Coruscant
Core worlds
Core worlds
Club Sacrilege, Level 2435
The sun had just begun to set over Coruscant, sending its rays bouncing off the glistening metal of the skyscrapers stretching into the clouds above. As night quickly approached and lights began to flicker on, it seemed that Level 2435 grew only more active, speeders beginning to gather in large droves that whizzed by above, entire crowds pouring out of the starport and onto the platforms. This was one of Coruscant’s many levels geared toward entertainment, its blocks bathed in neon and flashy animated signs and massive screens.
”But yeah, big couple of years.” He took another drag of the half-smoked cigarette and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. ”Significantly different from slinging spice to off-the-boat nerf herders.” He chuckled, and the man in front of him did as well.
”Sounds like it!” The bouncer’s eyes scanned the platform, his gaze always vigilant even when he was taking a breather. ”I remember when you were just a teenager and I was cleaning your vomit off the bathroom mirror.” He grinned from ear to ear, and a dash of red rushed to Veles’ face in remembrance.
”Hey, don’t you have some IDs to check?” He chucked the cigarette off the edge of the platform.
”Look at you caring about professionalism! Man, you have grown!” The man turned. ”Catch you around.”
And he was alone again, standing by the barrier separating pedestrians from falling several thousand levels down. He was bathed in red light from the huge sign in front of him that read “SACRILEGE” in bold spooky letters. His old stomping grounds.
Sacrilege was the most well-known dark side-friendly club on Coruscant, frequented by the vast majority of party-going Sith in the Core. Its political alignment was discreet, flying under the radar from the New Republic’s authorities, who were very eager to raid it the moment any Imperial involvement was noted. There was a line outside, a huge queue that stretched on for a couple blocks, but Veles was not waiting there. Instead, he was leaning against the railing, alone in an open stretch of the street that was free of the general clamor.
Dressed in a variety of layers of dark clothing finished off with a scarf, neon reflecting off his white hair, he blended in impeccably with the Coruscanti around, face tattoos and all. Most of those waiting in line were either dressed flashy or dark, but they were all fashionable – a big difference from the cloaks and tunics Veles normally saw among the Sith when they were not at parties.
It had been almost three weeks since Taris, the antidote had been finalized, Xendor had been captured and then slain, and it seemed that at last, wildfire was growing to be an afterthought, and Veles’ life could once again move forward. The only trace remaining that it had even happened was his demotion and the memory still fresh in the mind of those who knew.
He couldn’t have done it without Malou, and he knew that. Other than the brief encounter on Taris, they’d recently only met to fix something – whether it was his mistake or that dark side entity on Serenno. A social outing was long overdue.
Veles looked at the clock on the wall of a restaurant across the way. He’d arrived a good half hour early, and had spent the time just talking to an old friend. Malou should be arriving any minute now.
@lizziie
