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Post by Poludnica on Sept 8, 2020 6:23:47 GMT -5
The sun was setting over Berendal villa. It gave the luxurious mansion a magical glow, eerie and beautiful. Cassius stood at the bottom of the steps that led into the estate, silently watching this spectacle. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the fresh breeze coming from the artificial ocean. This part of the Coruscant belonged almost strictly to the rich and famous. Cassius himself owned two spacious villas himself but decided on renting something instead. The tall, human man had a need for privacy that borderline paranoia. Cassius cringed at the thought of strangers strolling around his place, guessing what someone like him could be hiding, mostly because he had plenty to hide.
Following the force of habit, Cassius straightened his already immaculate suit and looked around. He made sure there were no Jedi invited. Not because the Order didn’t know that the Coruscanti aristocrat was a grey Jedi, but because they didn’t know the true extent of his power. Cassius preferred for it to stay that way. With no force users around, he could let go of the control and constant camouflage. The moment Cassius let go, the surroundings lit up with living essence. He could sense guests milling about in the villa, their idle thoughts, and feelings.
An elderly couple walked passed him, the woman giving him a polite nod. Lady Trevay. Cassius responded with a smile that quickly vanished once the politicians turned away to climb the stairs. He felt tensed. The intuition whispered troubling warnings. It wasn’t a scream, not like when he had invaded Aurelius’ home on Korriban and almost died. No, it was a constant buzzing, annoying more than frightening. What the universe wanted to tell him? Maybe Marcus was up to no good? Maybe it wasn’t a day for business ventures? Cassius quickly made a holo call to make sure his grandson was safe, then checked the stock market. Everything seemed fine.
I need a drink. Cassius thought idly. To pry his attention away from the nagging whispers, he decided to catch a few surface thoughts from the surrounding beings. Senator Pickwick was thinking about her Twi’lek lover’s big, blue...ugh...Classy. Senator Durand hoped he wouldn’t get diarrhea the next day....Even Better. General Vion was already too drunk to form a coherent thought process. Cassius finally decided this activity didn’t do him any favors and returned to picking apart foreboding warnings.
After a moment, he finally sensed someone moving toward him with a sense of purpose. Thank the Force. He was supposed to meet with a Republic commander responsible for security details. Cassius wanted to make sure that all the T’s were dotted. He was, by nature, a perfectionist. The training the human man had undergone over the decades turned an already anankastic child into an obsessive adult. Ever since Cassius’ business on Nar Shaddaa suffered, he had to make money in the Core. Officially this was how he made them - organizing important events for important people. Selling spice and guns had to be put on the back burner.
Senator Shadil Akawaya was an important person who was retiring. A nearly 90-year-old man spent most of his life arguing about pointless crap, like equal rights for aliens. Or ethnic goods prices. For a relatively small political figure, Shadil wanted the biggest party possible. No one protested. Politicians loved drinking and debauchery almost as much as arguing. Cassius had a knack for finding ways to please picky tastes. This event shouldn’t be more or less significant than hundred of others his company put together. Yet...Something was off.
Following the force of habit, Cassius straightened his already immaculate suit and looked around. He made sure there were no Jedi invited. Not because the Order didn’t know that the Coruscanti aristocrat was a grey Jedi, but because they didn’t know the true extent of his power. Cassius preferred for it to stay that way. With no force users around, he could let go of the control and constant camouflage. The moment Cassius let go, the surroundings lit up with living essence. He could sense guests milling about in the villa, their idle thoughts, and feelings.
An elderly couple walked passed him, the woman giving him a polite nod. Lady Trevay. Cassius responded with a smile that quickly vanished once the politicians turned away to climb the stairs. He felt tensed. The intuition whispered troubling warnings. It wasn’t a scream, not like when he had invaded Aurelius’ home on Korriban and almost died. No, it was a constant buzzing, annoying more than frightening. What the universe wanted to tell him? Maybe Marcus was up to no good? Maybe it wasn’t a day for business ventures? Cassius quickly made a holo call to make sure his grandson was safe, then checked the stock market. Everything seemed fine.
I need a drink. Cassius thought idly. To pry his attention away from the nagging whispers, he decided to catch a few surface thoughts from the surrounding beings. Senator Pickwick was thinking about her Twi’lek lover’s big, blue...ugh...Classy. Senator Durand hoped he wouldn’t get diarrhea the next day....Even Better. General Vion was already too drunk to form a coherent thought process. Cassius finally decided this activity didn’t do him any favors and returned to picking apart foreboding warnings.
After a moment, he finally sensed someone moving toward him with a sense of purpose. Thank the Force. He was supposed to meet with a Republic commander responsible for security details. Cassius wanted to make sure that all the T’s were dotted. He was, by nature, a perfectionist. The training the human man had undergone over the decades turned an already anankastic child into an obsessive adult. Ever since Cassius’ business on Nar Shaddaa suffered, he had to make money in the Core. Officially this was how he made them - organizing important events for important people. Selling spice and guns had to be put on the back burner.
Senator Shadil Akawaya was an important person who was retiring. A nearly 90-year-old man spent most of his life arguing about pointless crap, like equal rights for aliens. Or ethnic goods prices. For a relatively small political figure, Shadil wanted the biggest party possible. No one protested. Politicians loved drinking and debauchery almost as much as arguing. Cassius had a knack for finding ways to please picky tastes. This event shouldn’t be more or less significant than hundred of others his company put together. Yet...Something was off.
