Everlyn sighed as she remained seated on her chair. She looked over at the direction where the event was happening.

Her therapist thought it would be good for her to go out and socialize more. Instead of just work all the time. Does arriving in your spacecraft and leaving count as attempting?

Evelyn wouldn’t dare. That was weak. With an annoyed huff, she pushed herself up and slid out of her ship. Dusted herself down and made sure she looked proper, she made her way over. Checked every seam on her clothing. Her buttons. Were they all in place? Straight? In order? Maybe she should get a ruler and measure the distance between her butt-

She paused at her actions. Maybe her therapist was right about the OCD. For a moment, Evelyn had an annoyed expression that was gone as quickly as it arrived. She walked through the open doors, the smell of food engulfed the air and it was a pleasant aroma. Was… she too early?

She really was military woman at heart.

The staff in the hall seemed to freeze for a moment as a distractingly large Togorian in freshly cleaned and polished armor entered from the back flanked by one of the hall’s managers.

“Your people have done a fine job decorating but the chairs are too small,” Rajhin punctuated his sentence by gesturing at his torso. “We have warriors from across the Brotherhood coming to celebrate our victory and not all of them are human-sized.”

The Pantoran manager clasped his hands together as he tried to placate the councilor, “we have planned for that my lord, our staff can quickly adjust or swap out any furniture to accommodate our diverse guests.”

Rajhin stopped to examine what was clearly his larger chair at the head table. He turned and slapped the manager on the back in a jovial manner, “Excellent! We don’t want any of our esteemed clan representatives to feel unwelcome or uncomfortable.” Satisfied, the Fist went toward one of the bars to grab a refreshment.

“Do I have to wear this?”

This had to be the sixth, no, seventh time Draca had asked that question. If Anders were truly honest with himself, he wad amused by how much the young man hated having his arm in a sling. He could see Draca resisting the urge to claw it from his arm. He was like a dog with a cone on its head.

“You heard Meshita,” Anders said.

“I know, I know,” Draca sighed, exasperated. “I’ve gotta keep it on for a few days. If I overexert it, it can swell and get worse…” Draca then squinted his eyes as he looked at Anders. “It doesn’t help that you’re enjoying this.”

“What can I say?” Anders shrugged, a coy smile forming in his face. “You stabbed me. This feels like catharsis.”

“That was your idea!” Draca protested, causing Anders to chuckle lightly.

It elicited a response from the little droid perched on his shoulder.

“Oh, hush, Buddy. I am not too harsh on him. If anything, I am being lenient.”

“I hate this thing…” Draca moved his wounded arm as best he could, and pouted.

Anders rolled his eyes. “Stop being so dramatic. We are here to meet some of the Brotherhood’s best and most influential. Do be on your best behaviour.”

Draca sighed. “Yes, sir…”

The two made their way over towards the bar area. Anders was, after all, feeling a bit parched.

Melissa looked back toward the entrance. She’d run ahead a little, faster than she’d necessarily intended to, excited to be meeting the Brotherhood people again without the strain of war. Without pain.

Just a feast and stepping into the room stopped her in step. It was completely altered her focus from people to food.

There was so much. And it all smelled wonderful. Wonderful enough that the Echani girl didn’t look over the few already here in favour for the tables. All along the walls. There was so much. She’d never seen this much food in one place before what in the galaxy-

She grinned, bouncing on the balls of her bare feet before walking alongside the tables of trays. There were empty plates laid out but she hesistated to pick one up when she barely had an idea of where to even start?

Okay, maybe noodles first. Something… easy.

Evelyn greeted the server who greeted her and thanked them for the rundown. When they walked away, she figured she would get a drink first. She wasn’t that hungry just yet. Made her way over to the bar, she leaned over and made eye contact with the bartender.

“What would you like to drink today?”

“Do you have anything dark on the tap tonight?” The bartender nodded and grabbed a glass as they filled it up with dark-colored beer. The bartender slid it over to Evelyn, she picked it up, thanked the bartender and took a sip. Hmm. Not bad. She turned around to keep an eye on her surroundings while sipping her drink.

Without thinking, Evelyn set the glass down and straightened her posture as she had her hands behind her back. This was known as parade rest for soldiers.

“Sir, it’s great, sir.”

Evelyn felt a small blush crept over her tanned cheeks as she cleared her throat and relaxed. Now she felt a bit silly.

“…Habit,” explained Evelyn. Grabbed the beer, she took a sip of the ale. She glanced down and shifted a bit. She was never good with small talk. In fact, she preferred silence. Or the roar of the ship’s engines.

“I do apologize for that, Darth Renatus. My name is Evelyn Wyvern.”

Before Renatus could reply a hearty and boisterous voice from behind,

“THANE!”

Rajhin approached the pair at the bar and motioned like he was going to give one of his signature slap-on-the-back greetings but a steely glare from the Justicar made him reconsider.

“Loosen up my friend, we must celebrate our hard-won victory,” Rajhin turned toward Evelyn, “a victory not possible without the skill of warriors like yourself.”

“It is a bit!” A chipper voice came from behind the trio.

A short Human stood grinning, moving to stand on the other side of Rajhin. “Heya Thane, Evelyn. uh-” Zuza paused for a moment, looking up at the Togorian and having a moment. Why did she know that face, “And nice to meet you, I’m Zuza.”

She opted for holding a hand out to him.

Evelyn grimaced at the loud and boisterous voice. Evelyn noticed that look on Renatus’s eyes all too well.

“It’s nice to meet you as well.” She started to think of how to help Renatus get out of the pediment he was in. She loved dancing, maybe she could ask Rajhin for one? Right on cue, Zuza had showed up. “Evening, ma'am.” Then she was confused. Thane? Who was Thane? Did she mean- No matter. Now was the perfect chance.

“Hey.” She whispered very silently, almost unnoticeable, to Renatus and tilted her head over her shoulder. This was his chance. To get out. She grabbed her beer and gestured for him to do the same so they could sneak away.

<@185936112441622529> <@185939710005215232> <@432543120635461643>

“Well met Zuza! I am Rajhin” the Togorian took the humans offered hand and gave a respectful bow before releasing it. “Pardon me,” Rajhin turned to the bartender “Give me a tall glass of the wildest Cortyg brandy you have.”

The bartender paused and after considering Rajhin’s size figured he knew what he was asking for and busily started preparing the drink.

Zuza laughed lightly, doing as close to a curtsey as she could in the pants she was wearing in repsonse to the bow.

“Good to meet you.” She commented, noticing Thane and Evelyn’s quick departure and shaking her head in amusement. Ah well, at least she’d given them an oppurtunity even if she didn’t get to chat with them. Zuza looked to the bartender herself, “Tattooine Storm please, no slice please.”

She leaned on the bar, crossing her arms and tip toeing slightly to do so comfortably.

“Thane?” Inquired Evelyn as they were out of earshot and safe. Then she realized she was being a bit nosy. “Apologizes. You do not need to answer.” She made her way over to the second bar and hopefully, it’ll stay quiet or at least, less animated than the Togorian had presented earlier.

“ZUUUUZZAAAAAA!” Shouted the Mirialan as a green blur tackled the young woman and pulled her into a hug.

“I missed you so much!” Then she looked over at Togorian with her pink hues and released Zuza’s from her grip. “Whoa!” She let go of Zuza.

“Wow! You look SO cool! Look at those muscles? Do you spar? We should spar! Oh, I am so sorry mynameisSofilawell actuall it was Sagittabutit’s a bitofalongstoryreally ANNNNNND I need to slow down.” She was practically beaming from ear to ear and her purple hair bounced with her energy as she tried to keep it all contained.

The woman was ready to burst.

“OH! A BAR! Hello! Hi! Yes Can I Have…” She glanced over Zuza’s drink and then Rajhin’s drink. “Oh! I’ll have what he’s having!”

The pilot nodded in recognition. She had easier time remembering the last names than she does first names. It annoyed her Siren Squad to no end. She wasn’t going to prod anymore. If he wished to be called Renatus then she will continue to do so. The hybrid took another sip from her beer and remained quiet. This was better. Then a very loud Mirialan had appeared over to the bar and she was happy to escape from it.

“Keep to the perimeter,” Alethia said, not bothering to glance over her shoulder. “And do try to be unobtrusive. You know how Rajhin gets around combat droids.”

“Of course, Mistress.” Buddy answered with his typical good cheer. “Recalibrating for minimum obtrusiveness. Mapping service staff routes. Planning sustainable walking path to maximize visibility and minimize the possibility of an important encounter with…”

Alethia walked away, knowing that the droid was going to take a moment. The hall was still somewhat sparsely populated. She spotted Rajhin first, obviously, holding court among some excitable young women. Pass. Turning her gaze to one of the other bars she saw Renatus. His lips were moving. Was he… having an actual conversation? The Headmistress didn’t recognize the woman he was with—sloppy—but she couldn’t resist the spectacle of Thane Skotos making small talk.

A big toothy grin shot across Rajhin’s face, “I love your spirit Sofila!” He turned to the bartender “yes a round for this brave young warrior!”

“A spar would be wonderful, we must always test ourselves if we are to be at our best. But for now, we celebrate!”

Anders and Draca arrived at the bar. The Chiss had barely gotten a word in before the loud, rambunctious voice of a man-tiger dressed in FIST skin made himself known, much to the Justicar’s obvious chagrin.

Anders had to restrain the laugh Escaping his lips as he watched the Justicar slink away like a timid house cat.

People were arriving in waves. Some he recognised, like Zuza. He would definitely need to greet her when the opportunity presented itself. Then, there was Melissa. Now, he could tell Draca she was here, but where was the fun in that?

“Anders…”

“No, Draca. You cannot take it off.”

Draca pouted, resigning himself to leaning against the bar as he waited to order a juice of some description.

Zuza squeaked, then laughed. She found her spot leaning on the bar again, a wide grin across her face once she was steady on her feet again.

“Are you sure you need it?” She gave Sofila a gentle jab with her elbow before hearing a familiar voice. She turned, quickly raising an arm in greeting. “Anders!”

Then she saw who was behind him, her smile softening as she glanced from Anders to the young Zabrak, “Draca! What happened to your- never mind, glad to see you mate.” The grin soon returned to full energy. Anders had found him and got him home.

That was a damned relief.

“Zuza!” Draca made to hug her, but accidentally nudged his wounded arm. He tried, and failed, to suppress the squeak of pain that escaped his lips.

Anders rolled his eyes. “I told him he still needs it, but does he listen? No, of course not. Why would he listen yo me?”

Draca shot him a glare.

“Lady Zuza,” Anders held his hand out to her. “A pleasure to see you, as always. I trust the Ethereal Realm was not too much trouble for you? And I do believe this is Ms Sofila, is it not. I do indeed remember you from before we entered that cursed place.”

“OH. MY. GOSH. REALLY!?” She could not smile any bigger than she already was. Full of excitement and energy, she doesn’t often meet people that doesn’t mind her energy. Rajhin was AWESOME.

“Yes! We celebrate!” The bartender brought her drink out. She felt Zuza’s jab. “Aw. I’ll slow down, promise.”

Then the drink was taller than she expected. Huh. Who knew five inches to the right and to Rajhin, it would look smaller compared to him? No matter! She was only a foot shorter! What was the worse that can possibly happen?! NOTHING.

“OKAY!” She had to use two hands and take a sip as she inhaled. “Oh wow!”

There was more conversation as she turned.

Who was this guy? Why did he look familiar-

“OH WOW YOU SURVIVED THE WAR! Didn’t think a sourpuss like you would make it!” She wrapped her arms and pulled Anders into an attempt hug.

“Not for me.” She spoke vaguely. She’d made it out remarkably fine, really. Others hadn’t.

Zuza managed to shake his hand a moment before Sofila’s attempted hug. She winced, recalling that Anders is not a fan of hugs like that, but took the moment to carefully wrap a hug around Draca. It wasn’t all that hard to avoid his arm. And she knew that the Zabrak did enjoy hugs.

Jecht stood outside the doors of the banquet, gathering himself in the calm. He hadn’t wanted this. He really hadn’t wanted this. He could still see the malevolent smile on his COs face as he was given the news and told the R&R event on the invitation was mandatory. He’d get even, somehow. But for now, he was here, like it or not.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like people, he did. But this was way out of his element. Out of his league, even. The brotherhood? The actual brotherhood? He’d never met anyone actually important before, and here he was surrounded by people who could sink his career in a heartbeat.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth, and spun on a dime, turning around the corner and into the hall. He paused just long enough to scan the area. Taking in a chaotic scene to assess it was a skill he’d mastered long ago. Not wanting to step on any toes, he quietly moved his way towards one of the bars, flashing smiles at those he had to step close to as he went.

Reaching the bar, he exchanged a nod with the bartender.

“Talorian whiskey, two fingers.”

The bartender nodded and began his preparation. Jecht turned fully around, leaning back against the bar and took in the scene.

The woman opposite the Justicar was Echani, by the look of it, although that made it impossible to tell from her bearing if she was military. In excellent shape, at any rate. She was also, Alethia noted, suspiciously similar in build to the Headmistress herself despite the slight difference in hair color. When Thane glanced over, making eye contact, Alethia gave him the slightest hint of a smirk before continuing to an open spot at the bar. Everyone else already had a drink in hand except for the other new arrival.

She didn’t recognize this one, either, but he was apparently a lieutenant. “I’m afraid I haven’t kept up with the new Taldryan uniforms,” Alethia said. “You’re a medic?”

“Angel…”

“Ay…”

“They are perfectly fine.”

“But…”

“I know, dear,” a hand patted his where it was looped on his arm. “I know.”

“Just– did they have to run off, ay, it’s been two seconds…”

“And what could really happen in just– oh, Ashla. Actually, let’s not dwell on that, shall we? Pip pip! They’re fine, Angel, we’ll see.”

Violet eyes gave a look, not missing how you’ll see had become a joint proposition.

A pair approached the entrance, their pace meant to be regal of bearing, but unmatched by the slightly hurried gait from the taller of the two and the slightly restraining of the other. Though when they both picked up the pace a little, it was much more elegant. As elegant as a very proper fast walk into a room could be, at least.

Two sets of eyes searched the crowd, and with almost simultaneous sighs of relief, barely sagged into each other in the way that any couple who had been married many years trying to hide how tired they were from the other guests could pull off.

“Melissa’s at the tables–‘

”–Gita over there.“

Another look shared, and small, amused smiles, laughing at themselves more than anything. With a bracing breath the two stood up straighter, putting on their faces now that their charges were back in sight anidst the Brotherhood coterie. Corazon, beautiful and bright, immediately began courtly greetings and hullos, waving a little to everyone and calling out names and well wishes. Ruka was much quieter, more focused on how he was holding himself than that nobleborn Pantoran was; years of training and even the Force didn’t break all habits, and certainly not being self-conscious in a crowd. Still, the Mirialan Proconsul strode on, watchful of the room.

- That’s Thane, Ruka murmured mentally.

And Headmistress Archenksova herself. It’s been some time since we last spoke properly. Perhaps not even since her retirement from High Councillor. I’d hoped Master Turel might be here…

Remember she ain’t an ally no more, babe. Never really was. Her and Satsi got along. That’s bad kriff.

I suppose so. But we still ought to pay our respects to the Councillors. General Rajhin is…spirited.

Yeah, yeah, ay…

But of course they’d check in with their people first. That went without saying.

The Jedi and Sith adepts approached the growing group, and it was almost as if Ruka’s hair got grayer than it already was by being within a ten foot radius of Zuza, Sofila, and Melissa at once. Cora beamed at everyone.

“Good day, everyone! Happy day! Goodness, everything looks so splendid! Who’s this?”

And Draca gave the best damned ones. They were warm and inviting, like a campfire on a cold winter’s evening. He embraced the hug. How long had it been since he’d seen Zuza? Since he scooped her up?

He made a mental note to tell Melissa about that one the next time he saw her. That would be a funny story.

“I’m glad you are OK,” Draca smiled, though concern etched its way onto his features. “You… are OK, aren’t you?”

Anders, on the other hand, was trying to pry himself free from the hug machine that was Sofila. By tbe Force, she had a grip tighter that a vornskr bite! He settled for gently patting her on the shoulder in the most awkward interaction possible for him.

“You can let go now,” he stated, hoping she would get the message. He heard the voice of a very adequately dressed Pantoran male. His voice was like silk, speaking like one from high society.

Wasn’t that one of the Shadow Scions?

<@216702440140046336>

Leaning with both elbows up against and facing away from the bar, Jecht had seen the woman approaching, but didn’t direct his gaze to her until she spoke to him. He hesitated just briefly, trying to size up who it was that was speaking to him. He didn’t follow politics within Taldryan, much less the brotherhood itself, but he recognized that the new arrival to the bar was wearing fine clothes befitting one of a powerful station.

He groaned internly, bemoaning his luck, though outwardly he flashed her a warm, welcoming smile.

“Yes ma'am. Sergeant Jecht Var Vo'zda, though most just call me Doc.”

He paused again, unsure of what to say. Usually, friendliness and charm came easily to him, but here he felt a slight lump in his throat at the thought of offending someone so far above his station. He was bailed out slightly by the bartender sliding him his drink. He gave the man a nod and took a drink to calm his nerves.

Sofila heard Anders, “Oh! Sorry!” She released him from her hug as she grinned from ear to ear.

“The gravity stuff was fun though! It gave me ideas for-” She heard Cora’s voice.

“Eh? OH! So-” Sofila was very much prepared to help with introductions. “This is Zuza! Anders, some guy in a sling- oh my gosh, are you okay? I can heal you! I don’t mind! Oh right, introductions and this is-” She turned to look at Rajhin and realized that she never did get around to finding out their names.

Now she felt sheepish and embarrassed. She might got a little carried away.

“Right!” She clasp her hands, this was something she needed to find out. “So who are you two?”

“Yeah course I am.” Zuza waved off his concerns, quite literally with her hand waving as she spoke. Shed come out unscathed. She was fine.

They didn’t get to linger on the remark, Zuza managing to pick up and sip her drink as Cora spoke from behind the group. The Human swung round, careful of her drink and raised on her toes.

“Cora! Ruka. This is Draca, and Rahjin.” Zuza filled in the gaps of Sofila’s introduction, laughter lilting her voice at the attempt. She made sure to gesture to thr respective people the names belonged to, not overly pointing but in the gentle way shed seen Cora do on their trips to Kiast.

<@244244163002892288> <@216702440140046336>

Melissa had been gathering food across this period of introductions and hugs. Her plates wasn’t too piled up, there was so much to try and she didn’t want to layer everything over everything else. What if it made it taste different.

Nah. She’d focus on this selection of foods and then come back.

With that sorted, Melissa finally looked over toward the bar. It was packed with people. Sofila, whod tagged along with them. Ruka and Cora. Some.. was that a Shistavanen or a togorian.. or a wookie? Melissa wasn’t sure. The others were new faces or-

Or they were Draca and Anders.

She started making her way over, grabbing a fried ball of something and popping it into her mouth as she approached the group from behind.

Draca bowed slightly, or at least as much as he could, given the obstruction his sling was creating. Seriously, why does he need this thing on!?

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” he said courteously, full of politeness.

Anders, on the other hand, was finally able to regain his composure after it felt like Sofila had tried to smother him.

OK, maybe he was exaggerating, but he detested close physical contact like that. Why did people approve invading others’ personal space like that without permission?

“A glass of your finest, strongest Corellian whiskey, my good man,” Anders said to the barman. He, of course, knew who everyone was by name, reputation, or both given his status as a High Inquisitor. Reading dossiers was a pass time for him.

It was then he noticed a figure skulking outside of their little circle. Anders immediately recognised her. The one that found him in the Ethereal Realm.

Melissa.

A small smirk appeared on his face. He was going to let this play out on its own. No sense in spoiling the fun, was there?

<@216702440140046336> <@244244163002892288> <@185939710005215232>

TuQ straightened his jacket and hat. He wanted to make a good impression, not like the last Brotherhood gathering where, by reports given to him, he had quite “made an ass of himself”. That wasn’t exactly how he remembered the outing but he had made a note to attempt being on his best behavior this time, it was after all a much more formal occasion than a party on the Grand Master’s yacht.

He took a deep breath, satisfied with his presentation and stepped into the grand room. Immediately he crashed into a server carrying a tray of drinks. Cocktails splashed all over the server’s top as glasses hit the ground with a crash.

“Hey, watch whe…” he began to yell, checking his own outfit for spills and stains. He took a deep breath. No, TuQ, this isn’t your best behavior. “Here, let me help you with that.” he finished, bending down to help clean up the mess.

Another had approach the bar. She scanned him over quickly and was pleased that it seemed like he wasn’t another loud individual. Then a woman approached. She recognized her as the Headmistress, Alethia Archensksova. She was much more beautiful in person. Those blue eyes- Evelyn mentally grimaced. It took everything she had in her not to do another parade posture, this time, to the Headmistress.

Instead, she distracted herself with another sip of her beer. Corellian Spiced Ale, mentally noted the pilot. She would want to make sure to indulge in it now and then.

The male, who was named Jecht but people called him Doc, started talking formal. Her head shot up at the sound of breaking glass.

She recognized the Kel Dor.

Good ol’ Varick. Slowly, she took in a deep inhale while closing her eyelids and pressed the glass of the ale against her forehead before drinking the rest of it’s contents and turned around, “Refill, please.” Then she realized that the bartender wouldn’t know what she had earlier.

“… of the Corellian Spiced Ale.” She figured she had time to switch to wine later. But for now, she wanted to enjoy herself. Or try to.

TuQ'uan Varick.

Member of Clan Plagueis and one of the Exarch’s most trusted confidants.

Anders believed he could be a man worthy of his respect. Perhaps they could discuss the finer points of the execution of Envoy ta-

Varick just poured the drinks all over the server.

Anders sighed and shook his head. So much for making a good first impression. Was he always this much of a clunsy imbecile? Time would tell, he supposed. At least he had the courtesy to offer to clean up, even if he was about to shout beforehand.

“Bugga!” Cora exclaimed happily, a proud and delighted look in his eyes as Zuza gently waved, and leaned in to hug her and kiss her cheek. He also, surreptitiously, looked her over for health. “It feels like it’s been ages. You look wonderful, dear.”

The Pantoran turned to the others. “Sofila, good to see you, how are you?” he called in his own poshly accented, stiffer Mirialan. Then, to those so helpfully introduced, “Hello, General, sir. Hello, Mister Draca. And hello, Mister Anders…of the Taldryan agency, if I recall correctly?”

Ruka, meanwhile, stood with his arms folded back and took it all in as his husband went to work. He spotted Melissa on approach, chewing on something, and a smile melted some of the stressed lines of his scarred features. He eyed her plate when she was close.

“Got something good?” he asked her, quirking a broken brow.

“I hope so.” Melissa responded cheerily, “I have no idea what any of this stuff is but it tastes good so far.”

She shrugged, happily taking another bite before sliding away from Ruka and up beside Draca who was swept up in introductions.

“Hiya!”

“The Office of Secret Intelligence,” Anders held out a hand in greeting. “Just Anders will suffice, or Anderson if you prefer.”

“And just Draca is fine for me too,” Draca smiled at Cora.

“Well met Cora!” Rajhin clasped his left hand over his right fist and gave a respectful bow, “your mate is one of the finest warriors in the Brotherhood. Few can best me in single combat.”

Corazon shook Anderson’s hand primly and nodded to Draca, and then turned to Rajhin and swept a graceful bow back.

“A pleasure to meet both your persons,” he enthused, and then smiled to the General. Thankfully, living amidst other Togorians and Shistavanens had prepared him for such terminology, so he didn’t pause when replying, “And thank you, he’s certainly the finest to me. My angel,” the Pantoran added, glancing over to Ruka, who had gone muddy-red around his single remaining ear and cheeks.

The Mirialan coughed. “Good to see you again, ay, Rajhin.” And at a lower volume. “Anderson. …Draca.”

Ruka watched Melissa run right up the boy with obvious familiarity.

His eyes narrowed.

Sofila made a mental note.

Poor dude in sling is Draca. The big cool guy is Rajhin

Then she heard Cora speak to her in Mirialan.

“AH!” yelped Sofila. Okay! Time to change the brain over. “Good! Ah uh - Happy to be here! Happy to see you too! How are you?”“

She took a sip of the massive drink. Then her heard perked up. She stood on teh tip toe and her head hovered over Rajhin’s shoulder with such interest.

"RUKA!?” yelped Sofila in surprise.

“HEY! Oh right, HEY” She shouted in Mirialan towards Ruka then realized he was right there with them. “Why you never told me you can kick ass!?”

The Proconsul’s expression immediately looked as if he wanted to crawl under a floor tile and disappear. People nearby had looked. Even if they didn’t understand the words.

“That’s– not important,” he muttered, consciously switching over halfway through his kneejerk protest. *“Being good at fighting is not a good thing, Sofila. Violence isn’t a good thing. I’m not proud of it.” Then, louder, back to Basic so as to not be rude to their crowd, “Nice, uh. Nice party, everything looks great.”

Cora meanwhile nodded and made encouraging motions to Sofila’s replies before catching sight of Melissa’s wink. A wink. How mischievous! What was she trying to convey? She seemed familiar with these two already. Were they friends?

“Mela, are these friends of yours?”

Anders hadn’t missed the lower volume. He raised a curious brow. As far as he was aware, they had never interacted before and yet, it seemed like they had done something to earn his disdain. Either that, or he was thinking too much into it and he was pleases the FIST was not using his usual customary volume.

“M-Mela!?” Draca stammered, capturing Anders’ attention. It seemed the trap was about to be sprung.

He watched Draca turn around. Oh, yes. This was going to be very interesting.

<@432543120635461643>

“Yeah!” Melissa had respodned to Cora, laughing as Draca took notice of the name being spoke and turning around with a look of surprise. Well that was perfectly time, and she happily took advantage of the fact Draca was now facing the correct way for a hug, bounding happily into it.

She only used one arm, the other carefully clutching onto her plate of food. It worked out for the best considering his arm was still recovering.

“Surprise! I didn’t think you’d be here, hi!”

Sofila blinked at Ruka’s words and pouted slightly. She took another sip. She wanted to protest and argued but this wasn’t a good place nor time to do so.

Not to mention Ruka look like he was uncomfortable to be here. And mainly focused on Melissa. The female Mirialan took the opportunity, she gazed over to Rajhin with a grin, “Gimme your code! We can hit up sometime for a spar!”

<@185939710005215232>

“M-Meli! H-Hi!” Draca stammered, his face turning a beet red, redder than the sun of Dathomir itself. His hearts pounded like drums in his chest.

Despite the sudden jump, he never let go off her.

“I must commend you, Ms Luxor. I finally have the chance to offer my sincerest gratitude for discovering my location in the Shattered Plains.”

As the two young people hung on to each other tightly and Draca blushed, Cora and Ruka shared another glance. Pink pastel brows rose, while dark green, scar broken ones furrowed. An entire conversation seemed to pass in tiny expressions alone in those thirty seconds, ending in Cora smiling encouragingly but expectantly at the pair and Ruka with his mouth pressed into a line and barely narrowed eyes.

“So…good friends, then?” the Pantoran chimed. His gold eyes noted the sling. “Mister Draca, is your arm injured? I offer my services in healing it for you.”

Anders’ statement drew sharp attention.

“You saw Mela on the battlefield?” Ruka asked, suddenly even more serious. They’d heard of it and eventually gotten to check in with Melissa, of course, but given their positions and the chaos of war, it had been hours after the fact of movement in her position.

“Yeah. It was after I found a way out of the shattered plains. The Force did most of the work really but I managed to find Anders.” Melissa nodded in confirmation, pulling out of the hug so she could continue eating but remaining at Draca’s side. Her own cheeks were lightly flushed. “We made our way toward the fortress after.”

It was more Ander’s story to tell though, the situation she’d found him in… She didn’t want to share that without his permission and glanced toward him to see what he’d recall here.

“Erm…” Draca wasn’t sure how to answer that question.

No, scratch that. Yes he did.

“We are. We met at the Collegium Farmer’s Market, actually,” Draca said.

“I was in and out of consciousness when she found me,” Anders stated, answering Ruka’s question. “It’s not too much of a stretch to say that had she not found me, I likely would have sustained more dire injuries.”

Draca’s eyes lit up abd Cora’s offer to heal his arm. He looked to Anders, putting on the best puppy-dog-eyes that he could. “Anders, please…”

The Chiss sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine, but I will inspect your arm after he is done to ensure I am pleased. If I am not, it stays on. Is that understood?”

Draca nodded his head eagerly and presented his arm to Cora, looking to him expectantly.

Both men seemed appreciative at least of Anders’ formal praise of their ward, nodding to it, and both noting the Farmer’s Market, a famous incident in the household for Melissa having come to dinner frazzled but excited.

Another glance was exchanged, confused and mildly perturbed that Draca was asking Anders permission to be healed. But Cora at least was able to keep a perfectly polite and cheery face, dipping his head to Draca and closing his eyes in concentration.

“Please, be at ease. I do not need to touch you to heal, so just rest your arm,” he instructed, and his brow creased slightly with his focus, head lifting, spine straight. He inhaled slowly and deeply, and on the exhale, a gentle bloom of energy arose in Draca, washing him in Light, like the wind stirring over a cool, serene lake. Swelling reduced around the shoulder socket, tendons reknitting micro-tears, and bruised bone repairing itself. After some quiet moments, it faded, and Cora opened his eyes.

“How is that then, now?”

“It wasn’t a good situation, no.” Melissa agreed, before watching the interaction between Draca and Anders. And Cora.

It was good to see the arm be fixed. Hers had hurt a lot but then she’d gotten to help fairly quickly afterwards. She hadn’t had to bear it for too long, much of the battle still to go when that had happened. Her silvery eyes watched the healing with interest, trying to see what was going on really but of course, it wasn’t really possible.

Ah well.

It was an odd sensation, being healed. The light brought with it a warmth that spread through his arm and down his spine, all the way through the rest of his bidy. It wasnt invasive. It was more like soaking it in a warm bath after a hard day’s work. Draca’d had next to no exposure to it. Most of his wounds healed naturally over time or with bacta. He ascribed to Anders’ philosophy.

The most effective way to nullify an injury is to avoid sustaining one in the first place.

Sadly, that wasn’t always possible.

He heard Cora’s question. It was certainly easier to move. It felt more natural. He carefully removed his sling, watching Anders for any sign of disapproval.

He saw none, that was a good sign. He flexed his fingers, then shook his arm, getting faster, more vibrant. It…

It felt like new.

“Thank you so much!” He wrapped Cora in a hug before the Pantoran could realise what was happening. “You have no idea how annoying that thing was!”

The Pantoran let out a small oof of surprise, but gamely lifted his hands to lightly pat the younger man on the back before he disengaged. He offered another smile.

“I am glad you feel somewhat better, and thank you both for the trust,” his gaze flickered to Anders, trying to puzzle out the relationship. “We are blessed by Ashla and Bogan to have such quick repair at our disposal. I know suffering longer recovery can be difficult and taxing.”

“Casts suck,” Ruka offered in commiseration, watching Melissa watching Cora, making a note.

“Ruka’s legs were shattered, protecting civilians from the crystal ascendants on Dandoran,” Cora explained, seeming content to tote the heroic thread where his husband was reticent. “Even with bacta, surgery, and healing…complex and complete bone destruction of that nature is difficult to mend. It was months of recovery. A shoulder dislocation is simple, really. I am not the most accomplished of healers, but we know many you could call upon, if ever of future need.”

Another diplomatic smile.

“That is much appreciated. We usually spend our time in bacta tanks should we sustain wounds that require further attention,” Anders matched Cora’s smile with one of his own.

Draca, meanwhile, returned to Melissa, wrapping her this time with two arms like he had wanted to do when he saw her. He missed this. No matter how many times he hugged her, it felt as warm and comforting as the first time. Seeing the plate of food in her hand sparked an idea.

“Do you want to get ice cream?” Draca asked. “You know, once you are done with that.”

<@432543120635461643>

Melissa squeaked, holding the plate out so it would remain undisturbed but returning the hug as best she could with the other arm.

She looked up, thinking before nodding, “That’d be great, but yeah, when I’ve finished. There’s so many things to try here it’s crazy.”

Ruka’s eye twitched at Draca quite literally hanging off of Melissa, not having let go of full body contact with her for the full six or so minutes straight of conversation.

Cora was quick to take a step over and take his arm, wrapping it with his, another pat of his hand.

“We’d love some ice cream,” he said, “after dinner of course, yes, since Lord Renatus has organized such a magnificent spread.”

TuQ finished cleaning up the bits of glass from the..mishap, placing on the serving tray before handing it over to the soaking wet server.

I think they’ve got it from here, he thought to himself as he turned and walked deeper into the room, taking the cacophony of activity and the incredible spreads of food. His eyes scanned the room for anyone he might recognize.

“Excuse me sir,” a meek voice came from behind. “Can I interest you in a drink?”

TuQ slowly turned to face the man looking to take his drink order.

“No…thank you.” This was going to be harder than he thought, had the man not seen the karking mask on his face?! Breathe. Breathe. “I’m…not thirsty.”

Over at the bar TuQ saw someone he recognized. Evelyn was working her way through a dark purple beverage. TuQ had grown to respect the pilot while on their last mission together. He hadn’t seen her since before the War, maybe he should go say hi!

<@216702440140046336>

Evelyn knew what Renatus meant. It was … tiring to feel all this energy. She would much rather be at home, sewing, and sipping wine.

She had decided that she will do that tomorrow instead. She can’t relax here but she’ll try. She noticed movement from her peripheral vision and turned to see that TuQ was making his way over to her. She didn’t mind him. He was one of the few she liked from their last mission, along with Korvis and Renora. Huh. Renora. Renatus. She puzzled for a moment in her head. Evelyn was so out of touch lately, she can’t pinpoint the usual settings of the name. Regardless, she liked Renora and Korvis as well. Though Korvis… was interesting.

Along with Eevie and Rohan.

Did they survive the war?

She felt the need to check up on Rohan. What the actual-

“Evening, Varick,” Evelyn said towards him when he was within range.

<@379840612788076544>

“Wyvern, it’s good to see you alive and well.” He clapped his compatriot on the shoulder and chuckled. He knew it would get a bit of a reaction out of his…friend? “Enjoying the festivities so far?”

“I look foward to a spirited bout!” Rajhin produced a communicator and dutifully ensured Sofila had his contact details.

Draca was oblivious to the twitch in Ruka’s eye. Regardless, Melissa wasn’t going to be able to eat if he kept clinging to her like he was. He let her go, eyeing up some of the samples on the nearby table.

“Do you recommend anything in particular? I feel a bit peckish as long as its not that Rodian soup stuff I tried back at the Farmer’s Market.”

Draca shuddered. That was not a good bowl of food.

Anders, meanwhile, had observed Rula’s little twitch. Did he have issues with Draca? There appeared to be some sort of relationship between Melissa, and then Ruka and Cora that the dossiers failed to delve into.

He’d keep a close eye on Ruka in particular. For now, though. He needed some sustenance for himself, taking a keen interest in a skewer of meat nearby.

<@244244163002892288>

“Uhm, these noodle things with the red sauce are really nice. Kinda spicy though.” Melissa advised, turnign around to point toward where the food had come from.

Evelyn flinched as his hand landed. She patted it once. Twice. Then gently pushed his hand away.

“It’s good to see you alive. A bit surprising as well.” Evelyn said pointedly. Be social. Was she doing good so far?

“Good drinks. Haven’t tried the food-” She glanced over at Renatus when he had the staff working on a dance floor and a sparring arena. “And it seems things will get louder.” Evelyn actually loved dancing but not the club kind. It would be interesting to see what occurs.

As her therapist would say, the night is young!

Bitterly, she took another sip of her drink.

Following where Melissa pointed, Ruka’s gaze landed on the pasta. With a flick of his eyes to the provided dishware and pronged serving ladle, a portion was quickly doled out from the shielded food – damn, that was a good thought for their next party – and hovered over to land in Draca’s hands.

And maybe keep them busy.

The portion was large.

Ruka looked back, then asked, “Anybody else want something?”

The extremely efficient commotion behind them of a section of dance floor being cordoned off didn’t go unnoticed, nor did Sofila immediately challenging Rajhin to a brawl. Internally, the Mirialan sighed.

“Something milder for me, please, Angel,” Cora said flawlessly, rolling right along with his tactics.

Draca was in relatively high spirits. His arm was feeling better, everyone seemed to be getting along, and Meli was here. He wanted to ask her how she was doing, really doing, after everything, but didn’t want to ask with so many people around.

It was OK. He’d wait until the moment was right.

“How about this?” Draca pointed out a dish to Cora. Some sort of fish from the rivers of Naboo covered in aromats.

Draca, you wouldn’t happen to know our Shadow Scion friend, Mr Ruka Tenbriss Ya-ir, would you?

The telepathic message startled him for a moment, but he quickly focused.

Can’t say I do. Why?

From what i’ve seen, he seems to be concerned with how close you are with Ms Luxor.

Draca frowned.

We’re just friends!

He glanced at Ruka, who seemed to, for the moment, be distracted by the commotion behind them.

Melissa happily continued making her way through the variety of dishes she’d collected on her plate.

Draca seemed a touch distracted but she didn’t question it too much.

“Oh, I do love fish, I’ll certainly try it. Thank you, Draca,” Corazon replied, and Ruka’s attention returned so that he could repeat the telekinetic serving process for his husband. He briefly caught Draca jumping in place out the corner of his eye, and a frown, but with a visual line needed, didn’t really look. Once Cora had a plate, he turned to the others but they just seemed to be eating, Anderson rather silently.

… suspicious. At least, to a Force-User who knew what telepathy looked like on the outside. A lot of staring off and making faces.

No, he was probably just being over protective. He sighed, and pointedly angled away from where Draca and Melissa stood, even though his entire back crawled for doing it. Instead he glanced over to Zuza, Sagitta, and Rajhin. The Justiciar was speaking to an…Echani? Maybe? Or just silver-haired woman. And there was Alethia…

“How is it?” the Mirialan asked his husband, who made an appreciative noise.

“Quite well.” He winked. “I’ll take yours though any day, Angel.”

“Ay, don’t flatter.”

TuQ stood awkwardly in the silence between Evelyn and the Justicar.

“Well, I’ll catch up with you later.” He made a quick escape. As he walked further down the bar he spotted headmistress Alethia Archenksova and a young Taldryan soldier.

“Headmistress.” He respectfully nodded to Alethia before eying up the soldier standing beside her. “And?”

Evelyn let out a small breath of relief when he was gone.

No more forcing small talks.

As he tilted the glass to his lips, Jecht heard the short greeting presented and his mind connected the pieces. He sputtered and choked as a small part of the whiskey burned its way down his trachea and then back out. He shook his head and cleared his throat, slowly and purposely setting his drink back on the bar behind him.

He glanced up at the Kel Dor who had approached. He wasn’t dressed the way that the apparent headmistress was, but his informal greeting meant they were at the very least quite aware of each other. His mind raced as he realized just how out of his depth he was, and then he realized that the man was looking at him, had asked him a question, and was waiting for a response.

“Uhhh apologies sir, Jecht Var Vo'zda. Uhh Sergeant. Tal..Taldryan army.”

He began a simple quiet breathing exercise to find his calm again, cursing his CO in his mind and planning how he’d get even. If he made it back at all.

“At ease soldier,” he chuckled, tossing an undisciplined salute at the man. “I have a lot of respect for Taldryan, fought beside them a few times. Fought against them too.”

Sofila noticed they were setting up a sparring ring.

“Awwww yea!” Sofila whooped as she looked back to Rajhin, “you ready?!”

The lump in his throat slowly shrinking at the mans casual attitude, Jecht nodded and took a deep breath.

“We try. I-”

He paused mid thought as he looked past the Kel Dor and further into the hall. His brow furrowed in confusion at the people setting up the circle and he slowly lifted his head and opened his mouth slightly before slowly asking:

“Pardon sir, what.. are.. they…”

He trailed off, trying to make sense of what was happening at what he thought was a high class dinner party.

TuQ glanced back over his shoulder. Huh, looks like they were prepping for a fight of some sort. That was…oddly not surprising.

“Looks like they’re getting ready for a show. Why? Are you looking to go a round or two?”

Watching the creation of the circle, Jecht tried to process exactly what was said. He shrugged at the man’s words, continuing to watch curiously as he wondered what would be performed.

“I must admit, I’m not much one for theater. I’m a combat medic sir, trained and skilled in both medicine and combat, though I must admit little else. I don’t recall ever having attended a drama much less having performed in one.”

Rajhin raised his glass and downed the rest of his drink with a single long series of gulps. “Always!”

TuQ saw Rajhin throw back the remainder of his glass from across the room.

“Oh, this is going to be fun. Come on, let’s get a ring side view.” He walked towards the edge of the ring expecting the soldier to follow behind.

Ruka watched the Fist chug booze and then go to fist fight. With Sagitta. Who had also been sipping a massive drink.

“Ay Dioseczmi een sanos Bogan ey Ashla…” the Mirialan growled to himself, disapproval clear on his face as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Every. Time.”

Cora gave a little sympathetic sigh. “Why don’t you eat too, dear? I think you shall need it.”

Both unsure if he could even say no, and pushed forward by sheer curiosity, the Taldryan sergeant followed the Kel Dor to the edge of the ring. He has a sneaking suspicion that his idea about this being theater was both stupid and also not entirely incorrect. The two men stopped near the edge of the ring, and Jechts voice noticeably perked up as he started to realize what was about to happen.

“This ring… It can’t be… at a banquet like this?” He said both to TuQ as well as to no one in general.

The di Plagia laughed.

“This must be your first Brotherhood function. When did you say you enlisted?”

Jecht couldn’t help himself. He grinned at the insinuation.

“I’m pretty sure I patched up the fathers of some of these green ones that are coming through nowadays. I’m used to the battlefield and to our army. Never had much, if any, interaction with the larger Brotherhood.”

“If it helps, I recommend the fish. It isn’t bad!”

Draca offered a plate over to Ruka and Melissa, giving Anders an opportunity to speak one-on-one with Cora.

“May I have a quiet word, Mr Ya-Ir? I assure you, it will only take a moment of your time.”

Ruka and Cora looked to each other even as Draca tried to get the Mirialan’s attention, the Proconsul obviously somewhat suspicious of Anders’ approach. But Corazon only smiled, polite and pearlescent, and inclined his chin, demure.

“If it please you, Mister Anderson. May I inquire, is this a business or diplomatic matter? I am afraid I am no longer of a position to speak in such regard on behalf of Arcona, and if you seek so, it would be best to schedule a time with Ruka and Lord Arronen through their aides.”

“Neither, actually. More a personal matter. It has nothingto do with our affiliation with either Taldryan or Arcona.”

Anders was acutely aware that Draca was now watching him.

Anders, what are you doing?

He heard the young man’s worry in his subconscious, but pushed it to the corner of his mind.

“This will only take but a moment, I swear.”

With one last shared look, Corazon disentangled from Ruka’s arm, the Mirialan letting him go, altogether a maneuver that looked quite practiced and graceful. The Pantoran stepped aside, saffron eyes glancing around the large chamber, full of food, festivities, a fight now, and a dance floor, seeking a quiet place. Or the least, a quieter place. Given Thane had organized this, he was relieved to see the rather introverted Justiciar had seemed to expect some of the same sort, and there was a convenient area of tables set ever so slightly apart from the rest, bordered by slim floating potted trees in seasonal oranges and gold. Not a separate area, no, but an illusion of it.

The Jedi gestured.

“Will over that way do, Mister Anderson?”

Melissa watched in confusion as well, nudging Draca.

“What do you think all that’s about?” She asked quietly, before taking a large mouthful of pasta.

Anders confirmed with a nod. “Yes, that will do. As I said,this will only be a moment of your time.”

Anders followed Corazon over to the table area. Already the volume had dropped, a perfect setting to allow the two of them to speak privately without needing to raise their voices to be heard.

“I must thank you for agreeing to speak with me on such short notice. I applaud the decorum and sophistication you have shown thus far, Mr Ya-Ir. May I inquire to the nature of the relationship between yourself, your husband, and Ms Luxor?”

“I don’t know…‘ Draca mumbled, biting his lip. "I just hope he doesn’t do anything… extreme…”

“Please, Tenbriss Ya-ir, if you shall, but you may call me Corazon,” Cora replied with a nod in acknowledgement. His pastel brows barely rose at the question, much too trained at maintaining a placid and prim demeanor. “Quite the coincidence you should ask after as much, Mister Anderson. Ruka and I were rather wondering the same of yourself and young Draca. I admit some puzzlement that he sought your permission for his own treatment; but perhaps he is younger than we had presumed, and not yet permitted medical emancipation under the eyes of the Caelus system?” The Pantoran’s wrist rotated daintily, a physical cue that the Chiss’ own question had not been dismissed. “To your query, Melissa is part of our family. She hasn’t taken our name, the choice remaining hers, but for all purposes we are hers. She lives with us in Dajorra and is training in the Force with Ruka.”

Gold eyes went back to the silver haired girl across the room, creasing at the edges with an expression of undeniable fondness and worry.

“We don’t want to replace her parents, so we wouldn’t say over much unless she sought it, but I know Ru and I both consider her a daughter. If you are sensing any…hum…protectiveness, shall we say? It is only a silly thing of seeing our young lady so friendly with a young man we’ve yet to meet… And he rather obviously taken with her.” Cora turned back with a tinkling laugh. “Goodness, he blushes just as badly as I did when I first met Ruka. I’m sure he’s a lovely lad. It’s unexpected, is all. Why do you inquire?”

“He indeed, is a lovely lad, as you so adquetly put it. Though, that is no doing of mine. I’ve raised the young man as my own since he was eight years old. He has one of the purest souls in a galaxy that doesn’t deserve him most of the time, but he doesn’t need me to speak for him.”

Anders allowed himself a light chuckle, then shook his head, his smile vanishing.

“And then we almost lost him… I can assure you that him seeking my permission was more out of respect for me than blind obedience, but yes, he does seem awfully smitten with your adopted daughter. In fact, a day goes that I rarely don’t hear about some little detail about her. I don’t think he realises he does it most of the time. Regardless, that has cleared up my concern. Your husband was giving glances in his direction. I was concerned that maybe they had met under less than ideal circumstances, but I am pleased to hear that it is simply a father looking out for his daughter. Such qualities are hard to find in today’s galaxy, wouldn’t you say so, Corazon?”

“I think we’re ok.” Melissa answered, trying to be subtle in her viewing of their conversation and not seeing anything worrisome.

She was most of the way through her plate.

Ruka, still standing right there after Draca had offered him fish, just raised his brows at the loudly whispering pair watching Cora and Anders across the way.

He snorted.

Sofila’s grinned as he downed the rest of his drink. Oooh boy.

“Suns, YES!” Responded the Mirialan as she shrugged off her jacket and placed it on the bar stool. She wasted no time to make her way over to the sparring ring. Once on it, she bounced from foot to foot.

“Nothing too extreme, right?” She grinned at Rajhin.

Rajhin rotated his shoulders and stretched his arms as he walked toward the now cleared-out dancefloor. He removed his sword from his back and laid it carefully on a nearby table before stepping onto the floor unarmed. The Togorian took up a ready pose with his left arm extended outward and his right pulled close toward his torso, both hands in a “claw” pose facing forward.

“Let us test ourselves in single combat young warrior!”

Unfortunately, the galaxy is also full of wretched scum and villainy that deserved to be wiped from existence, though he chose to keep that viewpoint from Corazon for the moment.

“Indeed they do. I will not lie, Corazon. I am far from a paragon of the light. I’ve done many heinous acts to many people that I believed deserved it. Yet, maybe they are the future change that the galaxy needs more than anything? Who’s to say? The Force does work in mysterious ways.”

Anders chuckled lightly and gently placed a hand on Corazon’s shoulder, gesturing back to the party.

“Let us go back. We can’t have your husband worrying about you, can we?”

“They’re coming back!”

Draca immediately tried to look as inconspicuous as possible next to Melissa and Ruka.

<@244244163002892288>

Sofila planted her feet onto the ground the mat. Both knees were slightly bent. She brought her hands up and kept her arms slightly bent. To start things off, she went for a roundhouse kick to his side.

TuQ nodded as he half listened to Jecht his attention more on the two entering the ring, he leaned over and whispered in his ear.

“This is where the fun begins,” barely able to hide his excitement.

Melissa didn’t try and just giggled before finally finishing off her plate and finding a spot to put it down gently before returning beside Draca.

“Okay. Icecream?” She looked up at him with a grin and then back toward Ruka and Cora who was coming back. “Or is this still dinner?” Her fingers played with the hem of her shirt, not sure if they actually had icecream here. It was a feast, not a dessert place, probably.

Though the Pantoran’s expression remained pleasant, even allowing Anders the light escorting touch, internally, he worried. Heinous acts? Deserved it?

They would need to find more about the Taldryan official, it seemed.

For the moment, though, there was the party and their excited daughter and Draca trying very hard to do…something. Corazon took Ruka’s arm when offered, nodding to him to show the conversation hadn’t been negative in totality, and glanced about.

“It seems as though the entire premise is food, so I am certain the Lord Justiciar thought of desserts as well.”

Ruka seemed to be trying to gauge if Melissa was nervous or just fiddly, as she tended to be, and gave a small half shrug.

“Why don’t you two go look?” For the casual words, it sounded almost like a blessing. And then a little reminding, “And maybe come tell us if you find any, ay? Eventually.”

She perked up, nodding, “Yeah! We’ll see how many flavours they have.”

Melissa bounced a little, taking Draca’s sleeve in her hand and tugging him along to go on the Quest for Icecream. She smiled, glad that there was not just tolerance but permission to go off for a few minutes with him. It was pretty obvious that there was something up.

Rajhin stepped to the side in response and raised both arms up to block the incoming kick, pushing Sofila’s leg back and returning to his ready position with a grin. The old tiger was strong but slower than his usual self due to recent injury and drink. Something his opponent likely took note of.

As her back leg was pushed back, she planted her foot by his leg, ducked down, and attempt to go for a punch at Rajhin’s torso.

Draca’s moment alone with Melissa had seemingly arrived on a silver platter. The two quickly bounced from table to table, searching for that sweet, sweet nectar of the gods known as ice cream.

“So… how are you doing? I mean, really doing. You know, after everything?” Draca asked.

Quietly, he entered, moving along the edge of the room, black eyes washing over everything. It had been some time since he was to Arx. The rustle of movement behind him betrayed his help, carrying silver trays of food. He tilted his head slightly, watching them move past him, delivering and setting up the trays, full of vibrantly colored chilled foods, steaming hot roasted meats and bread, delicate pastries. Muz crossed his arms behind his back, moving around and taking stock of the gathered brethren.

Anders was perfectly content with allowing them to go on their adventure, choosing to take this moment to introduce himself to Ruka formally.

“Good afternoon, I believe we have yet to introduce ourselves to one another. I am High Inquisitor Anderson, though you may call me Anders if you prefer,” he held out a hand in greeting to the Miralian.

The Regent of the Brotherhood wasn’t sure he was even going to attend the event hosted by his predecessor, the now Darth Renatus. He’d been quite busy since Brotherhood forces returned from the Ethereal Realm, shoring up supply lines, approving repair orders, and sourcing new starships - and equipment in general - for the Brotherhood, and he wasn’t much of a social creature to begin with. The Dathomirian-Mandalorian entered not long after Ashen, absolutely wearing his full armor, the red and gold wrap-around cape flowing ever so slightly. His complete, typical armament of weapons of course accompanied himThis was the way. The General was almost surprised to see the former Grand Master at the event. He couldn’t recall a time where the two had even interacted. That would require rectifying.

My, Thane must be very much enjoying himself here, the armored man pondered. Hints of a smile flicked the edges of his lips beneath his helmet.

Zxyl perused the crowd himself for a minute, eventually angling to cross paths with the Lion of Tarthos. As he ended in front of the long-haired man, with his black eyes, the Regent bowed his head slightly.

“Lord Ashen,” the Elder greeted.

<@284848346672136192>

He turned to see the man, his mind digesting the view. The beskar, the colors, the symbolism. It took a moment before mind found purchase in memory, and he knew of him. The Mando'a word for blacksmith eluded him, and he couldn’t remember enough of the language to not offend, so he shuffled the thought away. He’d have to remember how things used to be… how he had to be. A quick glance around the room at unfamiliar faces reminded him quickly of that.

He declined his head the prescribed amount, slowly blinking as he recognized the Regent. Ashen opened his mouth as if to speak, and then paused for a moment. The words came slowly, gravelly and coarse. “Forgive me, Councilor.” The words seemed to echo around in the Regent’s head as he spoke. “It’s been some time.” He raised his hand, palm up as he gestured to the tables where his men were completing their set-up.

Bes'uliik smirked.

“Worry not, my Lord,” accepting the Sith Lord’s invitation to presumably join him at a table, “Too long.”

The two made their way over, the Dathomirian-Mandalorian taking note of Ashen’s voice echoing around in his head. They waited with rigid and cool patience.

I hate it.

Still, the General did not make a comment or cause a scene, and he was intent on keeping his newly awakened abilities hidden. Once Muz’s accompaniment had finished setting up the two took a seat at one of the tables, with adequate space between them.

“You look no worse for wear, Lord Ashen. Keeping busy though, I presume. Did you make the journey to the Ethereal Realm?”

“Oh-” Melissa hadnt really expected that, her smile dimming ever so slightly as they continued on their quest together.

“I think I’m okay. It was scary but I didn’t get hurt again. I can.. Still remember the sound of the chain cracking.”

Melissa quietened, shaking her head a moment after. She’d found Anders, when it finally cracked. It was a good job for her sake, though she wished he hadn’t seen her in such a state even if it was just for a moment.

“But its all memories. So I think there’s more than enough good. What about you? It was you I was looking for in the shattered plains, when I found Anders. I was worried.”

Muz let out a chuckle, a low mirthful sound that rumbled from deep within his chest. “Which time?” He paused, swallowing hard, trying to ease vocal cords that had not seen this level of strain in months. It was mostly rhetorical, but the question still amused him. His work had taken him to places that he scarcely believed himself in the years since he left that cursed throne behind. He managed a smile as they were served, the uniformed man pausing to let them smell the dishes before explaining in great detail the contents, delicacies and delights that he had brought with them from his home world of Kyataru. It was, of course, rude to show up without offering. Some traditions were never to be broken.

Cutlery rose before him with a thought, slicing off a morsel of the roast and dragging it through a savory herbed sauce before bringing it to his mouth. He chewed slowly, letting the flavors reach all parts of his mouth as he watched the Mandalorian beyond the floating fork. He swallowed, looking intently at the man. “How have you been?”

The Councillor nodded to the Grand Master Emeritus’ likely indentured servants as they brought forth a delicious looking meal, thanking them. Unfortunately, the Regent would not be partaking. “No offense intended, but my adherence to the Way of the Manda'lor prevents me from removing my helm in our current atmosphere. I am sure you understand.”

The Dathomirian-Mandalorian paused for a moment, contemplating a suitable answer to the man’s initial question. He almost struggled to find the words, without giving away his new abilities.

“Busy, per usual. The recent war has seen a lot of work tossed onto my plate. But also… different. I have undergone some major changes - which I prefer to keep close to my breastplate, and not divulge here - recently. New skills, as I sharpen my current ones. It has been, as people say, an experience to say the least of the matter. I often find myself around my forge to contemplate.”

Rajhin lowered his guard to protect his torso just in the nick of time. He wasn’t at his best and it was starting to show.

His guard dropped! She twisted her body and aimed at his jaw for a little love tap from her elbow.

The day you stop learning is the day you stop living. The words flew from Muz’s mind by rote. His mouth moved, but no sound came to accompany the words. He paused, recognizing the mistake, reaching for a glass of water to soothe the error, before continuing. “The art of making is powerful… meditation.” He cleared his throat, looking at his employee for a pregnant moment. They responded, bringing a steel cover for the councilor’s plate so he could take it with him later.

He leaned forward, ignoring the food in front of him out of respect. The man’s armor was remarkable, hewn from a craft not common in the universe. He was familiar with the famed smiths of his people, but this was a level beyond that. His mind took in the edges, the lines of the work, precise and immaculate. Muz let the idle thoughts float through, imagining the equipment of the man’s forge, how many years of sweat went into the work. In another life, he would have focused more on his craft, and maybe…just maybe…

Muz smiled at the man.

“It is. It is also a fantastic way to relieve stress - smacking things with a hammer. I have spent many years perfecting the craft after my adoption into the Creed. It is a… precise art, to stay the least. Much like building a lightsaber,” the Regent motioned to their weapons. He removed the triple-phase beskar lightsaber Duraanir from his belt, holding it out with an open palm towards the Sith Lord.

“I feel you would appreciate this craftsmanship, especially.”

Muz let his eyes drift to the weapon, admiring it. Zxyl swore he felt the weapon tremble and then still before the Krath Lord reached out a metallic hand, lifting it gently. He turned it over, his eyes burrowing deep into the weapon, tasting the spirit of the crystals within. He brought his other hand to bear, fingertips tracing along the grip to the hidden catch. He barely respressed a smile, his mind feeling inside the weapon to the gears and motor, the hidden crossguard emitters buried beneath a shroud of Beskar. He blinked, his mind recalling the armor, the gauntlet on the councilor. There was a lot more Beskar in the brotherhood these days, compared to when there were all on Antei. He wondered for a moment if a vein of the rare metal had been found on Arx that would explain it, or if they had found an old imperial cache.

He nodded at the weapon, then the man, reaching back across the table to hand it back. “Masterful.” As the Mandalorian grasped the weapon, Muz turned his head, adjusting the black and royal purple of his warcoat. Free from obscuration, the golden weapon slipped from its home on his belt, floating along currents of invisible force to come to a rest in the air before the smith.

“You just missed me, then,” Draca held a smile, though one tintedwith regret. “Yeah, we had a… confrontation. I’d like to say it’s all settled, but he has to earn my tru-”

Draca stopped. He went wide-eyed. By tbe Force, he’d never felt anything like it before in his young life. It was raw power manifested into a single being. The closest he had felt was The Father in the Ethereal Realm.

“Meli. Do you feel that?”

“May I?” Zxyl asked of Muz. Though he had overseen the manufacturing of several standard golden lightsabers under the Herald’s purview, Ashen’s was one of the few in the Brotherhood that had been custom crafted - by the Grand Master himself, to boot. Tales of Ashen’s obsessions over lightsaber construction and mastery had proliferated throughout the Brotherhood for many years, at the very least the several that the Dathomirian-Mandalorian had been around for. He would not turn down the opportunity to examine it closer, if given the chance.

His head inclined a degree, then returned, the unspoken invitation to examine the weapon given to the councilor. He was proud of the work, the overtuned crystal seeming to smoulder through the transparent subhilt emitter. Thousands of sabers that he had crafted or overseen for the brotherhood brought experience, his singular drive adding timbers to the fires of creativity he used to make his own. It had taken him years to perfect the processes he had used for his personal weapons, from the working of the metals, the sourcing of rare components, and the long-obscured processes of treating the crystals themselves. The burnished gold section at the back of the of the hilt evoked flames, the palm swell precisely fitting the Lord’s hands. This one was particularly known, the holovid of his blades swarming around him, held aloft by currents of raw power as he laid waste to the enemy several wars ago having made its way across the brotherhood as equal parts propaganda and rallying cry. A brief moment had this very weapon cross close to the drone recording the event, captured for perpetuity.

Ashen waited, an expectant eyebrow waiting for the man to activate the weapon, to see the radiant strength of the beam, the pure aggression solidified into being. Each of his claws varied from the other, but they were siblings, sharing their unique nature as testament to his obsession. But in the end, masterfully crafted as they were, they were still tools for the Lion’s true work.

In the same moment, Melissa had turned trying to spot the sudden shift in the room. It was hard to find where or what or.. who?

“Yeah. I feel that.” She spoke slowly, silvery gaze hesistantly turning to meet Draca’s. That was.. weird.

The Mandalorian craftsman took hold of the floating hilt with an outstretched hand, bringing it closer to examine the workmanship. At the same time the A.I. in the Regent’s armor, Helpful Artificial Lacky (H.A.L.), ran a deep scan on the weapon so the Regent could examine its internals without disassembling the thing in front of its creator or exposing his own abilities. The perfectly straight hilt felt good in the hands. Smooth. Bes'uliik took note of the Keibatsu’s signature lion signet on the outer emitter shroud.

Returning the weapon to a completely vertical position before him, the General thumbed and pressed the activation switch, right there in the middle of the festivities. He was unconcerned. With a swift snap-hiss the radiant golden blade roared to life, crackling wildly with pure kyber induced energy.

“Fascinating,” the Scion of Taldryan remarked, giving it a soft wave to feel its flow. After a few short moments - all he needed - his armored hand deactivated the weapon, holding it outstretched with an open palm so the Grand Master could retrieve it.

“Fine craftsmanship indeed, Lord Ashen.”

If the smith’s armor and blade were any indication, that was high praise from a master. Muz smiled, bowing his head a degree in thanks. He retrieved the weapon, then let it slip from his hand back to its home at his belt.

He shifted his weight slightly, then reached inside his surcoat, fast fingers retrieving asmall silver and glass flask, a line of ancient sith encircling the throat. Setting it on the table for a moment, he pulled a glass toward him with a quick gesture. Watching the councilor with a glint in his eye, he raised the flask and whispered words in a tongue that didn’t belong in this universe to the flask as he removed the stopper, tipping it over the glass. The rich amber liquid splashed into the glass, the scent of aged woods and smooth liquor erupting into the air between them. Muz held it up for a moment, making the offer even if he knew that the man would not be able to enjoy it now. It didn’t matter to the Krath. Some traditions must be observed.

Zxyl raised his hand, politely refusing. He felt slightly bad. Well… almost, anyways.

Said Mirialan notably stiffened, and so did Corazon, though with a much more contained posture; his powder-framed eyes didn’t narrow like his husband’s did.

Ruka looked at the extended hand with a tight grimace, clearly weighing before he extended his own hand and briefly shook once.

“High Inquisitor, ay? That’s sure a choice, throwing that one around at a party.”

“We were not aware you took such dual roles, Mister Anderson,” the Pantoran eased in. “Your reputation as Taldryan’s… intelligence officer…has preceded you in our more work-oriented circles. But it is interesting to learn of this. Have you been a member for very long, then?”

Cora’s tone was perfectly pleasant and just between polite accommodation and genuine curiosity. The way Ruka was standing, though, made it obvious the question was testing something.

Muz watched the men complete their work, setting up the warmers and trays, decanting the wines and tidying up before stepping out of the hall. He took a short sip from his glass, letting the liquid warm his mouth as he looked around the room. He contemplated for a moment, ruminating on what brought him back to the throneworld. It had been almost a decade, and he was almost intentionally out of the loop. It suited him and his hunt. After years on the council and having to play by polite rules, he was glad for the difference. But now? He could hear the concern in their voices when Blackwind communicated with port control as they made their approach. Was it concern, curiosity, or maybe even a glint of fear? Who he was and what he was capable of seemed to pass from recent history into legend during his absence. He’d overheard the stories, hushed whispers on Sepros, on Tarthos. And he wasn’t absent for as long there as he had been here.

He looked around the room again, searching for a familiar face, then nodded at the Regent. “Anyone familiar?”

“A few,” the Mandalorian started his reply, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly and returning it to it’s normal position, “Not many. The other Councillors, Renatus and Cindertail. Taldryan’s security chief also made the trip, it seems. To be honest, I haven’t taken the time to become very acquainted with most of the membership beyond their credit accounts and various purchases. Not for lack of trying, I might add - just preoccupation with my duties. Most of my communications between the various summits are for supplies, repairs, etcetera. I have made a few trips back to the Chyron System in the last couple months, though not to deal with the Taldryan Republic by any means. That remains a… precarious topic, to say the least.”

Bes'uliik reached with his armored left hand to the vambrace on his right arm, adjusting it ever so slightly to rub an itch that had formed underneath. Thankfully, he was able to get it.

“And what of you? Did sister Ashia not make the trip?” As was customary for his biological people, the Dathomirian-Mandalorian addressed the topic of the Nightsister using familial relation.

Muz nodded, leaning back. After Korriban, Ashia was ecstatic to hear that he was stepping away from it all. The rites were hard on her, addictive as they were. She only found solace in the wilds, and they had called to her, and fervently for some time. After so long, it was the least he could do, to indulge her for the long months as he traced their next moves, the next need. To clean up those things that there was no…political will to accomplish. But even she agreed that they had gone feral for too long. He smiled at the Regent.

“She’s training a new one.”

Anders chuckled after seeing them tense. It was, after all, a bold interrogation tactic to play ones card right at the start and allow the minds of your quarry to create an image of you.

“I greet most people like that. I find it to be quite effective in my line of work. My assignment to Taldryan is more recent, as is my promotion to High Inquisitor, though I’ve been a member of the Inquisitorius since its inception under Darth Pravus. I’ve been part of the Brotherhood before even that. Im surprised to hear i’m developing a… reputation of sorts. I was under the impression few cared about my exploits.”

He ordered a drink from the bar. “Would either of you like a drink? I don’t mind ordering for us all.”

“Anders told me about people like that. Grand Master’s, that’s what they are.”

Sometimes, it paid to have an eidetic memory.

“It doesn’t look like there’s any commotion, though…”

Draca lightly touched Melissa’s hand with his own. “I’m glad ypu are OK, though. I was worried about you coming back into the Ethereal Realm.”

Ruka’s face grew ever darker at mention of serving the Inquisition under Pravus. There came no response to his ‘surprise.’ The Proconsul only gave a grunt and shook his head sharply at the offer of drinks, nearly glaring now.

“Don’t drink.”

“No, thank you, for me as well, Mister Anderson,” Cora replied. “Water will suit for conversation.”

A beat passed. Cora’s gaze went to Melissa, and Draca beside her, bearing in mind Anders’ admission, with more wariness now.

Anders noted the reaction from Ruka in particular. He sighed. It seemed like he was going to have to be a bit more direct if the Miralian was going to be so blatant in showing his disdain.

“Ruka, believe me when I say it was no delight under Pravus. I was under constant scrutiny. I had to hide the boy from sight. Jedi were not always so… welcome in the Brotherhood at one point in time. I’m sure you can both understand that. Pravus was a madman, a bigot, and a fool. Being a member of the Inquisitorius did not escape me from being undesirable in the eyes of my colleagues. Every day was a constant battle for survival. I obeyed, or i was destroyed simply for being born with blue skin. Once the opportunity presented itself, I stuck to outside field work in the Outer Rim. It might have been what saved our lives during the Purge. Others like me amongst our ranks were not quite so fortunate.”

Anders’ eyes followed Corazon’s to Draca. “And if I may, I’d like to make a request of you both. I don’t honestly care what you think of me. I did what needed to be done given our precarious circumstances at the time. However, do not judge Draca for my actions. That boy is a beacon of light in an otherwise heartless galaxy. He will be…” Anders stopped himself for a moment. “He is a better man than most could ever hope to be. Perhaps a bit naive, but it’s nothing life experience will not teach him.”

“Yeah, it looks okay.” Melissa let herself drag her gaze back to Draca, returning the touch briefly.

“It’s not a terrible place. It’s just been.. treated badly. It’s a shame.”

It was quite beautiful in places, in a terrifying way.

“Are you okay? You saw much worse things than I did.”

“I’m not really sure how to answer that,” Draca mumbled the words under his breath. “When we came back out, it took a little bit to adjust. I had to come to terms with what had happened, who I’d hurt. Who maybe died because of what I’d done…”

Melissa’s hand return, gently taking his in hers and giving a gentle squeeze.

“You couldn’t have known. No one tells us what’s on the paths we choose, not truly. They can’t.”

“Always on the move.”

Muz nodded slowly. “The last one served her time.” He paused thinking of his bride riding the great beast on the fields of New Tython, under fire from the newest clan and the mercenaries Raidoner had brought to bear. The carnage as the living seige engine carried her over the rudimentary trenches and tore down prefabricated walls. It was a sight. She had taken it with her to the far side of some jungle world and released it. Or at least that was what she said. He paused, thinking, remembering. There was a space, a year or two where she didn’t care for one of the creatures. Longer than he would have thought.

Muz swirled his glass idly, looking back down at the amber liquid. “Always.”

Rajhin barely managed to deflect the incoming elbow shot away from his jaw as he attempted to follow up with a counter left hook.

Sofila smiled.

Kark, he’s good with blocks! He needs to teach- wah!

She did not expect him to finally counter an attack, her arm went up defensively and blocked the hook. She shifted her weight to her back leg and brought her knee to kick him in the shin.

Inch by inch, Ruka’s tense shoulders eased as Anders spoke. He didn’t look any happier, in fact his expression only growing more troubled, but he seemed less hostile. He held up a hand at the Chiss’ plea for Draca.

“Ay, ay, we don’t choose our parents, jrvhoc. We ain’t gonna judge the kid by you,” he murmured firmly, accent rolling. “If anythin’, concerned for him, or what he might think is okay cause you showed it to him.”

“Draca seems perfectly pleasant,” Cora added, golden gaze serious, tones equally somber. “Many suffered in the Purge…we fought to combat it and the fallout these years after. I think we can all agree that what we want is that they,” he nodded to Draca and Melissa, holding hands, “don’t have to fight so much or know the same tragedies.” A sigh escaped him, and he bowed his head. “Not that we could keep them from war already, but that was her choice, as I would assume it was Draca’s.”

“Ancestors help us,” the Mirialan sighed too.

“Thanks!”

She slid her footing and grasped his arm. “Over we go!” She turned her body and pressed her back up against him. She bent her knees and hips back to gauge his weight. Then she pulled him over as his body landed onto the sparring ring with a thud.

“Yield? I’ll get you a drink.”

Rajhin took a moment to regain the breath that had been knocked out of him. “Aye, I yield.” Pain from recent wounds shot through his body as he rose.

The Togorian turned to address the onlookers, “With talented warriors such as Sofila in our ranks the future of the Brotherhood is in good hands!” He raised his hands in the air up and down in a motion to prompt the crowd to applaud.

“WOOO!” Zuza called from the edge of the combat ring, bouncing on her toes for a minute.

Oh sofila would hate the spotlight like but kriff, she deserved it. Both in the fun and serious way. She’d finished the first drink of the night and hm. She felt quite light. Wonderful.

“True. That is very true,” he looked her in the eyes, smiling warmly whilst returning the squeeze with one of his own. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?” Melissa tilted her head, confused but still smiling.

“Unfortunately, I cannot recall a time where the Brotherhood wasn’t in conflict with some Force forsaken entity in one form or another. I merely showed the boy how to defend himself. At no point did I attempt to corrupt him or sway him from the light. He is a Jedi, like his enclave before him. There will always be another foe attempting to destroy us. We can only hope to prepare for the future as best we can,” Anders took a sip of his drink, taking a moment to observe Draca and Melissa doing… whatever it was they were doing.

“They’re not soldiers,” Ruka intoned softly, almost but not quite in protest to Anders’ comments if training to fight, exhaustion evident in his amethyst eyes and posture; but only for a moment between the trio. He took a deep breath and straightened. “Mela is just getting to discover so kriffin’ much…we just want her to be happy. A first crush ain’t a bad thing.”

“Well, if that’s what it is,” Cora noted, sipping a glass of sparkling water delicately and raising his brows over the rim. “At least, to her. He’s smitten.”

“Oh, totally. Unless you wanna tell us boy blush like that all the time, ay, Anderson.”

“You just make me feel better, even when you are just around. I don’t understand how you do it, but… thank you. I needed someone, and that someone was you.”

“Oh, absolutely not. He’s completely smitten,” Anders allowed himself a small laugh. “The best part about it is I don’t think he realises it yet. He knows how he feels, but not how to register it, or what to do about it.”

As if on cue with their parents’ conversation, Melissa’s face flushed bright red as well, flustered.

What were they looking for again?

“I- uh.” She laughed, rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand. “Sorry- I just. I-” Melissa shook her head, at a comlpete loss for words.

Draca finally realised what he just said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to, I just…”

He rubbed the back of his head, searching for a distraction, any distraction. He found it shimmering on the side.

“I-Ice cream?” His voice cracked as he spoke.

“Am I allowed to be more worried about her with this than Noga and Leda?” Ruka muttered to his husband aloud. “I think I am, ay. They younger but they way more…uh…”

“Worldly? Skeptic? Cynical?” the Pantoran provided, his smile fond but a little glum.

“All of that,” Ruka sighed, and flapped a hand. “Ay, at least I know the kids would tell us the second they smelled anything even a little off. Not that your boy is off, Anderson, just… All of it. They careful. Mela…isn’t.”

“We were all naive once, Angel. We can’t protect her from everything; not even much at all.”

“I know…”

Cora took his hand and squeezed.

“Me too.”

“Ice cream!” Melissa repeated, “Yes, that was it. Uh- We should. Is it hot in here? Ice cream is good.”

She still held onto his hand as she walked in, carefully avoiding anyone in the way, toward the dessert.

Sofila grinned as she held out her arm for him to take to get back up. It felt too short. Too slow. Ah well! Might’ve been the alcohol!

Then she squeaked in surprise as he turned his attention to the onlooks, “Ah! ay ay,” She did not realized she had started to pick up the ay from Ruka, “No no, don’t-it’s oh. ay soles alguien me ayuda” Her voice got lower and more quiet, barely audible.

Then Zuza hollered.

Her face went completely muddy red. She turned her attention to the short lady. She had two fingers pointed to her own eyes before it turned back over to Zuza.

The message was clear.

She’ll have her revenge.

<@432543120635461643>

Zuza stuck her tongue out at Sofila before slipping off into the crowd to find someone new to meet.

“No, no. I completely understand. I would gave had my reservations regarding Melissa if she hadn’t quite literally come to my rescue. I know my word isn’t much, so…” Anders placed a hand under his chin. “How about, whenever you get a moment, you have a talk with Draca? It’s all well and good that I sing his praises, but you can form your own opinion of him instead.”

Draca allowed himself to be escorted away, his own cheeks turning a beet red.

“What flavour do you want?” He asked meekly. He didn’t want to fluster her anymore than he already had.

Both parents seemed to consider this, until Ruka snorted and shook his head.

“I mean, she welcome to bring him over for dinner, ay, but I’m told plenty I don’t, uh…not look like I’m judging. So probably best you talk to him, babe.” He gave a small grin to Cora, who chuckled.

“I would be happy to. And there is no pressure. Let us just enjoy the festivities today…and be happy they do.”

Evelyn watched the spar from afar. She carefully watched their positions. Footwork. The Mirialan was a bit sloppy but obviously well trained. Rajhin, the Fist, more so. Her head slightly tilted in curosity at his slow movements. Hesitation? Injury? Recovering? He was in the war along with many others. Could it be from that? Just how seriously injured was he? The Mirialan was holding something down as well. Something was holding the green woman back. Anger. A small hint from the heel kick to the shin. The way the Mirialan threw the Togorian over her green shoulder, there was fluid but fear. It was over before the pilot could read more from both them.

She let in a deep sigh and quietly gave her opinion, “I believe he threw that.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Aylin?” Ankira asked her friend for the hundredths time.

“Yes, don’t worry, just be your wallflower social awkward self,” her Nautolan friend said with a grin, “It will be fine, there are more friends of us here, and I’m sure they will be happy to see you again.”

“But what about…”

“Don’t worry about that to much, you know their voices, right?”

“Yeah…”

“So trust the voices,” Aylin said finally as she ‘parked’ Ankira near the buffet tables. “I will see you in a bit, going to grab some things.”

“Okay…”

And just like that Aylin left Ankira there, the Mandalorian in her white beskar with red lines. She had kept her helmet on, as she didn’t want to show others what had happened to her, just yet. She looked around the room, though her new vision didn’t show her much yet, more like formless blurs. Sighing softly she just kinda stood there, feeling utterly misplaced.

A catering company was the last place most people would expect to find a Sith Elder, but running a food and beverage empire suited Erinyes well. She’d jumped at the chance to victual for the Brotherhood feast, putting Taldryan’s finest wares on display. That had meant showing up days early and planning how best the staff could use the ingredients, coordinating deliveries, and resisting the urge to micro-manage the chefs and bartenders who determined how her efforts would be received.

It was a nice change of pace from fighting a war.

Business or not, this was a party, and the Zeltron was determined to act like it. That meant plunging necklines, pencil fits, and heels, though she couldn’t quite bring herself to leave her lightsabers at home. At least they fit in her purse instead of ruining her outfit with a utility belt.

Having made the last few arrangements for the Justicar’s special meal—like letting the security people test it to make sure it wasn’t poisoned—Erinyes sauntered out of the kitchen and surveyed the scene of the party. The towering tigrine figure near the dance floor was the first person to catch her eye. Heh. Hopefully he wouldn’t still be sore about their last encounter.

Most of the rest, she either didn’t recognise or didn’t know personally. She spotted Anders and Draca chatting with a group she didn’t know—wait, was that the Arconan Proconsul and his husband?—and Zxyl off at a side table with Muz, of all people. That gave her a chuckle; it seemed she wasn’t the only dusty old relic out tonight.

Then, she spotted Aylin doing a drive-by delivery at the buffet table. Judging by the pattern on her armour, it was Ankira who’d just been tossed in the deep end. That was a surprise, seeing the Mandalorian woman at a public event, though she clearly wasn’t comfortable being there.

Erinyes sauntered towards Ankira and the buffet table, waving as she got closer. “Hey, Ankira. Good to see you out and about.”

“Oh… Hi Erinyes,” Ankira said, trying to hide her getting startled. “Aylin kinda made me come here, so I had no choice.”

“That sounds like her.” Erinyes chuckled. “I’m glad you made it back, though. You had a lot of people worried about you.”

Leaning back and looking across the room, his eyes narrowed, an eyebrow going up in question. It took a moment to register, but he knew that one. Muz’s mind reached back into memories a decade old already as Zxyl traced his gaze as best he could. The Mandalorian pivoted gently in his seat to avoid an overtly obvious helmet spin, his integrated AI pulling her file even though he had no need. Long crimson hair, blue eyes, cocktail dress. The Zeltron would never be caught in anything less at a soiree.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve got a type.” He chuckled, turning back to him.

Ashen tilted his head at him, a twinge at the corner of his mouth and a crinkle at the brow sending a not so gentle warning. He raised his hands and showed empty palms, a half chuckle making it’s way through the helmet’s vocoder. He knew better, of course. Anyone who had seen the Lord of the Krath and the Nightsister did. “She’s proconsul of Taldryan these days.” He offered, helpfully.

Muz’s countenance lightened, nodding briefly as he tucked his flask into a pocket on the inside of his warcoat. He slowly moved his chair back and stood up, pausing to see if the Councilor would join him before stepping in her direction.

“Strawberry?” Melissa asked, “The pink one?”

Her cheeks were still flushed, not quite meeting his eye. She did look, but only to quickly glance away again.

He came out with things like this on their meetings before and… It made her heart flutter. She didn’t really have the right words or know them exactly but she liked that feeling.

The party was in full swing by the time Korvis could get away from the ACE offices. He loved chasing down new ships and weapons for the Regent he just wished there wasn’t so much paperwork after he got back. The grounds around him looked like a professional had set it up. It definitely wasn’t what he was used to at the Vizsla headquarters. Still in some ways it felt like when they would serve nice meals to the soldiers who were fixing to charge into battle.

Searching around for the nearest bar Korvis ordered a tall dark brew. Releasing his helmet he sat the helmet softly beside the drink on the bar and took a long drink from the beer. He could at least take full advantage of the open bar while his was in town. It would be a shame to waste the Grandmasters hospitality.

“Yeah, I guess we did kind of disappear. It is nice to be back though. How have things been here?”

“Indeed,” Anders answered with a pleasant smile and a curt nod. “I do believe you will be pleasantly surprised by him. But, I digress. I appreciate the time you’ve taken to converse with me on this matter.”

Anders looked over at Draca and Melissa, seeing their flustered faces brought a sense of pride, but also a pang of something his heart he couldn’t quite describe. It was hard for him to imagine the timid eight year old boy that Draca used to be when he first met him. Frightened, and alone. Now, here he was, becoming an adult before his very eyes.

No, that had been happening before now. Anders had been too blind to see it. Where had the time gone? Blink, and you would miss it. To think that he could have lost him and all he’d have would be the memories. Yet, they were valuable. He clung to them whilst Draca was gone, lest as he was to admit it, as for a time, that was all he had left of him.

He was proud of Draca. He always was, would likely always be, no matter the circumstances.

Was this what it was like to be a parent?

Draca scooped up the ice cream for her, putting it in a bowl along with a silver spoon. He handed her the bowl. He didn’t say a word, but couldn’t help but notice how similar the tone of the ice cream was to her cheeks.

She took it carefully with both hands, nudging him with her elbow. “What flavour are you getting?”

Melissa took a large scoop of ice cream and with zero hesistation bit into it, giggling after.

Sofila glared as the short woman had disappeared into the crowd. She looked around to finally see who all was in here.

Then she caught Mel.

Frickin. Bit. Into the ice cream. Sofila looked horrified. She quickly turned to Rajhin, “I’ll get you a drink, just let me-”

She cupped her hands over her mouth as if it was a way to amplify sounds,

“THAT IS NOT HOW YOU LICK, MEL”

“I WAS BITING!”

Melissa called back, looking confused even amongst the giggles escaping the young Echani.

Draca damn near spit the ice cream out of his mouth. He coughed, patting his chest as brain freeze kicked in after swallowing some too quickly.

“Not to worry, though,” Zxyl chuckled as he rose to his feet with the Sith Lord, carefully tucking in his chair afterwards with little sound.

“I do have a thing for Zeltrons. Or one in particular. I think she’s roaming around here somewhere.”

Zxyl of course, though less obvious to the former Grand Master, was referencing his personal love interest; the lovely Aisha Solon. Mad doctor and geneticist in a previous life, she was now firmly in the Mandalorian camp and striving to use her vast medical knowledge for more… honorable work.

“Well, there was a war–”

The sudden, loud admonition caught her off-guard. Who was Mel? What were they licking? Erinyes responded in the only way she could think of.

“THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID!”

_ _
Then, she turned back to Ankira. “Ahem. As I was saying, there was a war on against the Children of Mortis. Weird plane-of-reality-jumping stuff. And we have a new Consul– er, Chancellor. So now I’m back to help out.”

Melissa snorted and then burst out laughing.

Ruka, looking incredibly pained, sighed. Corazon had covered his mouth and looked mildly appalled at the general decorum.

As Erinyes spoke, a small figure appeared at her side.

“I heard a thats what she said joke, hi.”

Zuza Lottson grinned at the women, one hand in her pocket and the other carefully holding a rather overful drink.

“Erm, hi! I’m Erinyes. Nice to meet you.” She didn’t introduce Ankira, mostly out of not wanting to drag her into an unwanted conversation.

<@417336769181122562>

“They the greatest gift and honor, ay?” Ruka murmured, catching the look on Anders’ face – after he peeled his face out of his hand, a faint spot on his forehead from impact, that was. He smiled a little at the Chiss, genuine despite their not entirely trusting air. “Our children, I mean. Just the best damn thing. We owe everything to them. All of it. And it’s on us to be good enough for them.” His expression grew a little more serious. “Whatever you did before, Anderson…High Inquisitor…you say he’s better than the galaxy deserves. Well I kriffin’ hope you be good enough for him. Not just make the world safer for him, but do it the right way.”

Cora, after a look with Ruka before the Mirialan started speaking, had separated with a quiet word and approached the others, as if sensing mischief from, ostensibly, guests who were with them. And currently speaking to either the Fist of the Brotherhood or a Taldryan General.

“Good evening, Lady Taldrya,” the Pantoran greeted Erinyes with a quarter bow. “I hope I am not interrupting. I thought I would come and wish you well, and see how Miss Zuza was faring.”

“It is I who owe you a drink.”

After the onlookers dispersed from the dance floor Rajhin walked back to the bar twisting his torso and stretching as he went. He was used to working through the pain of injury but some more drink to dull the discomfort would be a welcome respite.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mister Tenbriss Ya-Ir.” Erinyes returned the bow; if Corazon wanted to play formal, she could go along with it, and there was no point batting her eyelashes at a man who already had a husband. “That’s very thoughtful of you. Likewise, I hope the conflict with the Children wasn’t too hard on you and yours. As for Zuza"—she assumed the smol woman who’d appeared out of nowhere was Zuza—"you’d have to ask her how she’s faring. We’ve only just met.”

“Nice to meet you too, I’-” Cora appeared and Zuza beamed, taking her hands out of her pockets at least though.

“I’m good! Just making more friends, again.” She made an attempt to look sheepish but had zero regrets over her actions, safe to say.

Ankira nodded slightly at the new people around her doing her best to see their faces as clear as possible.

“I’m Ankira… I’ve just returned back here and only heard some of these war rumours.” She lied, she was in the ghost lands, as they called it. Not sure how she ended up there, but Aylin had rescued her from there with a small group of people.

Anders’ smile faded. Who was Ruka to place judgement on him? The Chiss had read the dossiers of every Clan leaders in the Brotherhood. Ruka himself was hardly a perfect specimen of the galaxy. He had half a mind to comment as such until he heard Sofila scream towards Melissa.

Then Melissa retorted…

And so did Erinyes…

Fantastic.

Though, he did catch a glimpse of Draca, flustered as he was. It was a staunch reminder of why they were here.

Anders relented. “I’ll bare that in mind, Ruka, as I do every single day since we returned from the Ethereal Realm. Though, may I offer a word of wisdom? You’ll make more enemies than friends if you keep judging people the way you do. The last thing you want is to push people away because you couldn’t keep your thoughts in check with not-so-subtle comments. If you have any questions for me, Mr Tenebriss Ya-Ir, about my status as a High Inquisitor, I will answer honestly if it will put your mind at ease regarding my affiliation with Draca.”

Draca was paralysed on the spot. There wasn’t much that could root him in place, but that? That display did it.

Until Melissa snorted. Then burst out laughing.

He couldn’t help it. He followed suit, her laughter infectious. They must have looked like a pair of idiots, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed like that.

He needed it, especially after his last mission…

Melissa was about in tears by the time she got it together, wheezing with red cheeks and trying to wipe away while also not losing her icecream.

“Okay. Ok, we can stop.” A soft giggle escaped her and she had to catch herself. “Okay. Ice cream. What- what flavour did you get?”

It took them a few moments to cross the hall, stepping between emptyt tables and chairs left behind by feasters that had seen old friends and allies. It perhaps was not as well populated as the Council would have liked, but that suited Muz just fine, considering that he had only recently decided to venture out of his self-imposed seclusion.

They came to an opening, the floor left wide between the dining area and the bars. Ashen paused a few feet away and stood still, waiting for the Proconsul to see him through the people standing around her. Zxyl stopped with him, his mind taking apart the custom quickly. There were few that would not be absolutely terrified to be surprised by the Krath suddenly appearing before them.

A trickle formed against the back of his mind. Ashen heard the whispering of the Force, the familiar weaves slipping into place that reminded him of years ago. The pattern developed, and he tilted his head a degree. One of his Heralds was nearby. He let out a quiet sigh, grateful for the familiar faces.

<@645466919415054357> <@141239709291511808>

“Not really out to make friends and not tryna be subtle,” the Mirialan commented. “Not when it comes to the kids. And I know I judge.” He shook his head. “Not here to interrogate you neither. Maybe some other time. Like I said, Draca welcome to come over if Mela invites him. But you ain’t. Not until we screen ya first. We’ll see.”

Ruka regarded the Chiss a second longer, violet gaze level, before he looked to the ceiling as if for patience from the Gods of the Force and started towards Sagitta.

“Now ‘scuse me, I gotta remind someone she a guest.”

“Good to meet you. Sorry to say it’s probably not.. much good. Hopefully there’s some nicer stories for you to hear later.” Zuza smiled, sipping her drink.

Sofila was confused at someone’s yell of ‘that’s what she said!’ for a while before she realized why they said it. She laughed and chuckled at herself.

Sofila’s expression changed to appalled at Melissa calling back that she was biting. This… was bad timing. Both for that’s what she said and the fact that she open admit the biting. Who was this lady? She had to be a Sith. No normal sane person would- Her pink hues glanced over to Ruka and she noticed he was walking towards her. Was he actually walking towards her or was it just a direction he was going?

Oh! Right! Rajhin, she should go check up on him. He was friendly but she had a feeling there was more going on. She found the orange fur and quickly made her way over.

“Are you really okay?” Sofila asked with a bounce in her step, being much more cautious and careful around him.

“Well, ma'am, it is my honor to tell you you have met a new and very precious friend,” the Pantoran replied brightly, beaming back at Zuza, his eyes creasing. “You should be pressed to find a better one.”

Turning to the Chiss woman Zuza spoke to, he offered a dip of his head.

“And good evening to you as well, my Lady Ankira. Forgive my intrusion. My name is Corazon Tenbriss Ya-ir, but you may call me Corazon if you like. May I ask, if you’ve just returned, are you settling back in well, I hope?”

“It has been… different to be back again,” she said as she tried to mentally keep note of the voices and their names, “But I guess it is good to be home.”

The Pantoran seemed to notice the uncertainty in her posture despite her covered visage. His voice gentled all the more.

“Well, welcome home, Miss Ankira! Was your sojourn pleasant?”

“That’s very high praise. I’ll consider myself lucky to have met her, then.” Erinyes assumed that Corazon was a solid judge of character, based on what she’d heard about him.

Then, she saw the imposing presence that was Muz, waiting to talk to her—quite a role reversal from the last time they’d spoken—and Zxyl alongside him.

“‘Scuse me a moment,” she said to Ankira, Corazon, and Zuza.“ Even in an "informal” setting, it was probably best not to keep a Grand Master and a Dark Councilor waiting.

Stepping past the others, she greeted Muz and Zxyl with nods. “Boss. General.”

“General.”

Zxyl returned her nod. He and Erinyes had greeted each other that way for months now, since the Dathomirian-Mandalorian’s ascension in to the Elder ranks. It was fitting. The two had been close compatriots for quite some time, daresay even friends, with Bes'uliik and Tenema both having been inducted as Scions of Taldryan in the same year. They shared a bit of a bond, and he wondered what she’d thought about his little statement to those she and Appius had abandoned on Ostara.

As far as she knew, nothing had come of it quite yet, and he made pains to ensure his concealment was bulletproof in regards to his fellow Elder. The last thing he needed was her mocking him for his Force-sensitivity with his history of disparaging and knocking spoonbenders since he first joined Taldryan.

As if on queue, the group was joined by none other than the Regent’s own love interest and bedded compatriot, Aisha Solon, who locked her arm in with the Regent upon arrival because she knew how much he hated it. The Hapan-Zeltron hybrid wore her long purple hair braided tightly and resting on her shoulder, her azure eyes fixed on the other Zeltronan female in their company; who coincidentally was also wearing a corset, though Aisha admittedly preferred her own black and gold-orange dress. Her Mandalorian armor was just not fitting for an event such as this.

“Well then, who’s this?” the MandoMedic asked coyly, eyes still fixed on Erinyes.

“Erinyes. A former superior,” replied Bes'uliik, putting extra emphasis on former, “Prior to my ascension to The Council she was my Consul, and I her Proconsul.”

Anders gave a small nod. Like he said, he honestly did not care what Ruka and Corazon thought of him. In fact, he couldn’t care less, but he knew Draca would.

Anders chuckled slightly to himself as he watched Ruka march off towards Sofila like a man on a mission.

He needed another drink, and maybe some food.

He helped himself to some skewers, keeping enough of a distance away from Draca that the young man would be unable to detect his presence, but close enough that he could keep an eye on him.

Just in case.

Draca wiped the tears out of his eyes. That was a good question. It was green in colour. Mint? It had to be mint, right?

What other flavour could possibly be green?

He took a bite, and instantly pursed his lips. By the Force, he’d never tasted anything so sour.

He gave Melissa a spoon. “Here, you give it a try.”

Ankira felt relieved not being the centre of attention anymore and just listened to the others talking. She felt a slight headache coming up from trying to see the people in front of her and just let them be blurs for now, their voices should be enough for now.

After hosting Evant’s last party on his yacht at Arx, Socorra was relieved that someone else had welled up the courage. After one year and a half she was finally free from that one ridiculous duty. But Atra had supported hers and many others and although the woman owed no favors, something nagged her to support him in turn. However she very much wished she had a plus one for this feast. The dress and formality felt awkward and a waste.

The Seeker’s mind roamed the hall long before she was physically in it, briefly touching and flitting from person to person as easily as breathing. It lingered on Zxyl longer than the others, a distinct change noted well and stored for processing later. Something even more strange next to him became known instantly- and it was not the woman clinging to him.

Upon entering the room, Socorra’s single arctic eye locked onto one Human in particular, his Force presence demanding attention even years later. The woman was used to standing next to and attending powerful Sith Lords but this moment was extraordinary.

My Lord Ashen.

Socorra’s Black Sands accented mental voice touched upon him lightly though not subtly. After all, it had always been her former boss’ preferred method of communication.

“Yes, that’s generally how the relationship between a Consul and a Proconsul works.” Her eyebrows shot up at Aisha. “I’m hurt he’s never introduced us before, though.”

“When would I have had the time? You two are always drinking,” the Regent quipped back.

Aisha smirked, and unhooked her arm from the Regent.

Socorra, my Herald. Had Muz any discernable irises, an onlooker would have seen them slide to his left before he turned slightly to bring her into view. She wasn’t wrong. Words always felt inadequate, an unecessary limitation on communication. Yet, polite society, even among those with the skill, seemed to frown upon the practice. The Krath’s senses flowed across her soma, his presence as familiar, warm, and yet perilous as the sands of her home. What a dark lord could possibly glean from that skill was unfathomable, terrifying… and comforting all in equal measure. He watched her as she stood there, half a comforting smile curling his cheek, but there was a kind of concern in his eyes, the slight droop in his eyebrows and lids.

He paused, his social awareness kicking in just a little too late, as usual. Turning back to the Proconsul and Councilor, he blinked and tilted his head as the Regent’s consort detached herself from him. “Why is that a barrier?” Ashen spoke slowly, his gravelly tone punctuated by his hand producing his flask from deep within his coat, as if it were a party trick.

He could still see her. There were many tales to be told, and even more questions to be asked, but the first one to echo inside Socorra’s mind was simple.

Have you eaten?

<@645466919415054357> <@260640060775464960>

Trying though he was, Ruka somehow managed to lose Sofila in the crowd between one figure and another. Which was ridiculous, since she was as bright as he was, taller than him, and, well.

Sofila.

The Mirialan sighed to himself. Obviously he should be listening, not looking.

Or maybe looking for the Fist. That man was physically impossible to miss on both height and volume, a lot like Garmis.

Spotting the Togorian, Ruka made a beeline and hoped to hear Sofila talking.

Erinyes shook her finger approvingly towards Muz, while looking at Zxyl. “See this? This is the kind of vision that earns you a place on the Iron Throne.” Then, back to Aisha: “As it happens, I’ve been looking for another person to develop new drinks at Kasiya Estates. You should come by sometime.”

Zxyl shot a glare at Erinyes from beneath his helmet. One day, the two would talk about what happened on that Destroyer. One day. Maybe when she was no longer Proconsul, which he would be glad to accelerate.

“I have no aspirations for the Throne. I enjoy what I do,” the Dathomirian Mandalorian said defiantly. He shrugged off Muz’s question, which he believed to be rhetorical.

“I think I’ve been to the Chyron System, like… once?” Aisha raised one of her hands to her chin, trying to remember, “I think on a business trip with the armored fart here. I would love to. Drinking is one of my favorite past times - obviously.”

Aisha turned her head to Muz, who even though they hadn’t been properly introduced, needed no real introduction. Although Aisha was new to the Brotherhood, Zxyl had told her about the former Grand Master and his dealings above Antei. SHe bowed her head a litt.e

His eyelid twitched at the mention of the accursed chair. He shook it off, then glanced at the Zeltron introducing herself, nodding in acknowledgement. Her hand wrapped around an empty glass, he motioned for it, then raised his flask up to his mouth, his lips moving all too silently as he removed the ornate silver and cork stopper. As she brought her glass closer to him, the Krath tipped the flask over it, an effervescent and vibrant blue libation forming a slight head as it cascaded into the flute. He pulled the flask cliser to him, then turned his gaze to the proconsul in a silent question as the zeltron wobbled the liquid in the glass.

Ruka, on approach to both Rajhin and Sofila, was about to open his mouth to ask for the Mirialan woman’s attention when Thane walked up and dropped that particular ion bombardment.

The Proconsul had only had two direct conversations with the Justiciar, when he was Regent, and even then not long ones. They’d both been guests at Qyriea’s wedding too. These days, he mostly knew the man by reputation from his position, a report or two from Tyris One, and some of Kiera’s comments about her father during the occasional dinner when they all came over. He knew, importantly, that little Ileta meant something to the man as his granddaughter, and also that he was about as comfortable socializing or with titles as Ruka was. Beyond that, they were pretty firmly strangers.

Still, it was enough to imagine that when he made his proclamation, the Mirialan gaped, and then, with feeling, said, “Oh…kriff.”

The Mandalorian Chiss tilted her head slightly, a drink would be nice, but what and more importantly how not to give herself away.

“My sojourn was interesting, to say the least. Also sorry for not answering your question before, Corazon, its a bit difficult to follow all the chatting around here…” Ankira said, hoping not to make a fool of herself to much.

Aisha took a quick taste of the drink, sipping it lightly.

That’s what I’m talking about!

The Zeltron-Hapan hybrid finished the rest of the drink in one shot, before nudging Zxyl with her elbow.

“Why can’t you get me drinks like this?” the geneticist asked, the most minute hint of annoyance in her voice. Bes'uliik was, afterall, the Regent of the Brotherhood. You’d think he’d have access to the most exclusive stores of alcohol… And he had access to some great stuff, nothing could beat what the Grand Master could produce.

The Iron Beast of Mandalore grimaced from behind his helmet, turning his head to face his lover directly and without skipping a beat responded immediately, “I don’t carry around a magical bottle with me. That’s a Sadow perk. I get a crystal.”

“Seems lame,” the hybrid responded in kind, shooting a smirk in Erinyes’ direction before glancing back to the Grand Master. The Regent threw a hand up to his T-visor, mostly covering it in a helmet-palm. She was getting under his skin, and she knew it.

Despite the intrusion, the familiar mental touch was oddly welcome in this case. Like an old friend come to visit, one that already knew who and what she was so no pretense necessary.

I have not. But I smelled Kyataran on the way in and was not leaving without it.

Socorra glanced at the other patrons, and with a nod here and there with her long raven mane - too many to name - sashayed to the small huddle. A burn-scarred hand slipped under the arm of each male and a slight smirk and one eye full of mischief greeted each as well as Erinyes.

“A lion of Tarthos, beast of Mandalore, and dragon of Socorro walk into a bar.”

The short but explosive commotion from Atra caught her attention and the knowing smirk lit even more. The woman hardly held back a light chuckle. Some days It was the little things that made being the Grand Master’s Praetor actually worth it.

<@284848346672136192> <@260640060775464960> <@645466919415054357> <@185936112441622529>

Rajhin paused for a moment at Sofila’s question, was it so obvious? He opted to take a large swig of his drink and put on his best face.

“I am more than okay young warrior! Wounds heal with time but a victory hard-won should be celebrated. Tonight is abou–”

The Fist was interrupted by the Justicar’s approach and question. “I didn’t know it had become official but it was hard not to see you were the only worthy choice my friend. ” Rajhin took some liberties using the word friend. He resisted the temptation to make a very public and loud announcement, waiting to see Thane’s reaction.

<@185936112441622529>

“Lady Erinos. Nice of you to join us as well,” the Regent said curtly. Aisha half glared at her arm interlocked with the heavily armored Mandalorian’s, but the jealousy subsided near instantaneously. She would definitely take another drink if offered though, and glanced towards Erinyes.

“How about we leave these three to it? Go see what kind of drinks are on offer here?” she asked her fellow Zeltron.

<@141239709291511808> <@284848346672136192> <@645466919415054357>

“Gladly. I’m sure you’ll love the selection I brought from Kasiya.” Before setting off for the bar, she turned to Ankira, not wanting to leave the Mandalorian woman in the dust. “Can I get you anything while we’re over there?” <@417336769181122562>

Sofila grinned as she grabbed her drink and turned to look to why Rajhin was cut off. They must be friends and there was talk of a promotion. Nope. She doesn’t do leader or rank kind of talks.

Good. Bye.

She heard Ruka’s voice behind her and he seemed focused on the news of the man’s promotion.

With that, drink in hand, the young female Mirialan has attempted to slip into the crowd to mingle some more.

Oh, no you don’t.

Shooting Thane a look that clearly said I’m sorry, Ruka turned and quickly stepped after Sofila with a burst of speed that wasn’t even a thought, stepping in front of her before they got out of his hearing range of the two Councillors (or at least, of Rajhin, probably). The conversation might be important to report back, after all.

“Oooone minute, you,” he said in their shared tongue, looking up the few inches with a stern expression. “You wanna tell me exactly what kinds of jokes you shouting across a room full of other people here as guests at Melissa?”

Sofila looked at Ruka in confusion. “Ah?”

Why was he looking at her like she was in trouble!? What did she did wrong!? The spar was fun and friendly, though a bit shorter than she would like but it may have been for the be-

Ruka continued as her brows furrowed. She looked bewildered and flabbergasted.

“Jokes? I - I wasn’t joking? I am confused. Ah, I thought I should point out to Melissa that biting ice cream wasn’t healthy! I couldn’t get that message through, too much to yell at once so I had to shorten it. You’re right though, I should go explain to her what I really meant. For the safety of her teeth! Thank you, Ruka!”

Melissa had missed the way his expression twisted at the taste, humming in interest as he passed her the spoon.

What was green-

Melissa squeaked, passing him the spoon back while trying to work out whether she should spit the ice cream out, eat it quickly or something else. Sadly it was already melting quickly and the sour was strong. What in the stars-

Eventually it was over and she full body shivered, taking a big lick of her own ice cream before asking, “WHat was that?!”

He only found out now? Muz looked at the Praetor. Here? He paused, his senses unfurling across the area as he slowly shook his head, half amused. He remembered being commanded to the Throne, where he was read in and a ritual performed to mark him as Darth Sarin’s Shadow Hand.

“Times change, I suppose.” He let the words out slowly, for the benefit of the Mandalorian’s ears. He flicked his hand, two short glasses rocketing toward them from the bar. They slowed to a more manageable speed and came to a stop, hovering before them. He tilted the flask once more, and a dark amber liquid came this time, smelling of old growth forest and sweet baked goods, a tinge of wildfire. Whether it was a rum or a whiskey was hard to discern without the aid of taste.

“Sugarhorn. Aged 32 years.” He looked at the Mandalorian, his throat a little raw. He’d spoken more in the past few hours than he had in years. “You should find a long straw.”

<@260640060775464960> <@141239709291511808>

Ruka resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. After all, it had been the Zeltron woman making lewd comments. Sofila was just trying to help.

“Why do you say it ain’t healthy? She’s had ice cream before, she likes biting it. Says it makes her teeth have tinglies,” he explained. “Plus, ice cream sandwiches? You bite those. You bite cereal. Custards. All sorts of cold stuff. Anyway. What I meant was, just try not to shout too much, okay? We guests here and it’s high company. Might not be polite.”

Sofila pouted, “but ice cream sandwiches has that softness to protect a full on bite of ice cream. And cereal isn’t cold as-” But she stopped and nodded.

*“No more yelling! Okay, I can do that. Sorry, Ruka.” *

The night was still young.

She was just glad she didn’t get in trouble for sparring with Rajhin.

“You’re forgiven, ay. Go on, have you fun.” He waved her off, plenty aware fun would be nowhere near him.

“You’re fine, it’s pretty loud. Like Cora said, if you want somewhere a bit quieter there is some seating and stuff. The loud folk tend to wander, like myself.”

Zuza did a slight bow, giggling before sipping her drink once more and glancing around. Some pretty powerful folk here, she could just.. tell somehow. Despite not knowing their faces. Targets of many variations acquried.

“Something strong and throat burning,” she replied automatically, probably making it sound desperately, “and uh, something to eat.”

Turning her attention to the others, “Something a little more private would be nice to enjoy a good drink… but I guess meeting new people is also a good thing.”

Zxyl accepted the glass from the Sith Lord, staring at its contents. It did look good. But.. he was being extra careful and strict on his helmet. He was not going to make the same mistake again.

“I apologize, Grand Master, but my helmet remains sealed tonight,” Zxyl stated flatly through the helmet’s vocoder, “If you would like to produce some for me to consume in private, I would be more than happy to. Otherwise, Aisha will be _more than happy to consume for the both of us.”

Instead, he handed it off to Aisha before she possibly left with Erinyes, taking the time to give Ankira a quick nod.

“Hello there,” the Mandalorian General greeted his fellow Mando'ade.

He hadn’t talked to the Chiss-Mandalorian since Appius’ departure, and he kind of regretted that. The Regent and his fellow Taldrya had been at odds a lot, and he had been exceedingly stern with the red-armored man, much to both their chagrin, but they were at their core close friends. Nearly brothers, really. And now Ankira was without him. It almost pained him.

<@417336769181122562> <@284848346672136192> <@645466919415054357>

“Ol'val, Zxyl. Good to see you made it.” Back to this side of the portal.

She watched the female pair leave and wondered if she had chased them off somehow, without meaning to.. again. The terror aura was a terrible defense mechanism.

Socorra’s head tilted towards the Keibatsu and her shoulders slightly shrugged, her long raven and white mane cascading over the side. “The old ways are leaving us. Dark Council no longer dark. Shadow clan no longer in shadow. Taldryan and Arcona no longer fight like nexu. I was invited to Life Day celebration with them and left without blackmail or knife stuck somewhere this time. And with beautiful shawl gift from former Consul’s little girl.”

She glanced to Ankira, the daughter’s other Buir, acknowledging her with a nod. Appius’ absence was deeply felt. She and Ankira could speak later.

The drinks flew over and the woman accepted one, releasing one of the gentlemen’s arms and gently sniffing its contents.

“We missed whole eras. No longer fighting One Sith, the Brotherhood tore itself apart instead and reunited again all in our absence.”

<@417336769181122562> <@260640060775464960>

“Su cuy'gar, alor Zxyl,” the Mandalorian said with a small nod and glanced towards the new female voice at his side. She knew it from somewhere, but it would have been nice to have a face to the voice. Once again she tried to have her sight give her more details, but all it left her was an headache.

Draca laughed again upon seeing Melissa’s reaction. “I’m-I’m sorry! I couldn’t resi-”

Unfortunately, he wasn’t paying attention, and neither were those around him. A server bumped into his back, knocking him forward a couple of steps.

“Sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going!”

Draca, however, was acutely aware of just how close he know was to Melissa, how close he was to those diamond-like eyes that shone like silver.

Anders placed his hand back on his side.

He smirked to himself. Maybe that would be the nudge Draca needed?

Muz bit back a curse. All of the fighting, all of the pointless suffering, lives lost…all of the things that he snarled at the Banite laws for, and it was just a matter of patience. He supposed that he was, despite all of his clinging to the old rites and lore, as Sarin had proclaimed that night all too many years ago. A Lord of the Sith.

Even a decade later, that chair’s curse vexed him so.

His lip curled, betraying his emotions for a moment, Socorra and Zxyl both noticing before he was able to twist it into a half-hearted smirk. “Well, I’d hope the One Sith wouldn’t trouble us any more.” His mind drifted, recalling a hundred eyes reflecting the violence of his blade, bloodshot from exertion. Remembering the snide remarks from a white-garbed maniac, smiling as he lied to him, that what he fought was not real, that the council would not indulge his fantasies with help. The madness creeping in as he wondered how true it could actually be. Madness was no stranger to him, speaking in rhyme at the corners of his consciousness.

Yet here she was, naming the One Sith, a decade after those wars. Was she indulging him out of loyalty, fear? Did it matter? He remembered his brothers rallying around him, his bride as they retreated to their home. The long hunts, chasing the enemy as they scattered, went to ground after Korriban. Or was it Moriband here? He shook the idea loose from his mind. Now was not the time. That work was done, and the Brotherhood, safe from whatever threats he deigned to remove, had grown and grown cohesive, despite the efforts of disaffected soldiers, force cults and Sith lord predation alike. And that was, in the end what was important.

He took a long sip of his drink, then refocused his eyes as they stared at him.

How long had he been standing there? He blinked slowly, then wrapped his mind around a clean bottle from the barkeeper that had just finished cleaning it, pulling it to him with a thought. He let a smile creep up the side of his face as he filled the larger wine bottle with his flask, the deep amber liquid splashing along glass walls. Sealing up his flask and secreting it away along the inside folds of his warcoat, he handed the bottle to Zxyl. “For later, then.”

He tilted his head, black eyes gliding to the other one speaking in Mando'a. “Hello there.‘

<@417336769181122562>

Ankira tried to look at were the new voice was coming from, but it confused her as she heard it in her head as well.

“Uh… hello there. I’m Ankira.” She said, hoping to address the correct person.

Melissa squeaked and raised her hands to stop him falling over, palms landing squarely on his chest. He caught himself though.

She looked up, the flush quickly returning to her face as silver met brown. Except it wasn’t just brown, in the lighting of the feast, the shields, the latent light from food still being cooked, it almost had a honey effect on his irises, as if tendrils of gold simmered just below the surface.

I should take my hands off of him.

The thought crossed her mind but instead of following through, she started talking, heart aflutter as she continued looking up, “Oh uhm, hi. Again.”

Tha-thump, tha-thump.

His hearts beat against his ribs, betraying every impulse in his body. He felt like he was melting, starting with the points of which her hands touched his chest. He reached up, grabbing her hands with his, but not removing them. Instead, he placed them over his hearts so she could feel them beat in tandem.

“Uhm, hi. Again,” he repeated back to her.

“Well met, Ankira.” He paused, debating which name to give, given that this one did not quite recognize him. He had entirely too many of them, by any measure. Overly dramatic titles, obscure sobriquettes, and of course, his birth name. He settled on the name that he thought most would recognize, the sound growling through his tired voice and into her mind at the same time.

“Ashen”

“I can do that.” In high spirits, she set off with Aisha to the nearest bar. “I hope you don’t mind me playing waitress for a minute. What sort of drink would you like to start with?” <@260640060775464960>

“Hi.” Melissa felt herself say back, more than thinking about it. She’d just said it to him! That was very silly.

She could feel his hearts racing under her palms. Her fingers grasped the fabric of his shirt as she leant up, pressing a brief, but firm kiss to his lips. Her cheeks burned, heart racing but it felt right. The room felt quieter, everything calmer for the moment.

Everything around them vanished. Nothing else mattered. Not the beating of his hearts, the revelry of the party, the pouring of drinks, or the sound of music. His cheeks matched hers, but it didn’t matter.

He was lost, in a good way. Transfixed by Melissa in front of him. He leant down, pressing his forehead to hers, being mindful of the horns on his head.

“Hi.”

He whispered it to her, then interlocked his fingers with hers.

Anders watched what happened, a small smile forming on his face. It wad important for Draca to have others he could rely on. Anders knew he couldn’t watch over him forever. He was, after all, a young man now. He wasn’t tbe timid little boy he met on Iridonia over a decade ago.

The young man deserved to be happy more than anything. Not that it mattered much, but Anders himself found Melissa acceptable.

“I’ll have another drink. Coruscanti Wine, and ensure it is only the highest quality.”

Ander thought that he had earned a drink. He did silently wonder how the girl’s adoptive parents were going to react, if they even saw the kiss to begin with.

Indulging, perhaps. But I was lost when I arrived. And broken.

A little less broken now.

Socorra pulled a drink from the glass and savored it for a moment, recalling what life was like when she had arrived two years ago. It might actually bring such a high profile figure comfort to find they barely existed in this era. For her it did not. The Sith had left no legacy and had to shamefully, spitefully, hatefully claw her way back to anything resembling the former life.

“How is your family? And your cousins?”

And..what of…him?

Melissa closed her eyes for a moment, letting their foreheads press together. She enjoyed the closeness for a few moments before slowly pulling away, letting her heels fall flat against the floor once more.

Her hands remained interwined with his, thumb running over the back of his hand. The redness of Mel’s cheeks had in no means subsided but her smile was less nervous. She managed to not burst out laughing with a sudden burst of energy hitting her.

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

Draca had so many questions. Why him? Did he deserve her? What had he done to deserve that*? How would this even work?

Did it matter?

He liked her.

She liked him too.

Her words were different to him now, like a sweet lullaby. They held the power to calm his nerves unlike anything he’d ever heard, and yet they made his hearts race in a way he couldn’t describe.

“I’m glad you are too.”

He returned her gesture, rubbing the back of her hands with his thumbs. He opened his mouth to speak again, but kept fumbling his words.

He paused, looking at the Praetor. Shimura had left Sadow space with his young bride, heading for parts unknown. But that was not who she meant, and he knew it. She meant the cousin who had struck out to find himself in her neck of the woods, chasing his own fame before coming home again.

He sighed. Tsainetomo had evaporated near the Hapes Cluster while they were tracking an ancient Sith artifact. He found something there, something he couldn’t leave, wouldn’t leave. There was nothing for it, but to ensure he knew he could return. That was seven years ago.

He didn’t have to say anything. She knew before she even sent the thought over. Instead, he raised his glass, a silent toast to those who were not there to drink with them.

Melissa noticed, giggling but tilting her head toward the ice cream bowls again.

“I think our icecream melted.”

–

Now alone, Zuza turned toward Cora, giving him a gentle nudge with her elbow and smiling up at him.

“You and Ru doing okay? This is a pretty busy one.”

She was sure Cora would be okay, but for Ruka’s sake she posed it as both. Cora would know what she meant really. It wasn’t like his husband ever seemed truly comfortable at Arconan gatherings. Full brotherhood ones wouldn’t be any better.

<@244244163002892288>

Draca blinked. Then he glanced at the now half-empty bowl filled with mild liquid.

“Awww,” he pouted before chuckling.

He let go of her hands. Before Melissa had a chance to protest, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a gentle hug.

Damn it, he loved to hug, and with Melissa, it was the best feeling. He let his instincts guide him, returning the favour once she looked up at him by gently pressing his lips to hers. It was brief, but sent shockwaves up and down his spine. His lips tingled at the sensation.

What did this girl do to him?

“Erm…” Draca instantly blushed again. “Hi, again?”

He seriously hoped he hadn’t gone too far.

“Well.. all of them, of course. Bring it on, let’s see what you got.”

Aisha’s lips curled into a smirk as she accompanied her fellow Zeltron. It had been so long since she had an adequate drinking partner.

Melissa squeaked again but found herself leaning into his arms. After a moment she’d looked up, expecting some comment or another but instead was met with his lips. Any flush that was leaving her cheeks immediately came back as if a furnace had been lit.

When he pulled back, Melissa was stunned for a moment, yet then he spoke. A little worried but clearly as flustered but as happy as she felt.

She laughed again, too many emotions flying through her to pick one or pick any words to respond with this time but kriff it. Really, what in the stars were they doing?

A thin line formed on ruby lips and dark brows furrowed. Anger at Hapes; It is where Socorra fell protecting Marick. It is where her eye remains. And apparently it claimed another she had cared for. Anger at missteps; Poor decisions. Missed opportunities. Inability to trust anyone enough to take simple advice. Anger that she had lost everyone in this one.

And anger at the inability to find the way back. Perhaps she had been a Sith for far too long– the Force complied in very different ways. The scars turned Sith runes covered much of her honey bronze skin, marking a decade since induction by Raken. Even the Arconae tattoo had mostly morphed into a rune; the old guard would have lost their osik at it.

At least that thought tangent was a little amusing.

She raised her drink in return and queried both gentlemen.

“Do you wish to be introduced? And by what name and title?”

<@284848346672136192> <@260640060775464960>

What in the stars were they doing?

Draca held onto her, scared that if he let her go she’d vanish into air like steam. His hearts were practically leaping for joy in his chest and even as red in the face as he was, he was…

Happy…

But that left one big question.

“So… what, erm, where…” He stammered, trying to find the right words. “What happens now?”

An eyebrow went up slowly. Certainly his old Herald would know how to introduce him. Too many names, too many titles, and anyone among the Lords of the Sith would know him anyway, even if only from their scholastic pursuits. Then again, it wouldn’t be the first time that he met someone that was surprised that he was, in fact, not just a legend told to keep the novices awake at night. He tilted his head, glancing at the Mandalorian, searching an emotionless helmet for a tell. The man was on the Dark Council, and this wouldn’t be his first bantha-wrangle. The smith probably had to re-coat his gauntlets for all the times he had to knuckle the ground in front of the modern batch of Lords. Muz broke the ice anyway and nodded, his mouth working the words at the same time his mind did.

“The same as the old days: Ashen.” It was carefully selected then, as much as it was now. There was no need to impress, just a simple statement of who was actually there, in the flesh. Words were meaningless compared to action, compared to reputation. He lifted his glass to his lips, the taste of dried fruit and smooth vanilla floating through his mouth with the barrel aged liquor.

@anubis @socorra

“I don’t have a clue.” Melissa said inbetween giggles, breathing heavily to calm herself.

“I think the same as before but together right?”

“I require no introduction to that man,” stated Zxyl, his head turning slightly as he caught Muz’s gaze upon him, “I am fine to introduce myself, though the offer is appreciated.”

Together? He liked the sound of that.

He wanted to pull her into another hug, but something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.

There, under the table, was a small BD-Unit droid, one eerily familiar to Draca.

“Buddy?”

What was it doing here? Didn’t Anders tell it to stay on the ship?

The little droid waved one mechanical leg at the pair.

“Wait…” Draca said. “Were you spying on us?”

BUDD-E recoiled slightly, then made a beeline through the crowd towards Anders.

“Oh, I’ve got this,” she winked to Zxyl, which with one eye was more like a long, slow blink.

The woman spotted Thane and smirked a little, maneuvering his way with a mischievous glint in her arctic blue eye. Socorra spoke with broken Basic, a light tongue that rolled the Rs of words perfectly. Her alto voice grew louder as the names grew so that everyone could hear. But still not nearly as loud as Rajhin. This was worth everything.

“If it pleases and sparkles, allow me to introduce the man formerly known as Atra Ventus, now Thane Skotos, Combat Center Gladius, wielder of the Silver Sash, the Lord Renatus, The Dark Seraphim, former Combat Master, former Regent, former Justicar, and now the Shadow Hand and DEPUTY GRAND MASTER!.”

Damn, she ran out of titles.

Socorra nodded to Muz and simply said, “Ashen.”

@everyone

Zxyl pointed at the new Deputy, and without skipping a beat and completely out of character, yelled in his direction with a finger pointed at him.

“HA HA!”

Immediately after, he dropped his arm, brushed the chestplate of his armor a bit as if he was cleaning it, clearing his voice for a moment.

You forgot the word ‘emeritus’, didn’t you?

The words sailed on currents of the force into her head directly as he watched the new Shadow Hand’s reaction, restraining a chuckle.

She silently sighed and silently shrugged. Rusty.

Melissa gasped in false horror, watching Buddy disappear and having a moment to be amused before a lady started yelling. Someone was uh. The deputy now? Oh.

She blinked, not sure which of the men she was with she was talking about and looking to Draca. Maybe he knew? He’d been around longer than her.

As if by magic, another glass slid into its place, some alcohol over spilling but landing on thr bar within reach of telekinesis. A head of brown hair rushed away, namely to claim another glass for herself as Zuza was about to drink that.

But she reckoned Thane needed it more.

“Well, I’m not quite at Muz’s level with juggling multiple drinks at once, but I’ll give it my best shot.” She waved over to the bartender. “Two Pink-Skinned Party Girls and a Kasiya tihaar.”

Then, to Aisha, once the drinks had arrived: “Back in a minute. I don’t want to leave Ankira hanging.” Erinyes grabbed the tihaar and darted over to the buffet table, where she found… confusion. She poked at her wrist comlink until it tuned to Ankira’s frequency. “Hey, what do you like to eat?” <@417336769181122562>

Then she heard the cavalcade of Thane’s titles, and snorted to herself at Zxyl’s response. Clearly, the two generals were pinnacles of Taldrya dignity, shouting their knee-jerk mockeries across the room.

The Chiss startled slightly as the comm went active, but quickly regained herself. “Something as sweet as you can get it to be… Might cancel out all the title calling,” she said with a soft chuckle. “Do they really like calling out all those titles?”

Muz raised a glass before stepping through the throng of people hovering about the place. Making his way toward the Firrerreo, he took the last sip of his own, setting the glass down on the bar and turned to look at the man.

“No good deeds go unpunished,after all.” He slowly reached inside his coat, retrieving the glass and silver flask. “Care for something….” He paused, like he was looking for the word, “…better?”

Deputy? From what Anders had taught him, that could only be…

Oh.

He looked at Melissa, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head as a semi-nervous smile appeared on his lips.

“Do you want to go somewhere more private? Preferably somewhere that we can’t be overheard.”

He shot a look over to Anders, who now had BUDD-E nestled on his shoulder. The Chiss held a smug grin, raising his glass to Draca.

The Zabrak sighed and rolled his eyes, but waited for Melissa’s answer.

Across the room, a pair of violet eyes caught Draca’s. Ruka pointed at him, pointed at the floor, as if to indicate the hall at large, and then slowly shook his head.

Then he carried on his way towards Cora and Zuza, both parents having seen the display and deciding to let the pair enjoy themselves so long as they stayed in sight.

“Probably not a good idea. Ruka and Cora, they’d worry. Especially after the war and.. not knowing where I was for most of it.”

The Echani completely missed her adoptive father making her point all the more impactful.

“They like doing it to tease people who hate titles.” Erinyes shut the comm off and wandered over to the dessert section of the buffet. Something sweet… she selected a slightly spicy roll, loaded with sugary icing. Hopefully it’d pair well with the fruit-based drink she’d chosen.

With that choice made, she strolled over to Ankira. “Here you go. If you need anything else, I’ll be around.”

Draca, however, had not missed it. He paled watching Ruka shake his head. He swallowed the lump in his throat. The last thing he wanted to do was upset Melissa’s adopted parents.

Message received. They were staying in sight and in mind.

“Yeah, that’s OK. I don’t mind. Are you… OK? With everything that happened in the war, I mean. We can talk about it if you want. Anders says you helped find him. I’d love to hear how that happened if you want?”

He rubbed her arm tentatively, offering her comfort if she wanted it.

Socorra smirked. “At least you get notice. I just get mission. ‘Go to party’. Who knew Evant rub off on Dacien?”

Of course the woman knew what she had said, not that her expression showed it. Socorra was still pleased to have successfully teased Atra and that was all that was obvious.

He poured several ounces of the Sugarhorn into Thane’s glass, the smell rising as the amber liquid splashed against the smooth crystal. Pouring a similar amount into his own glass, he turned and raised an eyebrow at Socorra. She stepped forward, draining what was left in her glass and extending an arm toward him. He nodded, more of the liquor dispensing from the small bottle as he looked back at the Firrerreo. It is a different style of nonsense. Only one worse. He stoppered his flask and secreted it away in the folds of his warcoat. Take your enjoyment where you can. It gets worse before it gets worse.

Anders had BUDD-E on his shoulder, the little droid whispering binary codes into his ears.

“No, Buddy. I do not think we need to interfere with their bonding time.”

He took a cursory glance around the room, taking notice of Erinyes. How could he possibly miss her?

Then there was… from what information he had gathered prior to his arrival in Taldryan, that was the former Supreme Chancellor’s wife was it not?

Then there was Lady Socorra being overly loud with Thane who appeared unamused by the sheer number of titles he possessed.

Anders scoffed. There was a reason Thane was the Deputy Grand Master now, he supposed. Though he carried himself with about as much enthusiasm as a wet towel.

Oh well. His power and accomplishments certainly could not be denied, at least.

Anders mentally shrugged and took one more sip of his drink, finishing it as he placed it back on the bar.

“An unexpected turn or two, but…well, hopefully it stays manageable. There are…some potent presences here. And many characters we are unfamiliar with. But! Chin up.” Knowing she knew that as something of a battle cry for him, he added, “I shall let you know if it should grow too overwhelming, Pippa.” Cora briefly rested his cheek upon the top of her head, since they were nearly of a height. He leaned back to a proper gentleman’s stance when she bustled off to pass Lord Renatus a drink and get another one for herself, and in that time, the Pantoran saw Melissa and Draca get rather close before averting his eyes with a smile.

Let them enjoy themselves, he thought, reflecting upon how his own mother had reacted when he and Ru had made such displays. Those were bittersweet ruminations he’d mentioned to Zuza before, but he saw no need to burden her with them now.

The object of his thoughts eventually appeared from the crowd at his side as Zuza returned, and Corazon smiled up at his husband, reaching to take his arm. Ruka smiled back at him, glanced at Melissa and Draca, and then offered Cora a seat on one of the bar stools.

“Havin’ fun, Zu?” the Mirialan asked.

The Mandalorian was left with a drink and dessert and no way to eat or drink it. She looked around to see if she could find a place more private were she could take her helmet off without worry.

“Uh… I’m sorry, but I have to leave for a bit, would be a shame to let this go to waste,” she said as she raised her food and drink a little.

The Chiss hoped they would understand and walked off towards a more private place. It wasn’t easy to navigate between the people, but she made good way without bumping into others. ‘At least I’m getting better at this,’ she thought quietly.

The Regent looked around at the festivities for a minute, then over to Renatus, Muz, and Socorra. His vambrace emitted a low beep. Raising his fully armored left forearm, he scanned its screen before he murmured something. Looking up, he addressed them.

“My apologies Stokos, Lady Erinos, Ashen. I must take my leave.”

The Mandalorian bowed his head slightly in respect at the other three Elders, and departed from the group - making his way to a much more quiet part of the celebrations.

“By chance, mostly. I had a vision of.. the place but I didn’t know what was there. Not that it’d be him. I helped him and we made way to the fortress.” Melissa shrugged, “I also.. saw my old family. Their ghosts, that is. Not for long but it was nice. It… The war could have been a lot worse. It was terrifying but my family came home safe. You did. That’s what matters.”

She smiled at the touch, not sure what to do with it but grateful either way.

“Yeah!” Zuza responded, glancing the way he had briefly but seeing nothing amiss. She smiled, shrugging. “Some friends here, some new faces but it’s all good I think. Not seen any problems pop up this time.”

She sipped her drink, minding herself to take it somewhat slowly in front of Ruka, “Should probably catch Anders’ ear again at some point soon. He might’ve been right about somethin’. Not sure yet but it’s not like its easy to catch folk from the other clans for a quick chat usually.”

“You must have just missed me. Anders was there because… we… uhm… fought. You went through a lot. I’m so sorry for what part I played in it,” Draca’s eyes seemed distant for a moment. “Whether it’s your old family or your new one, I’m sure they’re very proud of you.”

Though she was late in her arrival to the ‘social event’, unfortunately was the life of a poltical leader. Following the close of the war, duties required her to return to the Taldryan homeworld of Kasiya to handle issues within the senate and additional expansion by the Traditionalists. That alongside the growing threats immediately outside of their sector made for a busy time.

But, she at least was here now. She walked into the main chamber with two of her attachés and glanced around at everyone who was present, looking for anyone who was familiar and of course anyone who stood out like a sore thumb.

“Enjoy yourselves, keep your comms open however for when it is time to depart.” Cassandra telepathically communicated to the two. They both bowed their heads forward before walking away to enjoy some of the food and drink.

Ultimately she spotted several from Taldryan, including her Vice-Chancellor, however also spotted the new Deputy Grand Master. She had only known him on acquaintance terms, never formally meeting him during his time as Justicar.

Which, honestly that was a good thing. Anyone who formally came to know him had generally done something to be on his bad side or had gone against the tenants of the Brotherhood. She was fortunate to have done neither of those.

Cassandra began her way towards where he was, ignoring her own people for the time being, and stopped a small ways away from him.

She bowed her head with a smile and spoke in the sincerest of diplomatic-style voices.

“Congratulations on your appointment as Deputy Grand Master, Darth Renatus. I am Cassandra Oriana Tyris, Supreme Chancellor of the Taldryan Republic.”

<@185936112441622529>

The comment earned her two puzzled and somewhat stressed looks. “You know Anderson?” Ruka asked, at the same time Cora did, “Right about what, Pippa? Is something wrong?”

Muz turned slightly, acknowledging the new voice as she introduced herself. He nodded slightly, watching the woman with blackened eyes. He let his mind race through memory, seeking the name and finding nothing. He blinked slowly. A Taldryan title, from a new name. She would have had to be immensely talented to earn such recognition from that lot in that short of a time. He brought his glass to his lips for a sip as he considered.

A tickle in the back of his mind filtered through, his eyes darting off to the side in the direction of the interruption. She would be here soon. Good. Leena didn’t relish the idea of mingling with the clans, with the brotherhood. She had seen too much as a Nephilim, and wanted exactly none of it, none of the problems that came from that affiliation. And yet there was a need for it, even if she didn’t see it yet.

He brought his eyes back to focus, standing next to the Shadow Hand, watching for his reaction to the protocols of high court life, half of a smile creasing the corner of his eyes.

<@61385159655559168> <@185936112441622529>

She raised back up and looked at him with her teal colored eyes. There was an ever so brief pause, and almost as quickly as she would have sensed something, her response came. “Tyris will do fine, my lord.”

It was hard to not notice Muz acknowledge her as well, and she turned in kind and gave him a bow as well now that the most formal of introductions had been done. One thing she had made sure to do before coming, and even then as far back as when she gained the nomination to her station, was study Brotherhood history and lore as deeply as she could. And of course, he, was one of the most interesting and unforgettable of those she had learned of.

“Lord Ashen…fifteenth Grand Master, emeritus. It is an honor to meet you as well in the same day.” <@284848346672136192>

“They were, yeah.” Melissa smiled, a slight bitterness to it before she shook her head and let the smile shine true. “I’m sorry you had to go through what you did. At all. It was all awful. The chain, the evacuation..”

She shook her head, “We both made it.”

“Oh, yeah we met a while back on uh- Kriff I’m not sure when exactly but it was before the war.” Zuza narrowed her eyes, trying to recall if it was before the party or not but coming to a firm blank. The Human shrugged.

“Nothin’ wrong I think I just uh- Well.” Zuza looked at her hands, then back up as she wiggled her fingers, “He said he reckoned I had the Force. I didn’t believe him but ever since we got back I’m not as sure y'know. Whatever happened… stayed a little. In a good way.”

“I’m not surprised, personally.”

Anders interrupted the conversation, not really caring if Ruka liked the intrusion or not. “I do believe I heard my name being spoken. My observations on Lady Zuza were based on an… unfortunate incident on Ostara a few months prior. She has remarkable talent and I was informed she received training with a lightsaber by the Exarch?”

Draca gently embraced her, Melissa’s head pressing against his chest in a way that she could hear both of his hearts beat in tandem. He began to gently sway from side to side in rhythmic movements.

“Yeah… I’m really glad you did. I don’t think I could forgive myself if something happened to you…”

‘Emeritus’. Muz would have shuddered as hard as Thane, had it not been for the delicious irony of his exchange with Socorra earlier. Caerick would have lost his mind, a consul confusing Darth and Lord, even if it was less obvious in his particular case. He chuckled out loud for a moment, leaving his drink to hover in front of him, the fine crystal rotating slowly, amber liquid rippling within. “Some would not call it an honor.” The words echoed across her mind as well as through her ears, reminding her of the stories she had read. He tilted his head slowly, Thane sensing a glint of mischieviousness blooming in his pattern. A hand abruptly went up to catch a glass that rocketed toward them from the bar, the coils of mind wound tightly around it. He lifted his flask once more, watching the Consul as the stopper spun without his fingers. “Would you drink?”

His abilities were exactly as she had read, and heard. While her own telepathy skills were nearly at a mastered level, his were in a league of their own. In a way, that excited her.

“I would.” she replied back, both verbally and echoing it across his own mind in an equal, but definitely lesser skilled, measure. She didn’t even ask what it was, knowing full well it would be disrespectful to do so.

Where the sudden actions of the force would have shifted the attention of lesser individuals, her years as a diplomat allowed her attention to remain unwaivered from Muz and it stayed completely locked upon him and Thane.

“Thank you.”

Socorra looked up, way up at the Epicanthrix that had joined them. The shock of white bangs fell to the side, revealing scarring and a missing eye, the other a piercing pale arctic blue contrasting her dark skin. A nod seemed futile from her height so she lifted her glass instead.

“Greetings, Consul.” The woman was aware that Cassandra had succeeded Appius and silently conveyed as much to Ashen; whether her appointment was fortunate or unfortunate only time would tell. Appi was missed either way. <@284848346672136192>

“Praetor Erinos.” Cassandra responded in kind, with a light nod and a smile. She would have extended the same gesture but her glass had not yet been presented to her, which made for a briefly awkward moment of acknowledgement.

An eyebrow raised, a silent whisper, the flicker of power, an old ritual. He poured liquor from the Bottle of Sadow into the glass in his hand, then willed it adrift in the consul’s direction. It was faintly golden-green now, swirling with glittering motes of pollen suspended. It smelled of fresh tropical fruit and rain, a dramatic difference from the Sugarhorn that sat in his glass, in Thane’s. Muz tilted his head to the side, seeing his Herald’s glass had run dry. He continued to pour over the floor, his mind catching the liquid as gravity pulled it downward. The Krath called, and thus the Force responded, redirecting and dividing the stream into the glasses in her hand and in his. He blinked, the stopper returning to its home as he placed the artefact back within the folds of his coat. Reaching back out to his glass, he swirled it in his hand, watching the fluids dance with each other briefly before mixing together, the result more the color of copper patina now. He paused, letting the smell get to his nose.

Are we going to stand on ceremony the entire night? He wasn’t sure how much of the question came through audibly, and wasn’t entirely sure how much he cared about it at this point. In the last decade, most of these people had only seen him on the field of battle, if they had seen ever him in the flesh at all. Some caution from them was to be expected, naturally. Especially after… He took a sip.

This was no battlefield.

<@141239709291511808> <@185936112441622529>

“We are merely a little surprised, is all, since she had not mentioned you, or retaining powers, to us,” Corazon explained in a light, diplomatic tone. “As to your name being mentioned. Nothing untoward.”

The tight look on Ruka’s face belied his husband’s outwardly unbothered summary of the matter.

Of course, they knew about Ostara. They got detailed reports of everything Zuza did for the Brotherhood, be it in or out of Dajorran space, for Arcona or for the Envoy Corps.

Whether or not she told them anything at all was a different matter, and thus, left undiscussed.

Melissa let the moment sit, relieved and sad and happy, so damn happy but eventually pulling away.

“More icecream? Or something else maybe, there’s so much to try here.”

The Jedi and Sith pair shared a glance, and then both gave smiles to Zuza that were distinctly patient and fatherly respectively, encouraging and proud.

“Yeah, really busy, don’t worry about it, Zu,” Ruka said, and Cora chimed on.

“Well if you want any assistance with these… newfound powers, you know we’re here. Not that you need it, of course. I am certain you’ll find your own way.” He turned to Anders. “She is indeed a brilliant swordswoman and remarkable talent. I am sure Lord Tyris would agree.”

“It certainly caught me by surprise on Ostara, I can promise you that much…” Anders rolled his eyes, lightly smiled and chuckled lightly. “Indeed. You have both sides of the Force standing before you.”

He gestured to Ruka and Cora. The former looked stressed, and judging from his body language and tone, he got the feeling this went further back than just the war. Cora was, simply, the perfect diplomat.

“I am most intrigued to see how your skills progress. I do fancy myself has a keen duelist, after all.”

“Absolutely,” Draca’s hearts faltered for just a moment when she pulled away. Nonetheless, he kept his composure. “Where do you want to start?”

Especially after.

A smirk in the Force.

I am good with not standing at all. And ceremony, well. That was just a necessary evil.

Or a good-natured tease towards Thane, one of the very few in the galaxy that she trusted– the loose definition that was.

“Table?” she lightly indicated open seating behind them. <@284848346672136192> <@185936112441622529> <@61385159655559168>

Anders took note in Ruka’s distress. It didn’t seem to be easing, whether that was due to his presence was to be determined.

“Ruka, would you mind if I spoke briefly with you in private? Your husband can attest to the fact that I mean you no ill will.”

<@244244163002892288>

Amethyst eyes turned to the Chiss, brows furrowing in confusion.

“Uh…why?”

Study the other man though he did, noting body language and tone, he still couldn’t think of a reason for Anderson needing to talk to him, given they’d already laid out their terms about the kids earlier and Anders pretty clearly felt he was right in the wrong, and that Ruka was preachy at best. Nevermind talking privately.

And what was that supposed to mean, no ill will? Why even say that?

Zuza felt like.. something was amiss but Ruka and Cora seemed fine. Patient. Proud even?

She smiled, shoulders relaxing. “Yeah I will be, may as well learn what I’m doing with it all, right?” She looked as confused as Ruka by Anders’ question.

Muz turned his head and blinked slowly at his Herald, mind drinking deep of memory. Precocious, as always. A feeling of pride flickered behind the words he let hum inside her head alone as he made a note to steel his resolve. He had been away for too long, and rote mental defenses were probably enough for the vast majority of those he came into contact with, but not for those who knew him well.

He nodded, mostly for the other’s benefit, but also to save his voice. It would probably be a good idea to have some food brought over as well. He lifted his head, black eyes gliding to across the far end of the hall, catching the attention of one of his men. In a few minutes, they would bring all manner of the delicacies he had brought to their table.

<@61385159655559168> <@185936112441622529> <@141239709291511808>

With that invitation Cassandra moved to the table and took a seat, in a less than formal fashion, now far more relaxed after having sensed Muz’s disdain for formalities and the Socorra’s open invitation for a more laid-back situation.

She raised the glass to her lips and took a sip, parsing her lips as she tasted the drink inside. It reminded her so much of her favorite, but was far more vibrant and alive. Almost as if it had been aged for well over a century, there was no mistaking the perfection and absolution given from the flavor all the way down to the lingering aftertaste leaving her wanting more. She took a small swig before placing it down on the table.

“I am impressed,” Cassandra started, giving her attention back to Muz, “That is one of the best tasting drinks ever to touch my lips without a question. And we even have vineyards on Kasiya that specialize in nothing but the rarest and most flavorful of wines. If I may ask, what is it?”

“I am glad you enjoy. It is from Naboo.” The words came slow and gravelly, the Krath pausing to take a sip as he sat down. You’ve had Domaine de la Maison sur le Lac, I presume. Muz continued, dispensing with even the pretense of moving his lips now. Many generations ago, a second daughter of that same family moved a much warmer climate, to Île Aux Lucioles, the Island of Fireflies. he raised a glass to eye level, noting the pollen swirling within, glimmers of gold reflecting light as befitted its namesake.

He glanced down quickly, where Socorra had touched his hand. His eyebrow raised slightly as he let his eyes slide over to her. They were familiar, but not that familiar, even back then. He mentally shrugged it off, continuing.

This vintage is from their seventh bottling, aged since Queen Arasmi’s reign. He took a sip, then set the glass down. Sometimes, the story was as good as the taste. In this case, he wasn’t sure which was better.

<@141239709291511808> <@185936112441622529>

The mental curtains dropped into place as expected. Beg forgiveness, not permission.

Worth it.

Socorra escorted him over to a table, subtly brushing against the fancy ring on his hand as she released his real arm and sat down. She had debated the prosthetic first but whatever secrets it held were likely far less interesting than the old ring. She really couldn’t help herself now that she knew how to read objects, almost like a glitterstim addiction.

The raised eyebrow suggested she had been caught. Her own dark brow raised in reply. Surely he knew she was not stupid enough to steal it, or have a death wish.

Anders didnt answer immediately, but gestured for him to follow. He didn’t go very far. Just far enough that Ruka could keep an eye on everyone he cared about while they had their talk.

Ruka’s expression crinkled further, this time distinctly with a grumpier cast. He sighed and shot his companions a be right back sort of long suffering look before stepping over with Anderson.

“What, ay?”

“What’s troubling you? Really troubling you?” Anders asked, clasping his hands behind his back. “I know you don’t trust me as for as you can throw someone with the Force. However, I’m under the impression that whatever is ailing you, causing those looks you give, isn’t recent. Perhaps I could be of assistance? Or at least an ear to vent to. As I stated previously, I have no care for what you think of me, though I have a vested interest in your wellbeing thanks to…”

Anders gave a nod in the direction of Draca and Melissa.

I never have, actually. Heard of it, yes, but acquiring it nearly impossible without an extensive credit line far beyond even even fifty years of my own salary. Cassandra responded telepathically while she took a sip of it once more, her eyes closed as she let the flavors drive her thoughts and emotion. A small tear began to form from her right eye before it slipped down her cheek as warm memories flooded her mind, of the friends she had through the years…and whom she equally had lost in her first ever time at war. She tried her best to suppress those thoughts, as she knew Muz would just as quickly notice them if he had not already. She could not show weakness, instead shifting the conversation a bit.

Would…it be possible to procure a few seeds, just for a personal vintage for myself?

<@185936112441622529> <@141239709291511808>

After getting sidetracked by a minor logistical issue—the downsides of being a supplier—Erinyes returned to the bar, only to find that Aisha had vanished.

“I swear, I left her right here…”

After a brief pause, Erinyes shrugged and procured two glasses: a pitch-black Kir Katarn of her own design, and whatever <@432543120635461643> had been seen carrying before. Then, she wandered back in Cora and Zuza’s direction, still not yet having spotted Anders and Ruka. <@244244163002892288>

Socorra must have drank too much to get much information from the ring. Interesting what she did see but disappointing how little of it considering just how old the heirloom was.

She mentally gestured to most of the guests around the room, explaining out loud to her table who each of them were and anything relevant.

Thick, broken brows rose again, out of their confused furrow and into something skeptical, though no less softening to his scowl.

“Look, jvho, I appreciate it and all, ‘specially from an angle of people even a little bit important to Draca,ay, but trust you or no – and yeah, no – I’m not just gonna like…vent. What’s troubling me is a list we ain’t got time for even if we sat here til we was watching them have grandbabies,” he nodded towards their wards. “And you can’t really do nothing about any of it, no. ”

His deeply tired violet gaze went back to Zuza, now approached by whoever the hell that was, and tightened up almost to the point of a flinch. Nevertheless, when he looked back to Anders, he smiled. Exhausted, stressed, troubled, but genuine for all that crushing weight.

“I know you’re probably already sick of my advice, but trust me on this, with him and anybody else: there ain’t a thing you, me, or any power in this damn universe that can do to make somebody you love stop hurting you. Our kids especially…they are gonna not want to talk to you or tell you anything, not want you around anymore, find you just …just a burden, or stressful, or something that just makes them feel guilty. You’ll mess up and hold too tight sometimes and they might decide they can’t ever trust you again, not really. Not enough to talk to you. If you do good enough by them ya might minimize it. But it’s gonna happen anyway. At least a little.” He sighed, and the smile dimmed, but the curve lingered, pulling on the scars over his lips and ground meat of his cheek. “Best we can do is love them anyway and be patient and let 'em go. If we’re really, really lucky, maybe they’ll come visit once or twice a month. Probably still won’t tell you anything. But they’ll come for dinner.”

Zuza had lapsed in a content quiet with Cora when she noticed the approach of.. someone. She smiled, bright and genuine.

“Heya!”

Her own glass had somehow become almost empty.

Anders slowly nodded. “Time creeps up on us all, and before we know it, they’re all grown up. I lost Draca for a few months. The emotional turmoil was… unbearable,” Anders shook his head. “Well, I appreciate giving me the chance to speak with you. There’s no reason we cannot be amicable with one another, correct?”

Anders smiled at him.

The Mirialan seemed agonized by the mere thought of such loss, but he hid it well, like most things in the same vein. He nodded to Anders with what wasn’t quite just a grunt, minding manners more than that.

“Yeah, ay, sure can.” Ruka turned. “C'mon, I smell trouble.”

“And it always rears its head at the most inconvenient times, don’t you agree?”

The two made their way back.

“Hi. I hope you two are enjoying the party?” She handed Zuza’s glass to, well, Zuza, then turned to Cora and nodded apologetically. “I’d have brought you something, but I have no idea what you drink.”

“Oh, thanks!” Zuza took it, looking to her almost empty glass and then the new one and carefully finishing the old one off and placing the glass over on the bar.

“Welcome back, my Lady,” Corazon chimed in just after Zuza, smiling brilliantly and yet demurely at once. He dipped a formal, delicate bow at the waist, lashes falling over his cheeks. “And please, no trouble at all. I do not often imbibe besides; perhaps a champagne for occasions such as these.” His friendly golden gaze crinkled with conspiratorial mirth, countenance dusting with lavender. “Any more than that and I fear I become utterly untoward, as Zuza dear could attest.”

“Zuza what arrest?” Ruka asked as he came up with Anders.

“Not this time, no,” the Pantoran chuckled, looping his arm with his husband’s, a silent check for his well-being after whatever the Chiss had wanted. “Attest, Angel. To my state when…tipsy.”

The Mirialan snorted.

“I don’t think I’ve been arrested once.” Zuza laughed lightly, before nodding, “I think the only untoward thing you do is karoke when you’re drunk Cora, you’re fine.”

She gave her attention to Erinyes, not bothering to bow because she hadn’t, “Good to see you again Erinyes.”

Again Ruka coughed. Cora got purpler and sipped his flute of water.

“Yes, well, karaoke is quite fun, Pippa. We should do it again,” he commented.

“If karaoke is the most dangerous thing you do when drinking, you’re much wiser than most.” Then, she bowed slightly to Ruka. “Shadow Scion. Or would you prefer to be called something else?” The only part of the Mirialan’s dossier she remembered, besides the basics, was the very pointed warning that offering him alcohol would probably cause a diplomatic incident.

Zuza grinned, knowing exactly what she was doing.

She sipped the new drink delicately.

Two years on as the Arconan Proconsul – somehow – Ruka didn’t nearly faint or loudly freak out anymore on instinct when bowed to. Not that he liked it, but he’d gotten good at only locking his jaw with lots of practice with Cora.

Instead, the Mirialan just bowed back, a formal low thing at the waist, stately as the Pantoran’s, if with a less inherent naturalness and beauty. “Vice-Chancellor Ténama. Or is it General, sir? Ruka’s fine, thanks. Tenbriss Ya-ir if you’re feelin’ formal.”

“Do you enjoy karaoke, my Lady?” Cora asked, quite proud of his partner internally. “Perhaps we ought to suggest it for the docket the next our Lord Darth hosts a soiree.”

“Just Erinyes. I’m not big on formalities either, but you know how it goes in places like this.” She gestured at the… frivolities going on around the banquet hall. “It’s an easy way to win points with people who care about that kind of thing, you know?”

Then, to Cora: “I’ve indulged in karaoke from time to time. I can carry a tune in a bucket, but honestly, I’d rather just talk with people.”

“What else do you two—three, even—do for fun?” She belatedly added <@432543120635461643> back to the conversation.

“I’m not fun,” Ruka replied. It might have seemed like a deadpan joke, and his tone matched it, but the slightest pinch of his shoulders and look away hinted at pure sincerity. And self-consciousness.

Cora patted their joined hands.

“All sorts, as the time allows, of course. Our duties keep us quite occupied. If it isn’t the Proconsulship and all involved in managing it, then there is the Lotus work, or our family, even if they’re growing out from under us; of course Mela and Siva aren’t children, and hardly Noga and Leda anymore, but family is much larger than that, isn’t it just?” He beamed at Zuza, clearly included in family. “And we have been quite frequently involved in training apprentices recently,” his gaze darted to Melissa and back, and then unfocused slightly as he thought, “and there is also the projects with the Commonwealth and about Estle, and Ruka’s visions, and–”

“Babe.”

“Oh, have I gone on a tangent? Forgive me!” He dipped his head. “Well! I am a dancer. And I dabble in painting, and enjoy outings with Zuza and Leda to the spa, and plenty such. Our family nights are the best, when Noga doesn’t have huttball and we can all make the time. We cook – Ruka cooks, we help – and have a cup of tea and watch a holo or play a game. Even better if Qyreia and Kiera bring Ileta over, that’s their daughter…”

Ruka had waved for a water, and just sipped, staring into the glass. To say he was still radiating stressed and exhausted was putting it mildly, especially to a Zeltron.

“…but Zuza does all sorts, don’t you, Pippa?” Cora was passing the conversational torch, smiling.

“I think my list might be as long as yours.” Zuza smiled, happily taking on the torch so to say. And not dropping this one.

“Karoke, obviously but I’m more into the running around stuff. Anything active and I’m there, swordsplay and beyond. I like drawing, Cora’s been teaching me some stuff with painting but I think I prefer the uhm… gra.. Grafet-”

“Graphite.” Cora gently corrected.

“Right, graphite sticks. Not very colourful but they work really well. Now we’re clear of conflict for hopefully a bit longer than it seems to have been at any point this year, it’s been good to indulge when I can though well… Paperwork.” Zuza pulled a face before smiling again, focussing on <@645466919415054357>. “What about you, you’re supplying the drinks here right? Heard your name somewhere.”

“Some of them, yes. If you’re looking for something a bit more flavourful than water that won’t dull the senses, try the black spiceberry juice—it’s basically the kid-friendly version of this.” She held up the glass of blackness she hadn’t passed over to Zuza. “I don’t know if it was natural or engineered, but Kasiyan spiceberry is like someone crossbred zsajhira berry with cinnamon, and it’s wonderful. Just, uh… don’t get it within a few metres of light-coloured clothing, unless you want to look like someone poured ink on you.” Then she turned to Ruka. “What kinds of things do you cook?” Maybe talking about something he enjoyed did willingly would help the Mirialan come down from his “sitting still very fast” levels of tension. <@244244163002892288>

Though Ruka’s face had ticked at mention of the woman supplying drinks, he seemed to be mildly intrigued at the word spice*berry and then *cinnamon.

It was obvious, however, that he’d mostly checked out of the conversation – probably deliberately – when it seemed like it was going to be talk about alcohol business. Cora tapped one finger on his hand when it rested when Erinyes asked him something.

“Huh–? Oh, uh, ay… whatever, really,” he answered, blinking back to attention. “Didn’t have a lot growin’ up, so just kinda tired to make what there was better. Turned into a thing. My aquayla’s recipes. Mostly Mirialan cooking, but whatever somebody likes, I guess. Lots of spices– spicy yeah, ay, and spices. Chillies. Citrus. Cocoa. Cinnamon’s big.”

“And not spicy for me,” Cora flapped his hand at his face. “Goodness, our first Life Day, I was in tears when we made cookies, while those three would much away!” The Pantoran practically glowed with fondness at the memory.

Ruka looked at the thing Erinyes was drinking a bit like it might bite him, but in a debating way. “Juice, y'said? What’s these berries?”

“No citrus for me.” Zuza chimed in before sipping her drink, eyes glancing between the trio as each speaker took lead, content.

“Oh, oh yes, none at all, not even lemon in the water.” Corazon suddenly looked somewhat concerned for her drink, but then if anything was wrong, they’d already know.

“I’ll get a round that won’t set off a breathalyzer. Or a citrus detector, for that matter. Be right back.” She darted off to the bar, returning a few moments later with glasses of almost-black juice—red against the light, but only barely—topped off with ice.

“The juice is a mix of black ruby grapes and spiceberry, but we just bottle the juice instead of fermenting it.” She offered a glass each to Ruka, Cora, and Zuza. “It’s a bit tart, but if you’re into that kind of thing, you’ll probably like it.”

Zuza laughed lightly. She hadn’t met a citrus detector yet though maybe it’d be an investiment.

She took what was once again Erinyes handing her a second glass with one in her hand already for the second time tonight, though at least didn’t down the older drink. There was still a lot left.

On a sniff, it smelled great. Zuza sipped it, hmm-ing in approval.

That can certainly be arranged. He smiled, leaning back a little bit. The family owed him several favors, so that wouldn’t take but coordination. He briefly wondered if the Taldryan’s operation could sustain the near tropical climate that the plants required, and how much the local land impacted the actual flavor of the wine. Lifetimes of arguments were had on those sort of discussions, and careers made on the pursuit of that knowledge. But to them, it was a passing fancy. Far larger concerns took precedence, and likely always would.

I know you have many questions. The words came into Socorra’s head in an almost comforting tone, even as he looked directly at Cassandra. She wondered if the words were sent to everyone for a moment, then recognized the difference. That knowledge was not borne from intrusion, that was not his way. Not among friends. He knew she was too curious, and it had been too long. As do I. He distinctly remembered her with two eyes, and considerably less… there was a word for it, but it eluded him now. It lied somewhere between resignation and trauma. Maybe there wasn’t a word after all.

An idle finger tapped the side of his glass as he watched the serving platters arrive. Neatly arranged chilled grain rolls with colorful fresh fish and an astringent spicy sauce, plates of crisply fried thin dough pockets filled with savory meat, deep bowls of bright and flash-cooked vegetables, some with thick noodles caramelized in a glossy coating, and a tray of tender cutlets, seared and seasoned to perfection all set before them. A third man brought pitchers of cool water, setting them beside the pots with hot tea. As the mingling scents rose to their nostrils, Muz thanked the servers silently, then gestured to those seated with him.

A sampling from my home. Come, enjoy.

<@141239709291511808>

Both men took theirs, Corazon with an extremely careful grace, given his white robes, but one trained into every bit of his being from a tender age as nobility. Becoming a Jedi had only reinforced it. He didn’t spill a drop.

He did almost drop the glass, though, when seconds after appropriately allowing the beverage sample to sit on his tongue and swallowing like a wine, the heat hit him. The Pantoran coughed, rapidly going mulberry around the face, and Ruka, having been halfway to reaching for his husband as if to stop him after tasting it himself, instead retracted the hand to pat his back soothingly.

“Oh, babe,” the Mirialan sympathized, lifting both glasses and setting them down on the bar with barely a flicker of his eyes alone. “Want me to see if they got any milk?”

“Pfh-leeze–” Cora got out, tears in his pretty saffron eyes and trying to cover his tongue sticking out with hands in front of his mouth; utterly gauche behavior.

Zuza had been about to sip hers when Cora started choking. She looked down at hers, hesitating before taking a good drink of the spice Berry, her other drink prepped to down as well if needed.

It wasn’t. It was definitely spicy though, Zuza stuck her tongue out for a moment after before going for another sip, “It tastes good at least, but uh- You mightve killed Cora.”

She was watching but Ruka had it handled and Cora would hate it if she hopped in and made it a scene.

“Stars, are you alright? You look like you just got tear-gassed.” A napkin flew from a nearby table to her hand, and she offered it to Cora, to at least give him something to cough into. Not that it’d help with the spice, but maybe it’d make him feel like he was being more discreet.

Anders pinched the bridge of hid nose and lightly shook his head. He quickly went over to a nearby table. No milk. That was a shame. Water would have to suffice.

He walked back over to the group and offered a glass of cold water to Cora.

“It’s not milk, but it will have to suffice for the moment.”

“Oh, hi, Blueberry. Didn’t see you there.”

Cora grasped somewhat blindly for the water offered with a whimper, other hand using the napkin from Erinyes to dab at his eyes and running nose. At least with the brief respite of a colder temperature, despite the water spreading the spice around, he got enough of a hold of himself to just stop feeling his tongue.

Oh but the Force was a blessing some days.

“Th-ank you both,” he croaked out. Ruka kept rubbing his back. “I’m…alright.”

“It’s good,” Ruka told the Zeltron idly. “I like it. Sorry, my heart, shoulda thought better of that.”

“It’s fi-ine, Angel.” The Pantoran was gradiating back to blue at least.

“Normally I’d suggest deep breaths, but uh… sheesh. Are you allergic or something?” She nodded to Ruka. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it, anyway.”

He shook his pink haired head. “As I said, just…not one for spicy.”

“Mate, that’s a whole other level of ‘not one for spicy’. I’m glad you’re okay, though.” Not just for Cora’s sake, either—she half expected there to be tabloid articles about how the Taldryan Proconsul tried to poison the Arconan Proconsul’s husband’s drink. Cassandra would be thrilled with that one.

Anders glared at Erinyes with eyes that if looks could kill, she’d be six feet under the ground.

“I fail to see how you could miss me, Seraine. I’m not exactly small in stature.”

Indeed, Cassandra would not be thrilled in the slightest. Best to try and avoid diplomatic incidents whilst they were here, thank you very much.

Zuza was taking a sip of her drink and had spent the last minute choking with laughter and the pain of fluid going the wrong way in one’s throat.

She eventually managed to giggle without pain and breathed her way back to stability.

Corazon flapped a hand. “It’s alright, it’s alright, my Lady, I am sorry, for causing any stress.” He gave a laugh that was slightly strained, gaze dancing adroitly between the two Taldryanites. “And another apology, Mister Anders, for evidently stealing all the General’s attentions with drink recommendations on our behalf. I am sure you could not be missed if it weren’t for her focus in being such a welcome vinter.”

His smile was bright to both of them, capturing both in its wattage and the kind words.

“Speaking of, we have never had the pleasure of visiting the Caelus system. Do your planets support very much agriculture and viticulture?”

Cassandra took her knife and fork, and before she could even take her first bite; she sensed the disturbance from Erinyes and Anders. Her fork paused just outside of her mouth, her eyes closed with the left one slightly twitching.

She was half tempted to telekinetically hurl the fork at them, but…this was neither the time nor the place. The last thing she wanted was a diplomatic incident from either of them…and especially the last thing was one from herself.

She simply pushed the thought aside and took a bite of the fish.

Just ignore them, Cassie…you can do that…just ignore th-

Her eyes opened as the flavor hit her tastebuds. Sithspit everything else, what in the world was this food? Being a diplomat in the past, she had eaten at some luxurious places and had food from galaxy-renown chefs…but this?

She gave a glance at Muz in wonder, now convinced the brotherhood history books were dead wrong. He wasn’t a drunkard who went on spontaneous adventures…no…he was a treasure collector.

Who collected wine and the best food.

Aylin popped up out of seemingly nowhere between Anders and Erinyes.

“Speaking of blueberries. Does anyone know where Ankira went?” she asked as she looked between them, her arms full with all kinds of cakes and a hidden CafPow

Anders raised a brow. Then sighed, waiting for Erinyes to catch on to the inevitable ‘Red-Green-Blue’ reunion.

“I thought Ankira was with you?”

“She kinda was… but I dropped her here to mingle with others.”

She tilted her head slightly, “Did you scare her away already?”

Erinyes grinned at <@837236610684813342> , with a little more sharpness than was entirely proper. If he wanted to play dirty with names, so be it. “You should know by now that I’m very good at being un-observant when I want to be.”

Then, back to Cora, who was a far more agreeable conversationalist. “A great deal more than we expected when we first set up shop there.” She swept her arm over the banquet tables—at least, the ones that weren’t obviously part of the Kyataran selection Muz had brought. “Almost all of this comes from our agricultural reserve at Mytilene. It started off with a distillery I’d funded as a retirement project, then a winery, then fruit orchards to supply both. Ruby grapes tend to grow better than emerald or diamond, for some reason.” She sipped absently from her own cocktail, though it served to emphasise the point.

“The botanists tried explaining it to me, but I don’t have a head for that kind of science. I got as far as ‘anthocyanins’ before they had to simplify it down to ‘red fruits grow better'—which explains why I like the place so much, I guess.” A wry smile. “The soil lends itself well to tartness and spiciness. Fortunately, that doesn’t seem to bother the livestock—they produce some of the best dairy I’ve ever had. People seem to go nuts for our ice cream.”

Belatedly, she turned to <@417336769181122562> . “Oh, you’re the one who inflicted this on Ankira? I’m amazed you managed to get her out in public.” Then, a thought crossed her mind, and she grinned and made introductory gestures between the human and Nautolan women. “Aylin, this is <@432543120635461643> . Zuza, this is Aylin. I have a feeling you two will get along—you seem like the same kind of… carefree spirits.”

Zuza was still grinning after the blueberry comment but raised her glass to Aylin, “Good to meet ya!”

She may have somewhat zoned out of the business talk, but the moment names became relevant again her interest piqued.

Her glass was empty. Both of them. Hrm. Rude.

Waiiit.

“Carefree huh? What kind of carefree are we talkin’?” Her focus was 100% back, even as she placed her empty glasses on the bar beside them. An impish grin was quickly forming.

Questions was an understatement. At least there is time now.

Because we make it, somehow. I will figure it out.

The food was amazing. The very few times she had been exposed to Kyataran customs were more or less surprises and far less fancy, although happily and graciously supplied. That was such a long time ago, but the nose never forgets.

As everyone enjoyed the meal she gestured around the room to inform the table whom most of them were, at least the members she thought was prudent. For Cassandra it might be different but it was a public event regardless.

“Aylin’s one of Taldryan’s experts on making sure people don’t take themselves too seriously. If it wasn’t for her and Major Malfunction, we’d all be like Anders.”

“Professional? My word, it’s such a tragedy, isn’t it?” Anders scoffed and rolled his eyes, lightly shaking his head.

“Stiff. Humourless. Scowly-growly.”

“Too much professional is a tragedy. Where’s fun in professional?” Zuza grinned, placing a hand on her hips.

“It’s not meant to be fun, it is meant to get stuff done. It’s a miracle anything ever does…” Anders shook his head, remembering he was supposed to keep an eye on Draca. Where had he and Melissa gone?

“It’s a party. We aren’t here to be making meetings or anything. We’re here to chat, have fun. Relax or whatever. Or are Inquisitors just boring?”

“Ha!” Sofila choked on her drink next to Zuza as she was thrown into a fit of coughing.

Anders sighed. “If I wasn’t professional, none of you would have received the data you required before you entered the Ethereal Realm. There is such a thing as a time and a place.”

“Exactly. Did you find that data at a party? Or while at work?”

Zuza grinned.

Anders looked at her point-blank and without missing a beat said;

“You don’t want to know.”

If she could Aylin would roll her eyes so much she would lose them.

“Mr Stiff-broom just hasn’t had a proper Ay Ay treatment. If I can get Zen to laugh I can make him laugh too.”

Turning to Erinyes she shrugged slightly, “it was the best I could do for her. Leaving her home and brood wouldn’t bring her back or any closer to Appi…”

“Fair enough!” Zuza responded chirpily, “But still-”

Zuza paused, sensing a.. plan. Make Anders laugh.

She looked between Aylin, unable to transmit the message but practically vibrating with energy.

The Nautolan wasn’t a Space Wizard, but she could almost sense the energy from Zuza. A big grin appeared on her face.

“We will be back!” Said Aylin as she motioned to Zuza with her arms full of food and drinks. “This way!”

Zuza didn’t hesistate to cross over, “We’ll be back!”

“Want a hand with that?” She offered, happy to help but also to spark ideas on what they were gonna do.

Aylin chuckled and walked further, “ this will be so much fun. Will need a really good plan though… perhaps we need to convince Buddy to help us. Hmmm”

“Oh BUDD-E would absolutely help us. A spy on the inside is always useful. We just need to get the little guy to come over…” Zuza looked back toward the group with a considering gaze.

Not that many thoughts really passed through her head. She was kinda fuzzy brained already.

“Siky could help, can’t you?”

A little droid popped up between her tendrils and chirped happily.

“Yes, go get Buddy to join us.”

It bobbed its head and skittered of in the direction of Anders.

The little droid on Anders’ shoulder looked down, saw Siky, its friend! It’s friend was here!

BUDD-E beeped in Anders’ ear.

“Hm? Oh, yes. Of course. Go enjoy yourself with your little droid friend. Remember to keep tabs on Draca and Melissa.”

BUDD-E hopped down, following Siky back to Aylin and Zuza.

Zuza waved at BUDDE as he approached with Silky.

“Nice one!”

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