Entertainment District Eos City, Arx
Diplomacy rule number five: Establish good rapport with foreign and allied delegates. An expectation of accepting and/or giving invitations to an event or activity after a meeting falls within these grounds.
It was textbook etiquette and a desired achievement after several hours of political debriefing, lectures and, essentially, networking for Clan Arcona’s Diplomatic Relations and Embassy Services. Being invited to watch a fight club, as Eel'elzabet'thi referred to it, was a less than usual social event on the docket but certainly within the realm of possibility. A change from the typical small talk and drinks. One that reminded him of watching a few barely legal matches with his peers while on break from the academy when he was younger.
An expectation of good, entertainment and talking under the din of cheers and hollering.
Kis'lui Eevux stepped out of the Astral-8 landspeeder with a nod of gratitude to the pilot who had stepped out to stand beside the open hatch. The Pantoran then, with a quick fix of his beige waistcoat’s sleeve cuffs, turned and offered his hand out for his colleague. A cerulean hand took his azure-grey one as the Chiss woman stepped out of the transport, mindful enough of ensuring her dress did not catch on the lip of the frame. She was followed by a relatively short and stout human, who flashed them both a grin as he started guiding them towards the flashy entrance of the theater apparently commandeered for this event.
“Once again, I am honored that you have agreed to accompany me to watch the competition. I have no doubts that you will find it quite entertaining,” Raymoth Ivancort promised, their host’s friendly charm and airs shining through. .
“What sort of martial competition are they running tonight? Corellian Kickboxing? Mixed Martial Arts?” Kis'lui asked as he received his and Eel'elzabet'thi’s identification card back from security before the trio pressed into the building.
“Oh, it is a special event, quite a treat and lucky that it is occurring when you are in Eos,” Ivancort uttered, his slicked back dark hair catching the glowing lights ringing the interior of the venue. His grin grew, “It is a pillow fight tournament, with the best the Brotherhood has to offer!”
Kis'lui paused and nearly halted in his step. He caught himself before his open mouth response was noted by the Brotherhood aid. Yet, the Pantoran shot a questioning look to his associate, internally hoping this was not one of those events.
Cheers erupted out of the several archways leading into the above levels of the theater. Rows of seating ringed around the large octagon-shaped room, descending steadily till the last rows sat a couple metes above the stage floor at its center. The stage had been requisitioned and transformed into an arena. Padded cables outlined the boundary of the fight ring, and a couple piles of pillows of various sizes and firmness laid outside the confines.
As the trio secured their seats on one of the less crowded balcony boxes overlooking the action, the raucous hype of the growing crowd was bisected by several shrill whistles and the crackling of a comm speaker – hinting the coming appearance of the event’s Master of Ceremonies. What few overhead lights illuminated the place turned off, only to be swiftly replaced by colored hues of red, green, and blue from spotlights above. The walkways and banisters were illuminated by thin ropes of neon light, safety reasons surely. .
“Greetings and salutations, Eos City! It is I, Ceare'sa, the one and most fabulously here to bring to you the Arx Wrestling Pillow Fight Tournament!”
Kis'lui grimaced only slightly as the decimal volume elevated among the patrons. After another scan around the theater, he sat back and focused on the flamboyantly dressed Master of Ceremonies circling the ring. The androgynous Twi'lek paused in perfect timing to drive up the hype like stoking flames, clearly well skilled in showmanship.
“I hope you are prepared for a night of heated, gripping action!” Another pause as the din drowned out the speaker. They grinned and gestured for attention once more. “That’s what I want to hear! Before we start, we need your help. A team had unfortunately dropped out of the running. We are looking for two volunteers to take their place. So, what say you?!”
“‘Heated, gripping action’?” The Chiss diplomatic aide leaned in towards her assistant, muttering the phrase with a conspiratorial air. “Maybe we should volunteer…”
The Pantoran’s sharp gaze drew laughter from both the Chiss and their host. “We’re not exactly dressed for that-”
“I haven’t seen a woman win the event in all my years attending,” Ivancort interrupted, drawing Elizabet’s focus away from Kis'lui. Any protesting glare or remark was ignored, her interest piqued with her desire for a challenge.
“Really? How many events have you been to?” she asked as she tilted her head to the side, observing their host.
“None that have had a woman win, at least. Several.” Ivancort adjusted in his seat. Though Kis'lui could detect a trace of a lie, Elizabet was not as keen on reading body language. He was backpedaling, greatly exaggerating how many of these events he’s been to.
“Care to wager on that?” Elizabet asked, a determination in her crimson eyes.
“On what?” Ivancort appeared a bit unsettled, as if uncertain what he was getting into.
“A woman winning.”
“Sure, but I-”
“Here! I volunteer!” The Chiss’s hand shot up with others as the Master of Ceremonies called out again. She grabbed Kis'lui by the upper arm to pull him up with her. “And you’ll be my second.”
“I, what, wait–” Kis'lui started to protest as her hand, and the whole situation, caught him off guard. Yoinked onto his feet, he caught the banister to steady himself before turning to face her, his voice low and somewhat insistent. “Eel'elzabet'thi, I do not think this is a good idea–”
His sudden cutoff drew a glance from her in time to see her Pantoran assistant pinch his brow and sigh. The next second he raised his hand up beside her and stepped closer, better to signal their intent to join this jointly. Noticing her glance, he commented simply in resignation yet assuredly, “Better I go with than let you be paired with a stranger. It could hinder your success.”
The orange skinned Twi'lek below circled the arena, scanning the crowd. Their eyes caught the pair high above in the balcony box. They stopped with a smile and a fleeting look of eagerness. Kis'lui almost swore there was a bit of recognition, but knew logically that wasn’t so. It was more likely a product of their seats’ location and the correlation of their elevation with an elevation of status. He groaned internally and hoped they were not about to be made a spectacle.
“There we have it! Ladies and gentlemen, our volunteer duo!” A spotlight locked onto the two diplomats as Ceare'sa threw their arm out towards them. “Come on down, and we’ll see them in the ring later! Now, who’s ready for action?!” .
Cheering erupted through the theater at the same time as a tournament staff had arrived to guide the newest team on the block down and backstage. Ivancort gave them a cheer of encouragement and a wish of luck with a smile that betrayed his mirth at the result of his goading. Kis'lui simply nodded in return before holding up the rear beside Elizabet.
He reserved half of his attention to assessing the various people lingering in the belly of the theater once down below. There were the obvious crew members and staff that were needed to make an event of this scale function of course. The pairs with matching attire idled among them and were undeniably the contestants – and now their possible opponents. Dressed in casual formal, Liz and himself weren’t exactly prepared for a team fighting competition.
“Hey, Vinn, here’s the latecomers for you,” the staff leading them announced, bringing them to a halt beside a Blarina.
“Oh joy. Right, speed running the rules, so pay attention,” Vinn said, her pudgy snout twitching with barely a glance above her datapad. “Matches are tag team and in a structured format of three ninety-second rounds, for a total of four-point-five minutes of fighting. You got a minute break between each, and third round both of you can fight together in. Whoever hits the most head strikes in the rounds, wins. No hitting with any part of your body. No weapons either, only pillow. Got it?”
They both uttered an affirmative under the brief yet sharp gaze of the diminutive figure.
“Good. Now, names? Team name?”
“Kis’lui Eevux,” the Pantoran answered. He paused and looked to Elizabet, completely lost on team name ideas and the ludicrousness of it all.
“Eel'elzabet'thi,” the Chiss added, giving her full name. Though when the Blarina gave her a raised brow, she gave her core name of Elizabet. “Team name… Hmm…”
Her pause made Vinn’s brow twitch. “Don’t think on it too hard. We don’t have time. This event is live, remember?”
Elizabet looked between her and Kis'lui, her mind stuttering as she tried to think of a name—any name, really. Her mind was drawing a blank. Something academic? Some pun? Then it came to her.
“Blue Dream,” she said with a bright smile. That smile faltered when the Blarina did not quite mirror her enthusiasm.
“Blue. Dream.” Everything was typed into the datapad with a passive air. “Got it. Right. Now, don’t go far. Matches start as soon as the MC has had their bit. I’m not waiting around because you got lost looking for the ‘fresher. Places, everyone! Last call!” They turned and ambled down the hall, checking in with the other contestants as they went.
Elizabet looked to Kis'lui, excitement gleaming in her crimson eyes. “I’ve never done anything like this,” she said as she glanced at the other contestants. Some, she thought, she could take on. Though others…
A large Dashade grunted as their gazes met. Clearly, he had been sizing them up as well. Elizabet doubted she could fit her hands around his bicep. “Good luck,” he scoffed as he crossed his arms over his barrel chest and turned his gaze away from them.
“Never had a pillow fight with your…girlfriends…” Kis'lui trailed off. It was partly because he recalled her childhood was most likely as rigid and studious as his own, and due to his gaze having followed hers. “I pray to whatever forces in the galaxy that we don’t have to spar against that one.”
An exhale escaped him and he fixed his coat sleeves for the tenth time. Kis'lui leaned to Elizabet at his side. “I believe it would be best if I took the first round.”
It wasn’t a suggestion.
“Fine by me,” Elizabet replied curtly. “Just don’t fumble the first round, yes? And… no. Not much one for games. We… studied.” Kis'lui would likely read into the hesitation there, but that was no care of hers. In truth, she had not had a pillow fight with anyone. She imagined the concept should be simple enough to grasp, however. At least, the rules seemed simple enough.
“Did you have a pillow fight with your boyfriends?” she asked with a teasing air, shifting the conversation away from herself.
“Boyfriends?” The Pantoran blinked, his brain faltering for half a second. “The closest to a pillow fight was throwing one at a dorm mate at the academy when he was being a right cheeky–”
“Blue Dream, yer up,” Vinn intoned with but a gesture towards the double doors leading to the theater’s floor. With a glance at each other, the pair of diplomats set out into the blinding lights of the arena.
“That was one intense match! Congrats to the Night Warriors for their victory. Now!” Ceare'sa pivoted in the ring, their orange lekku swishing with the movement that accented the attention pull of their words. A hand gestured towards the blue-skinned duo still adjusting their eyes, “Blue Dreams is vying to challenge The Blood Thrashers! Teams send in your first combatant.”
“Blood Thrashers. They sound pleasant,” Kis'lui uttered with sarcasm as he finished unbuttoning his jacket. He removed, folded and draped it over the cables before slipping into the arena. He turned back and accepted the pillow from Eel'elzabet'thi.
“Don’t fumble this. Good luck,” the Chiss reminded teasingly, a smile betraying her excitement.
Kis'lui chuffed and turned around to face his soon to be for the next ninety seconds–
“–by the arctic maiden no…”
His native tongue escaped him as he came face to chest with a broad, muscled individual. His gaze raised and raised until it landed on a recognizable figure from backstage. The Dashade. Fantastic. Kis'lui coughed as he clasped the giant mitt of a hand that could crush his head in a handshake. .
“The Towering, the Formidable. Kleetus!” The Master of Ceremonies introduces after waving the two combatants back to their respective sides of the ring. Kis'lui bounced on the balls of his feet lightly while he rolled up his white sleeves, steadying his nerves. “**Versus: The Noble, the Honorable. Kis'lui! Begin!*”
As the Twi'lek vaulted out of the ring, the two fighter surged forward. Kleetus winded back his arm and swung. Kis'lui ducked beneath it easily, the Dashade’s slower movement telegraphed. He was beginning to think holding out for ninety seconds wouldn’t be so unachievable.
Then the backswing struck.