Ace of Trump (Lat, Ferret, Mara)

[Sporky]

Space. The Core. 'Dead spade' just outside the Alderaan system.

She was a shining white jewel against the backdrop of a void between solar systems. Everything about her was beautiful, from her stark white paint to the the intricate carvings and etchings that graced her outer shell to even her weapons turrets, all designed like roaring beasts. She was completely beautiful, perhaps decadently so to some people. She was a pleasure craft, none could deny that. She was the Prophetable Investment, flagship of the Sark Industries fleet, and she was a shining white jewel against the backdrop of a void between solar systems.

Inside, however, was a contrast to her white exterior. Everything except for the loading bay had been completely redone in green. Green carpets covered every floor, every room had been repainted green from floor to ceiling, and even the lighting in the hallways and rooms gave off green instead of neutral. Why? It was a charity fundraiser event. The rich and famous rarely ever did things simply, especially not mass social gatherings. There was a dress code for the event as well. Each invitation simply stated that guests 'must wear proper formalwear, in some form of green, with some form of colored hat.'

Sark Industries had graciously allowed the Prophetable Investment to be redone for the event. As a major arms manufacturer, any part they could play in aiding children orphaned by the war would be played. Apart from ceasing production, of course. Someone had to keep the Republic armed with the best possible equipment.

Grigor Sark, owner, founder, and president of Sark Industries, himself was a guest at the event. He had gone surprisingly simple, opting for a 'no frills' tuxedo in dark green, complimented with a bright green bowtie and a white widebrim fedora bearing a green stripe which itself was emblazoned with '14'. He was quite humble at the whole thing, quick to ensure his sympathies for the poor orphaned children of the galaxy. But he was also quick to laugh at jokes only funny to the wealthy. He couldn't be sullen and sulky of course.

Secretly, Sark was waiting for one other particular guest: Toshiko Mokona, current president of Czerka. The young she-devil had certainly sparked..odd feelings in him, he'd admit that. They'd developed a sort of rivalry, a relationship of showing each other up, teasing, and humiliation. He looked forward to each of their meetings, for another chance to fluster and embarrass her. She was ever so fun to antagonize.

So he kept one eye on the archway of the entrance to the ship's grand ballroom as he mingled. Even as he engaged in pointless, meaningless conversation with people equally as rich as himself, he kept a close watch. This event would be his greatest victory over her. He'd already shown her up by having his own personal yacht be the setting.

This would be fun.

[Vipervertical]

Dress

Song

Yes those are links. I am completely musedead right now and writing this post from memory of what I had written before. So if it sucks, then I guess whatever. I'm forcing this post out, because like it or not...

It's Three In The Morning
Actually, it's closer to 4 but whatever.

---

The ship lurched slightly as it exited hyperspace. Toshiko was snapped out of her reverie by the ever-so-slight rock that gave it away. No inertial dampner was perfect, and none could make the drop from hyperspace neglible. This luxorious modified Solarspan did a very good job of getting close, however. She would have preffered the Genesis, but it was in bad taste to arrive to a war orphans charity in a heavily armed warship. She made do.

She stood and approached the landing ramp as the vessel slipped into the yacht's shuttle bay. She took a last glance over her backless dress before the ramp lowered. It was a shade of green so dark to almost be black. Several white gemstones were embedded unevenly, which glittered when light reflected off of them. It appeared that she was wearing the void of space itself.

Perfect.

What she was less thrilled with was the black wide-brimmed hat atop her head. Silly hats, indeed. He's mad. Well there was no way around it. She wasn't very well going to go against the rules and allow Sark the upper hand in that regard.

He already had the advantage from using his ship to host the event, and it would be difficult to carve out a victory now. Difficult, but not impossible. She had an announcement to make when she entered that would surely tip the balance in her favor.

Tosh deflated slightly when ramp lowered to show an empty and...greenlit shuttle bay. This was a rather queer lighting arrangement It seemed her late arrival meant that nobody was around to speak to her before she reached the ballroom. How very fortunate.

With short yet quick strides she made her way to the ballroom, following the trail of green lights that so clearly marked the path.
Nobody was here to announce her presence, meaning it wasn't quite that kind of party. That meant she would have to delay her announcement if she intended to remain tactful, which she of course did. The time would come soon enough, it was no worry for her.

She looked over the crowd as she stood under the entrance archway. She quickly located Sark in his bright green tuxedo. It would do her no good to approach him now. No, it would be to her advantage if any conversation started with him approaching her. It was with this thought that she stepped into the crowd, lightly mingling with the other guests.

It was a twisted game the two of them played. A game made of subtlety and one-upmanship which she took a strange sort of pleasure in. This was a rivalry that kept both of them on their toes. Figuratively for him, and judging by her current footwear, literally for her.

Your move, Grigor.

[Latus]

((Yeah, didn't even realize. Ok, here I go.

Roland's Suit in a very natural off green color. Just off.

Roland's Wool Cap with a white strip sewn into it.))

---

From the immense background that was the void of space a small transport appeared. It was not large, or elegant, or flashily constructed but the twilight blue hull still stood out against the backdrop with a glint from the nearby star. Its exterior shined from a brilliance created by the friction of leaving the high carbon atmosphere of Coruscant while the bridge and smattering of exterior windows broke the unassuming surface. It was the Northern Citizen, the sole "pleasure" vessel owned by Northern Monument technologies. While pleasure craft was an imperfect word for the usage of the vessel it often doubled and even tripled its prime directive, something that it did efficiently at the behest of its owner.

On the bridge Owner/CEO of NMT Roland Ricketts stood confidently behind the twin pilot chairs as he gazed out of the primary pilot screen and over the beauty of the spectacle before them. The older man was dressed in his finest, a suit coat and vest combo worn over a bleached white shirt with a stately tie. Atop his head sat a simple wool cap that had a single stripe sewn down the center; one of the requirements of the party at hand was a "silly" hat. This was as silly as he could go in modesty. For a charity event for orphans he was willing to "come out of his shell" a little, as Manfred had mentioned earlier.

Quickly a smile spread over his face as he spotted their destination that sat against the darkness like a white asteroid; the flagship of Sark's fleet. Roland refused to call it by its name as it struck him as a handle that was misspelled during registration.

In the pilot seats sat two beings. The first was simply an unassuming human who worked the navicomputer, something that Mr. Ricketts had never gotteh the hang of. The man was just the pilot for this little adventure and spoke low and quick relating information to the other. The main pilot, who responded with little more than nods and single word acceptances was Manfred Orren, Roland's chief of security. The Shistavanen gripped the controls gently, seeming almost too small for his large frame. He hesitated as the hyperdrive finished powering down, eyeing not only the massive "battleyacht" before them but another ship that appeared to be coming in to dock. He did not recognize it off hand but a chuckle from Roland drew his fears away.

Bring us in, Manfred. I believe we are expected.

Sure. Engines to one half, requesting coordinates for docking bay. He paused, muttering. -Providing that thing has one.-

I assume you two will be all right on your own?

"Sure, boss man. I brought the cards and the holoboard. Besides, this type of party isn't for types like us.

Roland laughed heartily. Money does not make a person different, only arrogant, egotistical... well, to some.

Right, sir. I think we'll just call y-

Philanthropist is the word, my good shista.

As the Citizen continued its trajectory toward its massive destination Roland turned as Manfred muttered sure, sure under his breath. It only took a few moments before the small ship, barely larger than a large size shuttle breached the glowing ring of the hangar bay, settling to a stop as though it had been made for the well lit space. As the egress ramp lowered, connecting with the deck with a dull thud, Roland was already stepping down into the massive ship, his auburn cane clicking on the hard surface underfoot.

As his highly polished shoes hit the deck itself he paused, marvelling at the sizable hangar all lit up in a bright green lighting. Twitching he placed his finger to the hands-free in his ear as a slight beep crossed his connsciousness.

Right, now I am glad I cannot partake in that party. The color alone would make me green before the night was out

Yes. That is why I entrust the ship to you. I shall suffer the color for the benefit of the children. He heard Manfred chuckle and did so himself, setting off across the deck, his passing only hinted at by the clicking of his cane. The way to the gathering room was well marked and soon he stepped in, almost directly behind, who else, but Ms. Mokona.

Well, Ms. Mokona. Tis good to see you again and, may I say, that you look absolutely stunning in that dress.

[Mara]

(((Sorry for the late reply...
Also, feel free to ignore Destini if you like; she is just an NPC after all, providing some added interest/background.)))



While the Pink Kiss made its final approach to dock with the Prophetable Investment, the Zeltron woman was in her personal double-sized cabin putting the finishing touches on her outfit for the evening. The invitation had been rather odd, but then again, she was a celebrity and used to eccentricities of her peers. Being a famous holodrama star, Destini Xist no doubt had her own such peculiarities—she sometimes brought her personal chef to events. But if she was completely honest with herself, she was only truly here because her agent and publicist felt it would be good publicity for her. Destini’s latest holo, “Hearts Collide,” about a couple who falls in love before both dying when their ship flies into a supernova, was set to debut in a week. It was only a bonus if she could show her caring, generous side at the same time with a large donation tonight.

She studied herself in the 3-meter-tall mirror, smoothing a wrinkle here, tucking in a stray strand of hair there. Destini was actually quite pleased with herself despite the short notice of the charity event. The voluptuous Zeltron had decided not to opt for an overwhelming ball gown, dressing simply yet elegantly. Though it was a formal affair, she had felt she should at least pretend that she cared for the poor orphans this event was about. She was decked out in flowing, wide leg trousers that billowed around her legs, almost looking like a skirt until she moved. They were made of a light, almost sea foam, green fabric with a sheer sparkly silver tulle over the outside. Her feet were covered with silver strappy heels that made her even taller. Covering her ample bosom quite modestly was a sleeveless top that came up to her neck, made out of the same color fabric as her pants but without the silvery covering. It was a study in contrast, covering her entire torso but leaving her back bare, exposing the supple light pink flesh. Fastened at her neck, over top of the fabric, was a large emerald of superior quality. Matching, smaller gems were in her ears. And then the piece de resistance, the item that she almost had skipped on, was the small hat. Destini didn’t find it silly at all, but very classy. It was a small bowler-style hat done in black propped on top of the mass of her deep red hair piled on top of her head. She had pinned it to the side, giving it a slightly jaunty look, besides the fact that the hat was barely 6 inches in circumference. The whole ensemble was meant to be stunning, and Destini smiled at herself, knowing she had outdone herself again.

With a last check in the mirror, she headed out of her cabin to make her way to the ramp. Her yacht wasn’t large enough to carry its own shuttle, so the ship itself had to use one of the larger docking bays. After it had land, she left the Kiss in the care of her pilot and personal chef and stepped down the ramp into the docking bay. No one was there to welcome her, not even some paparazzi, and a small frown crossed her beautiful features. But being who she was, she gathered up all her composure and found her way out, exiting into a hall that was… dressed all over in ghastly greens. Destini hadn’t realized the party would be so forcing in the theme. The formalwear she could take, but the entire ship? It looked like one of the monsters in one of her early holos had thrown up in the place and then exploded, scattering its sickly guts everywhere.

But she put the color out of her mind as she continued on, looking for the ballroom or wherever this event was to be taking place. Destini had more important things to think about. There was her holo to discuss with anyone who would listen, drumming up customers and box office capital. Oh, and of course, the orphans, if she had to. Hearing the garbled murmur of voices up ahead and seeing an even brighter green glow up ahead, she stopped in her tracks. She had to make her signature entrance. Destini pulled out a compact from her handbag and studied her hair again. It looked purposely messy, which is how she liked it, as it was all plastered on top of her head filled with curls and loops. With a smile, she closed the compact and put it back, keeping the bag in her hand. With a deep breath, she plastered her face with her best award-winning smile and entered the room.

And was deeply disappointed when there wasn’t a huge flash of holocams going up in her face. In fact, no one even gave her more than a cursory glance before returning to their conversations. Destini glowered and walked further into the room, looking for the nearest server with a tray of something to drink. Did these people have no idea who she was? Or maybe they just didn’t recognize her. She did usually wear her thick, flowing hair down over her shoulders, at least in all the tabloid holomags. The Zeltron deftly swiped a glass of something bubbly as it passed by and sipped it, waiting, daring, for someone to come talk to her and tell her how amazing she was. A smile crossed her face; Destini could just hear the praise now...