Open Social Serenno Snowfall

[Bir Vuul]

Bir stood tentatively beyond the table, watching as Lord Raze’s disposition shifted from fire and rage to an almost eerie serenity considering he had only just flung Xeno off a balcony that was dozens of meters away. A balcony that he could well soon cross the railing of, descending the massive mountain that Castle Wessex had been perched upon. Silently he cursed any and all noble families and their desire to perch themselves above the common folk, both literally and figuratively.

Raze’s request caught Bir off guard, the Kel Dor’s eyes opening wide behind his goggles. Mere moments ago he had been specifically instructed to not touch the plates of the Sith Lord. Now he was instructed to do just the opposite, the owner’s volatile and unpredictable behavior certainly contributing to the uneasiness he now felt. Gulping his anxieties back, Bir would comply. Careful to move around the table so as to remain behind the Darth, a shaky hand would reach past the half-Sephi’s hip to gently move the chest piece aside. Instead, he would start with the foot covers. After all, feet seemed to be of great importance to the behemoth of a man.

Bir and his Master long past had a common interest in things of old but nothing quite so old as the suit of armour that Raze had selected for his evening attire. His hands were too shaky to perform such a delicate task, however. He knew mistakes would be made if he took a physical approach so instead, the Acolyte opted for a different route. Kneeling behind Raze on both knees, his bare feet pointing back and away from him, Bir closed his eyes and began to meditate much the same as when he had constructed either of his lightsabers. The pieces of armour would begin to levitate and circle around both men, the space surrounding them cleared away from the disturbance that Xeno had sparked.

He envisioned a suit of armour he had once admired as a boy, similar in assembly but vastly different in appearance. He would need to focus. Desperately. Clearing his mind as best he could, he began to picture the pieces clicking together. Each piece of the armour, from bottom up, would begin to slip into place. Belts cinched. Clips snapped. The Acolyte was cautious to not tighten them too much, knowing that even slight discomfort could spark another violent burst from his Lord.

Finally, as the right pauldron slipped into place, Bir opened his eyes to see he had missed two critical pieces. The red cape and the ornate left pauldron. Taking a deep breath, he then stood and lifted the cape, draping it around Raze and securing it with the golden brooch before retrieving the final pauldron. Setting it gingerly against Raze’s shoulder, he now opted to finish the task by hand. Locating a clip on the back portion, he would snap it into place but it still wiggled as he pulled his hand back which only could mean there was a second clip. One at the front. One directly in Raze’s line of sight.

No longer could Bir breath, his heart racing. Still, he could not simply walk away. Taking soft and ginger steps before the Darth, he would locate the clip and begin to piece it together. His eyes, however, turned towards the helmet visor. He could not see the man’s eyes, where his attention lay. Fingers fumbling, Bir quickly proceeded to focus and snapped the final clip into place before immediately dropping to his knees, head bowed and feet behind him once more.

”Does… How does it feel, Lord? Good? Yes? Snug? Yes? Such beautiful armour, it is. Yes. Yes…” His final words trailed off, unsure of what was to follow.

@Sreeya

Spoiler

 

[Prissca Kersin]

It certainly was a strange sensation, dancing much less grinding with someone of such higher status than herself. A member of the Sith Council, no less. At least she had the benefit of knowing he wasn't interested in her in that way – a way that could be considered inappropriate for the noblewoman. No, Darth Stolas was simply teaching her a dance, showing her the steps, and offering her a great honor in doing so. That knowledge alone let her relax enough to sink into the beat of the song, letting more of her weight rock back against him as she lifted her pale tattooed arms and started moving more of her own accord. Still, the strength of the Firrerreo's nimble fingertips on her waist was undeniable, and in sharp contrast to how smooth and well-manicured they were. She would've expected such fingers from a man who'd worked the fields his whole life, not from a man as well-dressed and sophisticated as this one.

Intriguing.

“There are indeed, my Lord.” She replied to his comment on the plethora of dances available to the galaxy. He wasn't wrong. But when he spun her around and began going through the steps of a dance she was much more accustomed to, Prissca grinned in palpable delight – until she remembered the dress she wore was not suitable for a tango. She knew she should have worn the mauve floor-length gown with the slit! She knew that there would be dancing tonight! What a foolish, stupid choice to better show off her bosom and rear in this form-hugging dress rather than a more comfortable one! This was her divine punishment. It had to be.

“Why yes, yes I do.” She agreed when he asked if she preferred it, her hips already moving and twisting in those characteristic, sensual movements of the dance. She couldn't pull off any of the moves that required her to spread her knees further than eight or so inches apart, but she would easily twist and kick up her heels on the turn when he pushed her away, dancing now on the balls of her feet and leaning into him when he pulled her close. When he pushed her into a dip, she'd bend into it without resistance, though her restricted legs meant it would look a bit more awkward to those looking on than it actually felt. Her arms would encircle him, sliding along his arms as they moved away and back again, her pale green eyes staring deeply into the burning gold of his own as he brought them together again and rested a finger beneath her chin. A genuine smile touched her lips. It was a shame the song ended so soon. She was just starting to have fun. “You certainly are full of surprises, my Lord.”

When he stepped away, she couldn't help but chuckle at his comment, her head tilting forward in a bow of respect as her right leg slid behind her for a proper curtsy. “A shame, but one that cannot be mended.” She agreed. “The pleasure was all mine. You have given me the experience of a lifetime. Thank you, Darth Stolas.” She added, one hand lifting to tuck some unruly hair behind her ear. Her heart was pounding. It'd been a long time since she danced like that.

A shame indeed.

Following the Darth to the bar, she'd offer a nod of acknowledgment to Jaikus as he spoke of them, fully prepared to properly introduce herself when one of the servants quickly made their way over to her and offered her a whiskey on a serving tray. The woman spoke softly to her, then quickly went about her way now that her task had been fulfilled, leaving Prissca to wonder who it was that wanted to speak with her outside. Strange.

“Please excuse me. I will be right back.” She announced her departure to the group at the bar, turning to head toward the nearby balcony. She wasn't the first nor the last to head outside for some fresh air, but she may have been the first to step aside just in time for a blur of a Zabrak to fly past her, out the doors, and over the side of the balcony to the trees and snow below.

Prissca took a loooooong sip from her whiskey. Sith will be Sith after all.

@Mr. Teatime @Sreeya @Scoobert @Rhogar @Altaris

 

[Malou D'Amaris]

Malou was a bit surprised as Jackson halted his spin, pulling her towards him when she expected the opposite. She ended up facing the acolyte just as he proposed they attempt to mix the styles. A smile slipped onto her lips, the only part of her face truly visible. She didn't respond, but would indeed continue to dance with Jackson, a bit more relaxed. This did not last long.

Though her attention grew more and more focused on what was going on in her immediate surroundings, Raze's sudden change of direction toward Bir and the armor did not escape her. Her demeanor suddenly changed, growing stiff in Jackson's arms as Raze looked down on the Kell Dor they'd left to watch over the pieces. For a moment, she thought that perhaps nothing would go wrong. That did not last long.

Xeno appeared, dressed again in clothing that did not belong to him. He spoke with Raze, saying words Malou could not hear. Whatever he said must have been incredibly offensive to the Sith Lord. Before Malou could think, Oh shit, she watched as the Force coiled around Xeno's neck and lifted him in the air. He was flung like a ragdoll off the balcony. Malou followed his body as he descended, as he crashed into the pines which surrounded the Serenno castle. She did not follow past the trees, not wishing to see how his body contorted when he hit the ground. The acolyte had stopped dancing completely, frozen in place as she processed what had just happened.

Fear was not the first emotion Malou felt. Perhaps it was the shock from the absurdity of the situation, but nothing but pure confusion existed in her. A nearby whisper caught her ear, a servant relaying the events to another in shock. It was then that Malou felt the heavy weight of fear invade her. Over shoes? Over... A poorly worded reply? Backtalk? Surely not. Would that had happened to Bir regardless, even if Xeno would not have interjected? Would it had happened to her or Jackson if the two had not moved off to enjoy a dance? Would the servant, had his burrito not been an issue, been sent to test whether or not he had wings? Could that have been her, body broken under the snowy pines of Serenno?

Malou swallowed hard, and with it went the fear. It was replaced with a immense sense of dissatisfaction and a growing pool of anger. She'd traded one tyrant for another; her father's unchallengeable word for the petty anger of a Sith Lord. She didn't want to walk on egg shells with different people in different places. She didn't want any of this! The freedom, that's what she sought when she wrote to her master, asking that he took her under his wing. The freedom to pursue something innately woven into her very being. The freedom to learn, and thrive, and grow powerful without needing to rely on her father. That's what she wanted, but here she was, witnessing a man being defenestrated over mismatched clothes and a snarky response.

Malou was still facing Jackson, her hands still in his, as these thoughts ran through her head. Her body was tense, and as anger broiled inside her, her fingers began to dig into his. It was a few seconds before she realized, and a moment more before she let go, mumbling a quiet apology. "Sorry..."

Though her emotional state might be obvious to her dance partner from her actions, her face remained a practiced, neutral expression. She stepped back from Jackson and turned away, pausing only for a moment to excuse herself. "Thank you for the dance." She left mid-song, pushed her way through the dancefloor, and headed way from Jackson, Raze, Bir, and far away whichever direction the balcony of Raze's choice had been. Unlike many of the other guests at the party, Malou had the advantage of knowing where things were in the castle. The burgundy satin of her dress trailed behind her as she very intently made her way out of the ballroom, rounded a corner or two, and burst out into the cold Serenno night. Alone in the chilly balcony, she dug her hands into the railing which separated her and the drop down to the forest below. The same forest where Xeno laid, either dead or unconscious, lying broken in the snow. It made her angry. She was still angry. Angry that there was nothing she could do in a situation like this. Xeno wasn't...pleasant, but would she have tossed him off a cliff for it? No. She didn't even plan to do anything to the servant, despite her anger with him. Why is it that no matter WHERE I go, no matter WHAT I do, there's always SOMEONE who... who... Malou was grasping at a feeling she couldn't quite place. It was an angry, hostile, vile...

Hate.​

There was always someone who made her feel weak and she hated it. She hated her father for making her feel worthless, for making her feel helpless under his iron authority. She hated Raze for just being able to defenestrate someone and remain unchallenged. She hated that it struck fear into her. She hated that it could have been her.

Bir... She did not feel guilty for leaving him to watch the armor table. It wasn't my fault Raze happened to appear as soon as we left. It was unfortunate timing, though she did hope he would not suffer Xeno's fate. Malou had left before Bir had been instructed to suit Raze, and did not know his fate. Any guilt she might feel for his unfortunate situation was replaced by her anger with the sheer audacity of Sith Lord. And yet... that was the privilege of a Sith Lord, was it not?

Malou's breath formed clouds as she continued to fume, though her anger was being to dissipate. That is the privilege of a Sith Lord, isn't it? To just... Why was she even so angry? Who was she so angry at? Him? Her father? Or me? It was no one's fault but her own that she felt weak. It was no one's fault other than her own that she was weak. She ran her hand under the blindfold that covered her eyes, pushing the silk fabric up so that the wind could cool her warm skin. Power. Malou opened her eyes and gazed out into the landscape before her. It was blurry, but she could still define the trees, the far mountain line, and the horizon. Power is the privilege of the Sith Lords.

She was still angry, but her anger had cooled off enough that she could relax her tense stance. She only had herself to blame; she only had herself to better. If she did not wish to feel weak and helpless in the presence of those around her, then she would have to change. The Sith had given her the freedom she sought, she just had to take it.

Malou reached up and pulled her blindfold back over her eyes, but remained on the secluded balcony. She could've returned her gaze to the party to see what else Bir would endure, what Jackson was now doing, or even to see if Xeno was still breathing. But she didn't. She studied the colorless details of the landscape before her, only watching the closed glass doors behind her.

She would return to the party later.

tags: @Rhogar @Tulos @Sreeya @Scoobert
wc: 1,248

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan briefly considered the taste of muja fruit before his eyes turned to Renfry. After a second his grin widened and his eyes slightly narrowed, an impish energy manifesting behind them. Even if they weren't the very closest of friends it was a look the Nightsister should recognize from as far back as their very first meeting. The Firrerreo did like his little games, after all.

"Wallflower likes to fly high and play with fiery things," he commented with a general air of light-hearted amusement as his line of sight turned next to Jaikus one more when he spoke. "I'm sure he'll try to dance sly in turn." A brow rose up, golden eyes glinting flint-like and sharp as the marauder spoke of a dance with someone else. The Firrerreo was more relaxed but his moods shifted quickly as liquid, and Jaikus had already experienced a moment of livid.

"Best not to soar so boldly high even with the broadest wings," Stolas informed the Marauder as he stood from his seat. Just as before he would have the sudden and intense impression of being closely watched, stared at and through, by a pair of great burning eyes. The Force moved as he spoke to gather around the be-vested man as he approached Deva, his voice transmitting to Jaikus even across the distance. Dark power collected in the air around him, on his clothes, wrapping around his limbs and neck like the the iron chains of Hell sent to suffocate the man in an ocean of purest dread. "Or else, the bold might burn."

That moment passed and his influence vanished as Morgan was abruptly distracted by a shoeless Zabrak in an ill-fitting suit careening across his field of vision, tumbling through the air, and flying bodily out and over the balcony railing. Much of the room fell to dead silence and turned to find the source. Golden eyes widened and blinked a couple times, then his brows furrowed and tracked back along the path to find the origin as well. Raze was spotted in the distance with a rather cowed looking Bir starting to shakily put the half-Sephi's armour back on piece by piece.

None of this reduced the bemusement that showed clearly on Morgan's face or explained much of anything but he assumed his boyfriend had a reason as he always did. Had the Zabrak been touching stuff he shouldn't be touching, said something foolish? Was he alive or dead and, importantly, why wasn't he wearing shoes? He drank of his strong spiced wine and watched the Kel'dor work at the many composite plates and straps. What had Morgan been doing again?

Oh right. He remembered as his eyes wandered back to the dance floor with the two Marauders who had danced with Raze moved to the music. Stolas quietly clicked his tongue and and tip-tapped slim fingers on his glass. "Does Castle Wessex have a dungeon, Lord Wessex?"

@Altaris @Phoenix @Braden Drake

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Raze stood perfectly still as the acolyte fastened the plates of armor and various pieces. The straps were tightened and adjusted to his frame. The Sith Lord didn’t move a muscle, staring ahead as Bir knelt behind him and adjusted the various plates along his legs. Bit by bit, the Sith Lord transformed back into the regal attire he wore when he first strode into the party.

When Bir rose and came around to the front to notice what he missed, Raze gave no indication that he noticed either way. For all intents and purposes he was no different than the empty suits of armor that adorned the chambers, completely inert and poised as a statue.

Silver gaze stared directly ahead as the Kel Dor looked at his visor, the man not quite tall enough to make eye contact with the Sith Lord. Raze could practically smell the fear from the acolyte, his presence in the Force faltering and betraying the raw fear he felt. It all clashed against the icy and unwavering walls Raze had around himself at all times.

Agonizing seconds passed after Bir stepped back and stammered his words. He hadn’t been dismissed but Raze also gave no feedback. For those painful moments Bir was left to contemplate and question everything he had done to find himself here and now. He was left to wonder and dwell on what would happen next. He was left stewing in his own mind and fears without respite.

To make matters worse, Raze finally moved. And when he did, it was to raise a gloved hand to reattach the red cape, not quite satisfied with where Bir had placed it. The small gesture was completed agonizingly slow, fingers readjusting how it was draped and clasped. The visor was trained ahead the entire time with no way to tell what the Sith Lord was thinking.

After another few moments, what felt like a lifetime, the modulated voice finally spoke.

“That will be all, acolyte,” It said nonchalantly before Raze’s empty glass was placed in the Kel Dor’s hand. Without another word, the Sith Lord strode directly past the man and onwards without a second glance.

By then he was walking to another section of the hall and paused when he saw a familiar face. His surprise at who it was was quickly eclipsed by the fact that the man was wearing a suit. The Sith Lord started walking again, crossing his arms over his chest as he came to stand before the man.

“Asminys,” The mechanized voice almost drawled, “You somehow appear to be shorter than the last time I saw you.”

---​

Meanwhile, moments after Bir was left standing after his traumatic encounter, he was quickly approached by a castle servant. This man had a tray of snacks to offer, holding it up to the Kel Dor’s face.

“Good evening, sir!” The man chirped giddily, “Can I interest you in these fun sized burritos?”

Truth be told, he only had one taker so far. That had been the other servant Bartholomew. Speaking of which, where was he? It was almost time for him to switch shifts...

@Tulos @Arclight

 

[Mr Ekko]

For fleeting moments the party had become something more than Jackson had ever thought he'd experience. He didn't get invited to parties like these, and now that he did, he didn't think he would have had the fun he was having. And the best part? His dance partner. She seemed much less severe than those they were surrounded by, perhaps a gift of their youth. She would go from stiff, to relaxed.. and her smile.

He was very careful to mind his hand placements, his steps, his distance. Then suddenly, she got stiff again. No words, no external face, just the shift. A visible shift in her posture, in the way she felt in the Force. Stiffness would turn to visible tension and then suddenly, she would stop altogether. "Malou, you alright?" He'd ask, the shift making him worry about the other Acolyte. Then her fingers would dig into his. Thankfully, it didn't hurt enough to warrant a reaction, but he was a bit surprised, nay, worried. This didn't seem like her. And he couldn't tell what it was that had affected her so.

"Sorry..."

"Oh, heh, no worries. Gotta try harder to hurt my hand." He'd say lightly with a laugh. The benefit of a dark room, loud music, and a hyperfocused mind meant that he heard maybe the slightest bump but thought nothing of it. Maybe it was a broken glass or something benign. It would never occur to the young man that a recently promoted Marauder could be broken over a mismatched outfit.

"Thank you for the dance." That near-perfect night would suddenly crumble as Malou stepped away and disappeared.

Confused, and hoping it was something he could fix, Jackson would step after her, weaving through other guests, a good deal of them swarming an open balcony. There were mumblings. As he hadn't seen Xeno arrive or... depart, he just saw the same scene as before: Raze with Bir. They seemed to be doing well enough. As Malou weaved her way through the castle, Jackson would hang back a bit, trying to gauge whether he should check on her or not. After a few moments, he felt he had already been too invested.

So, after allowing her to vent or relax on the balcony for a few moments, he'd knock on the wall. "Hey, everything okay? You kind of just went all rigid and stormed off. Wanted to see if I could help fix it, yeah?" He'd ask, a little nervous. He was still new with the Sith, unknowing of what any of them were capable of. So he had hoped that him showing up to console her or comfort her, wouldn't get him thrown of the balcony and make him, in his mind, the first victim of such an act. "I forgot to grab a drink or snacks, so forgive my lack of tribute." he'd add with a playful smile.

@lizziie

 

[Renfry]

Nothing makes you feel more alive than danger, she responded to Jaikus's (@Altaris) question. It was something that had certainly characterized her in her younger years, and there was still a heavy element of it that clung to her today. Yes, she remembered that feeling all too well.

As Morgan (@Mr. Teatime) took in her comments, she recognized the look in his eye very well. It was the same gaze she had often found infuriating and confusing when they had first met on Dathomir. She had misread a lot at that time, and while reading others still wasn't her skill as it was for some others, she didn't know at least a sliver of what was going on behind those eyes.

I'm sure if he flies to high, you'll clip his wings, she said after Jaikus had stepped away, not hearing the words that Morgan would leave in the man's mind but sensing the shift in energy around the man on the dance floor.

She took her leave of those at the bar and headed toward one of the servants who was carrying around some chocolatey deserts. It looked like some sort of Serenno truffles and rather than walk up and take one, she took the entire tray off the hands of the servant.

I'll take these, thank you, she said, walking off before the man could say anything and leaving them with a look of confusion and surprise before scampering off to get another tray and look busy.

Renfry carried the tray out to Tiamat on the balcony and set it down on the railing. Have a truffle, she said, having evidently brought the tray out for the two women to share.

Did you see where he landed? she asked, not being able to resist looking over the edge to see if she could spot the red body down there somewhere.

@GABA

 

[Asminys]

Darth Asminys stood there awkwardly next to the door for a long moment after exiting the turbolift. He itched awkwardly in the unfamiliar garb as his eyes scanned the room, looking for threats and finding one walking right towards him. Darth Raze. Asminys eyes narrowed ever so slightly as they locked with the cold emotionless visor. Raze was wearing a new set of armor compared to what he had warn to the last party which had seemed an old relic that reeked of the cold and distant past.

His new cladding was of a matching set, carrying that similar icy carrion stench to Asminys keen senses, an ancient shadow of the dead past draped over the Sith Lord's form. In this Darth Raze Asminys could sense nothing of Emryc Thorne, a thought that gave him pause for a moment before it was shut out by a surge of rage that bubbled out from a crack in his psyche. An agonizing anger that drowned the thoughts of Emryc from the past, shredding them in his mind before they could form. His left eye winced slightly as his mind turned to an only slightly less painful train of thought.

The mechanical stilts on which he was now forced to walk on.

"Raze..." He would sneer as he grasped for some witty retort to their ever widening height disparity. He couldn't help but burn at the idea that he had indeed been given prosthetic legs that were sized too short. He would have to check his height at a later date. And then he would meditate on the new sensation of hate that had come upon him. Later.

"Which dead Sith are you wearing for tonight's party?" Asminys would ask, pivoting the conversation away from any mention of height. He cocked his head as his eyes wandered down the pieces of the armor, judging the individual plates strengths and identifying weak points as a force of habit. His senses likewise examined the Sith's aura to find an impenetrable icy fortress, frozen walls that prickled sharply with the Darkside.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Tiamat]

She was slowly working her way through the bottle, it wasn't taking too much to make herself feel a bit detached and tipsy once more. The cool air certainly was helping her feel more relaxed, she could at least have calmer thoughts, ones that do not involve lighting the entire castle on fire. Gently, she filled up her glass and she would feel Renfry's presence as she approached; Tiamat would have preferred to remain alone, but if anyone would be able to approach without rattling up too much, she guessed the Dathomirian Queen would be on the top of the list.

Her blue eyes followed the tray as she set it on the railing and the Force stirred as she floated a piece of chocolate to herself, popping the sweet in her mouth and savoring. Renfry asked if she had seen where someone landed, and she assumed clearly it was the red sith that was sligshot out of the party. The redhead nodded, "He's about a hundred meters out." she stated and took a sip of her wine.

Tiamat stood in silence for a moment as she helped herself to another truffle, ensuring she enjoyed it thoroughly before she spoke again. There was a silence for a long moment before she finally did say something. "I hate parties and I hate everyone inside." she explained.

@Phoenix

 

[Renfry]

Renfry peered over the edge again but still didn't spot the body of the red Sith down below.

Hundred meters out means Art probably doesn't have to clean up the body, she said, tilting her head back and forth as if in thought. Landing down the hill and that far away meant that he could probably be tended to by the wild animals, and suddenly she was wondering what the wildlife of Serenno was like. The smell wouldn't likely make it this far, plus it was cold.

Speaking of cold, it was cold. She reached up to wrap her hand around her arm and began rubbing her upper arms to keep warm.

Ugh, it's freezing out here, she grumbled, grumpily shoving a truffle in her mouth.

As soon as she did, Tia went on to say that she hated parties and hated everyone inside. Renfry gave her a look that very blatantly said "reaaaaaally?"

Dwooo yooooou? was how it came out with the truffle shoved in her mouth. She chomped down on it several more times and swallowed before glancing back inside.

What? You didn't have fun dancing with shorty? she asked, having no idea what had happened with the woman that Tia had been dancing with. She knew Tia didn't hate Emryc, but that could wait for the moment.

@GABA

 

[Emryc Thorne]

The near tangible hatred that seeped from Asminys at his mere presence brought him glee. The Sith Lord kept his arms crossed, Asminys having known him long enough to know when there was a grin even behind the helmet. He knew it would only bother the man more, and he purposely stood there with head tilted just the slightest bit just as he would remember.

“You wouldn’t know him,” The modulated voice stated dryly after a moment. It was no secret that the shorter Sith Lord was entirely uncultured and unlearned when it came to history. Raze's gaze remained on Asminys as he snatched a drink off a passing by tray.

“I wore it when I married your sister,” Raze stated flatly, “You like it?”

@Arclight

 

[Lucifer Starck]

What a shit show. Some Zabrak thought he was hot shit and could stand up to the Sith Lord Darth Raze and make it out alive? Some chump he was. Got thrown out faster than one could say 'fast.' Were all socials like this? Guess Lucifer would have to come more often to find that out. Trying to ignore the fact a Zabrak became a lawn dart, he would drink his wine and avoid eye contact with Darth Raze.

"Idiot"

It was a quiet mumble under his breath for the sake of no one hearing him. Turning his attention to the balcony he noticed that a lovely looking woman was stepping outside. Maybe that was where he needed to be. Then again there were other beautiful women here, but they had the power to turn the half blood into a kabab with ease. An introduction should suffice with them at the very least.

Taking a look around the room he noticed two Sith Lords speaking amongst themselves. Both of which were beautiful and Lucifer wanted to make his way over to them as they had been next to the balcony, where they had a good view of the dumbass that stepped to Darth Raze. Nerves filled Lucifer's body at first, but with a couple drinks he would be able to calm them down and make his way over.

"Good evening, M'ladys."

Sticking his hand out he would offer a common greeting when speaking to a Lady. At least that was how he was raised to greet a lady.

"Lucifer Starck at your service."

@Phoenix @GABA

 

[Sah'ra Ryun]

Serenno. Castle Wessex. Sah’ra had never considered attending such a gathering before, albeit her studies on Teth had kept her preoccupied for the past few years. It was this solitude, with no company other than her brother, that had driven the young woman to this particular gathering. There was little to be gained in seclusion, whereas so much could be learned from the other members of the Order. She needed to start somewhere as she had found her search to have hit a metaphorical brick wall.

As the speeder that carried both Sah’ra and Tren descended to the platform, Sah’ra collected her small handbag and unclipped the seat belt before looking to Tren at the wheel.

”I trust you can keep yourself entertained and out of trouble for the night, brother?” Sah’ra queried as she reached inside the bag to remove her tube of lipstick, casually shooting Tren a side glance. The man remained silent, merely nodding in response. Of course, his facial expression told her how much disdain he felt for leaving her here alone. ”Relax, would you? It’s a party, not a sacrifice ritual,” As she spoke, a sinister curl to the edges of her lips would form though it warranted a cold glare from Tren. Offering him a soft chuckle, Sah’ra leaned across the console and gave her brother a peck on his cheek before rising from her seat. ”Be safe, brother. I shall see you shortly,”

Soft flakes of snow descended through the night sky as Sah’ra approached the castle’s archway entrance, speckling her hair and shoulders in stark contrast to her tied black hair and black dress. As she made her way, the sounds of groaning could be heard coming from below. Raising her eyebrow in suspicion, she never broke her stride and continued forward. Crossing into the structure’s interior, the warmth was a welcome shift of atmosphere as the sounds of music could be heard echoing from deeper within. Castle attendants congregated in the foyer, two departing outside for a smoke break, but perked to life upon seeing the late arrival. One man quickly approached her and offered to guide her to the grand hall, Sah’ra offering him a smile and allowing him to lead the way.

The party was in full swing and given the late hour, Sah’ra quickly deduced that most in attendance were likely already inebriated to an extreme degree. As her guide quickly offered her a tall glass of champagne before giving a quick bow and returning to the foyer, she would scan the crowd and see many faces, all unfamiliar to her save one. Having done some research on the host she quickly identified their host, Artorigas Wessex, and decided this was as good a place as any to begin mingling. Making her way towards the newly minted Marauder, she would arrive before him with a warm smile.

”You must be Artorigas, yes?” she inquired, offering her free hand towards the man. ”I must say, you have a beautiful home. Far more exquisite than anything I’ve been accustomed,”

@Braden Drake @Anyone else with him. I don't even know anymore.​

 

[Asminys]

Darth Raze was an unreadable glacier as always... A thought that puzzles Asminys with an odd level of familiarity. The other Sith Lords head tilt stoked Darth Asminys anger in a way that he felt was entirely too personal for someone who he felt should be almost a stranger to him.

Curious.

"It smells of rot and decay." Asminys mused as his nostrils flared in the way a predator might track its prey, or how a scavenger might sniff out a carrion meal. "You must have rolled with that dead fish while wearing it after the ceremony."

A faint twitch pulled at the corner of his mouth at the words. He had heard of the wedding before his imprisonment. He had also heard of his sister's later failure. "Did you find satisfaction with her? Or was my sister just as meek in your bed as she was in Darth Stolas' grip?

@Sreeya

 

[Bir Vuul]

Bir remained kneeled, motionless as he awaited what was to come. Each second felt as though they were an hour, the Acolyte mentally going through each piece he had molded to the Sith Lord’s frame. Each clasp, each strap. Had he missed any? Had he embarrassed himself once again with a more detrimental result? Was Raze simply toying with him as a nexu would toy with its prey before clamping it’s teeth into the jugular? All these thoughts tore through his broken mind, masking the fact that he had forgotten to breathe through-out the delay.

“That will be all, Acolyte,”

The words gave Bir his freedom, his lungs finally drawing in the converted oxygen they so desperately needed. Even pressed to the floor, his knees shook with panic. For what may well have been the first time in over a year, every orifice of Bir’s body was clammy and cold. He’d faced the enemy directly in battle on more than one occasion and not a single instance had inspired such dread within the mad acolyte.

”Thank you, Lord. Thank you, yes. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Lord, yes, yes,” Bir stammered, keeping his face aimed downward so as to not meet the Darth’s gaze, only returning to his (bare) feet once he was assured Raze was no longer near.

“Good evening, sir! Can I interest you in these fun sized burritos?”

The servant offered Bir not only the tray of toxicity but a smile the size of a small continent. For once, Bir did not have a grin of his own to offer in return. Instead, scowling eyes met those of delight before the embarrassed and disgruntled Acolyte’s metallic hand shot upwards, clipping the edge of the tray and sending both it and it’s contents around the dance floor.

”I’m not hungry… No, no I am not,” Bir muttered, and would continue to mutter, as he made his way out to the balcony his dear friend had been launched from. Leaning across the railing, his heart heavy from despair at his own cowardice as well as the possible death of Xeno, the Kel Dor scanned the forest below for the Zabrak’s body with sullen eyes.

@Sreeya​

 

[Darth Tiamat]

There was another chilling breeze and Tiamat took a deep breath, feeling the cold air down the back of her throat and into her lungs. She glanced at Renfry who had a shocked look on her face from Tia's revelation that she was clearly not enjoying herself; the woman thought it was fairly obvious but with the amount of wine in her system, it was becoming difficult to get herself twisted in knots about it. Renfry further explained her reasoning as Tiamat emptied her wine glass.

"It was fine, she was surprisingly sweet, but the number of people in there, I don't like it. I hate having to make conversation, I hate having to put on a face and I hate how everyone is just so different outside this ballroom." she pouted while filling up her glass again, mildly disappointed she had reached the end of the bottle. "I don't like people watching me, touching me, envying me... I should have just stayed behind." she took a long drink from her wine glass, "I don't like the attention." she grumbled into her glass and then picked up another truffle. Which, speaking of, she could feel someone approach and the woman closed her eyes tightly and inhaled as a Marauder approached with greeting.

Lucifer Starck at your service.

"No, you are not." Tiamat instantly replied, "Return to the party."

@Scoobert @Phoenix

 

[Emryc Thorne]

To his surprise, Raze felt his jaw tighten beneath the helmet at the blatant insults at Malicia. He did well to control that pulse of rage, however, so Asminys wouldn’t sense it. He had far more control over his emotions than the perpetually angry Sith Lord. There was a part of him that would always respect Malicia as his wife regardless of how things ended.

There was a moment of silence as Raze lifted the flap of his helmet and took a sip from his drink. He felt the effects from the spice earlier.

“Temper, temper, Asminys,” The taller Sith Lord's tone flowed like velvet as he swirled his drink in his hand, “You almost sound jealous.”

Raze stared at him for another moment, “If it makes you feel better,” He continued with a smooth drawl, “You pleased me far more in some ways,” The helmet tilted down and up, “Regrettably, getting on your knees may be a bit strenuous for you now though.”

The Sith Lord raised his drink in a toast before sipping from it again.

@Arclight

 

[Malou D'Amaris]

Malou had seen Jackson hanging around the door, but she didn't want to talk to him at the moment. She wanted to sulk by herself while her anger subsided enough that she could return to the party without drawing the attention of the more observant Sith in attendance. But when he finally knocked, she figured ignoring him would just serve to make her look bad, especially when he was explicitly expressing concern for her. So she sighed and gestured him over, turning her body slightly as she did so. "I'm fine," she would lie. "Just needed some fresh air. I got...claustrophobic." Her tone of voice didn't change, but she wasn't super concerned about masking a lie. He'd know, but he'd also know she probably wouldn't want to talk about it.

She'd rather talk about him than anything else. "Why did you join the Sith?"

(tag: @Rhogar )

 

[Renfry]

Renfry let Tia vent her frustration about the party, but didn't say anything. She could tell the redhead wasn't enjoying herself, but that didn't explain why.

She was getting the impression it was just general brooding, which could obviously be solved by truffles. Besides, she'd had a decent enough time dancing with shorty, so it wasn't all bad.

They were slightly interrupted by the appearance of a blue man who introduced himself as Lucifer and placed a kiss on Renfry's hand. Okay, well, that was fine. She didn't know him, but she wouldn't be rude about...

...well, it seemed Tia would be rude about it. Renfry's jaw dropped slightly as she looked over to the redhead.

Well, I'm sure you can be at my service, she said. With her other, free hand, she used the Force to lift up a truffle and float it right up until it bumped into Tia's mouth multiple times to placate her.

She looked up at him, noting how much larger than her he was. Come to see the landing point of the unfortunate flyer?

@Scoobert @GABA

 

[Jaikus Thorne]

Before Jaikus managed to reach Deva, the presence of Darth Stolas enveloped him like a malevolent cloak and sent an chill down his spine. It was enough to slow his motivated gait to the point of nearly halting in the middle of the dancefloor, the sensation feeling as if a thousand pounds of extra weight went into his every step while a voice echoed in his psyche. To anyone looking from the outside, it might have appeared as if the Marauder had momentarily gotten cold feet. And then it was gone, as if it had never been there at all. Whether it had grown bored with him or distracted by something else, Jaikus did not know, but the Marauder brushed it off and continued on his way, choosing not to dwell upon it at the moment.

When Deva spoke, he chuckled softly, shrugging his shoulders and nodding in confirmation. “There’s nothing quite like it, is there? And from the looks of it, it seems your night has been very exhilarating, yes?” Jaikus grinned down at her, eyes glinting with a mischievous fire. Whether he was referencing the aroma of spice that clung to her breath or her dances with two Sith Lords was left purposefully vague, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. It was certainly quite the shift from his behavior at the beginning of the night. Cool, distant politeness had melted away to reveal the boldness which had only more recently been on display.

The Axxilan moved his hips in sync with her own, gyrating side to side to the club music that currently filled the castle. The subtle gesture not to reach for his hand did not go unnoticed by Jaikus, citrine eyes zeroing in on that momentarily hesitation. Rather than forcing the issue, he merely adapted his posture with one hand resting on her hip while the other splayed across the center of her back, perfectly positioned to sweep down and drop her into a dip. “Do be carefully though, or you just might find yourself chasing one thrill after another.”

@Mr. Teatime @Killa Ree