A Soiree of Sith

[Dutch]

Though he did not immediately turn to regard his fellow Darth, Solis’ smile did shift noticeably warmer. The firrerreo’s presence was embraced and folded into his own, a breath of nostalgic wind flowing with the shared memories triggered by Aurelius’ words. He could almost feel the rumbling siege drill beneath his boots, the smell of ozone searing against the zelosian’s cast shield, the Republic’s attempt to stop them completely nullified. The smile he shared with Nieraan Onin as Jessoin Zarander, when Thila’s last stand crumbled before them, shared again with his brother as the Sith turned to raise his glass back in toast.

“First Through the Gates” The other Darth replied, using one of his titles to remind Aurelius who had won that particular contest, and downed his drink with the firrerreo. Solis would reach out with his presence to nudge the nearest bartender, the servant immediately turning his head to the elevated pair. Two long, pale fingers would be held up by Solis, and the mixologist bowed dutifully. His attention would turn back to his comrade with a short laugh at the Noghri comment, a rare gleam in his eye as he leaned closer.

“They say he’s still out there, on Ziost. Prowling around the Citadel with his pack… hunting down any who attempt to escape the slave pens… none who run ever return, but patrols do find bones scattered through the jungles. Bones with noghri like teeth marks.” Solis said with a wider smile as he shared one of his favorite secrets.

“But we both know where you would rather be.” He added with a knowing wink as a curvaceous servant arrived with Solis’ order. Upon a gleaming silver platter stood a pair of shot glasses, an opalescent golden liquid shimmering within embellished by the party’s candlelight. The zelosian plucked them from the tray with a winning grin and a word of gratitude before placing a glass into Aurelius’ hand.

“This, is Pinnacle 281- Empress Teta’s best tequila. These shots are worth a knight’s tenure.” Solis said with a toothy grin. “I was hoping you would make it tonight, if just to have someone to share it with… though there could have been another...“ He added with a sideways look from his red eyes down to the Chiss Praetor.

"To ascension." Darth Solis toasted with his glass raised to Darth Aurelius, and shared the shot with him. The servant who had stood patient accepted the empties, and returned them to her tray while her Lord made another order, shaking his head and blinking from the tequila's potent, but smooth, punch. If his species felt this so, he could only imagine how other humanoids handled it.

“Well now, my dear, do send one of these to the Chiss, with my regards. Another Garden for me, and Aurelius? Anything?” The zelosian asked with a raised brow to his brother, but a single finger would be held from his free hand before the firrerreo could answer. “Ah, and be sure Lady Sagitta has whatever she may need, if you would."

[Bones]

A soiree. The mere thought of it made Saiph want to heave, in fact, despite the spirits he had downed as he prepared, he was sure that he could feel the saliva in his mouth go a touch sweet, as if he were going to vomit at the thought. Instead, the taste was masked by yet another swig of the Onderonian Whisky that filled the shelves in his parlour where he had been preparing. There were things he would rather be doing that night, if he were to be honest with himself, evidenced by the young, blue-skinned Twi’lek woman who was laying on the day bed off to one side. It wasn’t that he had any emotions for the girl, she was just his latest play thing… and he had spent more than a considerable sum for her, as he did with many of his “hired help”. He only purchased the best, after all.

Throwing his crimson silk trimmed black cloak over the top of his black tunic and trousers, his insignia of his position in the Cult of Strife was pinned to his collar, though mostly hidden by the cloak, it’s hood now lifted up over his long, dirty blonde hair, he allowed himself to turn on his heel, striding from his estate to the speeder that was waiting for him, already running and ready. ”Don’t go far, when we arrive.” He commanded the driver, with a rather blunt statement, ”I don’t intend to be in this party for longer than I have to.” The rest of the trip, however, would be silent as he was chauffer driven to the estate where the occasion was being held. Sliding from the speeder, he walked with a deliberate fashion up the steps, passing the doormen without even stopping to give his name (really, they should know a Praetor when they saw one, anyway), and proceeding directly to the bar. His order was silent, simply pointing to the bottle of two-hundred year old Onderonian Whisky, which was deftly poured to two-finger depth in a wide, short glass.

”To her Imperial Radiance, long may she reign.” He spoke, more to himself than anyone else, before he lifted the glass and took a sip, before turning to face the crowd, icy blue eyes scanning for a familiar face. Eyes washed across the Chiss nearby, with his eager young apprentice. The glass was merely lifted, with a small bow of the head, before another sip was taken, willing to wait for an invitation or an opening to speak to the other Praetor that was, in reality, much in contrast to himself.

[tenkalus]

Astrid had to keep herself from squealing in delight.

Epicant! The Sith woman was speaking Epicant! The native tongue of her people. A language she hadn’t been able to use openly for years now. And just like that, the party was gone and Astrid was momentarily back home. Her face lit up in a smile that was equal parts excitement and relief.

“<<Wow! You speak Epicant! I can’t remember the last time I heard someone speak like they were from home… I’m Astrid by the way! Astrid Blackspyre. It’s so nice to meet you!>>”

Had Keelen just said something about a Darth? Or Lord? Maybe she should pay more attention, but immediately the thought washed from her as she took a second glance at Zarene. The younger Sith’s eyes flicked over her elder’s face, taking in the obvious cybernetics she’d missed on initial observation. At first glance, Astrid had thought that the metal had been a fashion statement of some kind.

But no. It was augmentation. And further observation brought her eyes to the woman’s right hand. The glint there spoke to the same story.

What had this woman had to endure to get to where she was? And then the dress. Oh the dress sparked many memories of Panatha. In an instant, the bubbly teenager riding around in Astrid Blackspyre was gone, to be replaced by a different being altogether.

She sobered. Her eyes met her female senior and held not excitement, but hope.

“<<I apologize ma’am.>>” She began, a smile that held a lot of pain found her lips as she continued, “<<I should keep myself in check. It’s just been a long time since I was reminded of the strength of our people. I have been away from Panatha for the majority of my life now, and have been unable to return. Seeing you here, among these people, these Sith, speaks to what we are capable of. The galaxy can take so much from us, but in spite of it, we still rise.>>”

Astrid stood to her full impressive height, now at least 3 inches above the older woman with aide of her boots, and bowed at the waist in respect. Not only was this woman Epicanthix like herself, but Astrid's eye now caught the identical symbol that she herself wore on her choker. She was from Panatha, was obviously a strong woman of rank, and a fellow member (albeit senior) of the cult of Strife. She deserved respect.

Then she sat back down and switched tongues yet again, from Basic to Epicant, and now Sy Bisti for the benefit of her Master.

~~”I’m sorry Master. I’ll do better from now on. I promise. I won’t disappoint you again…”~~ she said heavily. And as she sat down, her posture improved. Her spine straightened, her shoulders settled back and she now carried a more dignified air about her. In that quick moment, she had been reminded by her kin that their’s were a proud people, and Astrid herself was heir to a tradition of mighty warriors, known across their planet at a time. She was one of them. In fact she was the last of them, and should conduct herself as such.

She was a student right now. But eventually with Keelen’s instruction, she would become strong. She would be the strongest Blackspyre that Panatha had ever produced, and would eventually track down the men who had murdered her family and sold her into slavery. It had been sheer willpower that had kept Astrid alive in the early days. Willpower and pride. She’d been six or seven, she couldn’t remember now, when her captors had begun beating her. And she remembered their faces.

Force willing, she’d see those faces again.

But for the time being, she was a proud heiress to a family of renowned fighters. Not some lackluster teenager. She decided right there among the party-goers, that she would live up to the example of strength that Zarene produced. She’d survive too. And she would rise above her pain.

Someday.

[Rabbit]

Keelen sipped his drink quietly, as Astrid chattered to the woman across from them. It didn’t particularly bother the Chiss that he didn’t know what his apprentice was saying - the realization that he trusted her not to use her current advantage to undermine him was a sudden one. A pleasant one, to be sure - but sudden all the same. His bright red eyes slid over to Astrid, as he considered her for a few moments.

She was young, and it showed. She was rough around the edges, socially speaking, and that showed, too. But, Astrid had passion, and fire, and a will to survive. She also had a strong desire to please him, and to prove herself worthy of him. This, in turn, pleased Keelen - if there was one thing he would have never abided, it was an apprentice who tried to use his status for her own, or who didn’t dedicate her whole self to her training.

Astrid had made a few faux pas so far during the night, but in the grand scheme of things, none of it really bothered Keelen. She had demonstrated her strength, and rightfully so, to an insufferable twerp who had made the mistake of thinking she was nothing more than a pretty face - a pretty face that he could insult and treat like something he could possess. As far as the Chiss was concerned, the foolish young lieutenant had received his just due. And, sure, Astrid had gotten perhaps a touch too excited over meeting another Epicanthix, but again, Keelen couldn’t really fault her. The other Sith didn’t seem to mind too dreadfully much - or, if she did, her response to Astrid hadn’t shut the young apprentice down.

Given time, his apprentice remembered her place and her demeanor sobered. This was the side of Astrid that Keelen liked best - the focused, steady young woman, who tried to put her best foot forward and reflect well on her master and his Cult.

Assured that the conversation between the two women didn’t seem to be unduly concerning, Keelen returned his attention to the throng of attendees milling about in front of him. His attention was captured, after a few idle moments, by an imposing young man who strode into the ballroom. He was late - far past fashionably so - and Keelen found himself tracking the newcomer closely as he made an almost instantaneous beeline for the bar. The Chiss lifted his own almost-empty glass to his lips and took the final sip as he measured the man up.

It was difficult, of course, to judge much about a being from a distance, especially from across a crowded room. But, reading body language was practically second-nature to a Chiss, particularly one who had been raised as an Aristocra’s son. Dangerous was the first impression that Keelen got from the way the man carried himself, from the set of his broad shoulders and the straight-forward nature of his gait. Arrogant was the second, considering the way that he had cut through the crowd on his way to the bar; this was a man who didn’t bother with those he considered “lesser” to him (which, Keelen quietly surmised, was everyone else in the room - except, perhaps, for his Darth superiors). Impatient was the third and final impression, again gathered from the way he had moved across the room and the way he had wasted absolutely no time in making his way to his intended target.

Or, in the way he almost immediately seemed to single Keelen himself out. The Chiss schooled his face into a blank slate of impassivity, as the newcomer met his gaze and lifted his glass to him in a silent salute. Keelen tilted his head ever so slightly, to give the man silent permission to approach him, if that was what he chose to do.

The Praetor was immediately on his guard - as he always was, whenever another Sith approached him directly. When it came to the Cult of Strife in particular, and the Sith Order as a whole, Keelen preferred to remain relatively anonymous. Of course, he understood that that was mostly a pipe dream - he was the only Chiss in the entire Empire, so far as he knew. He was certainly the only Chiss in the Cult of Strife, so “blending into the background” was nigh impossible, given his alien origins alone. He was also well aware that he had garnered something of a reputation as well, in his years as a knight and then a lord. When one won impossible battles and commanded a battleship of the line, anonymity was wishful thinking. However, he kept to himself and until recently, it seemed that most other Sith understood his preferences. Then again...he also suspected his alien origins played a significant role in that. The Empire was not as xenophobic as it had been in many of its past incarnations, but humans were still the majority and most didn’t mingle with other beings outside of their own species.

Then again...most Sith didn’t mingle, period. Except when they wanted something, or so Keelen’s experience and observation had lead him to believe.

He turned his head and his gaze briefly away from the newcomer, as he addressed Astrid in Sy Bisti.

“I want you to maintain your own council for the next little bit, Apprentice,” he didn’t even bother glancing back at the man who was surely making his way to them by now; Keelen didn’t need to confirm that Astrid had seen him, he knew she had. “Watch and learn.”

“Be quiet”, he meant, in other words. Unlike many Sith, Keelen was oddly protective of his apprentice - a feeling he was trying to get used to himself, truth be told. The last thing he wanted was for her to get drawn into a conversation with a Sith Lord he didn’t know, particularly while he was sitting there right next to her.

The Chiss’ attention was abruptly interrupted, however, by yet another new development.

“M’lord?” a young woman had approached him, with a shot glass of golden liquid balanced on the tray in her hands.

Keelen fought the urge to frown. Now what?

“Yes?” he said out loud, his tone terse.

“Darth Solis sends his regards, m’lord,” she curtsied (an impressive feat, while balancing a tray) and then took the shot glass and set it down on the table in front of him.

She then turned and murmured something to the woman one table down from them, but Keelen was only half-listening at this point. His scarlet gaze considered the shot in front of him and then he lifted it toward the balcony, where he knew Darth Solis had been presiding over the soiree.

“It would appear I’m quite popular tonight,” he muttered in Sy Bisti, half to himself and half to Astrid. “Perhaps it’s time I start planning our escape.”

One did not snub a Darth, however, so Keelen picked the shot up and returned his gaze toward the balcony. He saluted Solis and then promptly tossed the shot back. It was potent, whatever it was, but the Chiss swallowed it without even a flicker of change in his expression. The alcohol burned going down and then spread out into his blood and limbs with a warm tingling sensation that was quite pleasant.

Naturally, one could only expect the best from one of the Pillars of the Empire. It more than alcohol to impress Keelen, but he he had to hand it to Solis - the man had good taste.

[Rugs]

Aurelius couldn’t help but laugh at Solis’ supposed rumors of Cho’s newfound life on Ziost. Or perhaps they were true--he could believe just about anything when it came to the old Noghri. “Yes, well, I’ve got a few students who could use some training in the primal ways,” he said. “Maybe I’ll drop them outta a shuttle over Ziost and see how they fare.”

He took the shot of golden tequila as it as offered to him. It was astoundingly expensive, tough Aurelius worked up a wry smile and a wink. “Are we talking a good Knight’s salary, or...?” He raised his glass. “To truth,” he answered Solis’ toast.

The Tequila was as fine as Solis made it out to be. Aurelius set the glass aside and leaned on the balcony to watch the Sith arrayed on the floor below.

“Nah, I’m fine, thanks,” he said, waving off Solis offer with a smile.

Below, another Sith wandered in, fashionably late to the evening’s affairs. Aurelius recognized him as another praetor. “My, Strife is popular here tonight, isn’t it?” he asked Solis. He chuckled as his gaze settled on the blue man--the Chiss praetor who he’d briefly been near as he spoke to Zarene.

“Though speaking of ascension, I’ve heard talk about him,” Aurelius said, lowering his voice conspiratorially for Solis as the Chiss looked from his drink to the balcony. “Perhaps the fourth pillar will stand once again, should the Empress will it.”

Would Renata will it? That was the ending point for many of the Empire’s questions, whispers and rumors be damned. Time would tell.

Aurelius abruptly stood to his full height, no longer leaning against the balcony railing. “While I’d love to stay and people watch, I’m afraid I’ll be returning to orbit now.” He started to walk, then paused, looking over his shoulder at Solis. “It’s been good to see you again, brother. We should work together again soon.” He chuckled as he slipped away.

“It’s been far too long.”

[Rabbit]

As it turned out, Keelen was not called upon to "plan" his and Astrid's escape...the way out presented itself quite suddenly, as things were wont to do when military matters were one's responsibility. The security of the Empire and all that...

There was a brief crackle in his right ear, thanks to the comms piece he wore almost all the time; The white noise only was the only warning of an incoming transmission from the Revenant, and only lasted a second or two, but it was enough to catch Keelen's attention without physically jarring him.

"Lord Invictus?" a familiar voice rang out loud and clear, though only he could hear it, thanks to the wonders of galactic military technology.

"I hear you loud and clear," Keelen turned his head away from both the other Strife Lord and from Astrid as well - though, both could undoubtedly hear him.

Privacy was helped, however, by the fact that he answered in Sy Bisti - one of the many reasons (though, not an insignificant reason, in and of itself), that he had promoted the surprisingly young Lieutenant Marcer to the Revenant's Communications Officer. There was a slight pause on the other end of the line, as Marcer switched mental gears from the expectation of his commanding officer answering back Basic. The Lieutenant continued to speak in basic himself, which was a commendable feat, considering the difficulty to be had in listening to one language and answering in another.

"My Lord, we've just received a joint call from the Minister of Imperial Intelligence, and the commanding General and Admiral of the Imperial Army and Navy, respectively. They're asking for you, sir."

Marcer paused another moment, before adding:

"Naturally, they didn't share the reasons for their call, but the Minister did say that it was a matter of grave importance, with significant ramifications for Imperial military security."

"I take it, then, that they want a face-to-face meeting?" Keelen turned his head and glanced at his apprentice, who had been watching him intently the moment he'd started speaking in a Wild Space trade language.

Generally, when three of the highest military and intelligence officers in Imperial space said things like "a matter of grave importance" and "with significant ramifications", they were requesting an in-person meeting. While espionage was a concern in either face-to-face meetings or secured conference calls, the odds of having highly classified information intercepted by enemy technology were significantly lower when physical bodies were in a controlled environment together.

"Yes, my Lord. They have requested your presence at the Minister of Intelligence's office; I did tell them to expect a brief delay, as you were fulfilling social expectations for Unification Day."

"I will head that way immediately," Keelen glanced around at the crowd still milling around on the ballroom floor in front of him.

There were still a good many people present - it was still early in the evening and the festivities were only just beginning for many celebrants. He and Astrid couldn't have been there longer than an hour, but Keelen figured that an hour was sufficient for his social duties, without running the risk of snubbing their host, Darth Solis.

Though, frankly, the Chiss could care less if Solis was offended by his abrupt departure or not. Matters of Imperial security trumped social niceties - surely, a Pillar of the Empire could accept the nature of a Strife cultist's work. Especially a Strife cultist who commanded an entire warship and a Special Operations battalion, to boot - when "work" called, Keelen answered and any being short of the Empress herself came in a distant second, if not third, place of importance.

He stood up, glanced down at Astrid, and indicated with a single lift of a black eyebrow that she was to follow him. There was no need to tell her why - for one, she was his apprentice and would do as he commanded. For another, Astrid had the same discreet communication device in her right ear as well, cued to the same channels as his - she had heard Marcer's call as clearly as he had.

The Chiss' scarlet eyes scanned the ballroom one last time - the young Lord who had caught his attention earlier had apparently reconsidered his seeming intention of coming to talk to Keelen. The lord's gaze shifted up toward Darth Solis, to whom he dipped his head politely - even if Solis didn't acknowledge him, manners were paramount. Lastly, Keelen turned toward the comely waitress and the other Strife lord (who's name he still did not know. Perhaps Astrid had managed to get it from the woman, seeing as they at least both shared a mutual heritage as Epicanthix.) Name known or not, he still bowed to his fellow Sith, and then addressed the waitress.

"Please tell your master that Lord Invictus and his apprentice have quite enjoyed his hospitality and generosity. Duty calls us elsewhere, I'm afraid."

Again - politeness went a long, long way. Chiss political culture was rife with intrigue and the tune to which it was played was always elaborate social rituals, polite pleasantries, and impeccable manners. Keelen had never seen any reason not to act according to his birth culture's mores, even in an alien empire. As far as he had seen and experienced, his Chiss manners had gotten him far in the Empire - and mostly clear of the worst of the politics and intrigue that came with being a Sith lord.

Without another word, he turned sharply on his heel and strode toward the giant double doors through which he had originally entered. Nothing in his gait or demeanor suggested alarm; rather, he exuded his usual quiet power and singular focus. However, those who noted his exit, would most likely note, if only to themselves, that Lord Invictus - the focus of much known and hidden interest - prowled like a deadly beast keyed onto the hunt. People in his way moved out of it almost instinctively, as his tall and well-built physical frame alone drew instant attention. Anyone with eyes, Force Sensitive or otherwise, could take one look at the stalking Chiss and know that their only real course of action was to get out of his way.

Keelen took a deep breath when he finally stepped outside. He paused just long enough for Astrid to get through the double doors herself, and then he took off again toward the nearby valet who would bring his speeder around to them. He glanced toward the sky, as heat lightening flashed white between the shifting layers of storm clouds that hadn't yet released their burden on the land below. The night matched the sudden shift in his mood.

He and the coming storm were one and the same at that moment: potent, powerful, eager, and wild. He had a challenge, a hunt ahead of him, of that the Force assured him. And, as always, Keelen was more than ready to get to it.

[tenkalus]

Indeed, Astrid had heard the call and responses over her ear comm. That telltale static an instant before the line opened was enough to shut down even the most exuberant bursts of energy she had. It meant work was about to commence. Her tone shifted quickly from happy-go-lucky teenager, and went straight back to Keelen’s apprentice.

Not that she’d ever stopped being his apprentice obviously, but there was something to be said when one acted in an official capacity. She sometimes forgot that she represented Lord Invictus now in all things and at all times. She‘d do her best to recall that when it mattered most.

Though a small dabling of fear began to drip into her guts as she listened to the exchange between her master and Lieutenant Marcer. Whatever this was, it sounded serious. It wasn’t just another mission they were being given. Something serious was brewing. The Ministry of Intelligence, and the General and Admiral of the Imperial Army and Navy were calling in Keelen? One of them would be normal. Two of them would be interesting, but all three at one time?

What the hell was going on? And what was Astrid supposed to do to help?

Indecision crossed her face as she watched her Master drive the conversation to the point where they could leave. When he looked at her and stood, she noticed the subtle eyebrow and immediately jumped to her feet, albeit a bit less graceful than Keelen himself.

Okay, a lot less graceful. She practically knocked the table over when she got up, but she was new to this kind of thing damnit! She hadn’t been his apprentice that long and was still learning the nuances a Chiss brought to the table. She’d never been military before, even if her father had been a soldier. He’d taught her how to fight, not how to frakkin salute!

She opened her mouth to bid farewell to those around her and to thank them, but as soon as she did, she heard Keelen speaking beside her.

“Please tell your master that Lord Invictus and his apprentice have quite enjoyed his hospitality and generosity. Duty calls us elsewhere, I’m afraid.”

Astrid nearly jumped back when Keelen spun on his heel with such precision it was almost mechanical. She tried to mimic the action as quickly as she could, spinning 180 degrees around, but ended up facing about 10 degrees further than she’d intended, making it an exceptionally awkward turn that she immediately was forced to correct and hurry after her master.

As they made for the door, she glanced up at Darth Solis and was momentarily (again) at a loss for proper action. Keelen was going at a good clip toward the door and his back was turned. What was she supposed to do?! The guy was a Darth for cripes sake. Did she bow all the way out the door, to bask in his glorious gloryness? Was she worthy of such a thing?

In the end, she settled on waving up at him with a nervous smile. Then turned in mid stride to indicate the rest of the gathering with a finger that wound in a circular motion, then back up to him and made the universal symbol of approval and an exaggerated wink.

Oh no… no no no no no…. I did not just give a Darth a wink and a thumbs up…. Oh shit Keelen is gonna murder m-. But he didn’t see, did he?! Yes! I’m in the clear. Non-verbal communication, perfect execution Blackspyre!

And then they were outside again and Astrid could breathe again. She’d survived first contact with the enemy, so to speak.

“But Master, we didn’t reaallllyyy enjoy that party right? I mean, it was kind of stressful and people kept staring. It was pretty uncomfortable if I’m being honest, and you didn’t look like you much en-”

As Lord Invictus looked back at her silently, Astrid nodded and returned her gaze forward. “Yup!” She said as she slapped her index finger up to her lips to indicate silence for herself, then mimicked turning a key and lock on her mouth and threw the imaginary key into the air.

So Keelen spun and walked to the valet, and it wasn’t a minute later that Astrid was bubbling with questions again, “So security breach huh?! That’s exciting! I wonder who it is… or is it a secret faction of spies? Must be spies because the Minister is involved right? I deducted that myself by the way. Anyway, I’m ready to take down the secret spy ring! You just tell me who to punch!”

Keelen’s stifled sigh could be heard across the galaxy.