Open Social First Of His Name

[Darth Tiamat]

He praised the gold she wore and she felt like a complete sucker for the compliments as they moved into position on the dance floor. The red that had started to show itself in her cheeks was quickly hidden by the fact of the quick pace of the dance. Others around them fell into an uniformed beat with the taps of their boots and heels, and Tia found herself catching on swiftly. She spun to face Nakoa again, repeating the steps as they carried on the conversation.

It took her a moment to think of an answer, more so her mind seemed to zone out whenever she started to dance. It was certainly her peace, perhaps a sliver of joy in the darkness that hung heavily over her. "I try to come to most, sometimes the drills occupy my attention and time." she spun and returned to his opposite hand, offering her to the opportunity to lead the dance.

"Are you interested in my work?" she asked. The music continued to speed up and she seemed more interested in the rhythmic beats instead of her own work. Her fiery dress moved fluidly around her and her red locks bounded along her shoulders and down her back. She would certainly give the impression of fire, or even starlight as she rotated around the floor with Nokoa.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Sebastian Montari]

For a few moments, the woman stared at him without saying a word. To Sebastian it felt like ages, and he felt the sudden urge to turn around and go back to the others. But then she smiled and asked him to keep up. At the small gesture of acceptance and as the relief kicked in, he would give her a warm smile back before offering his left hand to lead her onto the dance floor.

Out there, nothing mattered but the music and the woman in his arms. He stepped forward, stepped back, turned and glided through others just like them with his partner. His eyes remained resting on hers, and for the moment he forgot about nearly everything else.

When there was a lull in the music, Sebastian would adapt to it, leading the pair to move slowly but comfortably with the song. “You dance well, miss,” he commented as they brushed by another dancing pair. “And you look stunning tonight.” Maybe it was his earlier drinks easing his nerves, but for some reason they seemed to be ebbing away. As the music faded, about to transition into the next song, Sebastian would ease them to a stop near a group of other imperials. Not that he’d noticed, as pretty much all his attention was on the woman in front of him.

Just as he did, a server would offer them both a shot, and he took one with a quick word of thanks. Looking into her eyes again, if she seemed like she was enjoying herself, he would attempt to introduce himself despite the nerves threatening to come back. “I’m Sebastian.” Close to his side, he heard the others clinking glasses, and he would reflexively raise his too. It was only when he drank it that he realized that the person who’d initiated it was none other than Altair Din.

Desperately hoping he hadn’t interrupted anything since he hadn’t heard a word of what the new king had said, he would quickly turn back to the woman he’d been dancing with. Was he being rude? He didn’t know how to act anymore. “My apologies, miss. May I ask for your name?”

@Die Shize

 

[Khalid Din]

"Did someone say shots?" The Tiefling hovered over the group as he heard his brother joining them. Khalid had been out of the loop for a little bit, dancing with one noble for a bit, getting to know them a little bit and then jumping to the next. It was fun, but he also was not a moron (Despite what their family thought) : He knew that if he went as far as he wanted to go with any of them their parents would no doubt pester him AND his brother to arrange a marriage. He sure as hell knew he wasn't ready to marry, much less with who he viewed as gold diggers in his eyes...He valued his freedom far too much, thank you.

"Aight, let's see what y'all got gents, 'cause not many can follow my rhythm, not even back home" The cowboy Tiefling proudly said: Despite being much smaller than most of his siblings, Khalid had a steel liver, able to withstand copious amounts of alcohol even for a Tiefling. Sure, his brothers had the advantage in size, but he had been the first to learn the act of destroying one's liver...And probably the one that did it more often.

@ shots shots shots! people

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Fire she was, with red hair that swirled and heated along her cheeks. Specks of gold lined limber limbs and painted like stars dotted in her eyes. Tiamat had seemed isolated where she was but now free in motion, drawing some attention from others around. Nakoa wondered to themself why the whispers never mentioned these things, always seeming obsessed with combat and danger. A person could be more than one thing.

Although, Nakoa wasn't sure what rotary tools Tiamat used that took up so much time and effort. "You're beset by tools?" they asked bemusedly, now curious since she'd brought them up. Her question about Nakoa's interest in her work got raised eyebrows. "Yes. Isn't everyone?" Groundbreaking work on cross-galactic travel was exciting stuff.

Nakoa was more focused on the here and now, at least for a short time, and that meant dancing. A paired spin sent ink-black hair and dark dress a-twirling to match their partner, albeit more wild and less refined, tattoos turned a blur painted in many colors. The rest of the room was largely forgotten as they moved. It was clear Nakoa was pretty good at dancing on the ends of his feet, although they weren't so comfortable landing or moving on the raised heels and so avoided it.

@GABA

 

[Caduceus Ramage]

Aharon softly clacked his mandibles as he was confused, though not visibly for more than a heartbeat. Most beings in the galaxy would be repulsed by the Harch, giant arachnoid beings with fur covering their exoskeleton. Four arms, six eyes, mandibles, not a combination that would make for a pleasing image to other sentients. Yet it seems that the Imperial Commander himself saw beyond the body. The image of Ramage was less important than what was held insided; the spirit or soul.

"My lord, I wish to present with you what a king deserves. As you probably do not know, the Harch species does not have much art." It seemed he was ready to give a build up before going and showing the image. "It is a sign that we do not have much of a social culture, similar to the Imperials of this Empire. Yes, the Sith have their own art, even language, yet the beings who can not manipulate the Force seem to not have much. No real musical presence, no art, nothing of the sort. Today, I wish to change that. I wish to encourage a common culture between all branches of the Imperial forces," he weaved the hands of his upper two arms together to show a unity, "so here is what I consider the first steps. A homage to you, my lord, may your reign be as glorious as your command of your forces." His two hands had unclasped and motioned over to the covered canvas, which soon would be revealed.

The crewmen who handled the crate lifted the canvas over the image, which revealed a painting. Not just say painting, but one of Altair. It was painted in a near lifelike style, it looked almost hauntingly similar to the Demon Prince himself. It was almost like staring in a mirror. He was dressed in a imperial ceremonial uniform, with all of the medals he would have won over his left pectoral region. His right arm held the demon helmet he wore to battle close to his stomach, his left held his saber. He stared forward stoicly, with the crown he would have atop his brow.

@Sreeya

 

[Senestra Sylverian]

Spoiler: Music

A man had led, a woman had followed, onto the dance floor those dancers borrowed.
They weren’t alone, far from so; rather, mere feathers on wings, whether fast or slow.
They spread around her, him and them whether burgundy dress or cerulean tailcoat.
For her dance and song the instruments are strong; beating drum, violin in a poem.

Out here, nothing else mattered but the music and the man in her arms. She stepped forward, stepped back, twirled and glided, smiling with both lips and eyes at her companion. Her arms spread, became wings, black beneath a head of silver, locks of hair whipping in the wind of rhythm.

Drums beating, feet bouncing, dancers like fighters on the sand, dueling dragons in a palace of stars to the gallop of hearts. Hers beating, Senestra Sylverian, a silver dragon, but right then and there she was just a woman and wanted to be no different.

The music slowed, so did the pair. They sway, so close. He can feel her air as she blows stray strands of silver hair. Maybe it was his earlier drinks easing his nerves but his words made her lips curve.

“I have a good dancer. And a great tailor.”

It’s all just a game anyway. Tonight was for respite; come the morrow and the stars would drift away into yesterday. A woman would go back, a man would go back too, but royalties held nothing on these moments. Altair, this was his dance, but the king shared it like the air of his land, and the dragon would spread her wings as music sings.

Upon the ground of gold grey bound, that dragon had landed, but ever she flew, silver black in the dance. Wings unfurled, now they begin to curl as the music moves within the dancers at her back.

Her dancing partner led the way again as they walk side by side, passing beside lingering faces exchanging their own gazes, curving words in their own conversations, but in this bliss called a moment one woman gave one man her attention, eyes into eyes.

Sebastian. The name didn’t roll but galloped. The dancer, the stranger. Her gaze gave nothing away as she chewed on his name, glass glued to hand but having not taken the shot. Just in time, the man's glass rises after the king’s cry.

Altair Din, that was a name now with a lot more weight to it, with more importance, and a Sylverian knew the significance of a name. A name wasn’t words, it was character more than characters. That’s why there were too few today who knew hers. Will that change? Someday?

“Senestra,” she answered, penetrating Sebastian's pupils as if her own were daggers. There was no malice in the expression of this Sith woman, however, as she lifts her glass and knocks back whatever was within it. “Sylverian.” Licking her lips, her eyes shift between those dancing and those not. "Another song?"

@Sicadorito