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Sabinian Tellar
Aug 13th, 2017, 11:51:25 AM
Perhaps the sun lenses were too much, but Sabinian Tellar was a man who had visited Jovan Station before, and knew what to expect. While on Bothawui the differences and disparities that made members of the Alliance of Free Planets unique led to clashes and incompatibilities that had become the flavour of the day for the Alliance Senate, here on Jovan Station that melting pot of cultures had been seasoned to perfection, forming a delicious fusion cuisine that was a delight to experience. Here on the mercantile concourse it was showcased like a buffet: more races, and languages, and cultures than Sabinian cared to count, shouting and screaming from shop fronts and illuminated signs at the top of their lungs - or whatever else that particular species happened to have. It was loud, and bright, and garish, and beautiful. If he were a weaker man, he would have wept with joy at the sight.

Sabinian was not a weaker man, however; and the sun lenses were not to hide the misting of tears that the display of unity might have hypothetically inspired. Their function was far more pragmatic, but was no less a result of of the Alliance's wondrous diversity. Sabinian had walked this concourse before, and knew the kind of sight that awaited him; a sight that the last several hours aboard a dimly lit Sullustan transport had done little to prepare him for. Sabinian often chose to travel by more obscure avenues, rather than by the homogenized and humanocentric commercial transits that criss-crossed Alliance space. He found it fascinating to experience space the way that the more uniquely evolved chose to: the way that the sensitive eyes, shorter stature, and comfort within subterranean spaces of the Sullustans made their ships different from the wide corridors and tall ceilings of the serpentine Sluissi, or the bright and humid yet cool spaces and the intriguingly unorthodox consoles of starships designed with Mon Calamari eyes. It was one thing to learn and understand the differences, but it was something else entirely to immerse yourself within them, and gain new appreciation for the struggles that came from being different from what the galaxy had arbitrarily decided to describe as normal.

For Sabinian, the brightness of Jovan Station's Imperial-designed corridors, and the vibrant lights of the concourse were too much for his eyes to comfortably adapt to. The lenses shielded him against that, a small buffer to ease his vision from one light level to the other. Yet, Sabinian had never seen a Sullustan wearing anything similar. Perhaps their physiology had evolved to adapt more readily, transitioning from the light levels underground to those on the surface. Or perhaps Sullustans were simply built of sterner stuff, choosing to simply endure their way through whatever discomfort humanity chose to cause. Given recent events, Sabinian suspected the latter. So many of those he had met on the transport crew had lost someone during the Imperial bombardment of Sullust that had been the final provocation for Project Starkiller; and yet the Sullustans did not wallow, just as they had not wallowed in the defeat of the Confederacy of Independent Systems; nor in the face of any of the other myriad human-inflicted setbacks that punctuated the long history of their people. As much as the lenses were there for his own comfort, they were there as a reminder as well, of the things that others endured with grace that his human form refused to.

Counting off the various establishments as he walked, Sabinian allowed his mind to turn to more satisfying subjects. Choosing a place to eat was often a lengthy undertaking, and here on Jovan Station he was simply spoilt for choice. Despite his desire for cultural immersion, Sabinian had not yet overcome his squeamish reluctance towards the living cuisine enjoyed by some of the station's inhabitants, so that narrowed the selection somewhat; from the rest he made an arbitrary selection of five, and left them in the back of his mind to slowly marinade until a decision could be reached.

A smile found it's way to his lips, nuzzling in at the corner like a nuna pup trying to encroach under the covers on a cold night. He stopped, eyes turned upwards to read the address of his destination. He'd heard much about Madame Maillanaarro and her establishment, though he knew enough about the Cizerack not to fall into the usual trap of misunderstanding what a Teahouse was for.

The smile broadened as he stepped through the door into the Teahouse's reception and entranceway. His eyes studied his surroundings covertly behind the protection of his lenses, but as his gaze settled upon the woman waiting behind the reception desk, he made a show of removing them slowly, using his chest to carefully push them closed without seeming to be paying attention to anything other than the lady in his sights. As he walked, slowly but purposefully, he made a point of reminding himself of the differences between Cizerack culture and the more male-centric cultures he was more accustomed to. A Cizerack woman would not be impressed or swayed by a show of authority; a man flashing his badge around would likely seem quaint rather than intimidating. Charm was the better angle. Thank the Force - and his genes, for that matter - for leaving him so well suited to that approach.

"Excuse me for disturbing you," he offered, his Festian (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Cassian_Jeron_Andor) accent softening the words and curling the consonants. The lenses were tucked into the collar of his shirt, and in the same moment his hand continued onwards, delving into his jacket to pull out the ident card that displayed his credentials and shield. "I am Inspector Tellar with Alliance Security. I am hoping I can perhaps trouble you for a few questions about a man I believe is employed here.

Kalleeiha Maillanaarro
Aug 13th, 2017, 09:17:55 PM
The desk receptionist held a moment of ambivalence in her expression. Her ears perked and then partially skewed, pulled between a handsome face with an exotic accent, and what seemed to be an official inquiry all at once. She leaned in to take a closer look at the ident badge. It definitely looked real, although she'd never heard of anything called Alliance Security.

The receptionist's eyes tipped back up to Sabinian, and she half-grinned.

"Well, jyou'rre not trroubljing me at all, jInsspectorr. Howeverr, management doessn't let me handle legal jinqujirrjiess. jI can have the Madame meet wjith jyou though."

Sabinian Tellar
Aug 19th, 2017, 02:31:11 PM
A meeting with the Madame. Not surprising, given what Sabinian understood of Cizerack culture. Hierarchy and matriarchy were the double helix strands that spiralled through the core of Carshoulis social DNA, and referring legal inquiries to supervisors and management was a standard practice throughout the galaxy. It had been what Sabinian expected, frankly, but to have requested as much directly would have changed the dynamic of the interplay between Sabinian and the receptionist. This part of the Inspector's duties was a dance, and it was always important to listen to the music and match the rhythm. Cizerack women expected to lead when it came to dancing, and so Sabinian allowed the receptionist to initiate things, to accommodate his request rather than merely complying with it. Sabinian still achieved what was required, and the receptionist was left feeling as if she had handled the situation correctly. Everyone left satisfied.

Sabinian adjusted his expression, a delicate balance between gratitude and disappointment. "I would be most grateful if you could arrange for your Madame to meet with me," he said graciously, a faint flash of a smile conveying his thanks, "Though if I am truthful, it is quite a shame that I will only get to enjoy your captivating presence for but a few moments more."

A little much, perhaps; but the Cizerack were not a species that embraced subtlety when it came to attraction or affection. A woman took what she wanted at her discretion, and a man looking to make any sort of impact was left to flaunt whatever they had and hope for the best. Sabinian eyes made a show of reluctantly glancing away towards a modest seating area, one devoid enough of chairs that it gave the impression that patrons were seldom left waiting for long.

"Should I wait here for your Madame, or must I wrench my eyes away from your smile to go seek her within?"

Kalleeiha Maillanaarro
Oct 10th, 2017, 07:58:22 PM
The receptionist's eyes narrowed, even as her grin widened to expose tipped fangs. She didn't have any idea what this was about, but she didn't mind the view, or the charm.

"jI'll let herr know jyou'rre herre."

She rose from her seat slowly, keeping an intrigued gaze on Sabinian for a moment before disappearing behind a beaded curtain. A few minutes later she returned, preceding her employer. The Madame was the picture of relaxed calm. She wore her curly brown hair below her shoulders, covering a mantle of silk with embroidered floral vines in the pattern.

"An jinsspectorr jin mjy tea housse? Sshould jI be concerrned?"

To her benefit, Kalleeiha appeared as no such thing. She gave her guest a warm smile, extending her hand to him.

"Ja irra korra'nai, jInsspectorr Tellarr. jI am Kalleeiha Maillanaarro."

Sabinian Tellar
Oct 11th, 2017, 04:53:02 PM
She already knew his name; either the receptionist had been paying attention, or the Madame had been watching, and in both cases it spoke to a woman who was mindful of the details. Sabinian had heard as much, and expected the same from the matron of an establishment such as this. Alas, he had to his considerable dismay missed the festival to the Moon God that Jovan Station had recently hosted, and had heard that the Madame had played a pivotal part in orchestrating it. A proud Cizerack then, one versed in the traditions and with the disposition to promote them; but also someone community-minded, someone who made it their business to know their way around the interconnected web of the society they occupied.

Sabinian smiled warmly, bowing his head as he took Kalleeiha's offered hand in both of his.

"I find a little concern is always healthy, but too much robs away the joy of life. I shall endeavour to keep us safely between the two, and not to take up too much of your valuable time."

He studied the Madame in the brief silence that followed, confident that she was doing the same. That she had been informed of his name no doubt meant that she knew the reason for his visit as well, in so far as he had explained it; but she chose not to draw attention to that, and so neither did he. Instead he arranged his features into a gentle, apologetic frown, breathing a quiet sigh as he steeled himself for the unfortunate task of needing to get down to business.

"I am unsure if you are familiar with Alliance Security. We are a relatively new organisation, chartered at the formation of the Alliance of Free Planets to monitor the Alliance's borders and territories. Policing against smugglers and enforcing law across the vast differences between stars is a new challenge for the Alliance, and in our novice status we were, well -"

He allowed a note of solemn sorrow to creep into his words.

"Frankly, we were unprepared for the heinous act of terrorism that befell the citizens of this station, and we are determined that such an act should never go unprevented again. In that regard, we have begun to pay more attention to the individuals who pass through this station and who call it home, and where there are gaps in information or points of concern, Inspectors such as myself are called in."

That statement didn't need any effort to sound ominous; Sabinian was swift to continue, pushing quickly into his reassurance that matters might not be as severe as such words made them sound.

"The Alliance of Free Planets was born out of chaos, and in most cases investigations such as this amount to nothing. The Rebellion kept detailed records only for those who fought, and only from the time that they became active participants in the war effort. Those I have visited so far have been refugees with undocumented periods in their flight from the Empire, and situations such as this. I'm sure the same will likely be true for your man Wexley Wallace, and that my visit to your wonderful establishment will be nothing more than clerical rigor."