[Rhylance, Lucine] Title in Progress

”You’re going to a party.”

Lucine did not need to turn around to see the scowl on Zae’s face; his tone dripped with disapproval. She studiously ignored the holo of the elderly Ryn as she considered her reflection, trying to decide what she was going to do with her hair. “Not just any party. It is widely considered to be the party of the year here on Kessel.”

“But you hate parties,” the Ryn said skeptically.

“Yes. But I can endure it to achieve my ends,” Lucine replied as she coaxed her curls into an acceptable style. “It is the perfect cover. With all of the guests present, it will be much easier to move around unnoticed. I already have a plan in place to get the holocron. And while I am there, I might as well see what other favors I can collect.”

Finally satisfied with her hair, she gave her reflection one more critical glance. She then spun in front of Zae’s holo-image, showing off the full effect of the forest green ballroom gown. “What do you think?”

”I think your time could be better spent doing other things,” her lieutenant replied sourly. “Don’t you have a war you should be preparing for?”

“I am preparing. Victory is not always decided by who can kill the most enemy troops; diplomacy sometimes comes into play. And diplomacy is done best when you have some sort of leverage,” she replied as she retrieved her lightsaber and hid it among the folds of her dress.

Baron Ruthbert Andayan’s estate was situated to the south of the capital, upon a series of hills that provided a marvelous view of the city. The native vegetation had been cut away to make room for the fruit trees and lush gardens that surrounded the manor house. The house itself was constructed of white marble, which kept it cool even on the hottest days. By the time she arrived, the moon had already risen, lending the manor an almost ethereal glow.

The rules of social etiquette were a labyrinthine maze of niceties and customs. Fortunately, her father had spared no expense in making sure that both of his daughters were fully equipped to function in high society. Lucine had timed her arrival to be fashionably late, as was expected for young ladies who were unable to secure an escort for the festivities. As she handed her falsified credentials and invitation to the footman, she inwardly recounted the things she had to do before she could truly begin enjoying herself. First, she had to pay her respects to the Baron and his wife. Then, she had to at least make an attempt at mingling. Once that was done, she could set herself to the task of acquiring the holocron.

With a pleasant smile upon her face, she made her way to the ballroom, where she would almost certainly find the Baron. The sooner she got the niceties out of the way, the sooner she could have some real fun.

Bows clashed against strings, sliding back and forward against the tightly bound cords, sending waves of vibrations into the air. Music: Rhylance could feel the melody in his head as he swayed, and stepped to the rhythm of the sounds around him. The Chiss, who normally had a stoic expression, or fake emotion, plastered on his blue hued face had a genuine smile as he danced with his secret obsession. Her hand in his grasp, his hand holding her waist, the two romantically involved souls lost themselves in a rare moment of reprieve.

Docrh’lanc’ehause was adorned in black regalia symbolised by his position within his clan. As he and his partner spun along in their unrelenting waltz, his red eyes bore into her blue gaze. Zasati Tryezsh’s black hair cascaded around her exposed shoulders, flowing with her sapphire gown with each change of direction. As the passion filled battle of movement heated up, the tattoo painted upon her face seemed to flow between colors like running paint in the rain. White, aqua, violet and similar shades bled into each other as the music hastened towards its inevitable close. In perfect unison, the song ended as the two dancing souls froze in place, Zasati dipped backwards, Rhylance holding her in a gentle caress around the small of her back with one hand, the other cradling her delicate neck.

“Well, Blue, it has been some time since we did that.”

“Too long for my liking,” the Chiss answered with a rare true look of happiness. “I miss the time we spent together, my pet.”

“I know,” Zasati returned as she rose from her flexible bend. “I cannot be there, Rhylance, not while He is in possession of what is mine.”

“I’ve kept my promise. Eyes are always upon Zakai. He is safe, and his sanity is firmly in check.”

Zasati smiled as her metallic hand gently rested upon his blue features. Rhylance ran his left hand through the long black locks of hair that dropped onto her shoulders.

“Thank you for everything Blue.”

“For you, Zasati, I’d move the galaxy if I could.” As the words escaped his lips, the Chiss felt a pang of fear rush through his veins. Moments of weakness were unsuitable for a man in his position. A man who did the kind of things that he did. But he couldn’t help himself in her presence. The two slowly drifted forward and his eyes slowly closed.

Before the lids could firmly shut, a familiar flare of red came into his vision, causing him to jerk his head up and away from the pending meeting.

“What a small galaxy we seem to have.”

Zasati refocused on his voice which no longer held that slight tinge of vulnerability. She turned to see where his gaze had been locked, and saw a redheaded woman wearing a forest green dress. The shifting tattoo changed to a light red, before bleeding into light pink, and solidifying as a turquoise luster. Rhylance noticed the change and smiled slightly.

“As much as I love when blue caresses your face, have no feeling for this woman. I assure you I hold no romance in my heart for this trollop. She is merely one of my collected. I told you about her, the bar wench who took my glasses.”

The tattoo again shifted to a dull gray, and then to black as Zasati went into business mode. “I assume that means our evening is over? If she is here it might be for your benefit, even if she does not yet know it.”

“My dear, I will meet you later. You know where my ship is, and your biometrics are approved by M.O.R.S.E. For now though, yes, it s time for me to work.”

“Don’t be too late Blue, my time is not without limits.” Zasati said with a wink before walking away, her blue dress swaying with each step. Rhylance definitely missed the interactions with the woman.

…

Lucine walked slowly onto the pristine marbled ball room floor. Music filled the air as the band began their next dance set. She recognized the music as an indication of the coming socialite dance. As she prepared to continue moving, a grazing touch became a gripped cupping of her hip. A familiar Chiss entered her vision before taking hold of her right hand.

“What a coincidence to see you here, Lucine. May I have this dance?”

Fear crept into her head as she realized her quarry from Club Vertica had seemingly found her. Rhylance of Clan Taldryan, she had hoped never to meet him again.

“I promise that you will enjoy it greatly.” He whispered into her ear as their feet moved in time with the ever increasing music.

Lucine froze, her shock reflected on her face for the briefest of moments. It vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced with a coquettish smile that did not touch her eyes. “Well, this is a surprise. Of all of the people in the galaxy, I never expected to see you here,” she murmured.

As the band began to play the opening notes of a Chandrilan waltz, she hastily considered her options. After their last encounter, she had decided the safest place to be with regard to Rhylance was outside of arm’s reach; so dancing with him was far from ideal. Furthermore, years of lessons with a detestable dancing master had left her with a firm dislike for ballroom dancing.

Unfortunately, there was no socially acceptable reason to decline his invitation. The people who attended events like these could smell intrigue from a mile away; any odd behavior would be noted and commented upon. For her plan to get the holocron to succeed required her to be as inconspicuous as possible. There was nothing for it; refusal simply was not an option.

“Well, who could refuse a… charming invitation such as that?” she said after a slight pause, as she tamped down her fear and anger and lightly rested her hand on his shoulder.

She had not expected much more than a simple box step from Rhylance. So she was quite surprised when he lead her from a natural spin turn to a promenade chasse to a double reverse spin. Each move was expertly performed and timed to the music. “You are quite the dark horse, it seems,” she said as they whirled around the dance floor. “Where did you learn to dance?”

“It is merely something I picked up while at the Academy,” he said in reply, clearly enjoying himself. “But I am more interested in knowing what you are doing here.”

“Obviously, I am dancing,” Lucine said lightly. A flat look from the Chiss made it clear that her non-answer would not be enough. “Really, darling. This is the social event of the season for this system. Where else would I be?”

“Any one of a number of places, I’d imagine,” Rhylance remarked dryly. “So you are not here on some sort of mission?”

“Of course not! Even I am entitled to a night off every once in awhile. No, my reasons for being here are entirely personal,” Lucine said. The last sentence she spoke caused her to pause; she had not intended to say that out loud.

“And what would those personal reasons be?” the Chiss asked sweetly.

“Oh, the usual. Making friends, building business relationships. Stealing a priceless holocron,” Lucine said. When she realized just what she had said, she very nearly froze in place. Fortunately, years of training kicked in, allowing her to keep up with the promenade that the Consul lead her on.

Just what in the hell is going on here? Lucine inwardly seethed, as a series of complicated turns created a momentary pause in the conversation. She was giving way too much information and being entirely too truthful.

“A holocron, you say? Just what is on it that makes it so priceless?”

Do not say a word. Not one word. Just keep silent. Do not say a single—

“Some of the lost works of Darth Plagueis the Wise. I know a collector who dearly wants to get his hands on it,” she replied, as if oblivious to her own inner monologue.

Argh! Amid a stream of creative and very unladylike profanity, a realization dawned on her. She recognized a compulsion when she saw one, although she was typically on the other end of such mind tricks. But Rhylance was not a Force-user, was he? How was he doing it? And more importantly, how could she put a stop to it?

The idea that someone had so easily bypassed her mental defenses caused rage to burn within her. But, much as she wanted to commit violence against the Chiss to get him out of her head, she still needed to maintain a low profile.

One thing was obvious: she had to extricate herself from this situation immediately. Retreat and regroup, so to speak. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted a Zeltron server bearing a heavily laden tray of wine glasses. Perfect!

Before Rhylance could question her further, she drew upon her anger, weaving dark tendrils of the Force within the server’s mind. The Zeltron gasped in surprise when he saw an overly large rat dart between his feet and instinctively jerked away from the vermin, losing his grip on the tray in the process. Lucine saw the tray sail toward them and darted backward. A moment later it impacted against the Chiss with a deafening crash, covering him in broken glass and drenching him with wine.

“Oh no, how awful! All over that pristine coat of yours too,” she said in a horrified tone. She covered her mouth as if in shock, though it was more to hide the smile that threatened to ruin her show of concern.

Nice @Greenfire360

The server’s eye widened at the sight before him. Rhylance was dripping with various kinds of wine that had seeped into the dark fabric of his regalia.The Chiss didn’t look pleased. The Zeltron rushed up to the wet Consul and began to frantically attempt to dry him out.

“My Lord, I am so sorry. I don’t know what happened.” The server stumbled over his words as he avoided making eye contact with the guest.

Rhylance took a breath, calming his mind after the unfortunate wine incident. Looking around, he failed to see Lucine in the room. His assessment of the situation led him to believe she must have slipped out after causing the commotion. This Chiss gave a smirk before walking away from the panicking Zeltron. He approached one of the armored-masked guards near an exit.

“Fi’sehan. Ootay ohk dan elan?” the guard held up his hand to block any forward movement.

“I apologize, I do not speak your language. If you could point me to a restroom, I would much appreciate it. Another of your guests has had one too many, I think.” Rhylance answered while memorizing the guards movements and disposition.

“Cli ceu tolka vil ka jid. Ohk rikey yelniyo eti.”

Rhylance watched the way the guard attempted to direct him while speaking. Even the smallest details could prove to be invaluable. After several minutes of “misunderstanding” the guard Rhylance let out a frustrated sigh.

“Could you please bring me there yourself?”

The guard looked annoyed at the request and begrudgingly relented. /turning on his feet,he led the Chiss away from the ballroom towards the nearby restrooms. Rhylance did a quick scan of the room and when he saw that they were alone he pulled out a small scalpel and jammed it into the back of the guard at one of his armors weak points. The pantoran cried out in pain as he felt the blade piecing near his spinal column. Rhylance held the guard still as the inhibiting poison coated blade did it’s work.

After several moments, the guard was passed out and paralyzed on the ground. Rhylance removed the Pantoran’s armor and donned it as well. After everything was fitted to his frame, the Chiss pulled out a small handheld scanner and searched for the signal his implant chip gave off on Lucine. After a few moments, he found he position.

“Now then, let us see what you have collected, Ms. Vasano,” Rhylance said smiling to himself.

“Sir! I’m so glad I found you!”

A woman’s voice broke him from his concentration. Turning towards the sound of her voice, Rhylance found himself face to face with a Zabrakian woman of easily identifiable wealth. She wore a set of incredibly gaudy jewelry. Perturbed as he was, the Consul decided to use this as a moment to test out his disguise. Lowering his voice to a more gravelly pitch, he responded to the lady of wealth.

“Fi’sehan. Ootay ohk dan elan?” He lifted his hand in the same manner the guard before him did.

“My husband is around here somewhere, and I do believe he’s had a bit too much to drink. You are going to drop whatever you are doing and help me to find him and escort him off the premises.” She ordered in a way that seemed comforting to her,

“Cli ceu tolka vil ka jid. Ohk rikey yelniyo eti.” Rhylance said in response to her demands.

“I really detest that foreign way you creatures speak to us. So insulting, let me tell you. Now come with me at once or I’ll have words with your masters.” Turning her nose up at Rylance he found it hard not to chuckle in her face.

He turned and gestured for the woman to lead him the way and as she turned to do just that, Rylance pulled out his blaster and pulled the trigger. Blue rings of energy left the barrel and collided with the woman causing her to tumble to the floor. He quietly, and quickly put his blaster away as another party goer walked into the hall.

“Well…some people just can’t hold their liquor, can they?”

Rhylance merely shook hi head no, as he prepared to wait for his new informant to wake.