotted Sonyo in the crowd. The last that Syrena had seen of the female and she calming presence that she seemed to carry with her, had been back on Quermia, something that now felt like it had been ages ago.
“Time passes by so quickly,” Syrena remarked quietly with a soft smile, as she approached the group. “Hello there, everyone! Enjoying the festival so far?”
“Ooh, I absolutely love your hair!” She couldn’t help but exclaim, turning towards the female with striking purple curls in the group. “Nice to meet you, by the way! What’s your name?”
-# <@264959101384130560> <@216702440140046336> <@432543120635461643>
Meanwhile, the Rancor began to wander backstage, eagerly tearing into a cooked ronto leg that Syrena had made sure to leave for her. After finishing her meal, Zephira began to wander into the festival, being careful with each step as though to not trample the decor, or anyone else for that matter.
The large creature made her way over to one of the audience members that had sparked her curiosity, golden pink scales shimmering in the dim light. Zephira dipped the massive form of her head lower to Sirra in a greeting, a gesture that she had recently learned that seemed to work well in these situations. Making her best effort, Zephira moved her jaw in a way that she hoped would come across as the social expression of a smile, revealing rows of jagged teeth.
-# <@326457564994994176>
The Keeradak known as Veryth took to the skies once more, soaring above the festival, breathing in the fresh air now tinged with the aromas of various flowers. The Reptavian creature began to dive and snatched a tree branch as she did so.
Veryth glided to a landing just before the Proconsul herself, presenting the branch. Shaking out her dark purple webbed wings, she folded them back at her sides. Veryth lowered her head, nudging the branch closer to Miho, her tail whipping playfully from side to side.
-# <@227653769842655233>
“We’re glad to hear that.” Cole replied to Sonyo, offering a polite smile as Sofila recovered and then started speaking. He was content to slip into the background, remaining a steady rock beside her as a new woman approached them, asking Sofila her name.
He watched the illusion fade from her, seeing the familiar shimmer. It was noted, though he did not react.
Mihoshi had watched the ballet with a smile, enjoying the display made by Syrena, Frenek and their creatures.
As Veryth landed and proffered the small flower covered branch, the Proconsul accepted it with another smile for the Reptavian. “Thank you.”
Before the creature could fly away, she placed a gentle hand on the creature’s head and gave a soft benediction in her native Kyataran.
Stepping back, Mihoshi turned towards Sirra and the rancor, Zephira, watching the interaction curiously. Seeing a beast like that smile was certainly interesting.
She also took the time to look over the other guests, taking in their companions, their activities.
Sirra looked up at the massive creature, picking out stray thoughts as it eased down toward her level. Attire aside, she was reminded distinctly of the Gundarks which had prowled the tunnels of her old home or certain predators that had claimed territory during her time on Kona'li Isle. Yet unlike either there wasn’t a volcanic surge barely of suppressed hostility or instinct to constantly hunt and kill for dominance. Even with a maw filled with fangs the length of her forearm, Sirra could tell the Rancor was making a genuine effort to be friendly.
“Pleased to meet you,” Sirra pulsed as she bridged their thoughts, breaking her promise yet again but feeling a telepathic message would go further than any spoken one. Unsure of what else to add she followed it up with a short “I like your dress.”
“Ah, Sofila and Cole, a wonderful couple indeed. I’m sure I saw your brooding patriarch meandering around here somewhere, likely working as a bodyguard for the Empress again.” The man said with a soft lilt to his voice, his gaze turning to the small woman who had pulled herself to his side.
“Ah, Sonyo, I hadn’t expected you yet. I’m just familiarizing myself with Wulfram’s errant daughter and her partner. It seems we arrived in time to catch the brief Rancor Ballet, at least.” He chuckled.
“Apologies, if my sudden appearance caught the pair of you off guard. I guess Fortune has rubbed off on me more than I had noticed, I tend to slip into more and more placed unnoticed and unheard until I want to be seen, just like him.” The Jedi commented as he pointed his scepter towards the high branches of a large tree in the center of the courtyard where a massive Stroilk lay curled, watching the various partygoers.
-# <@432543120635461643> <@216702440140046336> <@264959101384130560>
“You’re no bother.” Cole replied, opting to not confirm or deny being caught off guard.
“It’s a beautiful event. We’re grateful to be invited.”