last_kallig | OOM:Coronation

OOM:Coronation

The past week has been a busy one for Lady Kallig and her knight. Her situation is not unprecedented, there have been plenty of commoners in Alderaan's history who have been elevated to the nobility and needed to learn to fit in quickly.

Her tutors were quite impressed at her ability to pick things up. She shared the bitter amusement with Garyn that none of their previous charges must have had their lives riding on lessons as the norm. Being unarmed still makes her uneasy, but she doesn't have to fight the urge to twitch anymore when someone moves near her suddenly.

At the moment, a small army of helpers are helping her get ready for the coronation. Makeup, clothes, jewels, hairstyle, it's quite the production. Extensive preparations for a different kind of battle.

Her House's banner hangs over the dressing table: The red and black symbol of Fire and Water on a white field.

(OOC: Warning for vague adult content)

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Two people are waiting for them farther along the hall, one clearly a nobleman and the other his bodyguard.

"Prince Faal, the queen's younger brother, and his bodyguard." Ibani tells Garyn through their connection. To Garyn's eyes, Prince Faal probably looks like a native of Hammerfell.

The prince bows as Ibani approaches, "Lady Kallig, you are a vision." The bodyguard is paying attention to Garyn, more than anyone has thus far, but MOST of his attention is on Ibani. It seems he thinks SHE'S the greater threat to his charge.

Ibani curtsies. "If I am a vision, it is entirely due to the skills of experts in their fields, Prince Faal," she replies, tone dry.

The prince's smile widens. "Even an expert's skill is constrained by the material with which they are working, Lady Kallig." Ibani can feel a flicker of desire from the Prince and a flicker of aggravation from the bodyguard at that statement. Given their connection right now, Garyn can feel those things too.

Garyn is, fortunately, more or less meant to be scowling right now, so his expression doesn't change. He knows full well there's no danger from the prince's flirtations. He does, however, give the bodyguard a quick lookover. Just in case.

The bodyguard's annoyance seems to be with the prince rather than with Garyn or Ibani, from what he can tell. It looks as if Garyn isn't the only one who doesn't appreciate the prince flirting with Ibani.

"Perhaps," Ibani allows. Polite, but nothing more than that.

Prince Faal's smile doesn't fade. "It seems the Jedi Order has decided to send a representative to the coronation, one Nomar Organa."

That's...not great. The knowledge that Ibani has fought Nomar and his padawans and beat them rather thoroughly slips into Garyn's mind.

"I've heard he is a model jedi, and given his connections to House Organa the fact that they would choose him isn't entirely surprising," Ibani replies, voice entirely even.

"Indeed," the prince's smile turns wry. Something on his person beeps, and he sighs quietly. "Alas, duty calls. There's much to see too before thing start in earnest. Farewell, Lady Kallig."

The two take their leave and Ibani resumes her pace forward. "It WOULD be Nomar Organa," she complains to Garyn.

"An eerie thing, to break bread with a person when you would sooner break bones."

Garyn lets a hint of mirth creep into his grim mask of an expression.

"Indeed." Ibani appreciates the hint of mirth in his expression right now. "It could be worse, could be the head of the Order. SHE'S seen my real face and heard my real voice over a holocom before I beat up HER apprentice and killed a target she was protecting."

There is the sound of quite a lot of people up ahead, bright lights, all the sounds of a grand party in the beginning stages. "With my Force presence suppressed, he might not even recognize me out of my armor.

"Let's hope so."

Garyn's hands are a little nearer his scabbard now.

"If she does, she'll have to go through me before she tries anything."

"If the head of the Order is here and wants to start something, we're BOTH running for it." Ibani's tone is earnest. "She nearly killed a member of the Dark Council by dropping a substantial portion of a mountainside on him, and she can block a lightsaber BARE HANDED."

"But they wouldn't have bothered sending Nomar Organa if the head of the Order was going to be here."

The coronation space is huge and lavishly decorated. The nobles below are dressed in their very best, color and wealth on display in dizzying variety. The most important in attendance have bodyguards at their sides. As she comes down the stairs, it becomes clear that she's the only person in the throng wearing black.

She can feel the tamped down agressions, the bitter rivalries, the petty grievances simmering. She pushes them away from Garyn's awareness after a moment. No point in BOTH of them suffering.

Edited 2024-03-03 02:17 (UTC)

"You know if it came to it I would try anyway."

If it's possible to whisper a thought, he's doing it. His face is solemn, indicative of just how much he means it.

"I know." Love, affection, admiration along with the words, a caress across his mind.

Where Ibani passes, the crowd ripples a bit, their attention caught by her. No one is moving toward her yet, trying to angle deals or pump her for information. It's pretty clear that most of them have at least SOME idea that 'Lady Kallig' is a Sith, given the sudden increased wariness of their bodyguards.

Which means that Lady Kallig's bodyguard has to be all the warier. He keeps his sword conspicuously visible. And to those watching, the black and terrible hilt of Sholagmer by itself removes any doubt of his lady's Sith origins, despite having nothing to do with them.

People do approach, after a while. Young people, mostly teenagers. An uncharitable soul might call them the more disposable members of their lineages. They share bodyguards, none of them being important enough to have one of their very own. The bodyguards are wary of Lady Kallig, and wary of Garyn too. What kind of monster would a Sith choose as a bodyguard, choose to carry such a weapon?

The gossip that they share is mostly useless to her, but she knows how to nod and say a few things in the appropriate places. The crowd grows older with more of them sporting bodyguards of their own as time passes.

Ibani shares with him the mental image of a Nexu, a great predatory cat-like creature, pacing inside a cage. "People are eager enough to see and gawk at the caged beast when they're sure they're not going to get maimed." She feels trapped here, exposed, but there's nothing to be done but bear it.

Almost unbidden, the image of a caged nix-hound Garyn had seen in the Imperial City comes to mind. How it had snarled with its predatory mandibular jaws. The Old Mer had simply snorted and said that he had seen bigger and meaner.

"Indeed. And it's the children who come to stare first."

"I'd certainly like to snarl, but I'm afraid that's out of the question."

She's not surprised at the Old Mer's reaction in his memory, he seems the type.

She senses Nomar Organa at the edge of the throng, but he's not approaching her. She can't tell what he's actually feeling as he's hiding his emotions.

There is dancing starting up, something very like a waltz. Which means the people dancing are far closer to one another than Garyn might be used to, possibly to an indecent degree depending on how conservative his world is about such things.

In fact, by Leyawiin standards it is far from unheard of. He hasn't been to a ball in Morrowind, though - perhaps it would cause a stir there. Or perhaps not.

Garyn will be watching alongside the other bodyguards.

Ibani excuses herself from as much dancing as she feels she can get away with. She manages a polite smile when she feels she HAS to dance, and even though none of her partners push the bounds of propriety she hates every minute of their hands on her.

"The only one I WANT to be doing this with is you, Garyn." She tells him as she comes back into range to reach him mind to mind with her Force presence tamped down like this.

"Alas, the travails of a lady of your station."

His usual dry-but-warm wit shines through.

"I'll have to have this dance later, when it wouldn't be so...scandalous and inappropriate."

"I'd like that." The idea pleases her a great deal. "Though it might not be the only scandalous and inappropriate thing I'd invite you to do with me tonight."

She's frankly RELIEVED when the actual coronation part of the evening starts, even if it is dry as dust.
It also gets her off of her feet, which is a relief with these damn shoes. It's not that she can't deal with the pain, but it is an additional irritation on top of everything else.

"Oh, dear. Whatever would society think?"

Garyn is able to carry such a pleasant thought through the coronation, during which he remains silent and out of the minds of most people there, as is his preference.

"Probably that I'd used my evil wiles on you or some such rot," Ibani drawls in his mind.

Ugh, how long can this thing possibly go on?

"I'd honestly expected some kind of ceremonial bloodshed by now, but I suppose I shouldn't expect that from Non-Sith cultures. In the old days, vows between Force sensitives were sealed with blood, and the records suggest that actually had some degree of supernatural power."

"Hmmm. Not sure I know of anything like that. Though I wouldn't put it past the Bosmer to kill somebody and serve them at the feast."

There have certainly been sensational stories to that effect.

"People always want to accuse their enemies of doing dreadful and sensational things."

The whole thing starts to wind down and everyone begins to move out into the courtyard for some final words from the new Queen.

Ibani has been drawn into a conversation a little ways away with a noble lady not important enough to have a bodyguard when Garyn catches sight of Nomar Organa coming toward them through the crowd. Something, something doesn't feel right. The other bodyguards aren't paying him any mind at all, not even a reflexive glance at his motions near their charges.

Garyn rises to his feet and steps forward, his hand close enough to his scabbard to use if need be. He's not going to cause an incident, but he's certainly ready to resolve one.

The motion of the crowd has moved Ibani just far enough away from him that he's not covered by her mental shields.

Nomar Organa looks displeased to see him stepping forward for a moment, before the expression vanishes again into something neutral. He makes a hand gesture that Garyn will have seen Ibani use before exactly once, on Athiss. "You will stand aside, I have business with your Lady."

A mind trick is a subtle thing, but Garyn is stubborn and he knows far more about what someone else in his head feels like than any other non Force sensitive alive.

He is stubborn indeed...and the familiar feeling of a presence reaching into his mind. His red eyes narrow and glitter, and he takes another unflinching step toward him.

"That would depend greatly upon the nature of your business."

Ibani has noticed the commotion, is trying to move toward Garyn.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with." The push is harder this time, painful, dizzying. For an instant, a clear path opens between Ibani and Nomar Organa over Garyn's shoulders, and Nomar acts.

If Garyn wasn't used to fighting spellcasters who could enhance their abilities, hadn't fought and killed Sith, wasn't familiar with how Ibani could move, there would be no way for him to react in time to stop what happens next. Something silvery, metal, like a flechette or a dart is suddenly flying with terrible purpose toward Ibani.

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