Ask A Night Out

[Darth Arcanos]

Prak City.

He wasn’t on Prakith during his time as an acolyte, he had been on Anoth instead. He knew the Prakith mission was barely a success thanks to the stupidity of multiple Sith involved. None of that mattered, he was here to kill two birds with one stone. The first was that he wanted to take the Dark Lord out for an evening, the second was that their destination just so happened to coincide with clues leading towards what the Prakith and Anoth missions were attempting to begin with.

Azar was dressed in a custom, bespoke suit made from karlini silk and some of the finest textiles from the galaxy. He had a bold, imported chrono on his wrist. His hair was neatly styled and his normally dangly earrings were removed in favor of a few tasteful studs that matched his suit. Instead of his floral oils, he wore cologne with hints of oakmoss and vetiver spices with a musk finish. Azar was almost unrecognizable from how he normally dressed, but still delivering on style.

The Pureblood was leaning against a luxury cloud car piloted by a droid. He waited for her while scrolling through his EZPhone.

@Altaris

 

[Darth Tempest]

Tempest couldn’t deny - Azar’s first request had caught her by surprise. It had been years since the Dark Lord had revealed her face or true name to anyone, let alone spend an evening without the persona she had developed for herself. She knew there was almost certainly an ulterior motive to Azar’s request, but it was a concern she quickly filed to the back of her mind. After all, Tempest had promised to stand by her word. The fact that their journey to Prak city had the potential to reveal a long-forgotten rival was merely icing on the cake.

While Azar readied himself and their vehicle, Tempest spend no shortage of time within the dressing room of her hotel - donning her finest for the first time in ages. The Dark Lord had abandoned her armor, weapons and symbols of Sith supremacy. Instead, she looked every bit the Induparan aristocrat she’d been born as.

In place of armor, Tempest was adorned in a sequined lehenga of ivory silk with a matching dupatta, leaving her arms and midriff. In place of hee infamous mask, Tempest had pulled her dark hair into a loose bun - held into place with a pin of enamel and silver, wrought into the shape of jasmine blossoms and vines that wove through her curls.

Instead of weapons, the Dark Lord was armed with gemstones and precious metal - accessorized with a choker that clasped tightly to her throat, rings slipped over painted nails and bracelets of opal that hung loosely around her wrists.

She looked every bit the queen that she had forged herself to be - though it was the first time that anyone in the Sith would have truly seen the women that led them through Exile.

Tempest didn’t leave Azar waiting for long. She descended the steps that led out of the hotel - using one hand to hold the edge of her skirt, while the dupatta wove around the back of her arms. The scent of fresh jasmine hung in the air with every step she stood, once more hinting to the heritage she’d been forced to conceal.

She glanced towards the Pureblood waiting for her - taking a moment to appraise his choice of attire. It was a stark contrast to the man she’d come to recognize for months, though not at all unwelcome.

“Karlini silk suits you,” She said with the hint of smile. She extended a hand towards his own, her amber gaze - devoid of the hints of corruption - flicked to the speeder. “Shall we?”

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar watched her descend in all her radiant glory. She was breathtaking. He wasn’t the least bit surprised - as studious as he was he had studied up on Induparan tradition and cultures. He could have donned a sherwani to match or perhaps a kurta, and it would have been outright obvious the play he was making. Instead he stood in his suit, a faint smirk touching his lips at her compliment, “You are all right, I suppose,” He said breezily, flashing a wink.

He had something in his hand and he slipped it into hers when she grasped his own. If she looked, she would find a diamond encrusted tikli to place in her hair to go with her outfit, a tradition of her people. He only smiled if she gazed at him, knowing fully well how to complete her ensemble. His was the way of statements without words, and he would deliver.

“Shall we?” Azar asked as he opened the door for her and slid in after her. Once they had the privacy of the backseat, he briefly glanced down at his chrono, “So how often have you explored your own planet, Vahliri?” He said, letting the name roll off his tongue one would expect from a local.

@Altaris

 

[Darth Tempest]

Vahliri couldn’t help the smirk that worked its way across her expression - watching as Azar gracefully took hold of her hand. She didn’t miss the piece of jewelry that was placed against the flat of her palm, and a quick glance revealed the tikli that glittered against the light. It was a tradition that she didn’t expect from the Pureblood. It indicated that he’d done his homework ahead of time - that he’d put far more thought into the gesture than words might convey - and certainly captured her attention.

“It is beautiful,” She said simply, placing the diamond-crusted tilki across the center part of her hair, pinning it to stay in place.

“Is that a fact?” Vahliri tilted her head ever-so-slightly at his playful compliment, a single brow arching towards him. There was a humor and lightness to her voice that was completely foreign to the figure that Azar and other Sith had come to know. It was the Vahliri that had been meticulously concealed beneath a Dark Lord’s veneer. It was the face that Azar had challenged her to display openly for all in the Galaxy to see.

Lifting the skirt of her lehenga, Vahliri slipped into the seat beside Azar, waiting for the doors to close before returning her amber gaze to his own. The question was one that only caused that smirk to tug a hint wider at her lips - though the hints of longing were there all the same. He had no idea what Indupar had meant to her. No idea the separation that had been forced upon her.

“It was my home for years,” She said after a long moment, both hands knitting together in the base of her lap. Their speeder quickly lifted into the air - sailing across the dusk-kissed skyline of Prak City. It was brutalistic and utilitarian as one might expect from such a harsh world, complete with blocky buildings constructed from the same, volcanic stone that dotted the horizon. Even still, the glitz and glamor of their venue was easy to pinpoint from a distance - decorated with colorful banners and multi-colored lights that beamed into the hazy sky. “As an Acolyte and before. The canals of Dahonis City and its festival of lights. The countryside and its river-valleys, with more waterfalls than one can count.” She tilted her head back against the seat. “Mile-long bazaars that stretch through the capital. Spices, incense, food and craft by the best artisans in the Galaxy.”

Indupar was known for its treasures. It’s exotic spices and wares, glasswork and jewelry that flooded into markets from Tattooine to Coruscant. It had flourished under the Consortium for decades at this point, bringing even more notoriety to its culture.

“And you?” She asked after a moment. “Tell me of your home, Azar.” Vahliri stared back at those golden eyes. “The Korriban of its true sons and daughters. Not the landmarks that those of our Order endlessly clamor for.” Korriban was more than the Academy or Valley of the Dark Lords. Was there anyone within the Sith Order who truly understood the culture and tradition that still lived on amongst its scattered people?

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar listened as she spoke, pausing briefly to regard her, “Curious you spoke of Indupar and not Thule,” He observed. The latter, after all, is what he intended with his question. Her words revealed to him perhaps more than she intended about her attachments still to her old life. Thule was technically her ‘home’ with Indupar a planet held firmly in ISC territory from which she was ousted, “Do you wish to claim Indupar?” Azar asked after a moment of silence.

He pondered on her question, his mind drifting back to his own time growing up, “Sadly I grew up sheltered from much of the real parts of Korriban. As you know, the Kressh name hails from royalty. I grew up pampered and with strict tradition. Every day of my life was planned down to the hour..” Azar trailed off, “It is only as an adult that I am seeing other sides of it and learning about the lives of those that live outside the comfort of fortress walls.”

It wasn’t long before they arrived at a palatial building that would host the festivities. The droid drivers stepped out and opened the doors for them both and Azar walked around to let Vahliri take his arm. He shifted into the formal etiquette that was a part of his very DNA. Azar wasn’t bothered by stuffiness, snooty attitudes and meaningless smalltalk.

“I suppose I am your Zeltron date for the evening,” Azar said with a smirk as he gazed at her. He was in no rush to project his true race to anyone and it was a secret better kept close to the chest.

The doors opened to reveal a massive hall with people from all over the galaxy mingling and socializing. Azar grabbed a champagne flute and clinked his glass against hers, doing a poison check over both their drinks before taking a sip.

“I don’t believe he is in attendance, but I do believe one of his…followers is present,” Azar said, “I don’t suppose I can interest you in a dance in the meantime?”

@Altaris

 

[Darth Tempest]

Tempest allowed her gaze to linger upon the venue in the distance - watching as dozens of socialites and aristocrats flooded an entrance flanked with silk banners. Expensive speeders slowed to reveal Core-worlders in exotic and overly-extravagant fashions, flaunting gemstones and finery enough to bankrupt some Outer Rim worlds. It was a reminder of the true wealth and influence of the Deep Core, especially with the fall of Coruscant only years ago.

“It is difficult to forget our home, is it not?” She said simply in response, tilting her gaze back to fixate upon Azar. Tempest knew that the Pureblood had started his journey as an exile. And yet fate had drawn him back to the place of his birth. Perhaps she had revealed more about herself than intended with the answer, but it was truthful. And the Dark Lord was confident that words spoken within the confines of their vehicle would remain as such.

“Not with its current allegiances.” Tempest said. There may have been enemies the Dark Lord was willing to provoke. The Consortium - ever a sleeping giant on the Galactic Stage - wasn’t among them.

Tempest listened as Azar spoke of his own childhood - carefully absorbing everything he had to say. In truth, the Dark Lord could relate to the experience. Hers had been a life of privilege and traditions, and all the restrictions that came with it. Visiting that club with Altair all those years ago had been her first time seeing the lower levels of Induparan society. Her time at the Sith Academy, the first true tastes of her freedom.

The Dark Lord quickly wrapped her own arm about Azar’s - the other moving to grasp the skirt of her lehenga as she climbed the steps of the palatial building. “You’ve certainly proven just as alluring, pheromones or not,”

As they slipped into the ballroom, Tempest accepted one of the flutes of champagne - only opting to drink after it had been cleared for poison. “I doubt he will leave his stronghold for much of anything.” The Dark Lord said with a drink. “He is ancient. Careful.” Occidius outlasted them all. There was a reason for it. “But his investors and followers won’t be so cautious.”

“Drawing them out will not be simple.”

Despite the overarching task at hand, Tempest didn’t mask the smile that appeared when the dance was requested. Without warning, Azar would hear the music throughout the hall change with a pulse of the Force - directed towards a Duros in the far corner that labored over a sound system.

“If you can keep up,” She said, stepping backwards with Azar’s hand within her one - hips already beginning to languidly sway and move to the new song that echoed through the palatial hall. Her wrists snapped and rolled with practiced elegance, a hint of the Vahliri that had so frequently appeared at parties and socials in the Old Order.

Others began to filter onto the dancefloor. Others lingered at the corners of the room, whispering and mingling amongst their own kind. It would be their task to pick out who was the enemy amongst them, even as Vahliri set them gliding across the floor.