PUBLIC A Life Ended, A Life Begun [Fel Imperium Funeral]

Discussion in 'Open Roleplaying' started by Maxim Fel, Jun 24, 2021.

  1. Maxim Fel

    Maxim Fel Imperator
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    [​IMG]
    The Imperial Mourners March

    Emperor's Necropolis, Ravelin

    Bastion, The Fel Imperium
    430 ABY

    [​IMG]
    The streets of Ravelin quaked beneath the heavy footfalls of Imperial Walkers, the screeching of their joints drowning out the rising crescendo of the Imperial Mourners March. Maxim Fel watched through tear-blurred vision as a golden sea of Praetorian Stormtroopers marched ahead of the walkers in thunderous unison - past a horizon of Imperial citizens who cried, waved banners and saluted the Emperor's First as they accompanied their liege one final time. Even in death his father led the most brave and loyal in the Empire from the front - his ornate marble and gold sarcophagus ferried atop a repulser lift platform at the head of the procession. Stationed in guardian formation around the casket all 12 of the Praetorian Knights, the Gold Blades of The Imperium and the most elite of the Imperial Knight Order, stood their final guard to Ronin Fel.

    As the grand procession marched closer, Maxim could just begin to make out his father's visage carved into the stone tablet covering the sarcophagus. Somehow he looked even older in stone...the wrinkles of his face ran deeper and the peaceful sleep they'd captured him in was unnerving. Maxim stifled a sharp squeak that threatened to escape his chest - but when the dagger-shaped eclipse of an Imperial Star Destroyer blacked out the sun and a wing of TIEs screamed overhead...he took the only opportunity he would have to sob.

    But he did so stoically. Only the sounds of his suffering escaped the facade of strength he knew The Imperium needed right now.

    Standing on the steps of The Emperor's Necropolis, a massive Fel Mausoleum that housed the late Emperor's and Emperesses of the Imperium, Maxim was flanked by countless others and in full view of the citizens of The Empire. He needed now, more than ever, to be strong.

    Wing after wing of TIE fighters soared over the streets, the shriek of their engines shaking building and being alike with powerful shockwaves. Maxim wiped the tears from his eyes and turned to either side, looking over the dozens of Moffs, officers, Fel extended family and foreign dignitaries in attendance. He couldn't tell if any of them had seen him cry, but when Barron's hand gently squeezed his shoulder...he knew at least one person had. He turned to his younger brother, whose eyes were deep red and puffy, and gave him a quiet nod. Maxim glanced once at Nikitis Fel and Aella Fel as he turned back towards the procession, he gave neither much more than the same suffering look he'd given Barron.

    As the procession neared, the rows of Praetorian Stormtroopers came to a crashing halt - their weapons dropping from their shoulders with mechanical precision. Each trooper extended their rifle outwards, towards Maxim, then pulled them close to their chests with barrels raised high into the air. The Praetorian Knights marched on until they reached the first step of the necropolis where his father's casket came to a slow pause and all but one Knight stood silent and motionless. Maxim recognized this man well, it was Axius Loram the Captain of the Praetorian Knights and loyal follower of the Throne since long before Maxim was born.

    Axius marched up the steps, a small silver box tucked beneath his arm and the sun beaming off his balding head. When at last he reached the top he stood tall and proud before Maxim. Deep blackness encircled his cherry red eyes, and it was like looking into a mirror. The man hadn't slept since his father had died. None of the Praetorian had. All day and all night they had stood watch over his body, guarding their Emperor until the moment he was to be laid to rest.

    "Your father was a great man" Axius said quietly as the crowd and music fell silent behind them, "it was an honor to serve him as it will be to serve you, my liege."

    Taking a step back, Axius knelt to a knee and bowed his head. Seeing their captain bow, the Praetorian Knights fell to their knees - followed quickly by the Praetorian Legion who clattered to a kneel, their standard barriers raising high their purple banners emblazoned with the golden cog and number 501st. Maxim's knuckles turned white as he pulled back on the tears that screamed to get out.

    "The Praetorian serve faithfully the rightful heir, holder of the Emperor's Blade" Axius untucked the box and raised it high above his head and presented it towards Maxim. As he did, a set of locks hissed and the box slid open to reveal an electrum plated saber sat upon a velvet cushion. Maxim felt something wet in his palm and realized there was four sharp pains in his closed fist. He quietly loosened his grip and stared at the saber for too long...far too long. Barron tapped him on the back to proceed.

    Quietly, Maxim took the saber in hand...and just like that, his life changed forever. Axius stood and tucked the box back under his arm while the rest of the Knights stood from their kneel and marched up the steps to take formation at his side...then quietly the sarcophagus rose up the steps and entered the necropolis where all the moffs, dignitaries and family would bare witness to Ronin's final rest.
     
    #1 Maxim Fel, Jun 24, 2021
    Last edited: Jun 28, 2021
  2. Nikitis Fel

    Nikitis Fel The Illustrious High Moff
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    1 hour before the ceremony

    Standing before a mirror that dominated an entire wall of the suite was Nikitis Fel. Many who knew the figure knew him as many things, some for being a man of grand ambition. Others for him being the Fel’s favorite pet. A trophy for the family to show off. Though to all he was always known as being the most boisterous of the Imperials. Yet if any saw him in that moment they’d see none of those things.

    The reflection that stared back at Nikitis had bloodshot eyes, his hair frazzled beyond all recognition. He stood there trying to straighten the gray uniform that he’d never worn a day in his life. The Chiss’ hands shook, as he worked his way up each button. His breathing slow as he tried to push back more tears that threatened to rise to the surface.

    A faint hiss caught the imperial’s attention, someone entering his chambers. Quickly he steeled himself, wiping away his tears before turning to face his visitor only to find Mercy. The Changeling that he constantly fraternized with much to Maxim’s chagrin. Currently, she was disguised as a human wearing a security uniform, probably how she’d managed to get into the palace unnoticed.

    “It’s just you.” The chiss said as he began to turn back to the mirror adjusting the outfit. “How do I look? Fabulous as always? The Moff uniform is so droll, but I think I make it look delectable. Better than any of the others at least.” Nikitis asked with a false sense of bravado as he rotated in the mirror to once more look at his companion.

    “You don’t have to do that.” Mercy said as she stood there examining the chiss from head to toe.

    “Do what?” The Chiss admonished a smile dominating his face, yet those crimson eyes lay untouched by such joy.

    “That. Pretending to be something you’re not.”

    Scoffing, Nikitis grabbed a brush, beginning to flatten and stylize his hair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Before he knew it he felt a hand touching his shoulder.

    “No, you’re not.” A surge of emotions all sprang unbidden to the surface, the Chiss rounded on the changeling both his massive hands encapsulated Mercy's neck. The star within Nikitis' chest when Nova as all the bottled sensations fueled him. How dare she question him?! He who she owed her life to. He who owned her!

    “I SAID I-” Nikitis began, cutting himself short as he realized what he’d truly just done. He released Mercy, only to collapse back onto the sofa behind him. “I… I apologize. You speak truth Mercy. I am lost. I have lost yet another father on this day. How much more can I lose?”

    “You could still lose yourself.”

    ------------------------------------

    Standing behind and to the left of Maxim, Nikitis watched the processions. It was everything it should be… No it wasn’t enough. A simple funeral could not encapsulate how important Ronin Fel had been to not only his children, not only to Nikitus, but to the entirety of the Imperium. He was a man of the people, he cared for his people, in the darkest times after the Pietas incident when their economy was crumbling Ronin led the march to hold it together and aid the worlds outside the Imperium’s territory. On this day it would be more than just Imperials who wept.

    The Chiss stood tall over all the other Fel children present. Hands tucked neatly at his back, chin up he portrayed a silent guardian over the three figures near him. He’d seen each of them grow, he remembered scolding Aella and Maxim when they were children. He remembered carrying Baron after he was born. Memories flooded the High Moff as he finally realized how much they’d all grown.

    However, no amount of growing ever prepares one for losing his father. Nikitis had been lost only moments before leaving to attend the funeral. He hadn’t even thought of how the others had felt. In fact, he hadn’t seen any of them since the news had broken of Ronin’s death. Nikitis had been further on the Outer Rim conducting business for himself.

    Crimson orbs lowering, Nikitis’ eyes met Maxim’s as he turned to look. A solemn nod was all the chiss could offer in these times. Maxim was doing the best he could. He was to be the future of the Empire, he had to be the pillar that would hold the Imperium aloft, the figure to guide it to a new era. Nikitis was simply his foundation to keep him standing.

    Nikitis thought it would be decades before he’d have to watch Maxim claim the title of Emperor, yet here it was. Happening so soon, he couldn’t have been more proud. As people turned to proceed towards the necropolis, Nikitis rested a hand on both Barron and Aella’s shoulders giving them a firm squeeze.

    Maxim Fel | Aella Fel
     
  3. Funami Teriyaki

    Funami Teriyaki Black Sun Princess
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    The mournful cries and shouts bidding the dead emperor farewell completely drowned any and all private conversations happening in the crowd. Dressed sharp and fashionably black for the occasion, a middle-aged man bearing strong Atrisian features perked up his ears as if trying to listen to something unseen, then gave a little nod of understanding and his figure sank down. Within moments he was standing straight again, now with a small child perched on his shoulders.


    She was a precious little thing, cheeks rosy and unblemished, large violet eyes full of child-like curiosity, her exquisitely tailored black dress making her look like one of the large Atrisian dolls. Her hair fluffy, thick, and outrageously pink, tied in twin pigtails at the sides. And, unlike her companion, the girl lacked such prominent Atrisian facial features and appeared much paler, hinting at her mixed ancestry. The softest trace of a smile played across her lips as she finally towered above the crowd, able to witness the emperor’s last march. A little hand reached down and gently patted the head of the man carrying her.


    A quick glance about gave away she wasn’t the only one with the idea to climb upon an adult’s shoulders. Young children waving little imperial banners and bearing somber looks on their faces were a common sight, undoubtedly dragged to the event by their more diligent relatives. Keeping her expression neutral, she listened to the funeral rendition of the famous Imperial march and hummed along. Rather than follow the sarcophagus, her eyes were glued to the Star Destroyer high above. She had always liked large ships with vast destructive capabilities, the respect they commanded.


    “Can you see the emperor, miss Teriyaki?”


    She cast a look down again, appearing almost annoyed by the question. It was a good thing nobody could hear them talking over the noise. “Do you mean the old guy in the fancy coffin? That’s a dead man. He’s not the emperor anymore. I’d rather watch the big spaceship.” The young missy replied and looked up just in time to witness the screeching TIE fighters flying overhead. Her face lit up with childish excitement. “Wow, cool! Have you ever seen a TIE fly this low?”


    “Huh? Sorry, I must have missed that. I am trying to see the sarcophagus,” he replied, trying to poke his head over the mass of bodies while carrying the child on his shoulders. “Ronin Fel was a great man--”


    Fufu~,” she giggled in a girlishly annoying way, interrupting her companion. “And he kicked the bucket like anyone else! But I guess it is a terrible loss for the Imperium.”


    Her brow creased in a thoughtful manner and the small child peered through the walkers, catching a glimpse of the new emperor engaging in necessary formalities and protocols. She had never cared for such things personally. Bored easily and young enough to get away with it, she squirmed restlessly on her companion’s back and leaned down to coo in his ear. “And an opportunity for others. The old man isn’t even properly buried yet and the vultures and parasites already circle to suck away the new imperator’s power and elevate their status. Sounds like a certain family, mister personal steward!”


    She rested her elbows on the man’s head, grasping her hands together and plopping her head in them like a nest, then proceeded to wistfully observe the funeral.
     
  4. Aella Fel

    Aella Fel Rotten
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    Before the ceremony

    Ever since meeting with her brother and hearing the news, Aella hadn't been able to think straight. Her mind was an endless loop of thoughts that went nowhere, but they all inevitably led to the same emptiness that sat like a weight in her chest. Once she was shown to her room she allowed herself to break down, screaming and crying and letting herself feel everything she'd been holding back in front of Maxim. It ended in her passing out in her bed still fully clothed, waking up in the early hours of the morning still unrested.

    As soon as she she opened her eyes the headache started, and the idea of getting up and crossing the room for something that might fix it made her sick to her stomach. Begrudgingly she drug herself out of bed, sitting on the edge and holding her head in her hands. Everything felt out of place for more reasons than one, and she still had the funeral to face.

    Cursing under her breath, she tried not to think too much about the day ahead, directing her focus instead to the task of counting out the correct number of pills before swallowing them, washing down the bitterness with what she had left of a bottle of liquor from the night before. The high would take a few minutes to take full effect, but it was easier to bear the beginnings of withdrawal now that she knew relief was imminent. She stared at the long black dress that hung in the closet, her hands clenching into fists as another wave of emotion threatened to pull her under.

    Maybe it would be easier to face everything she'd left behind high, or maybe that was the drugs talking. Either way, it couldn't hurt.

    ///

    Aella didn't meet Maxim's eyes when he glanced back at her, but the ruined makeup and faint trails of mascara down her face would tell him more than words ever could. Whether he chose to believe it or not, news of their father's death had broken her just as it had broken him. As distant as she had been, a father was a father, and no amount of bitterness on either of their parts could change that.

    It was difficult to look at the sarcophagus, the true-to-life carving of their father's features unsettling. Nothing about this was right, from the marble etching to the moment she watched Maxim take up the saber and his role as emperor in the same moment. It was all too soon and unexpected, the exact opposite of the way things should have been. After everything, they were all just mortal, and this was a stark reminder of that.

    The feeling of a hand on her shoulder caused her to glance up into the face of her oldest brother, one she hadn't seen in years before today. It was difficult to give him anything more than the faintest beginnings of something resembling a smile, before she followed the rest of the assembly in the walk to the final resting place of all monarchs of the Fel dynasty.

    This day couldn't be over fast enough.
     
  5. Maxim Fel

    Maxim Fel Imperator
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    [​IMG]
    Barron Fel

    [​IMG]
    Barron turned back to Niktis with the same crooked smile he always wore - but his eyes betrayed how hard this had been on the youngest of the Fel siblings. The family adrenaline junkie was always the last to be afraid and the first to be the one singing on a long trip or cracking jokes in a dire situation. It was part of what made him such a good TIE pilot. But that Akk Dog optimism had been shed off in tears and quiet depression. The smile that looked up to Nikitis Fel now was no more alive than the stone carving atop Ronin's sarcophagus.

    "
    I'm glad you're both here" Barron croaked out in a whisper as the trio turned to follow Maxim, The Knights, Ronin and what seemed to be the entire political sphere of the galaxy into the necropolis. The citizens of the Empire would slowly disperse home while the 501st remained to guard the procession inside.

    Religion was discouraged in The Imperium and the state recognized none of them - so what would be a ceremony full of wise words and prayers instead past in mostly eerie silence. In place of a preacher was the Master Keeper of The Necropolis, an elderly man dressed in Imperial Grey robes and a bald spot perfectly centered on the crown of his skull. His words of comfort fell between commands being given to the various droids preparing Ronin's tomb.

    It all felt so hollow to Barron. There should have been...something. Hope? A promise that his life had meant something? In truth, he didn't know what he wanted or expected. Perhaps most of all, he just wanted his father back.

    After what felt like far too long, Ronin's sarcophagus was floated into position beside a marble wall that stretched several stories into the air. A stone tablet had been moved aside revealing a hollowed square only slightly longer than the sarcophagus. The hollow couldn't have possibly been made any smaller, it looked as if their father's casket would barely fit as it was.

    "
    Today is a solemn day for our Imperium" the Keeper addressed the gathering as he stepped to the side of Ronin's sarcophagus, "Ronin Fel, Seventh Emperor of The Restored Empire and father to not only strong sons, but to his strong people. As we kneel before our Emperor one final time, we welcome a new beginning."

    Lifting his hand out towards Maxim, The Keeper's voice swelled with something between sadness and pride, "Maxim Fel, rightful heir and soon to be Eighth Emperor. His Majesty, Ronin Fel, has raised for us a strong successor. A man who will raise the Iron Sun high over our Empire - and leave it stronger than he found it."

    Barron turned to Maxim and saw the way he was clenching his jaw. To anyone outside the Fel family, he would appear to be stoic - head high and shoulders back...but to Nikitis and even Aella Fel he would look terrified.

    "
    Hail to The Imperium!" The Imperials in the crowd, Barron included, would answer back in a thunderous unison - 'Hail!'.

    "
    We now set our Emperor to rest beside his ancestors" turning towards the sarcophagus, The Keeper addressed the stone carving of their father, "my life passes from you to your son, My Liege. May you find peace in the Empire you left for us. It is an honor to kneel before you one last time"

    As the Keeper dropped to a knee, so too did Barron and the other Imperials in attendance. Barron tucked his chin deep into his chest as he did so, hiding his face as best he could when the tears began rolling down his cheeks. Barron heard a thrum that broke the silence and looked up to see the Sarcophagus slowly slipping through the air and into the hollow of the marble wall.

    It took everything he had not to scream out to their father as Ronin's stone face passed forever away behind the wall of marble. Barron bit his tongue to stifle a sob and tucked himself back into his chest. He wasn't watching as the casket dropped carefully into an unseen cutout in the hollow - so that only the visage of The Seventh Emperor's stone body could be seen. Then, carefully, two droids lifted a slab of marble and steel from the floor - their mechanical joints grinding as they placed it over the opening to the hollow.

    As the stone slab clicked into place a quiet hum came to life as the seemingly solid face of marble melted away to reveal a transparent screen. The screen allowed the viewer to see inside the Hollow and gaze upon Ronin's stone visage overlayed with menus and prompts about his life and achievements.

    Then it was over. The Imperials stood and the Keeper bid them farewell before the gathering was quietly ushered through an adjacent door.

    Here Barron, Maxim, Nikitis, Aella and all who were gathered would find themselves in a feast hall decorated in Imperial banners and portraits of Ronin Fel. Beverages and food had been prepared across a grand table that stretched from wall to wall in the center of the room. Careful to not speak loudly or disrespectfully, the attending moffs and politicians mingled about the wake.

    As for Barron? Barron simply stood behind his older, Chiss brother and cried...
     
    #5 Maxim Fel, Jun 27, 2021
    Last edited: Jun 27, 2021
  6. Aella Fel

    Aella Fel Rotten
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    Aella bit her tongue too, but for a different reason. It was one thing to grow up with the feeling that you were less worthwhile than your father's trueborn sons, but to be entirely excluded from being acknowledged as his daughter was another matter altogether. And so as they knelt, she made certain she caught the gaze of the Keeper and didn't look away until he did first, even as they knelt as one. He could deny her legitimacy all he wished, but she would make certain he couldn't shy away from her existence. The white stripe that cut like lightning through her hair was a guarantee of that, just as it guaranteed many other things.

    Her vindiction melted away as she heard her younger brother cry quietly, his shoulders trembling as he struggled not to sob openly. Without a word she reached out to wrap an arm around him as they stood, gently pulling him closer. There was nothing to say or do that would ease the pain they shared, but she could at least be there, this time. That was more than she'd been able to do before, even if it still couldn't be enough.

    As everyone else shuffled inside, Aella quietly hung back, watching everyone disappear into the building as the doors slid shut before stepping over to the tomb that made for Ronin's final resting place. Reaching out with a hand she swiped away the menu that obscured the sarcophagus, merely standing there for a few moments as she took in the mimic of her father's visage. She could feel more tears welling up in her eyes, and this time she didn't bother to wipe them away, letting grief wrack her body as she cried.

    It would be a long few minutes before she composed herself, sniffling and wiping her eyes with the heels of her hands. "Hey, Dad." Red eyes looked into a marble face, the silence in that moment deafening. "I'm sorry. For everything. I--" Her whole body shook then, and she forced the emotion down. She needed this, for her own well-being or some kind of closure she wasn't sure. "I love you."

    Her vision was blurry with tears, and slowly she sank to the ground, legs tucked to her chest beneath the long dress she wore, her arms wrapped around herself and seemingly holding her together. At the end of the day she may have been a lot of things, but somewhere beneath it all there was still that lonely, sad little girl.
     
  7. Nikitis Fel

    Nikitis Fel The Illustrious High Moff
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    Kneeling as all the other Imperials did, Nikitis simply stared onward as his second father was laid to rest. It was like watching a part of himself, a part of his past also be sealed away. There was a faint roar from the dragon within the chiss’ heart. It cried out in rage, that dragon suffered as it once more experienced pain worse than death. No matter his knowledge, no matter his cunning, there was nothing Nikitis could’ve done to prevent Ronin’s death, and it hurt. Not only that, but Ronin’s passing had hurt his blood children. Nikitis did not need the force to feel the sorrow of Aella and Barron who took the death so much worse than Maxim. Maxim was made of durasteel, rigid, unbending in his will, always willing to put up a tougher face in the name of the empire. Barron and Aella could attempt to do so, but they were like cortosis. Brittle, and easy to break, until they were forged into something greater.

    Nikitis had been so lost in thought, so lost in his own pain that he’d simply moved with the crowd and to the wake. Behind his towering form, was Barron hiding away the tears still falling from the other. Turning on the youth, Nikitis did what he suspected Maxim hadn’t done for the boy. He embraced Barron. His head leaning down to whisper in his brother’s ear.

    “Do not hide your tears Barron, do not hide your pain. Those tears do not make you any less of a man, any less of a Fel. Those tears show that you are human. They show how much Ronin meant to you, how much he meant to us all. The entire Imperium weeps on this day, not only you.” Pulling the younger boy deeper into his arms, enveloping him. Nikitis finally released him. “You are stronger than you know Barron, never believe those tears. That those emotions make you weak.”

    Releasing his brother finally, Nikitis’ eyes scanned the wake. Political dignitaries filled the halls, he could spot the other High Moff’s mingling, he could spot Maxim, but there was one missing. One that made his heart sank, and he knew where’d she be. It seemed Nikitis was no longer the foundation for only Maxim, but all three of the Fel children. “Forgive me Barron, I will return shortly, but I must find Aella.”

    Wandering back down the halls from whence they had come, the Chiss entered the mausoleum, standing behind a weeping Aella. He heard Aella’s words to their father. His heart ached for the young girl. So lost, that she believed herself unloved. Those crimson eyes grew soft, as Nikitis walked down the stairs plopping down next to her. One of his arms moving around her shoulder’s and pulling her head into his chest. His chin moved to rest atop her head.

    “He loved you too Aella, he loved you more than you’d ever know.” A slight smile touched Nikitis lips as he looked upon the grave of Ronin. “There was not a single day that he didn’t wish you were here. That he could spend more time with you. You are no less than Barron or Maxim. You were, and always will be Ronin’s daughter.”

    Aella Fel | Maxim Fel
     
  8. Paragon of the Republic

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    Somber events were nothing new to Kairi. In her vast experience and in the short time which she has existed, she had been to countless local and foreign affairs of a dignitary passing – but this one held a significant difference than of experiences past. She was the representative of a larger government, a larger purpose. Wearing a simple dress suit, tailored to her figure and adorned with a simple white Cortus Lily flower over her left pocket – she looked fitting for the role. She carried herself confidently and with some sense of pride. Kairi moved in between the flanking Senate Guards, other Republic dignitaries, and members of the Jedi Order. She kept silent throughout the entire ceremony, bowing her head when the Imperials knelt, held back tears as she watched the masses and those closest to the Seventh Emperor weep, and dismissed the eerie feeling that gutted her as they sealed his tomb. Kairi and he entourage would be directed by higher Imperial officials to the next room, where many had gathered to celebrate the life of the Seventh Emperor.

    And she would remain quiet, and observing.

    She had come here to ensure the peace that had lasted between their governments for years now. Her presence was a formality, at best. Deep within, Kairi cringed at the sight of the Imperial insignia. It brought back things she had learned while attending school on Naboo and Coruscant.

    The atrocities...

    The enslavement...

    The horror which the Galactic Empire had stood for under the guise of Order.

    But Kairi would remain focused, and quiet for the time being, the time would come where she would meet the man who would help shape the fate of the Galaxy at large. Would it be one carved out peacefully? Or obliterated into their image?
    Questions that required answers, for sure, but for now...she remained cautiously optimistic that things would work out for the best.

    She was brought back to reality by her Aide, who gently grazed her arm and spoke up to garner her attention. “Ma’am, we’re to be seated now...” She motioned to an empty table that was laid out for the dignitaries of the New Republic and their Jedi companions. Kairi simply nodded, words failing her at the moment as she was ushered to the table and seated. A server droid began making his rounds, collecting drink orders and even assisting in the collection of food. Kairi ordered herself a water, and again – waited.

    She would ensure that her delegation would remain quiet, and civil. Regardless of the differences they held with their Imperial counterparts.

    When the time came, she was confident the Eighth Emperor would seek her out and discuss the obvious Mythosaur in the room.

     
    #8 Paragon of the Republic, Jun 28, 2021
    Last edited: Jun 28, 2021
  9. Corin

    Corin Nomad
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    Corin stood far enough from the familial gathering to avoid drawing any undue attention away from the late Emperor. The vagabond made his best attempt at proper attire for the funeral. He pieced together something nice out of some old throwaways of one of the Imperium's many aristocrats. By no means did it compare to something custom-tailored or fitted, but it worked. Besides, most of it sat tucked away beneath the low-hanging poncho he'd favored since beginning his travels. Helped keep him safe while hiding most of what made him dangerous from the public eye.

    A win-win.

    At least, that's how the Jedi wanted to feel. But the only thing he could make out was grief. It gripped his heart. It tied his stomach into knots and didn't seem to stop. This wasn't his first funeral. It probably wouldn't be his last, but something about watching the event felt off. Wrong, even. From the way Fel's Praetorian Guard moved, with unspoiled efficiency, to the overall emotion displayed by Ronin's greatest Knights. Or lack thereof, as far as he could feel. Corin's surroundings were a mix of pride, pain, and honor. Only the Praetorians remained a mystery to the empath. Their minds were like steel cages clamped down on the greatest of secrets.

    "Hm," Corin considered the many implications behind the Emperor's death as he marched behind his closest family and friends. The Jedi had seen them before. Maxim, Aella, and Barron. They were familiar in the way an old friend's children might be. Corin hoped only for the best for them. He knew how much they mattered to their late father. His friend. Seeing them as they were only made the pain in his heart worsen.

    The part of him that longed to comfort others surface. It tickled the back of his mind, reminding him of who he once was. A man who yearned to make others smile at their darkest hour. A Jedi who earned a name for himself through sheer determination. Even when he'd failed his studies, left forgotten by his father, his teacher, it wasn't enough to break him for someone else. So, how did it ever come to this?

    He shook his head and quietly took his place adjacent to the family, hands clasped together behind his back. Now wasn't the time.

     
  10. Kalja Tal'Vera

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    Focus...

    Kalja walked beside the procession, which included the Chief of State. Her hands remained at her side as she glanced about, cautious of her surroundings. There was so much conflict, so much confusion and even apprehension between the dignitaries of the various governments. Each here, to represent themselves in the best way possible, and almost to impress the likes of the Fel Imperium. She thought it a curious notion, especially considering the gathered Governments. Another Pietas Station incident could occur, and would effectively cripple the Galaxy once more.

    But the Imperials seemed ready for anything.

    The security was tight, and she expected nothing less.

    As the funeral proceeded, Kalja couldn’t help but wonder about the movement forward for the Empire. An Eighth Emperor would be declared, and then what? Would the Empire pick up the mantle of the old? And attempt to eradicate the Jedi, or the Republic?

    Or maybe they would do nothing at all, and one day, Kalja could join the Force peacefully. Amongst the ranks of the Grandmasters before her time. It was an obtainable wish, but the experience in between would not be so peaceful. It was only a matter of time before the next conflict began, as to what and where – the Force was clouded. The movement of the dark side hindered what foresight she had. She tried as she may, but the futures became almost endless.

    The funeral was over before she knew it, and they were soon escorted into the larger banquet hall. Although separated from the main delegation of the New Republic, she was within reach, in essence, of the Chief of State.

    Kalja sat back in her chair, relaxing slightly, keeping her focus on the delegation’s table.

    She would reach out through the Force, rather effortlessly, touching the mind of her Padawan who was assigned to a different duty – guarding the ship.

    ~It’s not a demeaning task to be guarding something, so trivial? If you would.~ Kalja allowed herself a smile.

    ~I remember having my fair share of boring assignments.~

     
  11. Tyra Kadenze

    Tyra Kadenze Two-faced, like a coin
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    Tyra sat out the banquet, and the ceremony as a whole, instead she was many minutes away by speeder, 'guarding' the grandmaster's corvette at a reserved landing pad. The droids were doing all the actual work, the young padawan sat atop the ship's hull, quietly watching the star destroyer hanging above the Mausoleum at least a few miles away. She was at ease, with the amount of power on display for a 'mere' funeral, she imagined no danger.

    She heard her master's voice, but not verbally:

    In truth, Tyra wish she could've seen the royal family in person, and all the other apparently important galactic figures that were supposed to be present. Though she wasn't entirely bored either, this was really the first time she had visited the other great power that existed in this galaxy.

    ~ Not at all, master. It's probably as tiring there as it usually is. I hope you don't pass out. And send the next Emperor my regards ~

    Tyra sent her reply back to her master.



     
  12. Maxim Fel

    Maxim Fel Imperator
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    The entombment ceremony and the twenty-or-so minutes afterward had passed like a horrible nightmare that you could remember nothing about except how terrible it had seemed in the moment. Like some low-grade protocol droid, Maxim had regurgitated automated responses to questions and condolences that were otherwise lost on him. By the time the haze had finally started to pass, he had somehow danced his way to the completely opposite side of the banquet hall from where he'd started. He grasped at the straws of conversation he remembered, trying to piece together who exactly he'd spoken to during his fumble through life - but as he tried to think, he suddenly became intensely aware of the headache splitting his skull.

    "Fierfek" Maxim cursed, grabbing his head and turning away from the hanging lamps. When did the damn lights get so bright anyway? He spent a few minutes using the force to soothe his headache while he wiped away the last few tears he had left. Then, with dry, aching eyes, he tried to situate himself in the present. The High Moffs of his father era were busy at work, mingling with other Imperials - all except for his older brother who seemed to have vanished along with Barron and Aella Fel .


    So soon and already they were flocking to her. Leaving him to deal with the Civil War, death and insufferable moffs...just like their father. What was he thinking? It wasn't like he would know what to say to them even if they were here with him.

    Maybe it was better for an Emperor to be distant. If he'd been as separated as Aella had then maybe this whole fodder show wouldn't be so hard to grasp. Maybe then his head wouldn't be so damn foggy.

    It was just as he began contemplating drinking the fog away that Axius caught his eye. The captain of the Praetorian was near the edge of the room, and his eyes were blazing a trail straight towards the opposite end. Maxim reached out with the force, letting it guide his eyes to the target that his father's trusted guardsman was watching. A man in what looked to be Imperial style garb was standing far from the crowds, his hands clasped behind his back (Corin ).

    The Heir didn't recognize him...an intruder? Maxim didn't have the chance to speak as he crossed the room towards Axius, evidently the Knight had sensed him coming. To be expected of a warrior at his level, he supposed.

    "My liege" Axius said, averting his eyes from the stranger but not looking at Maxim either

    "Friend of yours?" Maxim gestured his head towards the man with the greasy hair and odd fitting clothes. Axius glanced at the stranger, then back to the crowd,


    "No, My Liege. Just an old face."


    "One to be concerned about?"


    Axius paused for a long moment, but his face was harder to read than the stone man atop his father's casket. Imperial Knights, Maxim included, were trained equally to defend their thoughts as well as read others...but Axius was a Knight decades in the making. The heir wondered if anyone could see through the man.

    "I don't think so, your majesty. Just a young Jedi that used to speak silver at the palace with your father's diplomats."


    Maxim was taken aback at first, but then came back to the reality of today and realized his being here made sense. What didn't make sense was how he was dressed.

    "A Jedi? Why is he dressed like he just stepped out of a Bastion tailor?" Maxim questioned, his eyes settling back on the stranger's attire. He'd never known a Jedi to wear much else but their own robes or Republic style Coruscanti dress at best - they tended to stay away from the military aesthetic that dominated Imperial culture.

    "Good question, your majesty. We will keep a close eye on him, just in case." The knight turned back to the stranger with that and Maxim could feel him throwing his own essence across the room. He wanted the man to know he was watching, "today isn't the day to worry yourself with some lowly Republic Jedi. You already have your own Republic daisies to deal with."


    With a turn of his head, Axius directed Maxim's attention to the New Republic Delegation. He immediately recognized Kairi Leidias from the political briefs passed down from his father. She had been Queen of Naboo during its insurrection, then appointed Minister of State shortly before becoming The Chief of State. Much like himself, she seemed to have been groomed for a life in politics.

    But Republic politics were vastly different from the cold efficiency of his Imperium.

    "Your father would be proud of you, my liege" Axius said suddenly, dragging Maxim's attention back to him, "you know your duty. You know what it will take to bring our Imperium back together. Unbending resolve."


    A deep honey glow of warmth filled Maxim's chest, the kind of warmth he'd only felt around his father. He thought he understood what Axius was trying to say, though his duty and honor would not allow him to do it. He was telling Maxim to go to the dignitaries...to do his duty in the face of his own suffering...to show them he was not to be manipulated or bullied. With a nod of quiet thanks to Axius, Maxim broadened his shoulders and raised his chin high before striding confidently over to the table of gathered diplomats.

    "Chief of State" Maxim greeted, his voice hoarse from sleepless, sobbing nights. He suppressed the urge to cringe at the sound of it as he continued, "thank you for coming to honor my father."


    Nikitis Fel Tyra Kadenze Kalja Tal'Vera
     
  13. Paragon of the Republic

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    Kairi stood quickly, hands extending to grasp his hand within the confines of her own. She shook gently, attempting her best reassurance through the limited physical contact that she could muster. Her hands would release the grip, and fall back to her side.

    “My deepest apologies, your highness.” She would follow the shake with an incline of her head. “Despite the obvious formalities and concerns on all sides – I am truly, truly sorry for your loss.” She paused briefly, reflecting back to her own pain and misery when her mother died. “The loss of a parent is quite painful.” What else could she say? The memories she held of her mother were many years ago, and the loss was one she buried quickly – with work.

    Her rise on the political scale was rapid and grand, she ended up going from Senator to Chief of State within a short amount of time, less than three years, in-fact.

    But that didn’t mean she was any less human or prone to the emotional fallout of such a momentous task. Managing one of the surviving governments in the catastrophe of the Pietas Station – was difficult to say the very least. Events like these only increased the burden of responsibility. She had to put on a show face, and genuinely speak without thought.

    Otherwise, she would remind herself that they placated to Imperials.

    It wasn’t a hidden secret that she despised the Imperials.

    But it didn’t matter how she felt, as long as she did right by the Republic.

    And for now, that meant to play nice with her Imperial neighbors. Now came the part she hated the most...speaking to them.

    “I’ll just cut to the chase, your highness.” She gestured to her left and right before turning back to him. Amber hued orbs gazing into his own, intently. “We want to ensure the peace we have between our two governments – however, we must discuss...” She looked around briefly. “Perhaps in private, the conditions of the truce?” It also wasn’t a hidden agenda that the New Republic was attempting to expand, both territorially and militarily.


    Maxim Fel | Nikitis Fel | Aella Fel | Tyra Kadenze
     
  14. Kalja Tal'Vera

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    Kalja chuckled softly, causing a slight stir at the table she was seated at.

    ~Pass out? From boredom? Perhaps.~

    These events, and the inevitable guard duty were dull at times. Kalja sighed gently as she rose from her seat as the Eighth Emperor approached. Leaving behind her robes on the back of her chair, she stood to her full height. Not as imposing as some of those around her, but her athletic figure was evident. So, perhaps what she lacked in physicality, she made up for in a more agile way.

    "Your highness..." She said, perhaps to deaf ears as they had moved on to converse with each other. Kalja nodded to herself before turning away and retaking her seat. She noted the many signatures through the Force, feeling each movement, each flicker. As she continued to expand herself through the Force, a cold overcame her, causing her to shiver in her seat. She noted the sensation emanating from somewhere beyond the large room they were in, somewhere deeper in the Palace.

    She reached out, shifting her ethereal view to her Padawan. A gentle nudge, a touch through the Force, easy enough for any Force sensitive to accomplish.

    ~Be alert, I'm feeling a disturbance in the Force - something cold, and sinister is lurking.~

    Tyra Kadenze | Nikitis Fel | Maxim Fel | Aella Fel | Corin
     
  15. Moff Rom Konstanz Dooku

    Moff Rom Konstanz Dooku The Black Count
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    [​IMG]
    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
    En Route to Bastion
    Fel Imperial Space
    Bastion System
    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Moff Rom Konstanz Dooku watched the holofeed broadcast of the Imperial State Funeral of Ronin Fel, the Old Imperator, some called him, from behind the board black durasteel desk of his office. The ghostly image of the procession and its prominent Imperial personages hovered over his desk from an embedded holoprojector, mounted just ahead of a touch screen keyboard array which glowed beneath a black pane of glass. The Serennian Moff was reclined in his high backed chair, a fist rested on the black top of the desk and another cupping his chin with the elbow perched on an armrest. His red cyebernetic eye kept rhythm with his organic remaining blue, marking the sights and sounds.

    What captivated his affixed attention was not the pageantry of the funeral. It was the ramifications of the death of the Old Imperator. The funeral was background noise to the astute political calculations Rom was cycling in his busy and cramped thoughts. He watched the Royal Family follow the Master Keeper of The Necropolis into the Royal Crypts of the Imperators. Behind them was the High Moffs, including the unmistakable presence of the Chiss High Moff of Imperial Justice Nikitis Fel. Rom's eyes narrowed, the black and the bright lighted pupils of both his eyes flickered as the group vanished behind the gates of the crypt. The broadcast broke from the feed of the procession to some state-sponsored news program, Rom exhaled in a long sigh and turned off the broadcast. He drew in his other fist and now clasped his hands together in a knot, placing them both on the desk.

    Precarious indeed, Rom debriefed himself of his conclusion. The Imperium will shake and bend. The Old Imperator's passing couldn't have come at a more worse time. It will destabilize the internal situation to an intolerable threshold of security risk.

    The sectors beyond Oversector Royal are dislodged at best, lost entirely at worst...the Civil War spawned by the Peitas Disaster has raged for some time. It wall hinge upon the aptitudes of the new Imperator, His Excellency Maxim Fel.

    Hmmm...I suppose that is why a full Assembly of the Moffs was scheduled for after the funeral...The Royal Family may be mourning the loss of a father, but the Imperium while mourn its death if we do not begin the work.

    Rom stood up and passed by his desk to march toward the exit of his office, entering the corridors of the vast traveling citadel that was The Barbican Pellaeon-II Fel ISD. Walking past Stormtrooper patrols, scuttling mouse droids, and protocols, Rom took an elevator to the bridge and approached the stern captain of the vessel that was the Moff's personal command.

    Captain Engrin Dennevar turned and greeted Rom, "Moff Dooku."

    "Captain Dennevar," said Rom in his usually low and forward tone. "We are on schedule?"

    "Yes," replied Engrin returning his attention to the vast panoramic screen that looked out into Bastion System's starry horizons, crowded with moving fleets in security of the funeral. "We should be upon the Capital soon. Lots of traffic today."

    "Indeed," Rom concurred, "There will be much more, soon."

    "More?" asked Engrin.

    "More, Captain. Successions are dangerous things," said Rom.
     
  16. Aella Fel

    Aella Fel Rotten
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    There were no words spoken on her part, but Aella took solace in her brother's presence, relaxing into his arms as he held her. Her eyes squeezed shut as more tears leaked through, a shuddering inhale followed by a calmer exhale helping to soothe her only just. She let the words he spoke wash over her, wishing she could take them to heart. Even hearing it from her own brother couldn't manage to convince her, but she appreciated what he had to say and his simple presence.

    "It doesn't feel like it." Aella didn't look at him when she spoke, staring at some distant point in space. That was all she said for a long while, somewhere between lost in her own thoughts and not thinking anything at all, grief taking any coherency she had left. "I don't know what I believe. He never acted like it. Not really." It was half truths, because for all of Ronin's shortcomings she always failed to meet him in the middle.

    The next few minutes passed in solemn silence, and eventually she stirred, gently breaking from his arms to stand, offering him a hand. "Thank you." She looked up at him then, this the first time she'd properly seen him in years. "I missed you." For the first time she smiled, the corners of her mouth turning up just slightly before it faded away into that same mask.

    "We should go inside." A pause, and she let her gaze linger on Ronin's grave for a few seconds before returning to his face. "I don't want to be out here anymore."
     
  17. Corin

    Corin Nomad
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    Things proceeded as one could expect with any funeral. The family of the deceased paid their respects, bidding their kin a final farewell before disappearing. In poor Maxim's case, the newly appointed Emperor followed the black-plated praetorian who seemed far too interested in Corin. The Jedi kept an eye on the man the entire time he glared his way. Perhaps out of habit, perhaps for some deeper reason, but it felt good to challenge the gaze of one who so firmly believed himself the kiffar's better.

    Reminded him of the good old days.

    When Axius and Maxim wandered off, Corin's gaze shifted to the rest of Ronin's children. While he didn't know them personally, he could make out young Barron, the wayward Aella, and the blue-skinned Nikitis without difficulty. Of all those gathered, they seemed the most out of sorts. Grief dominated their emotions. Alongside confusion, fear, and maybe... regret? It was hard to tell from this distance, surrounded by a bleeding sea of pain on all sides.

    It didn't matter. They weren't his concern for the moment.

    He broke away from the gathering, melting into the oncoming crowd as more people flooded into the banquet hall from the necropolis. Those who noticed him found themselves at a loss seconds later when he fell out of sight once more.

    Corin approached the metallic slab placed over the late Emperor and stopped beside it. He read over the holographic display in silence. Every one of Ronin Fel's deeds likened him to many great rulers through the galaxy's long, arduous history. Yet, it didn't quite feel like it did the old man justice. There were bits and pieces of his life that went unmentioned, perhaps forgotten, maybe unknown to those who prepared Ronin's casket. Corin could not be sure. His moments with Ronin were quiet things, hidden away from the people of the Empire. Reputation and all that.

    The Jedi placed a hand atop the slab.

    "It's difficult... having kept my promise to you. Seeing your children mourn you with each step they take in this new world. One without their father..." Corin gently patted the slab before looking elsewhere in the room, still speaking. "What would you have said to them in your final moments, Ronin? To Maxim, as he prepared to take your place on the throne. To Aella, who's been left behind to condemn herself for not being there with you. To young Barron, far too young to witness the passage of his father."

    Corin stopped at the wall across from the slab and leaned against the wall. "Do you have regrets? Was your life well lived? Would you have rather been a father than an Emperor?"

    He allowed himself several minutes in silence to contemplate those very questions. Ronin was an enigmatic man at best. Even his empathetic friend could not say for certain, one way or another, how the Emperor would have judged his life. It was over. That was the truth of the matter, and no question, no matter how deep it was, could change that.

    Once enough time passed, Corin dipped his head and turned towards the door.

    "Goodbye, old friend. Rest easy knowing there will be justice."
     
  18. Tyra Kadenze

    Tyra Kadenze Two-faced, like a coin
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    Tyra experienced a chill when she heard her master's words. She felt no such disturbance, but she was also quite a ways from the banquet and not as alert. The padawan pondered for a moment. The Imperium's leadership, as well as the Jedi's and Republic's, all in one place. This was the ideal target for the forces of chaos, for those who wished to shake up the balance of power once more in the galaxy. It could be a repeat of Pietas if somebody wanted it to be.

    The cold shivers only intensified, and she'd be damned if she wasn't there to prevent it this time. A phantom or not, it warranted investigation at the very least. Her master would hear her words.

    ~ I'll be there in a few master, just in case. ~

    "R7, request a transport outside the landing pad, I'm going to see Master Tal'Vera."


    By the time Tyra had made her way down the hull of the corvette, an air speeder was waiting for her, one of many reserved for foreign diplomats. She took a seat and waited anxiously as it lifted off.

    "Are you going to the late Emperor's funeral ma'am? Because you've already missed it." The driver asked formally.

    Tyra was restless as she peered out the window, "I am, but not for the ceremony itself. My master requests my presence at the banquet."

    "I have no prior orders to deliver an aid to the foreign delegation-"

    "Let them know I'm coming then, my master will clear me, no doubt."

    -------------------------------------
    Only minutes passed before Tyra had arrived at a pad just outside the mausoleum and its adjacent banquet hall, but time had come to all but a crushing halt as she sensed the looming darkness on the approach. The padawan felt the same disturbance her master did, but nothing more. She would need to find time to herself to maybe pinpoint it. The air-speeder left, and the Imperial guards allowed her through.

    "The banquet is this way ma'am."

    "I know where it is, thanks."

    Truthfully she didn't, but the guards returned to their posts and she was alone to wander the halls. She took her time, cleared her mind, and allowed the Force to guide her. Her master was nearby, as was the royal family, some Republic dignitaries and other guests. A dark force still lingered, but she could not pinpoint its location any better, and she found her anxiety returning in this period of uncertainty.

     
  19. Darth Cerebrous

    Darth Cerebrous The Crawling Chaos
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    A specter loomed over the galaxy. The wheel continues to turn, turning once again in favour of the Dark Side. The disaster at Pietas Station had sundered the order of things, leaving nations weak and fractured. All across the galaxy, Jedi temples were being destroyed, their occupants massacred in quick strikes from the shadows, all whilst the powers that be played desperate politics.

    A phantom moved through the banquet hall silent, its unseen presence chilling to the bone. It watched from behind drawn curtains above. Sorrow clouded the minds of the banquet goers. Succession was fragile time for empires, one the Sith would exploit with no hesitation. The day was approaching when the darkness would consume all them all, but there were still preparations to be made, obstacles to be removed.

    The opening moves of the game were being taken, pawns moving one after the other, only forward to the Grand Plan of the Sith. Darth Cerebrous had chosen his pawn, and willing or not she would be instrumental in so many ways.

    And so he reached deep through the force, ethereal finger grasping the girl's prefrontal cortex, leeching from her hippocampus. In her head she would hear the whispers that spoke in the long dead language of the Sith.

    "Nwûl tash. Nwûl tash. Nwûl tash."

    "Be not afraid, Padawan, for you are part of something greater than your understanding. Do not resist it, for you will only hurt yourself."

    The girl could try and resist, but she would only find the Sith Lord's control of her mind getting stronger. He would know her, become her... and when he was finished he would leave the consequences on her head...

    Tyra Kadenze Kalja Tal'Vera Maxim Fel Corin@Kairi Leidias
     
  20. Funami Teriyaki

    Funami Teriyaki Black Sun Princess
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    “Miss Teriyaki, daughter of the honorable master Tomio Teriyaki” her steward formally announced at the entrance and handed over a small code cylinder. “Here is the ID and invitation.”

    The little daughter sulked behind her steward, digging into the pavement with the tip of a loafer. Daughter of an influential billionaire whose distant family included beings from all trades of life, Funami was expected to take her papa’s place and represent the family. To learn how to make powerful friends, her papa said - and she knew it had to be done, for her many sisters would be doing the same across the galaxy, expanding the family’s influence beyond Atrisia.

    Finally she stepped out from behind her guardian and bent her knees in a small curtsy. “How do you do?”

    A brief check of the expected and the invited and the door had opened for the girl. Funami shot her companion a sideways glance and swept past the doorframe. Black loafers trotted across the polished floor and she immediately became surrounded by numerous adults who walked about and occasionally struck a chat.

    “I will await your return by the ship, young Miss,” the Atrisian companion regarded his little charge with a stern expression accompanied by a respectful bow. “Please do not forget your father’s wishes and return to the ship before your bedtime.”

    Then the door sealed closed, separating the two. She was now alone. Sticking out like a sore thumb, the pink-haired child rested her hands in her lap and took a moment to scrutinize the scene. The first thing to hit her had to be the overabundance of perfumes that did precious little to mask the odor of sweating bodies.

    Her mission was to mingle about, behave, look pretty, maybe even greet someone important looking. All incredibly boring, unnatural activities for a little kid to engage in, producing a weary sigh from her rosy lips. Worst of all, she had been explicitly forbidden to use psychokinesis. While obvious to those who had never touched it in their lives, the ability to manipulate the world around with her mind had always been a part of her life as far as she remembered.

    Just like lungs craved oxygen, Funami needed telekinesis to exist. It was an inseparable part of her, natural as breathing, always there. Without it, she was just an ordinary little kid and realized the fact all too well. A little kid surrounded by equally unimpressive insects born without the Force. Forcing a pleasant, if sad smile to hide her disdain, she padded deeper in, expertly passing the tall adults on her way. Papa’s parties back on Atrisia had been the same. Fat gangsters shook hands with corrupt politicians and discussed the importance of looking after one another. How effortless it would be, she always thought, to squeeze the life out of their fragile bodies and end their worthless existence.

    The banquet was in full swing, delicacies from across the galaxy strewn across massive tables. She knew this to be the main reason behind everyone’s attendance, even if nobody would ever admit it. People were naturally selfish creatures. Slavers or slaves, rich or poor - when it came to free food, they all acted like herd animals. Her large eyes amusedly watched these well-dressed parasites fill their plates with copious amounts of food and fill their glasses with the best vintage to be found within the imperium, each leech waiting their turn in a stretched line.

    A wolfish grin tugged at her lips as she spied Nerf tenderloin with Jogan fruit and Roosha. Delish. The black hem of her long skirt rustled against her white knee-high socks and Funami stepped in the long line to grab a plate. There was no use pretending to have the moral high ground - she was a selfish creature herself and as her grumbling stomach had alerted her, the small body housing her powerful telekinetic engine needed to be refueled.


    Maxim Fel Aella Fel Nikitis Fel