[open] we could strike the chord

[headinjuries]

CHARACTERS: Anyone who wanted to go to the vigil!
WHERE: Royal Street Gaming Parlor.
WHEN: DAY :031
SUMMARY: Concordia honors the dead. Hosts honor the dead, or maybe just do a little 007ing. As in snooping, not macking on hot ladies. We hope.
WARNINGS: TBA.

This is here for any and all of your mingling needs. Start your own top-levels, harass each other, etc etc.

Here is what we know is happening, courtesy of our fearless mods:

The hosts will be few in a throng of relatively peaceful people. Most people in attendance are younger (30s and below) and a proportionally large number of them have some kind of physical modification, though most are relatively low-profile mods. There's also a small contingent of androids in attendance.

A low platform has been erected in front of the Royal Street Gaming Parlor and the speakers for the vigil either stand on it or, as is the case with some more high profile appearances, they speak across an extranet connection via a holoscreen projected onto the Parlor itself. For the most part the speakers are small time: a few workers from a small local chapter of Mind Life (accompanied by a few skittish looking androids), a beta block councilwoman, a Mother and Sister from a nearby Church of Lirinity. Most of them have nothing more than words of support and condolence.

Somewhere close to the middle of the vigil, Seong-Hye Ngazi, the Public Security Commissioner for Concordia, speaks via extranet connection. She seems somber, competent, but also confident, and speaks about condolences for the losses, regret for the circumstances of the attack, and Public Security's dedication to finding the party responsible for the attack.

Otherwise: it's your fairly standard memorial gathering. Poems are read, some tears are shed, there are some people with signs and a small contingent of rabble rousers on the fringe of the gathering that quickly get chased off by Public Security, etc. You're welcome to create and interact with your own NPCs if you feel so inclined!

Comments

[narcissithstic]

[Like a tether drawn to its limit, his anger pitches forward for an instant— and then snaps. Slackens alongside the set of his fingers where they've bored down against her skin.

He lets her go; he has no choice.

Because it's the only possibility that makes sense. The saber and its twin, her determined responses where before this moment she'd only wanted him gone, the Force— he knows what he feels, swimming just beneath his skin, however much he struggles to ignore it. Carefully, he turns, sets his back to her. Not for her sake, but for his own.]

Which is why you have his saber.

[His knuckles catch where he raps them against one another in thought, scuffing callouses and old scars alike. Badges earned across too many long-forgotten years. Memories better off left dead.]

[snaphiss]

Your uncle gave it to me. [And she still has no intention of giving that up.]

[But it does beg a fair amount of questions, all of which have obvious and depressing answers.] I must have given it back... or no longer had a need for it.

[A grim thought, but one she can, ironically, live with.]

[narcissithstic]

[Skin scraped raw by the words 'your uncle', Ren's features pinch imperceptibly from where he stands.

One hand drops to his side, gripping the saber like a lifeline.]

So much has changed. [Too much to dig through in the moment— or perhaps ever— if Ren's preferences are to be taken into account alongside her own. So for a beat he lingers in careful consideration, just before turning back towards her with a searching, almost hopeful glance.] How long have you been here?

Have you spoken with anyone?

[snaphiss]

[Mara takes this moment to attempt to disentangle herself from Ren's grasp. There's no reason to keep up the charade of harm; if he was going to do amage, he would have; if she was going to leave, she'd be long gone.]

[Still, she keeps eye contact, refusing to look away or flinch.]

Not about anything that involves you. No one knows I have the Force but you. [Because of timelines and stuff, this will be untrue in a day or so, but for now.] I'm not about to run off and tell everyone who you are, if that's what you're asking. I doubt any of them would even know what that means.

[The son of a princess, using some false name... is that for his safety, or a rejection of his status? Or something else entirely? She doubts she'll get her answers today.]

[narcissithstic]

Good.

[Good. With a self-satisfied nod, Ren purses his lips, exhales once - leaves her to take up as much or as little space as she wants. This, at least, might be a change that places an advantage in his corner rather than stacking the odds against him.]

Lend your saber to no one. [He doubts it needs saying, but Rey's eyes have been acutely trained for too long already: should anything happen, it might be best to have a spare on hand.] There are some within the Nest that would stop at nothing to obtain it.

[You know, like him.]

[snaphiss]

[Mara feels as though she's missing something, and Mara really, genuinely hates that feeling. Especially now, when the lack of crucial information caused her to harm someone she cares for, the child of rare allies.]

[So she asks a burning question:] Why is Luke Skywalker's old lightsaber suddenly so important?

[narcissithstic]

[Again, the problem with avoidance and lies within the Nest stands as a barrier against dismissal. For someone more strategically minded (like Hux or the Darkling, perhaps) Ren doubts they so much as skip a beat in their responses, but even learning at their heels over the last few months, he lacks that kind of tact.

Instead, he opts to tell the truth, expression soaked through with bitterness:] Because he abandoned the galaxy when it needed him most.

[Thumb to the high point of the hilt, Ren's grip cinches.] This saber is all that remains of his legacy.

[And it belongs to him. It belongs to him.]

[snaphiss]

[This is a shock to Mara, and it shows plainly on her face. For a moment, she's stricken, before she regains herself with a stony frown.] If you say so.

[She doesn't want to believe him, but it's too ridiculous a lie to be false.]

People are trying to take it for sentimentality? [She is both skeptical and disdainful, but- if he's warning her, he must have a reason.] Have people here tried to take yours? Who-?

[narcissithstic]

Ask the scavenger that thinks it's rightly hers. [Chin raised, eyeline lowered so that he's staring down the line of his own nose when he moves to lift the hem of his shirt— exposing the grim, entirely obviously lightsaber-born wound from their prior altercation. However much both Hux and the symbiote managed to speed along the healing process, it still looks nearly as gruesome as it had only a few days prior while deeper tissue knits.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, as subconscious as their shared bond through the Force, Ren wonders how her own injury might look right now.]

[snaphiss]

[Through the symbiote, through the Force, though Mara's eyes, it's easy to see the liquid rage coursing through her. Her jaw sets, her brow pinches, and her free hand balls into a fist. She meets Ren's gaze evenly, anger potent and contained.]

[She has a mission. Now she can endure anything.]

Give me her name.

[narcissithstic]

She's mine to deal with.

[Satisfying as it might be to test the limits of his newfound ally, a compromise won't be found on this ground. That (at least) is the only defense he'll grant Rey in any capacity. Whatever transpires, however heated their hatred, she is his problem to alleviate. His antithesis. His path forward.

Better to make that clear here and now, knowing how vicious ball-busting Mara Jade truly is.]

[snaphiss]

[Mara quirks a brow, and folds her arms out in front of her. The blaster disappears up her sleeve.] You seem to think because I knew your parents, I'm going to fix your problems. [She shifts her weight from one foot to another.] Don't.

I want the name because your warning is useless otherwise.

[Is this a lie? Well, not technically. And, technically, no one can prove otherwise. Mara certainly won't hunt someone down if Jacen- Kylo Ren tells her not to.]

[She'll just think about it. A lot.]

[narcissithstic]

[Somehow it's frighteningly easy to believe that Mara has no intention of so much as grazing his battles for him. Particularly when it's paired up with the severity of her stare. After a moment, he concedes:]

Rey.

[It sound so small, so quiet; the first time he's ever said her name rather than the title she'd been branded with in her abandonment. Much like the differentiation between Ben Solo and Kylo Ren, there's an unfamiliar humanity attached.

He dislikes it, unsurprisingly.]

[snaphiss]

[Mara nods, curt and sharp. Rey. Not hard to remember. She'll find her, and they'll make their... intentions clear. Mara has no intention of passing her lightsaber on, nor does she plan on letting Kylo Ren's heirloom be stolen. The best way to meet a threat is head on.]

[But that's a plan for another time. She looks back up at Ren, a good head taller than her. She's not angry as she was before, there's no deference in her posture, but there's an understanding all the same. But now would be the to make sure this understanding is mutual.]

Make sure to call me if you do need help with something. I know you don't know me, but I'm not going to shirk my responsibilities just because of some future I haven't lived yet.

[She doesn't expect him to actually follow through with this, which is why she intends to keep a good eye on him. But the offer still ought to be made, for fairness' sake, and the vain hope he'll have more sense than either of his parents.]

[Well, his father, at least.]

[narcissithstic]

[His eyeline lowers for a beat, contemplative. The mixture of emotions curling in the air between them is a warning he'd be negligent to ignore, and even Kylo Ren— stubborn as a bull rancor in a pen— knows better than to disregard her offer for assistance.]

Understood.

[It comes with a curt nod, followed by one more-than-slightly attentive stare: no longer searching for some deeply embedded secret, he only means to map her features for a glimpse of something more. Something he might recognize, no matter how many years stand as a barrier between them.

Eventually, he finds nothing, tension lingering thick across their connection. The favor should be returned. He should offer her shelter, camaraderie or protection. Instead, he simply presses back towards the crowd without any further posturing.]

Seek out General Hux if you have need of the same.

[How generous, Ren.]

[snaphiss]

[And yet, that is exactly the sort of reply Mara has been trained to accept. She gives Ren a pulse of feedback through the link, a quick, curt sense of approval and agreement. The equivalent of a salute or a handshake. Deal.]

[And then she melts back into the crowd as well.]