Ask New Purpose

[Marec Malvern]

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Even by Serennian standards, the summer evening couldn’t have been more perfect. Dusk had only just fallen over the capital of Serenno, transforming the cloudy sky into a mosaic of orange and purple hues. The air was crisp and refreshing after a warm day, manifesting as the gentle breeze that carried across the streets and canals of Carannia. Providing an exquisite setting as guests only just began to arrive at the Malvern estate grounds.

Months had passed since the last soiree hosted by the Malvern family - one that had been unceremoniously interrupted by some rogue Force User. It was only due to the timely intervention of a certain Savior of Serenno that things hadn’t escalated for the worse. With tightened security and a more exclusive guest list, there was little concern that their summer evening would go anything but smoothly.

Naturally, Alistair Winchester would be amongst the first to receive an invitation to the party. His was a name making waves throughout the Serenno social scene, and one that Lady Malvern had begun to favor personally.

The waterside Malvern Villa - their Carannia residence - stood as an impressive feature to the Carannia skylight, structures capped with domed towers and slender cypress trees that dotted the grounds. The private dock and gardens had been transformed for the evening, decorated with lights and exotic topiary. All manner of food and drink was laid out upon the tables, ferried by staff to service the scores of nobility and wealthy elite that had begun to arrive. Just beyond the docks, the canals were filled with lantern-tipped gondolas - providing lazy rides across the water, just before it poured into the Belsallian Sea beyond the city.

Amongst the revelry and festivities, Marec had casually made his way to the nearest table of drinks - treating himself the finest wine placed out for the guests. The younger Malvern was dressed for the occasion, sporting black slacks and button-down, coupled with an expensive chrono on his wrist. His brown hair was combed neatly into place, with only the faintest stubble left to line his sharp jaw.

Over a year had passed since his forced exit from the Sith Order and return to Serenno, and none of that time had given the Malvern a higher tolerance for the listless smalltalk or socialization - pointedly avoiding any attempt to be placed before a potential suitor or business partner of his family.

Instead, Marec enjoyed his own corner of the party - his amber gaze lingering upon a particularly attractive Twi’lek member of staff that passed his field of vision.

 

[Darth Raze]

He had been Emryc Thorne long enough to develop a taste for the fine arts and clothing. He particularly enjoyed the over the top elegance Serennians appreciated. Centuries passed and they hadn’t ditched their old Drastian clothing styles, and these parties were an excuse to dress to the nines.

Alistair Winchester was a few moments late on account of his armies deploying to Coruscant. Byblos was his and Coruscant would follow suit. He was rapidly doing that galactic climb all over again, but this time solely on his own terms. There were no frivolous emotions or worthless things like a spouse or family to hold him back. He was his own being and free to shape his own empire.

His heroic exploits allowed him to weave into the upper echelon on Serenno. House Demici was disgraced badly enough to where they lost their Great House standing. He had been particularly focused on Malvern, and its matriarch was always so willing to teeter on the precipice of a scandalous affair. He could use the Force, but he liked the organic play so much more. She was hooked on a string, and he was getting the other Houses to fall in line. Soon enough it would become obvious he was Raze and the planet would still stand with him.

Raze was dressed in traditional Drastian garb, fit for the occasion. He strode through the massive, ornate double doors and immediately caused head turns. He carried himself with dignified grace, practically gliding across the floor. There was weight and purpose to each step, the hawkish, crimson eyes carrying an intelligence that was dangerous in its spring-loaded tranquility. He would not be quick to rile, and perhaps that only added to his enigmatic magnetism.

The particularly attractive Twi’lek that Marec was eyeing eagerly floated over to bring a tray of drinks to the newest guest to join the soiree. Raze swept a drink off the tray, a flock of guests already surrounding him for ritualistic small talk. Human customs still fascinated him, but he knew when and how to play.

@Altaris

 

[Marec Malvern]

Marec allowed his gaze to linger on the Twi’lek for entirely longer than necessary - casually following the servant until she abruptly changed directions. It was only then that his piercing, amber eyes flicked up to regard the new arrival - watching Alistair Winchester as he strolled across the estate grounds.

He man moved with purpose - crossing the topiary gardens like he owned the very ground beneath his feet. Seemingly out of nowhere, the minor noble had made a name for himself amongst the Serennian elite, not least of all with his own matriarch. It was impressive to behold, just as it was dangerous for the established houses and bloodlines.

He had little interest in the leadership of his own house - but even that didn’t dim his curiosity when it came to the newcomer.

Tossing back the rest of his drink, Marec pushed off from where he was standing - casually closing the distance and moving between the crowd that conversed with the man. He paid little regard to the men and women that tried to angle small-talk out of the Winchester ahead of him. Not a single one was important enough to consider.

“You’ll be pleased to know that Lady Malvern will be joining us shortly,” He said as he came within reach, his voice rumbling with a hint of amusement. He was well aware of the connection between the two of them, just short of scandal.

“Marec Malvern,” He extended a hand to shake.

 

[Darth Raze]

He wasn’t as stiff in social situations as when he had been Emryc Thorne. However, his face made it abundantly clear when someone was wasting his time. Eventually, most of those surrounding him got the hint and scattered away. And in swept a face he had seen at gatherings here and there. Raze always remembered the pretty faces, and this one always made a point of avoiding the social situations. Perhaps Alistair Winchester was finally a name that carried enough weight to warrant the spoiled little child’s attention.

Raze took a lazy sip of his drink as the boy addressed him. Crimson eyes gazed across the hall over the rim of his glass instead of turning to regard the man, “Marec Malvern, the ever elusive disgrace to the house legacy,” He said calmly before his eyes finally flicked over to him, “Or so the rumors suggest,” A smirk graced his lips, “Have you come here to assess who has your historically unyielding matriarch hot and bothered?” Perhaps Marec hadn’t expected such sharp boldness within seconds of meeting Alistair Winchester.

There was a reason Raze walked in appearing as if he owned the place. Because he more or less did.

@Altaris

 

[Marec Malvern]

Marec couldn’t help the smirk that began to tug at the corners of his lips - a single brow arching at the quick and bold retort from Winchester. Any other guest would’ve been unceremoniously ‘escorted’ off of his family property in full view of the surrounding courtiers. But Alistair Winchester had a name and reputation that put him a step above most, and more importantly made him more interesting than the multitude of old men and crows that flocked to the high society party.

“Fortunately, the standard for ‘disgrace’ amongst our kind has risen substantially.” Everyone knew what happened to the Demici. Whatever scandal that Marec had brought upon himself for his behavior had largely been eclipsed by such a crisis. Not that the aristocrat paid any of it much mind at all.

“To put a name to the face.” The Malvern swirled the glass in his hand, staring back at Alistair with eyes of liquid amber. “But I have no interest in which noble is currently attempting to cling to our Countess’ skirts.” He said with a small shrug.

Marec snapped his fingers - waving down the same waitress from before to refill his glass. “Or so the rumors suggest,”

@Sreeya