Alliance Gala

[Master Maverick]

An echo through the Force resounded, crescendoed quickly within her mind until a voice pierced and made itself audible. "Greetings Master Ashara, so good to see you again! Come join us for a talk." The voice, at first, was unknown to the Togruta. She racked her mind for the identity of the individual because it was certainly familiar. However, she had taught so many students, and this was clearly a younger Jedi, that there were times when she got them mixed up. As well, without a face to go with the voice, it simply made it a bit harder. Even the presence that came with it muddled with all the others in such a way as to become almost indistinguishable, even to the Master Jedi. Were she more prepared for such an exclamation she may have been able to pick up more. As it was, she wasn't really expecting to meet any of her students here and was, thus, caught off-guard.

It was now that she focused herself with the swirling of the Force in this room. For several seconds she centered herself and allowed the Force to flow through her. Being so ill prepared made her uneasy, and this would simply not do. It was then that a flash in the Force filled her mind's eye with a vision. It was vague and cloudy and she didn't have time to ponder the implications. Rather she snapped out of it, keeping some of her concentration on that which bound all living things just enough to be a bit more aware of her surroundings. Having been under the impression that she wouldn't have to be on her guard was rather naive of her in the first place, but nevertheless she was somewhat unhappy with the turn of events.

Her head raised, and while she was certainly not the tallest individual in the room by any means, her montrals allowed for the wild movement to be picked up. She moved through the dense pack of bodies until she finally saw the waving hand peaking up above the heads of the party goers. She was slightly embarrassed for him due to the incredulous glaces from those nearby at the distraction. Also, he was a bit more excited than she thought he should have been. She had only taught him once, but everyone took to such things different, and she quickly ended up just accepting the situation and moving towards the young Jedi.

Picking up her dress slightly, she moved through the crowd. Excusing her way past multiple people, it took a bit longer than she would have liked to reach them. "Good evening, Roy," she said in her soft, warm voice. "I trust you are keeping out of trouble?" It was merely a joke, and the sly grin on her face, not to mention her tone, proved this.

Turning the the lithe, red haired man, she noted his dress, but most importantly his sword. She neither allowed her eyes to linger on the weapon, nor a face to be made at his choice of dress. "Good evening, I am Ashara." Her thin smile produced small wrinkles by her eyes, indicating that it, and her welcome, were genuine. Her hand was outstretched to engage in a formal handshake as she expect him to introduce himself in kind, as was proper social etiquette.

 

[Sirocco]

Roy’s grin shined brightly in reflection to her joke which he enjoyed to the fullest, his hands moving to touch each side of his hips with a comical shrug of his shoulders while she could see that his messy and wild hair, which deafeningly mirrored his lively character was combed in respect to all. His combed hair was not the one thing he changed in his appearance for everyone; he was not using his old bounty hunting gear but a full-on traditional Jedi robe to compensate for the lack of money or interest for a suit.

Roy truly loved his friends and companions to the point of almost seeming primal, like he was a dog to a pack or to his owner “well, can’t say I am or I would be lying. Tough I am no longer jumping down large buildings like a ‘psychopath’” Roy answered with a loud and enthusiastic laugh to the possibly dull joke. Roy truly meant well but he was a wild spirit after all but kept to the Jedi code as much as he possibly could. Seeing master Ashara extend an invitation of greetings, Roy knew the man would probably not return the gratitude, he reminded him a lot of the mandolorians he has meet before.

 

[Will]

''Well, we all need R&R after hard combat. I'm in the middle of 3 days leave myself.''

Kristoff swirled his drink before taking a sip.

''War Galvanises us, neh? The Jedi and the alliance, fighting together as one unit. I had a relative in the Jedi. A protégée to a disgraced Grandmaster. He died on his first mission. His comrade had never experienced true battle, and his idiocy caused his death. You may have heard of him. Nikola Valtiere. But perhaps not.''

His pale amber eyes flicked up at the padawan as he smiled, for a moment. A flick of the edges of the mouth.

''The 5th and 6th? Heavy weapons and infiltrators? An odd dichotomy. Artillery and stealth. My SpaceOps rarely work with Jedi. They must prefer the open battlefield to the confining press of the inside of a ship. I can see the appeal, but there is no truer battle than the desperate struggle as a defending force attempts to hold their island in the void.''

As he spoke, he noticed another. Military. An enlisted soldier, infiltrators. Sergeant, to be precise.

''Sergeant.''

 

[Tunnel Rat]

Agil's eyes shifted to the togruta. He could sense her power and how strong she was in the force. As she extended her hand in a greeting and offered a smile, the wrinkles produced by such an expression told Agil she was old. The only conclusion he could some up with was that she was a Master. He hesitated a moment, his expression remaining emotionless and cold. Slowly his hand came out and towards hers. The black chain coiling around the arm made a quiet metallic on metallic sound like a jingle almost as it moved. Clasping her hand in his, he didn't offer a smile nor any pleasantries. His mouth parted and the voice was the same as before.

"Agil."

Having given her that respect, Agil released her hand and retracted back to its original position across his chest. His fierce blue eyes shifted back to Roy.

"Psychopath?" A small paused, allowing the first ever smirk the boy would ever see. "The crazy ones are always the best Guardians."

 

[MoreThanSane]

Aelianus inclined his head to Valtiere. "General," he replied, his tone even. He considered arguing the general's view on the superiority of his regiment, but decided against it. He'd rather not throw himself into a debate that would--if his reading of the man was accurate--would prove fruitless in the end. Instead he faked a polite smile and laid a gentle hand on Juno's elbow.

"It's been a pleasure speaking with you," he said, "but I'm afraid Jedi Armstrong and I must continue our rounds. There are, as you may have noticed, quite a few who'll be interested in speaking with her."

He squeezed Juno's arm once and began pulling her away from the bar. They slowly made their way into the crowd gathering as people left their tables to refill their glasses.

 

[Cassanova]

Juno nodded politely to the General as she was gently tugged away. As they moved through the crowd, Juno politely shook hands, and accepted praise for her speech. Eventually as the pair came to a stop at a standing bar table, she gave Aelianus a sharp look. "Hey, what was that about?"

She was a proud woman, to be sure, and having someone stick up for her was a nice thing, but she still wanted to know why she was just coerced into giving a General the slip. She rested a hand upon Lee's, and smiled as she waited for a response.

 

[Will]

''Well, it's always a pleasure to mix with new individuals.''

Kristoff tapped at a datapad he'd had resting on the bar at his side. The man despised him. One did not become a General without seeing through façade.

''Sergeant Atratinus.''

General Valtiere took another sip of his drink, smiling languidly.

''A soldier commonly salutes a senior officer at formal indoor functions. Do try to remember next time. It would not do well to aggravate one of the more... belligerent officers.''

He turned back to the bar, datapad in front of him. May as well shift some paperwork while he was here. Another report about aggression from the military psychologist about Major Trant. He tutted, deleting the message. Trant was aggressive, but clever. A fearsome combo that made him good at his job. He didn't want his best turned into a drugged up zombie.

 

[MoreThanSane]

Aelianus patted Juno's hand lightly and smiled. "It wasn't obvious?" He shivered with barely-contained frustration. Not only with Valtiere himself, but the extreme arrogance and outright idiocy that the military held so dear. It hadn't bothered him so much before the war--back then he'd had a sufficient selection of alternative pursuits so as not to be so regularly exposed to such ridiculous doctrine. Now, however, he was military, and that only made it worse.

He looked at Juno, studying her gentle features. She was a Jedi, he knew, and one of amazing skill, but he wasn't completely sure just how much of his thoughts and emotions she could sense and--if she could indeed sense them--how much she could understand. He was smarter than her. Immensely smarter. That was a fact, but he didn't value her any less. In actuality, at the moment she was the most important thing in his life. But the possibilities that would open up to them if she could understand his thoughts were quite fascinating to entertain nonetheless.

He considered bringing this up as a change of subject. But as she continued to stand there looking up into his face and waiting patiently for an explanation, he knew she wouldn't be put off. Ever. A valuable lesson learned, he thought dryly.

"Fine," he said finally. "Quite honestly, Juno, if I'd stood there a moment longer I'd have faced a subsequent court-martial on the charges of striking a superior officer. And I am, I'll admit, not particularly giddy at the prospect."

 

[Will]

Valtiere finished his drink, tucking away his datapad. It was time.

He stood, pulling on his peaked cap, SpaceOps symbol prominent. With relaxed, yet long, strides, he made his way to the podium. He ascended to the stage, the microphone adjusting itself to his height.

Kristoff cleared his throat, and the lights dimmed, signalling that his speech should begin.

''My name is General Kristoff Valtiere, 1st Regiment, SpaceOps. I am here to talk about war, our war.''

He paused, a light smile on his face before be began. Giving speeches was simply a more flowery version of a mission briefing.

''In my 60 years of life, I have seen a lot of war. First, in the naval forces, I was dispatched to deal with small disputes, border disagreements and such. As time has worn on, however, war has become of grander scales, culminating in our current state today of full galaxy-wide war. I have seen systems scorched by the guns of both sides as they act as our battlegrounds.''

The smile was gone, the face rigid, maybe even a hint of sorrow in those pale eyes?

''I see many Jedi and Alliance soldiers here. War has brought us together as one. The Alliance and the Jedi working together against this threat. I remember some of those first missions, Jedi fighter wings alongside our carriers and battleships. I was already in SpaceOps at the time. My squad had been paired with a Knight. I outranked him on the battlefield, but he was a headstrong young man. He wasn't used to taking orders, and I had very little knowledge on using force sensetives in boarding operations. He performed admirably, and we took the ship. But it was as Jedi and Alliance, not one unit. But war forged us together, an alloy stronger than our individual parts.''

His voice rose slightly in volume and intensity as the last sentence was spoken. He paused again.

''As one, we must act as one, we must say ''The line must be drawn here! This far! No Further! We will make them pay for what they have done.'' In this war, we shall march forward as one, be it as Jedi, Soldier, Medic, or Engineer. Together, we can defeat the Sith Empire, and restore the peace that we all crave. Together, we shall go from strength to strength.''

There was a righteous blaze in Valtiere's eyes. The words were emphatic, driven home with the occasional pounding of a fist onto the lectern in front of him.

''The Sith Empire fight as one on the ground, but their leaders, the dark siders, are individual hunters of glory and greatness. I shall pass on something that my great grandfather passed on to me on his death bed. I was young, only 7 or 8. He said to me: My boy, don't try to be a great man. Just be a man, and let history make its own judgement.''

This time, Kristoff's words were more quiet, and he had a faraway look in his eyes. A distant memory of simpler times.

''Thank you all for your time. I am sure, through working together, we shall smash the Empire.''

The lights rose, and the General dismounted from the podium, striding tot he bar. He sat on a stool, sighing. Giving speeches was draining. Hitting the right rhetoric marks, incorporating a range of emotion to show that he was not an unfeeling machine... continually changing masks to fit the situation. All very tiring.

He smiled at the barman as he handed Kristoff another clear liqueur. He sipped it, enjoying the cinnamon flavour.

 

[Cassanova]

Juno listened to the speech intently. She noted that the General clearly had a lot of experience with such pep-talks, though she did notice that this was completely inappropriate for the setting. It sounded more like a pre-battle morale booster, bordering upon Imperium Propoganda. Generally impersonal, and lacking the focus of the event itself. Juno took a moment to dismiss her judgements and reminded herself that a man who bears the rank of General knows nothing other than war, or military might - you can't expect much else of him.

She turned her attention back to Aelianus and sipped on her drink, nearly finishing her second one. "Well that was interesting. Who would've thought we'd all leave here as if we're walking into a battle. Just what I needed - to feel like I'm going to get in a fight of some description on the way home."

 

[MoreThanSane]

"Interesting indeed," Aelianus agreed, his eyes followed the General as he made his way back to the bar. "Inspiring, perhaps, or on the verge, but certainly not appropriate for this sort of audience. I'd be surprised," he looked pointedly around the room, "if half of these men and women have ever suffered even the slight discomfort of a broken nail."

And many probably hadn't. But they were servants of the Galactic Alliance, and--in however much contempt he held them--so allies. Compatriots. Friends.

He shuddered.

He slipped an arm around Juno's waist and grabbed her glass. He held it up and wiggled it slightly. "I assume you'll be wanting another of these?" He steered her toward the bar and, once again, they began making their way through the crowd.

 

[Teynara]

Of course. We all talk like war is an ever-present burden which we all must share, but it's true, many planets in the Galaxy are never truly touched by it, Teynara thought, reflecting on what Della had said. Her own homeworld had rarely experienced true war, but with the constant reminders of it surrounding her on a daily basis, for some reason, Teynara could barely remember that being the case. It's almost as if we become desensitised to the very idea of it, since it hangs over our heads no matter what we do. Up to and including gathering at a party, enduring endless speeches on the need for solidarity. As if there's a choice there, either: it's ally or die.

She sighed softly. This really wasn't the time nor play for morbidity, but even with the cheerful and optimistic atmosphere, she wasn't quite sure she could summon up enough positive emotional energy to actually enjoy the gala. Seems more like we're procrastinating from what we should really be doing, she reflected. These speeches just remind us that there's a battle being fought out there even now, pieces on the board positioning for the one to come after that, Teynara mused. You need a rallying cry because the only one remaining to you should that fail is the one that bemoans your fate as death comes to meet you.

Truth be told, she wasn't quite sure why she was feeling that way, but the more she watched and listened, the more she was convinced that this wasn't a good idea to begin with. Little late for that now, though. It was, at least, nice to see more of the Jedi together in an informal setting, rather than seated together in a class or a mission briefing, where seriousness was always the order of the day. Though she couldn't for the life of her figure out where she'd seen Chervil before. Probably in one of those aforementioned classes, she thought, frowing slightly as she considered it. Not a puzzle to be solved at the moment, though.

The second speech warranted a raised eyebrow, though. I've heard that speech from someone else, she thought. It sounds familiar. For some strange reason, she had a visual image of some bald guy shouting out most of the words, but she couldn't quite place it. Maybe one of the many diplomacy lessons at the Temple focusing on the power of motivational speaking. Whether it was just that she'd heard it before, or just that she wasn't overly fond of the message itself, she didn't really feel as if it had achieved much. Wouldn't make me want to sign up to go for war if I hadn't already commited somewhere along the lines, she thought. Maybe not so motivational after all.

"Maldovean Burtalle would be a good choice for you, Della," she said absently, responding to the younger woman's request for ideas regarding the next drink. Teynara wasn't one for alcohol herself and hadn't touched any since her first few years at University, but there was nothing wrong with her memory. "Just make sure it's at least ten years old or more. Anything younger is a little too bitter in my opinion," she added. "And avoid the Corellian Whiskey, unless you want to wake up tomorrow with a headache only a lightsaber could cure," she noted with a faint smile. "Anyone else for drinks?"

 

[GABA]

Sigur mingled with old buddies from the Corescant Security Force who were assigned to security at the Gala. Though they were young faces and those who probably not have heard Sigur’s name except media, he could feel their attention was on more ant just respect as they swapped stories. Mostly those that involve the lower levels of the ecumenopolis, common thugs and criminal bosses who seemed to be frequently involved in high profile cases, but could never fully tie them to it.

He sipped his water, eventually breaking away and begun his rounds with other guests, discussing a range of topics from politics to family, and even how the weather was on Corellia. The attentions of the guests were turned to the podium as Padawan Juno Armstrong gave her speech followed by SpecForce Officer General Valtiere. The applause was followed by small idle chatter and the Grandmaster took it as his cue to arrive at the podium himself. He waited for the eyes and ears to fall onto him before he spoke himself.

“As Jedi and soldiers, we strive to restore peace and provide justice to those who have received injustice. We fight for those who cannot fight; we defend what has been passed down to us for centuries. Though we have failed to prevent war, we have not failed to win this fight. We can only fall if we do not work together, if we let the lies and the deceit the Imperium passes break our citizens. If we allow ourselves to believe what they speak without question then the Imperium has already won.” The Grandmaster’s eyes scanned the crowd before continuing.

“They may point their fingers and play the victim; however, their actions speak otherwise. The attack on the Will of the Force, the annihilation the Coruscanti Temple, they kill our soldiers and use them in their conspiracies; they hold no mercy, no forgiveness, they only wish to bring chaos, to return the galaxy as they see fit. Do not forget what history had taught. Though we have not lived during the times of the previous galactic civil wars, but we know what happens when Sith Lords sit at their thrones.

The Sith Imperium know what they are doing, seeking to deceive those who are willing to listen. They may speak of peace, yet they know nothing of peace, their ideals are based off conflict, struggle, and conquering over those who they believe are weaker than themselves. They come to our temples, they invade worlds, and yet they only claim to be provoked to do so.” He paused, letting the words sink in before speaking again, finishing his speech.

“No one should have to watch family and friends executed because the Sith see them unfit or for simple pleasure of killing. Do not let them fool you, do not let yourselves stand idly by as your friends and allies fight. Stand up to fear, present it with courage, present it with strength. The hope we carry is the light that will burn away the darkness that threatens to engulf the galaxy. The Force is with us and it is our greatest ally to restore peace to such turbulent times." The grandmaster gave a small nod and a smile, signalling he was done before stepping down from the podium.

 

[Cassanova]

Juno looked to Lee with a chuckle and a mock look of disbelief, "I respect that man to no end, but he completely missed the point of this whole event..."
She felt bad saying such things of her Grandmaster, but the event was to celebrate the alliance between the Galactic Alliance and the New Jedi Order, not to point out that the Sith are bad, and we should fight them. She shook her head, and dismissed the thought - she really did feel bad about badmouthing the leader of her Order.

The speech itself was good, Juno noted to herself, and honestly, it did make her want to walk out of there, get her lightsaber back from the security guards, and head directly towards Imperial territory and start destroying key military installations, cutting off supply lines, and doing rescue operations for cities under the oppression of the Sith.

She looked back to Lee, with a tired look upon her face. "How many more speeches do you think there are, Lee? I'm not sure how much more of this I can do... Politics and posturing..." she shrugged and shivered, "...I just prefer to do things, you know?"

 

[StormWolf]

Rhonun folded his hands at his waist, hooking at his belt, while Della did the greater majority of socializing. She was more of a people-person than Rhonun was. The Gala, at the very least, was a wondrous collage of different bodies, colors, and beliefs. It represented the Galactic Alliance in a micro scale - people coming together to achieve a singular goal for a good purpose. Still, the spouting of speeches, the political drivel that seeped from the mouth of so many was little more than a waste of good oxygen. Words were nothing without actions behind them, and looking around, Rhonun doubted anyone present considered the Sith Empire to be a pleasant alternative to their democratic system.

Huffing heavily, as if attempting the clear the cloud of politics floating in the air around him, Rhonun turned to Della, Teynara, and the rest of those involved in such company. "A stout drink sounds blissful after the Grandmaster's lecture. I'm heading to the open bar. If anyone wants anything, tell me now, I can't take the politics with a sober mind." Rhonun growled. He was quickly regretting bringing Della here. A night at the theatre would have probably been better. Alas, they were here, and Della did look very stunning in her dress. If nothing else, the liqueur would numb the grating of politics against the brain.

 

[TweedPawn]

"Well, I thought the speeches have been very nice." responded Della to Teynara and Rhonun. She followed Teynara's advance about the drink choices and found herself soon enjoying something that was refreshing. It helped her relax and enjoy the evening. The truth of the matter was that Della was feeling more uneasy about the way that their opponents were being characterized. The very word, opponent made her feel contrary to her nature. How did these people feel about someone like Nora, the girl formally known as Lain? Would they punish her even though she had saved Della's life on a number of occasions?

Della took another glass, unaware of how quickly she was consuming the delicious alcoholic beverage. This stuff was delicious. Della's head was already becoming fuzzy as she noticed that Rhonun was looking at her in that funny way he tended to gaze at her.

"What is it?" she asked.

 

[MoreThanSane]

Aelianus nodded, gently nudging a inebriated congressman out of he and Juno's path. "I know," he said, keeping his hand on the small of Juno's back as he guided her through the press of bodies. The smell of the room was beginning to change slightly, he noticed. Previously it had reeked of colognes and perfumes, but now he was detecting the hint of alcohol and a slight touch of body odor among the various deodorants. He wondered if the air circulation was working properly. He hoped so, or the party may prove itself a desperately unpleasant event.

"Just give me a sign when you know you can't take anymore. I've many ways of exiting a building, even one so tall as this." He glanced over at Juno. "You haven't any qualms with explosives or great heights, I hope?" In a smooth and hardly noticeable movement he let his jacket drift open slightly and tugged on a section of fabric. It drooped open to reveal a coil of thin cord. "I could have us out the window and on solid ground within twenty-three seconds."

They reached the bar and he secured the flap. Gesturing to the bartender, he ordered Juno another drink. "Or we could simply walk out the front door, though I sincerely doubt that would result in an endorphin rush of any significa--"

There was a beep from a pocket on his trousers. He smiled at Juno as the bartender returned with her drink and pulled his commlink out. He accepted the call and held the device to his ear. After a short, muted conversation, he thumbed it off and dropped it back into his pocket. He looked at Juno, who was now sipping politely on her drink and smiling with equal class at various politicians and Jedi as they walked past.

Finally, she looked up at him. He sighed. "It was important," he said before she could speak. "We have to go." He glanced longingly at the window, fingering the buttons on his coat sleeve that he hadn't had the chance to point out to Juno. It would be so easy to hurl one at the window, watch as the disguised explosive detonated, blowing the window out and causing the room's occupants to dive for the floor. He would then grab Juno, tear the concealed cable from within his jacket, hook it to the window's heavy durasteel frame, and jump.

He sighed. No, he couldn't do that. Not here. Despite his lust for the adrenaline he knew it would cause to course through his body, he simply couldn't. The consequences would be too drastic. Disappointed, he led Juno downstairs and into the bright Coruscanti night.

 

[Le Seigneur d'Avocats]

Two more speeches. Chervil eyed their speakers insipidly. Though their speeches were good, both the General and the Grandmaster seemed to have almost forgotten the point of the Gala. He sighed as he watched Della quickly down her drink and begin another, woozily questioning her companion.

"Heh. Lightweight, eh? I've got to admit, I'm kind of jealous. Seems like a useful trait to have in this situation," Chervil said, gesturing about the gala. From the corner of his eye he noticed Juno and Aelinaus depart together and made the sort of expression one gets from eating something extremely sour. He turned back to the bar and pointed to the barkeeper smartly. "I'll take a shot of Balmoran Nova Spirit."

Chervil promptly downed the shot and made an act of stifling a yawn before turning to Teynara, then eyeing her beverage. "So... Muja Juice, huh? Interesting that you have advice for Della here, but you don't seem to fancy the taste of alcohol yourself." He motioned for the barkeep for another shot and paused to look at it for a while, "Do you think it isn't the correct behavior for a Jedi, or is there a more personal reason?" He finished his other shot and exhaled sharply. "Does alcohol do anything to your connection to the force? I hear it works differently for each individual. You'd think we'd have more information about this sort of thing," he continued blindly, holding up his glass and examining it in the soft lighting above the bar before setting it down and again motioning for the bartender to pour another.

 

[Teynara]

Teynara watched Della with a faintly amused smile, wondering if the young woman had any idea what all that alcohol was doing to her. Or how it's going to feel in about eight hours... Probably not. To her mind, most people drank not because they enjoyed the taste, but because it was a good way to forget all the problems that a more serious world tended to inflict upon at all other times. She didn't entirely agree with the idea herself: ignoring a problem or hoping it'd be soluble in alcohol wasn't exactly going to make it go away. Still, if it helps them to relax for a little while...

She finished off her juice and placed the empty glass back onto the counter for one of the server droids to pick up - a lazy habit she wasn't fond of, but one that always seemed to be encouraged by high-end places like this one. Force knows you couldn't expect a high-ranking politician or private citizen worth billions to return their cup or glass, she mused, more than a little cynically, but she knew she'd have to keep a lid on that sort of thought, since technically speaking, she was surrounded by more than a few of those beings right now.

"I just don't think it's a good idea for Jedi to be so casual with something that encourages a loss of control," she said, responding to Chervil's question, pointing out the strange hypocrisy that she knew enough about alcohol to recommend some, but didn't drink it herself any more. "All our training emphasises discipline, and can you imagine what would happen if a powerful Jedi lost control of their inhibitions or, Force forbid it, their abilities?" She raised a pale eyebrow with a questioning look, encouraging the others to roll that one around in their heads. "This is a nice place, isn't it? I'd hate to see a bunch of un-inhibited Jedi trash it accidentally," Teynara added with a smile, glancing at Della and wondering if a clean-up on aisle three might soon be in order...

She'd actually stopped drinking herself years ago, before she'd joined the Order, but for fairly similar reasons: she rather valued her mind and liked to stay in control of herself for the most part, and had never thought it particularly advantageous to risk losing that, even for a short while. I have nothing to run away from, and I rather enjoy my life just the way it is. If I want to relax, I just do that. Don't need the alcohol to do it for me, she asserted inwardly, expressing none of her internal monologue on her face.

"Don't worry, though, I'm not going to start getting all conservative and judgmental on you guys because you do drink," she added in a light-hearted way, her smile broadening slightly. "I like it when everyone feels relaxed and cheerful, so you go right ahead." Not as if my disapproval would have stopped them anyway, she thought wryly, but she couldn't begrudge them that. It isn't as though Jedi get much downtime these days, even when they're students.

 

[StormWolf]

"Bah," Rhonun grunted towards Teynara's hypothetical catastrophe as he sipped on some exotic, off-world whiskey he had felt brave enough the try. The off-green color was a little disconcerting at first, as was the taste, but then again, one did not usually drink hard liqueurs for the taste anyways. The dark green alcohol tasted very earthy, mossy, which lead Rhonun to guess that it was distilled from some marshy biome, as only jungle or swamp moss could manage such a musty, biting flavor.

"Teynara, even without a parade of drunk Jedi, there is more than enough trash in the room... beyond recycling, I fear." He chuckled as he watched a particularly prudish beurocrat walk by, nose held so high Rhonun wondered if it had scuffs from hitting the ceiling. His gaze ultimately ended up back where it usually did. On Della. She too was drinking, though she had yet again proven that she did not know how to pace herself when it came to such matters. When Della inquired as to what was the matter, Rhonun simple smiled and softly patted her cheek with his left hand,

"Oh, nothing. Just noticing that the past times you have gotten drunk had not taught you any lessons, it seems." Rhonun laughed lightheartedly, and with no intent to offend or embarrass Della. It was s simple observation that struck the Knight as humorous as he sipped from his own glass, the corners of his eyes tightening in a slight grimace as the musty liquid burned a warpath to the Cathar's stomach and liver. "From what I have seen, getting drunk just turns me in to a big softie. I usually get to apathetic or occupied with other things to bother tossing the Force around when I am inebriated."Rhonun shrugged his massive shoulders and wrapped an arm around Della's waist, just incase she decided to forget how balance worked in her stupor.