Log:The Shadowport: The Hapan-ing: Shot Through the Heart
A gathering of the nobles provides information. Things don't go according to plan.
OOC Date: December 3, 2020
Location: Jynell Estate - Hapes
Participants: The Shadowport, Eriu Jynx as GM, Sajin, King, Netep Muri, Khalim, Naia, Kaavenn, B'haav Adasta
The audience hall of Jynell Estate has been made to shine - not that it did not already but tables line the walls and are adorned with food and refreshments while a small band plays music near the left entrance. Already the event is in full swing meaning that all of Hapes' finest of the who is who is out to see how well Jynell is still doing. That /is/ why they are here.
Eriu has chosen a deep emeral gown with the silver fall of fabric like a sash across her middle. The emblem of house Jynell, a sword crossed moon pins it to her shoulder. The full skirt adorned in beads and trim catches the light and offers just another aspect to the decor.
All the Houses are present including the three vassal houses. Terell, Camden and Varis. Their groups contain most of their families and the Duchess sees about meeting each of them.
"So good to have you." "It /has/ been too long."
"Why thank you, yes the dress is new."
The usual conversation persists but one can almost see the layers of intention and double meaning.
The rest of the entourage is around, mingling, watching, consuming food - whatever they are want to do. Ilaina for her part is speaking quietly with a member of the Varis family, slowly sipping at her wine and keeping her eye on the odd individuals her cousin calls allies.
And here Representing House Kah, now House Kah-Verrni was Sajin King of Drik. Currently, the pretty lipped and dream hazel eyes stud-muffin was stuffing a rather delectable pastry in his mouth over by the food table -- and while he was of course pretty, the act of him stuffing said treat into his maw wasn't overly attractive. Unless you found that kind of thing attractive.
THe Jelly oozed from the party, the cream and powdered sugar joining it to smear across his lips and cheeks like a small child might do. Some of it even dripped down onto his uniform which he had taken a whole hour to slip into because of it's many complicated buttons and tight fit.
"Aww..." Sajin complained dully as he looked down at the Jelly drop. He takes a free finger and picks it up with the tip before putting it in his mouth and sucking on it.
Reassuming his role as bodyguard, King's been in the audience hall for quite some time. Checking entrances, watching staff, and other security-focused things in preparation. Now, with all of that behind him, he's content to stand in the corner of the room with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes drifting over the crowd. Dressed once more in his Atunda best, King idly runs his thumb over the fine-feeling fabric covering his bicep.
Never has Netep seen such ornately plumed carrion feeders. Well. There was an urusai she saw once while speeding through Tatooine's dunes that could compare to a few.
It was a well-patterened urusai.
It's a bit rich for Netep Muri to view these folk as such, of course, granted she's here gliding about the floor in mostly appropriated threads from the Duchess. But. She's made it her own! And wears it well. A parody of class, this walking, talking cultural attache.
Too-vivid eyes sweep the floor, studying faces, basking in the sea of tells, and challenging someone - anyone - to offer themselves as a starting point for her investigation. In a sec. One she's dealt with this:
"Your highness," she addresses Sajin, sweeping in close to dab helpfully (maybe making it worse) at the stain with a napkin - after sampling the jelly, herself. "Mm!" Netep likey. "Good taste." She does resist temptation to dive face first into her own plate of pastries though because there's liquid courage bubbling in her right hand and that'll fill her belly plenty. The gown doesn't leave much room for food babies.
Khalim steps slowly across the audience hall, dressed in his finest Mirialan black, black on black - save a hint of black, and finally a dash of white. Having taken on a roll of task-master of sorts within the Jynell Estate, he nods to a pair of servants carrying drinks to a nearby table. He hadn't been /appointed/ this role, he'd just sort of assumed it, following his improvements to the house retainer's emergency lodging, and the restoration of some of the house's defensive systems and armaments. Apparently, in his green-hued mind, this extended to audience hall turned ball-room reception and dance floor monitoring.
The Mirialan turns to the band, and seems to relax a hint. A dance floor and live music. Those that know this man know he's a creature of the dance floor. A machine at times. He knows a few fancy dances as well, and there's a momentary look of hopefulness that perhaps there may be some Khalim-oriented entertainment value at some point, even if this is clearly not it. Yet.
A retainer of House Camden, a pretty young woman in a flowing green dress, stands a few paces away, also watching the band. He smiles, "I'm sure they take requests, if there are any Hapan songs you might like to hear." Khalim himself is quite obviously /not/ Hapan, and wouldn't have a clue.
Khalim steps slowly across the audience hall, dressed in his finest Mirialan black, black on black - save a hint of black, and finally a dash of white. Having taken on a roll of task-master of sorts within the Jynell Estate, he nods to a pair of servants carrying drinks to a nearby table. He hadn't been /appointed/ this role, he'd just sort of assumed it, following his improvements to the house retainer's emergency lodging, and the restoration of some of the house's defensive systems and armaments. Apparently, in his green-hued mind, this extended to audience hall turned ball-room reception and dance floor monitoring.
The Mirialan turns to the band, and seems to relax a hint. A dance floor and live music. Those that know this man know he's a creature of the dance floor. A machine at times. He knows a few fancy dances as well, and there's a momentary look of hopefulness that perhaps there may be some Khalim-oriented entertainment value at some point, even if this is clearly not it. Yet.
A retainer of House Camden, a pretty young woman in a flowing green dress, stands a few paces away, also watching the band. He smiles, "I'm sure they take requests, if there are any Hapan songs you might like to hear."
Khalim himself is quite obviously /not/ Hapan, and wouldn't have a clue.
The Jynell estate is brightly lit, it's a beacon of attention, much like it's Duchess. All eyes are on the return of Eriu Jynell. Except a pair of glowing red ones currently shielded behind a polarized visor of a darkened set of voice armor. It's been roughly spray painted randomly with dark browns, dark greys, and some black. A cloak clings to the back of the armored figure. He's spent the past few hours slowly creeping up an access ladder, using a few spots to rest. Once he'd gained access to the roof, he'd slid for a time under an aircon unit for overwatch recon to pass the time at 1300 meters out.
Once the full of dark has fallen, and the party has begun drawing so much attention, Kaavenn slowly sinks out from under the AC unit towards another at the roof edge just enough it overlooks the estate with its colorful glass arches that are the audience chamber. He stays prone, flat to his stomach, a case slid from off his back from under his cloak and left for now. For now all he needs are his electrobinocs and his cloak slung up over his form to break up his potential outline.
B'haav Adasta walks into the door as though he had not been running through the House proper to get here, slightly late due to an unfortunately timed session... Elsewhere. He is at his fanciest so far for this trip to Hapes, in sweeping and elegant silk, dyed emerald green for the many-buttoned double-breasted shirt and black for the tightly-trimmed pants. The buttons are all capped with mother-of-pearl but for the top and the cuff-links, which are trimmed with not-insignificant emeralds. His tophat is, of course, a deep emerald green to complete the look. If anything could make a wiry Balosar look... Good? It would be this outfit. No one would mistake his affiliation for anything but House Jynell. With steel-grey eyes hidden behind his Tetan goggles, which seem to add to the dapperness of his tophat, he sweeps his gaze across the room until he finds the Duchess and begins to make his way her direction. Along the way, he nods to King, formidable and fashionable at the same time; Sajin and Muri, who seem to be re-dyeing the former's outfit; Khalim near the band. All were in place, at least as he was expecting...
The Balosar waits until the Duchess is free for a moment, and then quickly offers, "My apologies, your grace. There was a pressing matter at the landing pad, but it has been sorted. This gala is exquisite in decor, and - if I may add - you are resplendent."
Eriu has time to sweep her gaze around the room and in thus doing spots Muri. She hesitates, her mouth drops for a split second as she stares at the outfit. "What did she do to my ..." she catches herself as a noble comes up to greet her and the Duchess has to fight back the anguish in regards to what one Netep Muri did to the gowns lent to her. HERESY.
A hand is shook and gracious things said and complimented of the woman before the other noble is stepping in. "WHO is this new guard with you. I like the rough look," she remarks. Rough in comparison to Hapans. She's giving eyes at King and even goes so far as to flip her blonde hair.
Sajin's merry dance with the food is an unfortunate thing but Ilaina is giving him a bland glance, brows lofting before she quickly returns to her conversation.
B'haav is a lifesaver in that moment and Eriu turns towards him, allowing the blonde noble to flirt wordlessly with King. "It is fine, do not worry. We are just mingling and you are welcome to a dance partner whenever you like."
That offer is made just as Khalim's suggestion draws the attention of the woman he is speaking to. "Oh yes, well I will keep that in mind. I am not one to usually request things..I demand them and hard to do that while at a social function with peers." She sips at her wine.
Muri is getting all sorts of looks because her LOOK is about a decade too old. Fashion faux pax or new fad in the making? Hard to tell.
Sajin raises a brow as Netep comes over and like a doting mother attempts to clean his shirt. "Netep what..." The Drikish Royal just stands there, looking down at his stained top then back up to Netep who's now tasting for herself. A disapointed look comes over his face.
Finishing off the pastry, he rubs his hands together to get rid of some of the residue. Even a Kercheif is fished from one of the tight pockets that were likely just there for show, and dabbed across his mouth cleaning off any residue from the pastry. Ilaina catches his eye, her bland look causing him a slight bit of curiosity.
"Excuse me... Netep... Gota go... do something." Says Sajin, pushing away from the crafts services table and making his way towards EJ's cousin and whomever she is speaking with. "Lady Jynell." He greets, offering her a charming smile before looking to those she converses with. "Hello."
It's unfortunate that the Morellian is on the clock. It's even more unfortunate that he's a consumate professional. The only response that the pretty blonde noblewoman gets of King is a short, thin smile before he's back to keeping watch. His looks down for a moment, checking to make sure that the House Jynell crest he stitched to the breast of his coat is holding strong.
The Morellian ceases his leaning and straightens out his vest by tugging it down, his landing on EJ during his regular 'check to see if the lady who's paying him has died or not' inspection.
Netep excuses Sajin with a small arm flourish and fleeting grin. Is he still mad!? No matter. She's off to prey upon her first target: a lady in red. House Camden's colors. Rather than make a direct approach with unblinking, uncomfortable stare, Netep takes the more torturous route, snaking to and fro so as to keep the Camden beauty guessing about where this misfit guest might land. Perhaps with a Terell? No, closer...Some Jynell ilk who're sponsoring her stay? Nah.
Muri sashays right on by her target attendee, breezing her with a coy glance beneath an inky fan of lashes. And then strikes from behind. "I don't believe we've met," she comes in hot after that U-turn and strikes a 'casual' pose, sipping at her glass of sparkling wine alongside the woman's /other/ elbow. She's shamelessly coated her words in an exotic blend of accents - a husky drawl of Socorro's Ibhann'I with a polished lilt of Omwatese to give it that special something. Such is the perk to having a linguistically gifted tongue. If nothing else, it keeps people guessing.
- Sip* It's thirsty work.
"Netep Muuuri," she purrs a self-introduction and dips her chin cordially. Just slightly, no hand offered. She might be short, but she's tall with confidence! "If my eyes don't deceive me, you are here in show of House Camden's support, no?" A tiny quirk uplifts her lips' right side. "It will be a pleasure to make your acquaintance either way. A woman can use an ally in a room full of eyes. Might be I'm readin' the room wrongly, but...can't help but feel like a specimen of study. Is the shoes?" She pulls up on the sparkly skirt to reveal a sliver more of the perfectly neutral shoe.
Khalim gives the House Camden associated woman an understanding nod. He'd learned within minutes of his arrival, when dealing with the male Hapan customs agent, that men here were fifth class citizens, primarily used for procreation and labor. Thus, it's with no sense of personal diminishment that the Mirialan mentally lowers himself a notch. Then another. And another.
He turns more fully to the woman, and holds his back straight. "I'd be pleased to convey a demand, if you had a favorite tune in mind." It's not a prostration so much as assuming a role he suspected may resonate with the woman. In his mind, the first order of business if he is to glean any sort of information from these people, is to lower their guard. He smiles, "You're fortunate in that the messenger is a senior retainer of this house, and would be listened to as if you had spoken yourself.
The tone? A calibrated response to snobbery. Enough to catch her attention? The /right/ tone? Khalim simply waits to find out if he's going to be spending any more time with this woman.
The gowns look good from up here! He debates pressing record right now, it is not a long debate. He is going to make a few subtle recordings for... reasons. B'haav gets himself a double take because... tophat. The dim lighting of Hapes has made for some interesting planning on this run. He'd spent quite some time planning this particular detail out.
Randomly Kaavenn keeps shifting his gaze from within his helmeted head to other rooftops and vantage points. He notes all the unknown nobility within, and the gussied up members of Shadowport one at a time. For the mostpart, he's just a shadowy spot under cover for now.
B'haav bows again now that he's fully arrived, reaching into his pocket before pulling his hand back. "Your Grace, is there anyone with whom you would wish me to acquaint myself?" He retrieves a glass of water from a passing server and takes a sip. "Or is there anything I could get for you, while you are thusly disposed? Your attention seems the most prized commodity in the room." He places the glass of water, less one sip, on the next server's tray and pats the pocket again. Something has the doctor anxious, or perhaps it's just his nature. Maybe it's the tight pants - not his normal style.
"B'haav, you should talk with the lady of Varis with me," another noble approachinga s the Duchess keeps King and B'haav close for now. The lady in a burnt umber pauses a few feet away form them and bows before her liege lady as it were. "Welcome back, your Grace. Varis is glad of your return and are looking forward to seeing Jynell prosper once more. If you have any need of us you have only to ask and we are at your disposal." She glances to B'haav and oddly that pleasant smile does not leave her face. She reaches out her hand to the balosar. "Marchioness Helene Varis," she remarks for his benefit. Eriu aids the meeting, "My advisor B'haav Adasta and my persona guard, King." She motions to the man who has promptly and efficiently turned down the blonde noble who gives up with a tut and stalks off.
Sajin's approach quickly scares of Ilaina's company and she starts to reach for one to stop her but finds herself soon alone. "Your Highness," she says in kind to him, giving him a weary smile as she glances towards Eriu and the others. "My cousin certainly knows how to make a scene. Especially with an event we can not afford." The wine is good though and she drinks it.
Muri's flare does catch further attention and the woman of house Camden stars at her. "I...oh..." she seems as if she doesn't know how to address the strange offworlder but those shoes! She gasps, "I love those! Are they similar to the VenButten collection? THey look a little different but I have been trying to get my hands on a pair! Where did you get them?" Oh boy. Muri may have found a soul sister.
Khalim's offers gets rewarded with a smile before she nods. "Very well, ask for a waltz or something similar. I am not overly picky." Oh but she is. SHe is giving the mirialian a look, as if assessing with that snobby picky born and bred attitude. She makes a motion for him to go on then.
There are members of House Terell that seem to be watching King, their vivid blues in house colors creating small pockets of them around the room.
Sajin blinks as the group that was speaking with Ilaina scatters as soon as he comes over, "Sorry... did not think I'd scare them away." He turns his attention towards the Dutchess' cousin, offering her a kind and easy smile. "So? I'll pay for it. It's not a problem." The undertone being; 'you need to relax and trust us'. Of course he had that look at her either way. "I'd offer to get you a glass of wine of pastry but, I see you're already full up. Perhaps a dance then, herm?" He reaches out a hand to take if she wished.
King
Moving to stand next to Lady Jynx, King's hands rest uneasily at his sides. It's always strange for him not to be wearing his gunbelt. His eyes trail once more over those gathered, but they fall on the young Hapan lady who'd bee vying for his attention. She's got it now, that's for sure, but likely not in the way she'd hoped. His stony countenance never shifts, though, and he's looking towards the newly-arrived Marchioness.
VanButter-Varnbutton-Venwhatsits-YOU BET! Netep mirrors the woman's enthusiasm with the utmost perfection, lifting the other half of her skirt to match so they might both admire the twinkly silver glaze of those spindly-heeled sandals, the strappy, horrendously UNcomfortable things that they are. "VenButten's a fashion /genius/, as you know, but not all designs go to market. This one, I'll admit, was never mass produced but my sister's employer has a friend on the production line and when these were thinned from the line, she notified me immediately and I made my bid."
They /definitely/ did not come from the donation bin across the street and 'round the alley from that club she tracked baldy servant to the other night. Nope. Nope...
Muri musters a little sigh and flush of feigned embarrassment (it's the booze) and sips some more. "I know they didn't make the cut, but...well I'm glad I'm not the only one who thought they were worth stepping into the spotlight! If just for a night. I can give you her holonet info, if you'd like?" After a final toe waggle for emphasis - is that a toe ring?? - she drops the skirt back to floor and passes a superficial smile around the room to survey any change of scenery while the Camden fashionista gives her answer.
Khalim finds himself dispatched to the band to place a song request on behalf of the pretty Camden noble. Fortunately, they're completing a wind-down and he's afforded an opportunity to make the request without having to wait, or interrupt, and recognizing the Mirialan's station from the ball's setup phase they nod in acknowledgement. He returns to the Camdem noble just as the band picks back up. Khalim's no wallflower, and he regards the woman keenly. "A dance?" he asks, dark brown eyes full of luster as they regard their Hapan opposites. A pause hangs in the air for a moment as he realizes he's not made any sort of introduction. "I'm Khalim," he says, a quirked smile gracing dark green lips.
Mingling is hit or miss when you look rather like a mix between a sushi plate and an exotic trophy wife. Not that looking like a trophy wife is bad, perse. All of her clothing may be borrowed, but it's been tailored and it fits quite well and she looks /nice/. On her home planet she'd be turning heads for another reason, although there's always the handful of people who are definitely the adventurous sort. If you know what I mean. Mostly, she's probably getting looks because she's very obviously an alien in a way that cannot be hidden by any stretch of the imagination short of a bag over her head and a flimsy excuse about body paint.
She's doing her best though---she's /trying/ to mingle, at least, with a glass of something clear and bubbly and almost certainly (Sea willing) alcoholic, and a hip leaned against the bar. Her dress is slinky and silver-black like the black pearls studding the silver collar around her neck. The neckline would be utterly obscene if not for the silver chains holding it together so that it doesn't gape open and cause mass hysteria at the prospect of discovering what Cthulhu's breasts look like. Unless you're into that. The slit up one side shows off quite a bit of lavender calf and a bit of equally purple thigh, as well as the smattering of white markings that line the outside of her leg in a manner that is almost geometric but somehow still delightfully organic. Her shoes are boots that zip up on one side, but the heel almost required building codes to bring the boot up to height so there you have it. Dressed up. Straddling the border of classy and 'dressed by someone else with different proportions'. So to speak. She smiles at a man who orders something with a candied orange peel stuck in. "That looks pretty good." He looks affronted. Whatever.
EJ and B'haav are doing some meet and greet, King is doing some Lurk. Sajin is Sajining, Kaavenn actually had lost him in the crowd for a moment. Then he's back in view because he scattered some, but looks like the Hapan is gonna dance. King has himself some attention, not just Kaavenn's but some Hapan lovely. Muri is showing off her fashion, or lack thereof, Kaavenn is uncertain. Roof's, vantage points, and other points of interest get a once over again. His eyes move back to the binocs in time for Khalim to seek a dance partner. Naia in something slinky gets attention, he's a professional, not dead. Besides looking over the females of the gathering is simply using the Second Standard. Efficiency.
Kaavenn glances around again without moving his head. His glowing red eyes moving behind that polarized visor of the Void armor, it helps with the lighting of the planet. Eyes flick to the corner of his HUD and Kaavenn sighs softly to himself. His right arm creeps out to the case next to him after checking to ensure his grav belt was secure in place. He drags it closer, and under the cloak. Blindly he opens it and withdraws two parts for assembly, scope and AFD-43. He slowly covers it with another cloak from the case and extends the long weapon before him to look through the scope.
Oh no. Ilaina stares at Sajin for a moment longer than is likely necessary before she sighs and takes his offered hand. "Very well." She intones. The cousin of the Duchess is glancing around, making eye contact here and there as she allows Sajin to lead her out on the floor.
The next song is beginning, thanks to Khalim's assistance. His own partner is a bit more reticent but does not wish to appear rude before her peers. Her drink is set aside with a servant passing by before she nods and extends her hand gracefully. THe maniruced fingers are bend just so to catch the light as they take his hand. Poise!
Muri's new found compatriot looks excited to pieces that she is being offered such a great contact in the world of fashion. "Yes of course, why would I ever say no?" She is handing over her small datapad. "Here, just input it." She knocks back her drink and then watches the floor. "ohhhh we should dance. We should." She even starts to drag Muri to the floor.
Naia for her part is deffinitely the new attraction after Muri's entrance and is getting long looks. There is a clearing of a throat behind her and a male figure in the colors of House Varis offers his hand. "Friend of the Duchess, I do not know your name but would you care to dance?" He doesn't seem put out and in fact bows to her with one hand over his chest.
The Marchioness smiles at B'haav and nods, "Of course. Of course." The middle aged woman is still in her prime as it were and turns to King. "You can not possibly follow them around like that. Dance with me and I will make sure you stay close to your charge." The woman smiles ruefully up at the old cowboy and offers her hand to him.
Sajin turns his head to the side and gives her a glance that says; 'What's that look for?' before chuckling slighly as she takes hold of his hand. He leads her, quite like a gentleman, out onto the floor. Once in an appropriate space, he places the hand that's not holding her hand just above the curve of her hip. At the begining of the beat he starts to move.
He's pretty good, well timmed, clearly practiced one might question where he got so good. Sajin wasn't know for dancing.
Despite Ilaina only keeping eye contact some of the time, the Hazel eyed King makes no attempt to remove his attention from her. "Looks like the others are doing well..." He says to her eye wandering, "You look very radiant this evening."
King
King, wordless thus far, takes a moment to look over the woman offering him a dance. Then there's a bit of sadness in those almost too-perfect eyes of his as he stares through her. He swallows softly and sniffs sharply, snapping himself back from wherever his mind wandered off to. There's no doubt it was somewhere very like this place, but on Coruscant; the gunslinger being offered a dance by a pretty young Twi'lek gal named Selana. Shame that her face is almost a blur, now. At least as it was then. His is mostly the same, save a few recent scars.
King squares his shoulders a bit and offers a "Huh?" before he shakes his head. "Sorry. Yes; that'd be fine. Just promise you won't get too mad if I step on your feet, ma'am," he says in response, taking the offered hand.
As if Netep couldn't do Eriussa's regal attire more shame....she does.
The offering of a datapad is something that Muri is 100 percent ill equipped to handle at the moment. She literally lacks the tools on person to deal with this in the fleeting moment of time it's available. She does, however, have the mental capacity to formulate a plan B, whilst unsexily gyrating her way after her new lady friend in poor imitation of the moves that other gal is putting down. "I didn't get your name!" she calls after her, typing something furiously away into the datapad. The fact that she's got the contact info is besides the point.
Netep's sister's employer's friend has likely never heard her name spoken, let alone slipped her any undertable information ever, but there's a better name she's got to input here - her plan B. Liz'diot. The fetid Bith's contact info (what bit she herself has) is inputted instantly and she makes a mental note to update the creature later regarding the intent behind this potential contact bridging. It's a shot in the dark, but it's all she's got in this moment of frenzied 'Droyk, that worked?'
Once it's entered, deed done, Muri takes the liberty of slipping that datapad back onto her Camden love's person, wherever it fits. Girlpower? As if she didn't stand out enough before, she sure does now with those no-farks-given moves on the dancefloor. She's a foreigner. That's her excuse. Yup. "Has House Jynell hosted many of these events of late?" she queries into Crimson Camden's ear.
Khalim takes the offered hand and the pair move into a clear space near the band, surrounded by other couples that had already begun their own dances. One hand wrapped around to the Camden noble's mid-back, the other meeting her hand and held to the side, they begin their dance. Khalim's moves keep time with the unique meter of the standard waltz. He's comfortable, but not going for anything flashy. "It's been a while since House Jynell has put on an event like this," the Mirialan offers, smiling. "What do you think? I know your house's connection is beyond reproach; I've heard the Duchess speak well of Camden." He hasn't, but she doesn't need to know that. His dark brown eyes find hers and there's a hint of steel behind them. She's clearly placating him, but he's got a mission, and he doesn't really give a kriff. He decides to force some kind of response. "Are you looking for something? I could possibly get it for you. If I knew what it was."
Well, it's always nice to be appreciated, and for all that she spends the majority of her time elbows deep in different people, it's not like she was raised under a rock. Her head cocks slightly in a way that makes her head tendrils flex gently, coiling around her shoulders and then falling down her back even as she offers the man a smile. "My name is Naia. And you might have to show me the steps, but I'd be pleased to join you in a dance." She even offers him a slender lavender hand, speckled with decorative white spots like stars in a near twilight sky. It's a very pretty effect, though a good deal stranger once the lights go out, or if she stumbles into any sort of shadow. Curious. Also potentially unsettling in those of weak constitution, but the man has approached and actually spoken to her, which suggests that he isn't one of those. So few people want their sushi to talk back to them. More's the pity. "I'm afraid you'll have to be patient with me. I will try very hard not to step on your feet, but I hope you're quick on them." She jokes. Sort of. Maybe. Roll the dice, my man.
They are all moving along in their little circles, and Kaavenn has his own to consider. His HUD links to the scope, and he leans his visor behind it as well. He has started to slow his breathing, finally tonguing first some water from the system in the suit, and then a tab that was specially attached along the collar ring for this purpose. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. He starts a slow rhythm watching them all dance.
Kaavenn has his target, and he is enacting the Third Standard. He always has multiple plans to kill anyone he meets or sees. He pauses briefly, mentally shaking away a slight vestige of hesitation that he finds unusual. It must be done. It will be clean. Quick. Not a statement if he let someone else handle this. It will certainly be Second Standard... Efficient. Not a horrifying statement the way the contract wants.
Kaavenn blinks, for his vision clouded briefly, an eyeball malfunction at the wrong moment. Excess moisture, in only one eye... not felt since Gaz departed. Unexpected complication. With a quiet snarl at himself, the Assassin snarls soundlessly and goes back to the business at hand. The termination contract of Eriussa Jynell. It must be Kaavenn... or she suffers, blackmail or not. This is not his style typically.
The moisture has caused him to hesitate enough, and he slides his finger up to a small firing stud on the side of the trigger guard, to pulse the range finding laser for a half-second.
The finger drops back down, a lovers caress to the firing stud, he feels nothing now. Not even the recoil. In the not-night of Hapes?. The AFD-43 barks out, calling for the end of Eriussa Jynell.
B'haav Adasta leads Duchess Eriussa Jynell onto the dance floor, his face blushing just slightly as he turns to smile at her. Once they are in closed position, with one hand holding hers and the other on the small of her back, B'haav leans in and speaks very lowly. "Unless I'm mistaken, she seems solidly in your camp, Duchess. While we can't rule out her underlings... I'm all for some good news..." B'haav is about to continue doing that thing that he always does - talking, to be specific - when he catches the faintest hint of refracting light - not even a breath before it was gone - on the large arch window directly in front of him, behind EJ... The sort of refracting light he had seen once or twice during his time in the Cartel, usually at the sorts of meetings that ended with him walking away with both cases and the other side... Less walking. Grey eyes dart back to the Hapan in his arms, and he makes a choice.
A part of him knows that this is very likely to be a 'last words, last chance' scenario, so he chooses words with intended meaning for both him and Eriu Jynx - words he had been told perhaps only an hour ago. "Be brave. Don't show them any fear." And he executed a quick turn on deft feet, moving their positions to a reversal so his back is to the window before ceasing their rotations, twirling the Duchess out in a spin. Holding the pose, B'haav tries not to close his eyes. In the end, the Balosar smiles.
Noticing the moment King has, the Marchioness reaches her hand across to press over his in a kindly manor. "I have recovered from worse. You must do your best to catch me off-guard." The umber wearing Varis offers him with a smile. There is nothing but a sense of warm companionship towards the Morellian as the two move to follow the Duchess and her appointed advisor out onto the floor. "I hope that your presence here will settle House Jynell soon."
Sajin's partner is looking about, as if trying to find something for a second or two before she focuses back on him and then down to her dress. "Do I? My heart was only half in it, it seems foolish to be holding the gathering even if you are being generous." Finally there is a smile up towards the King of Drik as the blonde Jynell easily glides along with him. Courtly manners and all leave you prepared for impromptu dancing.
Netep's companion does not even think twice about the datapad being in her handa little longer than it should have. In fact the Camden lady is just all bubbly and looking a bit smitten by the exotic foreigner and her strange dance. "Noli, Lady Noli Camden," is crooned at Muri. Muri becomes the example and the awkward dance is going to become a new fad. Most definitely. For Noli is trying to copy Muri, making concetrated faces. "This is new! I LIKE IT!"
Khalim's partner is smiling up at him. "Aye, it has been a while. I have always enjoyed the grounds and the crystal chandelier," she motions up towards it as she smiles all the more. "We are tireless in our efforts to support them. Its unfortunate that the Lady Ilaina prefers the aid of House Terell despite our efforts and those of House Varis. She has her favorites it would seem. Oh me? No no, looking for someone is all, a friend."
"I have all the patience in the world, Lady Naia," he extends his manicured hand to her. "Living on this world has taught me nothing but patience. Besides the best things come to those who wait." He winks at her and guides her gracefully out towards the floor. He's a good lead and carefully settles his hand at her waist to help guide her around the floor. "Follow my steps, forward left, side step right.." he utters the dance to her to help her out.
All is going rather well. Splendidly perhaps save for the eyes of some nobles that just don't know when to put on their polite masks. So many offworlders in one place! Eriu nods to B'haav. "She is," she remarks, starting to look a little tense as she glances around. "Just keep dancing, slowly." she utters the slowly with purpose towards her partner. Slowly does not save him or maybe it gives him a chance to catch his eye on something that flashes through one of the tall windows. A questioning look enters her gaze as he spins her about and her mouth falls open. Tension runs like an iron rod up her back as she is spun out and about in a rough motion that ends with glass shattering and her grasping for his hand.
Glass shattering is the only sound besides a few cries of surprise as the guests nearest the unfortunate colored pane run and duck for cover. Injuries will be had. But the worst of it is for B'haav, his right chest taking the hit and through as Eriu steps towards him. The blaste bolt burns through her dress and hits her left thigh. She staggers to grab at B'haav and oddly enough her other hand clamps down on the brim of his hat to hold it in place.
Just at that moment there is another surprise. The power is just gone. It cuts out and every sound of something bound to the grid whirs to a stop and even though Hapes does not ever truly get dark the interior of the room grows dim and there are cries from the Hapans around as their eyes have to adjust and may take longer than others to adjust. This gives the offworlders a keen advantage - or so they think.
People are beginning to mildly panic as more attendees being to realize someone has been shot. Cries panicked and uncertain carry with those who are seeking a quick exit as Eriu crumbles to the floor holding a balosar and his hat firmly in place.
Just as Sajin is about to say something SUPER CHARMING to Ilaina, the glass breaks. He stops them mid dance, turning to look. There he sees B'haav... and EJ.... Eyes turn towards the window to look out it. Instinctivly he pulls Ilaina behind him, protectively. There is a flare of anger in those pretty eyes, rage boiling at the surface. "Get them to cover..." He ushers Ilaina, reaching for the knife he wars at his belt. He grips it reverse, catching sight of lurking shadows outside, despite the sudden darkness. "King!" He shouts, though he knows the man likely already sees what's happening. Experiance was worn on faces like his and you learned to pick up on it. He moves out to confront these entities.
"I don't know if settling is something this planet can do, but hope springs eternal," King offers back mutedly, doing his best to keep an eye on EJ and B'haav. His dancing is...lackluster, to say the least, but he's trying. Unfortunately for the older Hapan, King doesn't get a chance to catch his stride, because everything quickly turns to drek. Glass is shattering, a Balosar is shot, and the lights are off. King breaks free of his dance, his partner dropping to the ground, shaken by what's happened, and his eyes clock a figure sprinting through the darkness towards EJ with a vibroblade.
King's jacket is thrown back with one hand, as the other snatches that long, chromium cannon out of its holster. Before it's even in a firing position, the hammer is pulled back. His first shot rings out like a cannon in the hollow chamber, illuminating the room with a shocking yellowish-white light. It goes just wide. His next two shots find their marks, though; the first rending off the sworm-arm of the attacker, and the second punching a fist-sized hole through its chest.
Oh, sweet Noli. Noli Camden. Netep's lips purse into a smile that treads a weird line between pitying and appreciation of the woman's earnest efforts. Little do you know, your foreign fantasty is full of druyza shite, Lady Noli. And a little liquor.
But it's going well - this mingling is going well - in spite of herself, which brings an unbidden Fortune Fizzpop wisdom to mind: 'You wear your colors we-' no not that one, ahem 'You will succeed in spite of yourself.' Yes. That one. The creases framing Muri's roguish grin are becoming more genuine by the moment, but it's on the next twirl-go-round that it all changes.
The shattering of glass, the screams, the forboding presence of death in the room. A sudden darkness. Just for a sec. Muri's nostrils are all but suffocated in her Camden companion's hair as the woman's desperate cling is mashed ever closer still by Muri's commanding grip on the taller gal's shoulders. Pushing her down, held in arms but aside, unobstructing her wide-eyed view, Netep rapid-blinks her non-Hapan eyeballs into focus. Breathlessly. What's Oxygen? She's forgotten. it's just hearts pounding against hearts here for a minute while the petite Shadowportian turns in a circle. And another. Scanning the chaos, absorbing the whirlwind mania that's upended this lovely soiree more horrendously than her biggest faux paus ever could. Blue. Blue. A few bodies in blue make their exit with a suspiciously calm manner amidst this PANICKING STORM of nightblind Hapans spilling their wine. "Stay down," she advises Noli and kneels herself thusly to facilitate this evasive action. And so the awkward cradling goes, Muri torn between keeping hunkered in place and getting the frell outta here.
Another figure in blue goes by and Muri makes her choice. "Stay here. I've a room upstairs, yeah? Just stay down, and I'll be right back." Netep disentangles herself and 'flee's after a Terell.
Khalim listens to his dance partner's response, and notes away what appear to be clues. To what? He doesn't know. Lady Ilaina's preference of House Terell over the other two. Those present from House Terell looking a bit unhappy. Khalim frowns.
And then all hell breaks loose. From shattering glass, to the beginnings of panicked screams, to darkness, Khalim's response is akin to a pilot in a doomed starship. The only thing that's going to save you is calm, and he takes the screaming Camden noblewoman's face in both hands and speaks roughly to her. "Listen to me," he says. "LISTEN." His voice takes on a tone of command and his hands grip, forcing her to look at him, "/LISTEN/. Follow me." He guides her perhaps ten feet to a table atop which full glasses of champagne can be seen, and places her hand on the rim, proving its existence. "Climb under it. Stay there until someone gets you. Do you understand?" He doesn't wait for an answer, he pushes her down, not ungently, where she can choose to listen, or not.
In a sweep of Camden hair and screams Khalim hadn't caught any additional movement, and so he simply turns, newly freed, to try and take stock of the situation as best he can.
Nothing was felt, just the armored concentration from inside his cloaked and Void Armored shell. He readies for a second shot, but its habit, he knows he was striking true. He knows that was an immaculate kill. But he is a Shistavanen Sniper Scout by public trade, a very well paid Assassin in reality, he is well trained and it is habit. He knows a kill shot when he takes one, but because of training he is prepared to follow up with a shot. He sees two bodies fall and then his vision finds itself with suddenly less light. The power grid has dropped, semi-darkness reigns, unlike his heart, where all the darkness apparently resides.
There is no time to confirm a kill, and he is above randomly shooting into the darkened crowd. Kaavenn is a Professional Assassin not a crazed gunman! (The difference being one is a job, and the other is mental sickness.) Regardless, it's time to go.
The cloaked and armored figure 1300 meters out tucks the gun into the case, and attaches it back up under his cloak in a moment. He'd debated leaving it there and detonating the equipment, but the weapon deserves better. He's professional enough to want to return it to Zhu Yan?. From a few systems away when it's delivered. Besides, Shadowport doesn't exactly have enough of his Ire for him to purposefully implicate them.
Kaavenn just gets the hell from out under that AC unit. He doesn't go for his ladder, he is running for the other side away from the Jynell Estate. With the entire power grid down, Kaavenn just drops off the edge pulse activating the Iyra Gravity belt to slow his descent and not become a Shiasta-bug on some random surface. Once down between building alleys, he just calmly walks out still cloaked, while looking around bewildered in a manner as if wondering about the power being out, while trying to keep his helmet from view.
He needs to walk with a purpose, but not run. Being caught and tortured is not his preference. He also considers the fact he learned nothing that he wished to, and needs to consider loose ends to tie up, such as the pilot that is going to get him off planet. Poor deserving bastard.
B'haav's whole world, for the briefest of moments, explodes. Really, it's just his chest, but in a flesh-vessel carrying his brain around, it's basically the whole world. He takes an inventory of things. Item 1: Yep, that's a hole in the chest. Item 2: a Hapan hand still holding his... That checks out. Item 3: a hat, still firmly sitting atop his head... Bonus. Item 4: an awkward, square-type pain in his right hip... Wh- Oh, that. As B'haav's body struggles to keep up with a brain that tries to deal with the last few minutes of oxygen it's likely got to work with, the Balosar manages to shift his right arm beneath him and reach into the pocket, pulling out a small, flat box.
Everything keeps getting heavier and, as his arm grows an extra 400 pounds, he manages to pull it out from under his torso. Thank goodness the blood made the floor so slippery. With his last effort, B'haav brings his hand around and up, finding his other hand and the Hapan one still holding at it. One more try, and the box is set awkardly atop EJ's hand, and then the lights seem to go out for good - even the weird ones across the room that look like the squishy ghost of a doctor he knew.
Sajin leaves a stunned Ilaina who continues to just stand there a few moments after her's gone. A brief glance to Eriu and the balosar before she steps aside and attempts to find cover as quickly as she can. The blond Jynell is soon out of sight and out of mind. The quick dispatch of the dark figure who seems unaffected by the loss of illumination goes down quickly and hard, sliding into the open door of the back hall where the trusted servants have been moved for their protection. Jyri, a familiar face to a few stands there just looking at Sajin and then down to the figure who fell into a blood mess at her feet. "You are one of the Duchess'. We will help with the injured," she is back then, drawing extra straff out to being helping sort through the mess.
King's shots are loud. They ring out unlike claster shots. Its a heavy sound like a drum and as one shot hits the arm and the next the chest. The man dressed in Varis colors slumps to the ground, blood staining the beautiful inlaid floor. He does not move an inch but the Marchioness Helene recognizes her house colors and stepping forward inspects the figure. "He is not of my house and not of Hapes." She seems disgusted and draws her foot back used to turn his head.
Netep's newfound companion grasps for her, tries to drag at her dress as the decision to rush after the calmly leaving figures in blue is chosen. "Wait no!" She cries out and then is left in a shaking mess on the floor. Poor Noli. Netep follows those Terell in blue who are making their way out of the building, hurried walks but definitely not shrieking as they begin to gather around the large transport that brought them. A luxurious yacht that literally has to fly about a minute or two to get them to their estate. Rich people amirite?
Khalim's efforts are met with gasps instead of screams and she nods, fishlipping it for how he holds her face. She climbs under the table next to Ilaina and huddles in on herself. "This is a most horrid event." She keeps touching her cheeks. Is she colored like Khalim now?
Naia's big gruff man sorta collapses under female direction and releases her only to watch as the glowing figure trying to stay low is like a beacon. Literally more than half the hall is watching the curvy Nautolan army crawl her way across the floor. Stare.
B'haav and Eriu sit nearly in the middle of it, the ache in her leg from the bolt going through the balosar into her thigh a vaguely known presence as she holds the balosar and keeps that hat down upon his head despite his wounds. That seems to be important. Then he just goes limp and that is worrisome. She curses in Hapes and mutters something below her breath before her head whips up. "NAIA!" ANd then she sees the glowing form.
Sajin was a nice guy, usually. People have called him kind and sweet. Though, those who knew him, people like Yan... people like EJ knew about the unbridaled rage. The short fuse when people attacked and harmed the ones he loved. Towards the servants Quarters he intercepts the dark figure. A growl as he moves quickly, the knife a blur as it stabs violently into the figures gut. Sajin twists the blade, churning the innards gleefully. Removing the blade, blood spurts out and across his uniform. He then stabs the blade through the asailents chin, up through his mouth and tongue, than into their brain. THe Life fade from them.
Sajin lets the body drop, removing the blade. Eyes look up to Jyri. He says nothing, instead he saws at the neck of the figure.
Once the head is removed, he takes ti by the head and walks back into the reception area, the blood still drizzling and dripping from the open wound at the neck. His knife is in his other hand and glaring hazel eyes glance around with pure unabound rage. "No more..." He says to the nobles gathered, pointing the bloody blade towards them. Then raising the severed head he asks, "Anyone know who this is?" Slightly awkward as he just stands there.
"EJ, we gotta go," King says, taking the moment's reprieve to slot the Enforcer back into place. He turns on his knees and loops an arm under EJ's knees; the other sliding under her, just below the shoulderblades. The understandably distraught Hapan is fighting him every step of the way, but he pauses, the hand that had brushed her wound moving to her face for a moment so she looks him dead-on. "Naia's got him. We have to get you /clear/," he says, 140 years of authority ringing clear in his voice as he tucks one of her arms against his chest, and secures the other one from flailing by grabbing ahold of it from beneath her back. The bloodied hand slips back under her and he hefts her up. "Hot Lips, secure the area!" he says, adjusting his hold on the woman and marching her through one of the doors to safety.
AND IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII...
Yeah, Naia is on her way as fast as she can slam the heck out of her elbows. That's going to leave a few hematomas in the morning, but she makes progress like a really angry, slithery crab across the ballroom floor, and when she finally makes it, she's doing her best to assess the damage in lighting that is just. Garbage. She doesn't have any of her equipment with her, so she's going to have to feel around for whatever injury is causing all the drama. Luckily they hadn't been that far away---it's not like she'd had to cross a football field or anything. The assessment doesn't take long---it's kind of a good thing that she has seen a lot of wounds or she'd probably be freaking out because chest wounds are freaking gross. There's so much sucking, and drooling blood, and nonsense. Violet hands descend on the wound and press in a manner that is absolutely going to be awfully uncomfortable, even if he's starting to pass out, but the pressure is the important thing until they can get the medpac in play. It's not quite bright enough to assess whether one of his lungs has been compromised, but all of that can be fixed later if they can keep him hemostatically stable.
"I need my medpac. It's in the rooms you gave me. Quickly. If we can keep him from losing more blood we can save his life, but if someone doesn't get their ass moving he's going to die on this floor." Says the nautolan, sounding very detached from the entire thing. Probably as a function of her profession. She leans the heel of her hand onto the wound until his ribs creak, and pats his cheek a little too hard. "Hey. Doctor, you need to try and stay awake. You can do this. Just concentrate on my voice okay? You've got this." And that's when she sticks a finger in to investigate the wound. Wrong place for the heart. Seems to have missed the artery, but yeah, his lung is going to be a dick about this, probably. It's a lot of blood---something got knicked. She makes an attempt to apply pressure internally. Which is going to hurt.
AHHHHH Muri ran with the straggling herd, fleeing the hall with all the grace of a blind mouse in a tangle of cats. She might die if this goes poorly, buuuuut...
- OOF**
Netep collides with that noble, blue Terell before they can get to their yacht. It's not a tackle so much as a sloppy entangling of limbs when she stumbles into them. At a dead sprint. The pair go down in an awkward tumble, with Netep profusely apologizing all over herself when she disengages, shakily climbs to her feet. It's best not to say too much, so she doesn't. She just staggers off in another direction, eyeing the yacht over shoulder until all are aboard, then runs back into the audience chamber of horrors.
B'haav is bleeding out on the floor under Naia's hands, King is hoisting EJ, Sajin is parading a severed head....What did she miss!?
Netep is on team GTFO, but first things first. She snatches Noli Camden's hand and hauls her up to her feet. As a uh....a witness. Yeah. "I've got --" A datapad, crudely stuffed into the V plunge of her gown where it is not so well hidden right now. "Medpac. Medpac." Naia needs her medpac. "Medpac!" she shouts at Noli and then makes for the lift/stairs/whatever to get to Naia's rooms. Hopefully she finds it.
Khalim's eyes have adjusted to some degree to the darkness, and as the hall begins clearing out he takes the opportunity to contribute to its orderliness by keeping people away from Eriu, away from hallways, and just generally consolidating or moving anywhere else. He's not a medic, in fact has no medical skills beyond self-applying a stim or maybe applying direct pressure to a simple wound, and so stays away from Naia as she begins working on B'haav. He sorely misses the presence of a side-arm, and tells himself there will be no further unarmed participation in any events while on Hapes. Eventually he remembers the Camden noble he'd stashed under a table and moves back to her. Still there, she looks up at him with big fearful eyes. He holds a hand out, which she takes, and pulls her back up. "Go to your people," he says, not knowing where that may even be. He just wants her gone from the area.
B'haav feels something. That's weird. His squishy brain was pretty sure it was giving up the ghost. Maybe it's just random neurons and nerves, firing off the last of their energ- NOPE, OH GOD SOMETHING IS SQUEEZING HIM FROM THE INSIDE SIDE THAT DOES NOT GO THERE! B'haav gasps for air to scream, but his lung is filled with blood and the only thing that comes out are a great many droplets of Baloblood, further coating the ground and - unfortunately - the good doctor who penetrated him and touched his heart-adjacent area. "HURRRRKNGH," seems to be the sum of his efforts at intelligible speech.
