Let's Play A Game (Randon)

[kuu]

Tall corporate buildings stood tall on Randon almost reaching the orange, purpley sky. Red carpets were laid upon steps leading up from a platform where speeders dropped off the elite. Music seemed to hum from the topmost steps, glitzy lights flashed against fancy walls. Only the rich and powerful were there that evening dressed in their very best. Among them were politicians, nobles, HoloTV directors and actors that Nyra specifically invited. A little Imperial propaganda went a long way. With arms looped, men led women with their drooping gowns and splendid headpieces up the steps where a brightly lit hall awaited. There, tall drapes were pulled aside, allowing for those to journey into balconies if they wished to overlook the sunset and sparkling lights.

Apart from a band that played slow music were service droids making their rounds, serving drinks and appetisers. Nyra had not passed up the chance to grab herself a tall glass of some form of alcoholic beverage. Like most of the other women, she was dressed fancily. She wasn’t the sort to enjoy extravagant wear, finding it too restricting, if not uncomfortable, and yet here she was clad in a long, flowing glittering and sleeveless gown of blue, opening up in the back to reveal her skin. Her hair was pulled up over her head in a number of braids, all collected underneath one silver crown with crystal jewels that clinked against her forehead. Her lashes were long, her lids painted black and her lips matched the colour of her gown.

This was the sort of setting she had been raised to thrive in, no more than a sarlaac thrived in the sandy dunes of Tatooine or a smuggler in the crime-infested depths of Nar Shadaa. With a polite nod to everyone present, Nyra made sure to appease everyone. A laugh and a joke here for those who took life with a pinch of salt and a serious, graceful comment there for those who lacked any bit of the wonder retained from youth. There were several present that she knocked knees with, she kept her eyes on them as she sipped on her drink.

Needing a refill, she sought a droid who gave her another. It was then that she laid eyes on a gentleman with a rather intriguing appearance. He was not only perfectly dressed but his eyes stood out from his ashen skin. She approached him with a nod in greeting.

“Princess Nyra Typhe,” she said pleasantly, swirling her drink in her hand and waiting to see what nature of man this stranger was. As far as she was concerned, everyone was a puppet that could be used for a higher purpose, if not now, eventually. “When such events feel like eternity, I sometimes like to play a game. Guessing everyone’s story. For instance…” She nodded towards a tubby man with a long white beard. “He enjoys to gamble. He has money but he likes the thrill of potentially losing it.”

[Dutch]

It seemed as if one moment, Darth Solis was neck deep in fungal monstrosities, back-to-back with an old comrade fighting impossibility together. The next, he was adorned in resplendent Sith robes of the deepest pitch, a brooch of pure jade shaped as the Eye of Truth fastening them to the leather dueling belt at his waist, opposite from where his quartet of lightsabers hung gleaming in the gala’s candlelight. Lavish as it was, and as generally decent the crowd seemed to be, social niceties felt mute compared to the crescendo of battle. To flow with the fates, to reaffirm one’s ascendancy in this galaxy, to cheat certain death once again. The political playing field was usually worthy, but tonight it felt pale. Yet, Solis still had to do the dance.

So there he went, following the familiar flow of fancy as he schmoozed and chatted up the seat of refinement on yet another world considering Imperial sovereignty. There he stood, elbow to elbow with the Sector’s most notable nobles, icons and movers whom flowed by in a blur of pomp and pleasantries. Those who knew of him greeted with grand mannerisms, relishing in knowing a Darth’s full title in the vain hope it may curry favor. Thus far unmoved, Solis still smiled for the holocam droids and gave ISS approved statements about the recent assault on Nar Shaddaa.

The fight still fresh and simmering the undercurrents of his presence, Solis grew increasingly impatient with the current climate. Especially after another couple of curious local debutantes departed after delivering a dare, the Sith Lord bored by the tenderfoot attempt at manipulation as he leaned against a pale stone pillar which formed the right frame of the sweeping bar. They sauntered away all gilt and tipsy giggles, but the Darth could only sigh, and his glowing gaze searched for anything worth staying for. Then there she was, all fire and shining silver as she approached through the flickering candlelight. The Princess (and hostess of the gala, he noted) regally introduced herself, and then a favorite game. A small smirk hugged the corner of his lips as he shifted to stand before her.

“Your Royal Highness, you honor me.” Darth Solis replied in his High Coruscanti cadence, the greeting accented with crisp Imperial notes. It was delivered with proper perfection, right down to a gentle bow of the Lord’s head, as any proper gentleman should when receiving royalty, but did not yet introduce himself. Did she know what manner of Sith she now dealt with? His crimson gaze followed the Princess’ nod, and to Solis’ surprise she had pointed out an actor best known for his portrayal as “Darth Bulguss” from the holosoap ‘A Kiss of Korriban’. It was a modern hit, and Marus Unitions definitely had credits to spare these days.

“He also recently funded the latest hospital wing of Mytaranor General, with his most recent winnings. What does that say about him, Ma’am?” The Inquisitor queried with a raised brow, his eyes searching for a new mark to test the Princess with. They found a younger Mirialan woman in a light blue dress, silver bracelets with little dangling crystals shining at her wrists in the candlelight. She looked a bit lost, as if standing there waiting for someone to tell her what to do. The Sith's smirk spread into a knowing smile, and Solis turned his gaze to meet Nyra’s. A tip of the Sith’s nose pointed out one of her own handmaidens, and he took his turn.

“She’s a sweetheart, truly. Takes pride in her duty, and always does as told. Smart, if a bit naive. Enjoys lemon cakes, and the occasional pilfered bottle of wine from the royal cellars. Good at it, or so she thought, until a pair of guards found her. Never was the same after that, such tragedy…” The Darth said softly, never once breaking eye contact with Princess Nyra.