OOM:Coronation

[last_kallig]

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)

Comments

[moonandstar]

"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.

[last_kallig]

"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.

[moonandstar]

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.

[last_kallig]

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.

[moonandstar]

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."

[last_kallig]

"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.

[moonandstar]

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.

[last_kallig]

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.

[moonandstar]

"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."

[last_kallig]

"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.

[moonandstar]

"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.

[last_kallig]

"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."

[moonandstar]

"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.

[last_kallig]

"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.

[moonandstar]

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.

[last_kallig]

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.

[moonandstar]

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."

[last_kallig]

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.

[moonandstar]

It's but a flash of time - a brief window for the dart to fly, as Garyn is knocked back. But it's long enough...and long enough for Garyn to react. He lunges forward, turning his back to take the shot meant for Ibani. In the same motion, he draws his blade, readying himself for the next movement should he and Ibani survive this one...

[last_kallig]

The dart wasn't metal alone, something in it hisses, spits, tremendously hot as it destroys a substantial portion of his cloak and seriously damages his armor when it shatters on impact.

Ibani forces herself to freeze, to not attack, to play her role.

Nomar Organa's lightsaber drops into his hand, ignites with a snap hiss and a blue blade comes down toward Garyn. Nomar expects his lightsaber to destroy the blade, as it looks nothing like the lightsaber resistant materials he's familiar with.

The crowd is starting to stir now, whatever effect Nomar was using to get them to ignore him faltering under the strain of combat.

[moonandstar]

Garyn snarls and bullrushes through the blow, cracked armor and all. His teeth clench as his ebony blade meets Organa's lightsaber...and clashes.

Garyn doesn't let himself gloat at this little surprise. Instead, he takes advantage of his lost balance, and kicks him hard in the shin.

[last_kallig]

Organa isn't armored at all, and he was surprised enough by the black sword holding up to his lightsaber that the blow to his shin hits full Force.

Organa falls, but turns the fall into a roll, decades of training coming into play. "Why?" he demands of Garyn, pressing at his mind, searching for answers as to why he is defending this Sith whether Garyn wants to give them or not. The Sith are a cancer, a rot, the embodiment of everything wrong in the galaxy.

The security forces are starting to react by now, but they're being slowed down by the crowd, by the press of people, and by the chaos this fight is causing.

[moonandstar]

Garyn continues to advance to keep the Jedi on his back foot even as he rolls.

"Says the assassin."

[last_kallig]

"Someone who cuts out a cancer is a healer, not an assassin, though I suppose I shouldn't have expected a thug to know the difference."

The crowd is moving away from them, raised voices, screams, shouts. Nomar's window of opportunity to act is closing, and he knows it.

He throws his full mental strength at Garyn, sharp and ruthless as an ice pick between the eyes, "Yield!" But he also lunges toward Garyn, hoping the mental blow will slow Garyn's responses enough that he can drive his lightsaber into Garyn's skull through the opening in his helmet.

[moonandstar]

"Many assassins have said the same."

Garyn doesn't back down. He parries the lunging thrust, turning the blade aside with enough force to compel the Jedi to roll back again.

"Now stow your blade, or die like a dog."