Pink Moon Rising

[Emelie Shadowstar]

The club was alive, a mass of movement and droning bass; of shifting hues of purple and blue, yellow and orange; of high emotions, intoxication, and pleasure. It was everything Elysium was supposed to be, everything that her small bar on Coruscant had wished it could have been, everything lacking when the proprietor had been trapped among Farfalla's Diamonds.

And so Emelie sat, not just within the VIP area on the second floor, but an even more exclusive location - The Inner Sanctum. It wasn't much, a simple couch, a simple table, though both clearly more ostentatious than any other within the building. It wasn't quite sectioned off, so much as directly in the front center, overlooking the crowd below.

The glass in her hand was a drink of her own creation and as she sipped on it, she felt absolute control. She may have not run Cloud City itself, even in her own peculiar perceptions. But this arena? This was hers and here? She was Queen.

And the queen was awaiting someone who had requested an audience.

[Aiden Tahmores]

The club was loud. Perhaps to most that might have seemed like a statement that went without saying, but spend too long at the upper echelons of Imperial society, and you began to question your definitions and expectations. For those that the Imperial Guard were assigned to protect, a club was not a venue for thumping bass and dubious alcohol: it was anything from a members-only spa to a hyper-secret speakeasy.

This place? This was lower levels Coruscant, or there abouts. At least, it was what the sons and daughters of Moffs and Ministers thought of as lower levels: the safe kind, just skeevy enough to feel like you'd gone and got yourself dirty, without anyone needing to wind up in hospital or rehab for simply breathing. It was a courtesy that the Empress had extended to her loyal officials and their families while on Coruscant, one exacerbated by the Guards' partial replacement by the Imperial Knights as enforcers of the throne. Aiden didn't begrudge it, not entirely; but it was a long way from what he had signed up for, and not the kind of Imperial elite that he had expected to be rubbing shoulders with.

Like those days on Coruscant, Aiden had left behind the crimson fineries of his Guardsman uniform, settling for something less eye-catching, and more inconspicuous. Unfortunately - in this situation at least - less eye-catching for Aiden Tahmores was still pretty damned eye-catching. It was no secret that he was a handsome man, particularly not from himself, or his ego; so while the simple leather jacket, basic shirt, and generic slacks made him look as if he belonged here among Bespin's loud and unwashed, the way the fabric hung from his shoulders, or clung to his criminally toned abdomen like a needy school girl didn't leave Aiden with much of a chance of not standing out; and that was before you even started paying attention to the piercing eyes, chiseled jaw, and smouldering expression that could turn a woman from a desert into a waterfall with the merest squint at the corner of an eye. Forget what the history books told you: men like Aiden Tahmores were the real reason the Imperial Guard usually wore masks and robes that hid them completely: a noble sacrifice and concession for the protection of marriages and virginities everywhere.

Fortunately, for today, Aiden didn't need to go unnoticed - he just needed to not look like the kind of prominent Imperial figure that someone might decide to stagger up to and try to shank. It wouldn't end well for them, but, well, he wouldn't be a particularly hospitable guess if he went and made a mess across Miss Shadowstar's floor. It had probably taken months to carefully cultivate the exact level of mild tackiness that the floor plates had acquired, and he wouldn't want to compromise that by forcing them to be cleaned.

Aiden cut a path through the gyrating mass of poor decisions and absent inhibitions, heading directly for the stairs that led up and away from the cesspool of unimportant patrons towards the section of Elysium reserved not just for important patrons, but very important patrons. What had Aiden been worried about, leaving behind the opulence of Imperial Center to join his cousin here on Cloud City? As a very important patron of a very dubious nightclub so deep inside Cloud City that the cleaning droids didn't even make it down this far, Aiden had truly arrived among the kind of elite he'd always sought to belong to.

His approach was noticed and noted by two burly security individuals, whom Aiden was quick to note were lightly armed and slightly injured, unlikely to get off more than three successful hits on him between the pair of them before he'd knocked one unconscious with a head slam against the stairway handrail, and then subdued the other with the stun baton that the first was doing a frankly terrible job of attempting to conceal within his two sizes too large jacket. It was a shame really: it probably would have looked like quite a nice jacket if worn by someone with the shoulders and machismo to pull it off; sadly, Miss Shadowstar's employees boasted neither.

Aiden did allow himself to concede one small flicker of approval at their security measures, however. Many might have chosen to establish the cordon that separated unimportant from very important at the bottom of the stairs, but Elysium made that distinction at the top, forcing anyone who attempted to violate that exclusion uninvited to overcome the stairway before they had the chance. If said individual even possessed the stamina and sobriety to make it to the top without passing out or running out of breath, the two oafs need only shove them or stun them to send them toppling back down towards the lower level, a warning to anyone with the foolish idea of trying again.

He offered a grunt as the sentries allowed him through, noting that the VIP area was populated, but only sparsely. He'd been told that Emelie Shadowstar would be easy to find: and there she was, beyond yet another threshold of exclusion. He wondered what category of person or patron the occupants of that sanctum fell into. Extremely Important Person, perhaps, no doubt substituting a xesh in there to make XIP, as such people were so commonly inclined to do? He pushed past that thought, focusing his attention on the woman herself, elevated above the common folk below like Shiraya staring down on them all from the heavens. Classy. Modest.

Aiden fought the urge to sigh.

"I love what you've done with the place," he lied, heralding his approach as he stepped into Shadowstar's layer. "That aroma of fresh sweat and stale beer - is that a custom fragrance, or a happy accident?"

[Emelie Shadowstar]

Emelie barely looked over her shoulder towards the Imperial; regarding him with only the slightest of shift in her posture. In the periphery of her view she caught her own bare shoulder, the fabric cut just so to reveal both before falling down and hiding the remainder of her arms until her hands. She had considered a skirt, but settled for a pair of slacks; neither piece of clothing was black, but rather a deep green that was only hinted at as the swirling lights from down stairs dared make an attempt at the very edges of her.

"What that is, Mr. Tahmores, is something you cannot manufacture, cannot be faked; and is more real than anything else you will find aboard this floating crap heap." Emelie spoke, just loud enough to be heard over the cacophony surrounding them. Not quite a rebuke, but far from letting him come into her lair and make veiled insults.

If the Imperial couldn't understand the appeal of this, Emelie could understand. Perhaps not from a personal standpoint, but from one that told her that this atmosphere simply didn't capture or empower some like it did her. Some sought peace and quiet to recharge themselves, to make themselves feel more at home within their own skin. Emelie however, well... This was about as close to paradise that she could conjure. Granted, there was always room for improvement, as she found herself lounging alone in an area that could have accommodated another with ease.

The glass in her hand was brought to her lips, the bright pink liquid passing between and savored as it played against her tongue. She'd almost gotten the night bar tender to get the mixture right but this had come from her own hands. After all, when feeling as if you were on top of the world, it simply wouldn't suffice to suffer anything less than perfection.

"Tell me, have you come to simply stand there and insult my clientele or were you planning on joining me and accepting my hospitality?"

[Aiden Tahmores]

Who had insulted her clientele? he wondered, realising too late that he had no real understanding of the abilities and capabilities of a woman such as this, and had not prepared himself for the plausibility that she might be able to read his thoughts. His eyes followed the curves of her clothing, mentally extrapolating what lay beneath, allowing a few moments to see if his attention or imagination would solicit any sort of reaction. When it didn't, he shrugged to himself: hardly a comprehensive litmus test, but at this stage, there was little to be done either way.

"Honestly, without the Governor here to call me out on it, part of me was giving a fair amount of thought to indulging in a little standing around and looking menacing," he lied, harkening back to the meeting a few weeks prior between Shadowstar and Rübezahl, that had served as a first encounter between the two of them. Despite her forthright civility, Aiden had been left with some sense that there was something about him that left the businesswoman ill at ease; perhaps an aversion to Imperial authority; perhaps something else, more insidious or more personal. It was a curiosity, though not one pressing enough for him to concern himself overly. The deal that the Governor sought had been struck, and Aiden doubted that there was much his existence could do to jeopardize that - though if he and Shadowstar were to work together in the future as planned, he supposed he'd need to unravel that mystery eventually.

"But I have a rule about not turning down offers of hospitality from beautiful women, so I suppose my stoic brooding will have to wait."

He advanced, taking the time as he moved to try and gain an appreciation for the view, as Shadowstar herself might have seen it. What was it about the swarm of partiers below that appealed so much? Was it a sense of power? Of satisfaction, knowing that your efforts catered to some base need in them? Did she feel worshipped, or revered, like the pagan deities of old, orgies and festivals thrown at their feet in honour and deference? And if the latter, were orgies covered by Elysium's existing licence from the Cloud City Gambling Guild, or was that more of a speciality licence sort of a thing?

A frown settled on his features as he regarded Shadowstar, central and comfortably spread on her curved couch.

"So, am I supposed to perch awkwardly on the end, or am I meant to come over there and snuggle?"

[Emelie Shadowstar]

She liked him immediately. Not that it took a lot for Emelie to take a shine to someone, but that little quip, that hearkening back to the meeting in her offices and the Governor's teasing of his family member? Ah, it was like a damn breath of fresh air.

How long had it been since she'd had a good back and forth like this? D'Kor? Salvo? Frak, even Mr. Supposed-to-be-dead Belargic. But every last one of them seemed like ages ago now. And all of them had come into her life when she was still entangled with someone else whose days of brazen comebacks had long since faded, far before she fled his association to save both their hides.

Emelie would later blame the bout of nostalgia on the drink at her side, the bright teal liquid she brought to her lips for another round of assault against her organs and senses as she considered the Imperial Guard before her. At least he wasn't dressed as he had been. The colors had been wrong then, more disturbing, more memories dredged in a way she didn't care to indulge.

"Honey, you and I aren't nearly on good enough terms to snuggle."

It wasn't with cruelty that Emelie spoke, more with a hint of a promise for redemption in her eyes. A smirk played upon her lips as the overseer of Elysium shifted where she sat, moving to the right side of the sofa that was designated as hers.

Her hand reached out to run against the fabric of the couch, warm in her absence before she patted the material as she looked back up towards Mr. Tahmores.

"Don't be foolish. Sit. I won't bite," Emelie let the phrase linger against the beat of the music below, even going so far as to draw her teeth against her lower lip before a shrug of her shoulder brushed it off.

[Aiden Tahmores]

Her warm ass imprint? The very epitome of hospitality, without question.

"Not even if I ask nicely?" he countered, tugging apart the fastening of his jacket to let it hang open, and depositing himself comfortably onto the couch. An arm stretched out and positioned itself to follow the curve of the couch's superstructure, the other resting against a leg that casually crossed itself over the other. It wasn't true comfort, not entirely: you didn't spend day after day stood at rigid attention beside whatever doorway or causeway the Empress and her delegates commanded you to defend, and not develop a certain ability to fully relax out in the open; but it was close enough, and it looked the part.

He contemplated silence, considered waiting for her to make the next conversational move; but this was her territory, and he was the petitioner for her attention. Yet, his purpose for being here wasn't something that you launched into rashly, not something to stampede towards without a little conversational foreplay. That was the difference between soliciting information, and conducting an interrogation. Aiden was adept at both, but now wasn't the time for strapping Emelie Shadowstar down and trying to make her scream - not yet, at least.

"I've gotta be honest," he offered, peering out and contemplating the display of rhythmic physicality that transpired below them. "I don't quite get places like this. I used to protect rich kids back on Coruscant who loved clubs like this, but I never really understood the appeal of the noise, and the crowds, and the chaos. Not really my thing."

He glanced over towards Elysium's matron deity, living proof that even in the deep depths of the darker parts of Cloud City, there were still goddesses watching over the means and matters of mortals.

"Not sure why it's your thing, either," he admitted. "Seems a far cry from the elegance and sophistication of when we first met."

[Emelie Shadowstar]

Emelie let a breath escape through her nose, as her lips could only curve all the more at the comment. It wasn't quite a contained laugh, though a far cry from a sigh.

"Nostalgia, I suppose."

It didn't take long to realize her voice probably hadn't carried quite as clearly as she would have liked, the softer tones surely lost and if there was one thing that Emelie wasn't keen on, it was being misunderstood. She glanced towards the men who were supposedly in charge of keeping the area secure, but were really more for show - After all, if anyone unwelcome were to really enter Elysium, they would never get so far as to even see the faces of her so-called guards. Their reply was swift in understanding, a few paces taken down the stairs to stand more menacingly away from her and her private area.

An area that was about to become far more accurate to that description. A wave of her hand over the table before her brought up a small hovering display and Emelie merely snapped in front of it before it vanished and along with it went the overwhelming drones of the music within the club. Oh, it could still be heard, but it was as if she has suddenly erected walls around them, a space within a space. And while the unseen barrier allowed just the barest of sound in, to keep the atmosphere, not a single utterance would escape; even if her and the Imperial Guard got into a rather heated shouted match. The guards hadn't needed to move, but she wasn't entirely comfortable with their proximity with the barrier in place regardless.

"There," She commented, her voice returning to something far more comfortable now that she was not straining to be heard. "That's better."

The drink she had set down was quickly retrieved and after taking a small sip she looked back towards Aiden.

"As I was saying, it's a nostalgia factor, if you really wanted to try and delve into the psychology, I suppose. Not all of us were born and raised among the rich and famous, you understand. Some of us have had to work at it."

"This?" She nodded towards the crowd below. "I was one of them once and now I am here. I don't want to forget that."

Emelie shifted in her seat, leaning back as she brought the glass to her lips once more. She thought of offering the Imperial a drink of his own, but really, he had the chance before he arrived and while she had never been shy at offering, there was something about the man that made her want to see him ask for it.

"Besides, there is something intoxicating about it still. The music, the crowd... Maybe it's just because I can perceive it on another level thanks to genetics. But then, I suppose it's quite like trying to describe color to a blind man. You can try, but unless you can fully see it, fully appreciate and experience it for yourself? You'll only get so far."

[Aiden Tahmores]

The jab towards the wealthy might not have been aimed at Aiden directly, but it still struck him, a glancing blow rather than direct in the heart. It was a sentiment that he didn't entirely agree with: not that she hadn't needed to work for everything she had, but the accusation that people with wealthier backgrounds didn't. Aiden wasn't ignorant of his privilege. He knew exactly how many advantages had been provided to him by family history and his father's status, because a day had not gone by when he hadn't been reminded of it, challenged for it, expected as a child to somehow earn all of it - even the basest aspects of affection that a father was supposed to give freely, willingly, and eagerly. Tahmores wealth had bought his way into expensive schools, and for that he was grateful; but from then on it had become a noose around his neck, the criteria by which his every effort and achievement was diminished. It didn't matter that his grades and test scores had secured him entry to the Pilot Corps, or that his performance had earned him a place in advanced training, or that his skill and character had forged a familiarity with Miranda Tarkin during her days as a Moff that had translated across when she assumed the Throne. It didn't matter that he had passed all the tests and criteria needed to become an Imperial Guard, because obviously, everything he ever achieved was a direct result of his father - if his reputation, influence, and otherwise; and that supposed truth was most obvious to Ethan Tahmores himself.

At least as a pilot, or as an Imperial Guard, there was enough anonymity to spare him from that obvious truth, at least for a few hours at a time. When he wore the crimson robes, he was no one, and every fear and perception that he solicited came from the reputation of the Guards themselves, and the valid belief that Aiden would surely live up to them. Perhaps that was why Cloud City was so uncomfortable, stripping away the relief such anonymity provided. Worse, that anonymity had been stripped away by his celebrity of a cousin: yet another opportunity for the universe to judge him not for his own actions, but purely by association.

"Perception is always unique," he encountered, making sure to log a mental note of the intriguing genetic perceptions that Emelie hinted at. Once again, he silently cursed himself for not having been better prepared, any sense of readiness progressively eroded by each flourish of technology or innate ability that Miss Shadowstar displayed. "I look down there and see crisis points, exits, the patrons that your security didn't do a good enough job of screening for weapons. You could try, but without time and training and instinct, you'll never experience that for yourself."

His words weren't defensive, and weren't offered in challenge; it was more causal than that, more an observation and a confession of reality as he saw it. The next batch squirmed in his gut, soaking in more sentiment and meaning than they would outwardly convey.

"Don't credit your genetics for what makes you unique and special. You see things as you do because you're Emelie Shadowstar: something no one else in the 'verse is."

[Emelie Shadowstar]

"Thankfully, I don't need to see things in any other way than I do," Emelie replied, a certain haughtiness she didn't entirely feel added to the statement. It drained as quickly as it appeared, but not so far as to fully remove her from her supposed throne. "That's what the benefit of having good help is, ofhaving people you trust."

She nodded towards the floor below them.

"The things you think of when you see that? I don't need to, it's covered, I know it's covered. Far more than you might think."

Her glass lingered against her lips after another long drink, perhaps to prevent herself from revealing secrets, or merely to revel in the fact she had them and they weren't some lie she made up in her mind. After everything her people had been through, after the decisions that had been made to ensure it wouldn't occur again... When she had first met the Imperial Guard they had still been rough around the edges, cobbled together misfits. Now, though? Now Emelie knew there wasn't an individual in their group that wouldn't fight tooth and nail and every last drop of blood for one of the others.

It made the timing of everything looming on the horizon all the better, it made tomorrow all the more important. But for right now, for the here and now? Well... She had a guest to entertain.

"Sorry, that's not a threat, though I suppose it could sound like one." A laugh escaped her as well as a shrug of her shoulder. "But enough of this silliness. You asked for the meeting, care to tell me the reasons why?"

[Aiden Tahmores]

Far more than you might think.

That was a complicated statement: one Aiden's mind slowly worked to unpack. At face value, Emelie Shadowstar was a businesswoman. Transportation and acquisitions by day, seedy dance venues and booze halls by night. There was more sprinkled in there as well; a liquor distillery in one of Bespin's offshore platforms, one of Cloud City's mid-range hotels; probably more that Aiden wasn't directly aware of. Therein came the complication. Every fact that the Guard attempted to glean about the half-Zeltron brought with it a sense of there being yet more, strategically out of view. Some you could assume and infer. The rest? Emelie implied that her interests were taken care of in a way beyond the obvious, and Aiden believed it. He believed, wholeheartedly, that this woman was far more capable - far more connected - than she openly appeared.

Therein lay the answer to his question, and the purpose for his visit. He had hoped she wouldn't query him on it directly; hoped he would be able to adopt a more tangential approach, coaxing the information he sought from her gently, and more naturally, rather than simply asking. He should have known better. Of course Emelie Shadowstar wasn't someone a mere Imperial Guard could outmanoeuvre in such a way.

A small sigh escaped him.

"One of my roles here in the Gee Jay," he began, trying to stear towards a casually reluctant response, rather than some sort of speech; he had contemplated trying to be evasive, or modular with his answer, but there was little to be gained now by being anything but forthright. "Is security. The Governor needs to know that his business interests here and on all the other worlds in the Sectors are secure, and so I keep my eye on things. Keep my ear to the ground, as it were."

His brow furrowed slightly, a glimmer of honest frustration creeping into his tone.

"Most of the Imperials around these parts are just doing their job - and doing it reluctantly, in a lot of places. They're reactive, not proactive. If a situation comes their way, they'll deal with it, but things get lost and ignored. Things slip through the cracks. Officials look the other way if they can get away with it, if they're paid enough for it, or if they simply don't care enough to act. Here on Cloud City, if something goes down on the lower levels, and someone with enough influence manages to make it quietly go away? Good look finding anything more than heresay and rumour on that front. Up top, though? On the upper levels, people love their rumours, their gossip. Even if the paper trail goes away, you still hear things."

He paused, the momentary silence left to linger deliberately, his eyes studying Emelie for the slightest signs of a reaction. He considered dancing around it, trying to coax an admission or revelation, but that didn't seem to be the way that Miss Shadowstar operated. Very well, then.

"I know there was an attack. I know something went down at the Elysian offices; maybe elsewhere as well. I know there isn't a single report, or file, or document to corroborate any of that. I know that is likely for a reason - and whether it is a good one, or a bad one, maybe it is none of my business. But I -"

He faltered. His next words were a difficult challenge, complicated to phrase in a way that conveyed the sentiment correctly.

"Ceto wants us to work together. His ambitions with the Javin, the League, all of it, its all built on people stepping up, and having each other's backs. I'm sure you have everything covered, far more than I might think, but that's besides the point. The deal you signed, that turns your problems into my problems, and I can't do my job - can't do my part - if you and yours are set on still going it alone. I don't need specifics. I know I won't get them even if I ask, but -"

His brow furrowed, eyes finding Emelie's, containing within the faintest hint of something that one might be forgiven for thinking was concern.

"- are you okay?"

[Emelie Shadowstar]

As much as Emelie wanted to reply quickly, to brush it off, she also knew she wasn't that type of person any longer. Call it maturity, or a growing sense that Cloud City was not just a place to live and all it's dealings had more value and worth to her than just her own private circle. That included dealing with the Empire, her new allies within it, the League that allowed her people to be official. Amaros' words came back to haunt her, We ask for help. No. Not on this.

Thankfully such notions could be brushed aside in favour of exactly how Aiden had asked the question. Are you okay?

"I'm perfectly fine," Emelie answered as she put a hand to the fabric of the seat between them and used the position to lean closer to the Commander of the group she'd agreed to have her people be part of. "Not a scratch on me. You can check if you like."

She let a second or two hang heavy, the reply marked with a half smile that tugged towards one side of her lips. It remained there even as she returned to sitting up straight and allowed a sigh to leave her before she took a drink from her glass. I don't need specifics. But he did want something. Very well, then.

"It was a family issue. Someone who had once attempted to deprive the galaxy of one of my-" She avoided saying kids, but only barely. After all, it was a term she used only to herself in amusement. Even more so when she realized half the equation was actually her elder. "-crew decided to make another attempt. Nothing more than a nightmare that was dealt with and won't be bothering us again."

Far too simple, far too vague; but right. And the conviction in her voice was the same as it had been in the aftermath of the attack when the less damaged of her people had conspired within The Underworld. It bothered her then, however, and it still did; that the lair had been deprived of it's proper keeper since the so-called nightmare had been eliminated. It was an absence that was felt all too heavily. Not a success on their antagonizer's part, but a minor victory all the same.

"You'll find out anyway if you dig long enough, so I may as well tell you. The dearest of my Captains was injured in the incident, but he'll mend soon enough. Everyone will."

She tasted of her drink again before Emelie let another heavy breath leave her as her eyes returned to the crowd below.

"You'll find we're quite resilient. Hopefully without any further actual examples being created."

[Aiden Tahmores]

The dearest of her Captains didn't quite narrow things down, but he focused things down to a candidate pool of one. Montegue. The bounty hunter. During his research into Elysian Acquisitions, there hadn't been much to find on Vittore Montegue outside of his reputation: which meant that either he was really good, had some a really good data scrubber looking out for him, or both. The reputation that he'd stumbled across was atypical - not your typical profiteer mercenary, but rather someone who deliberately cultivated an expertise in the unusual and orthodox, intentionally making life harder for himself withot obvious reward or benefit - but that certainly fit the profile for Shadowstar's eclectic collection of associates. Whatever nightmare had befallen her circle had led to his injury however, to an extent that Shadowstar felt was noticeable and noteworthy: that did not bode well; did not play into the narrative that this was not a matter worth his concern.

And yet, Shadowstar insisted that it wasn't. She had it handled, and she explained as much with utter certainty. Perhaps it was overconfidence, and perhaps that was in keeping with the woman. Certainly, the way she twisted his polite concern into an opportunity to flirt? That was either compensation or a coping mechanism, or both. Yet, she was right to be confident, about her own appeal at least. Perhaps she was right to be confident in the capabilities of her Acquisitions team as well.

Aiden shuffled a little, not made uncomfortable by Shadowstar's evasiveness, or targeted allure, and yet not entirely comfortable with the way his inquiries had been brought to an abrupt and unsatisfying end. There was a twinge of disappointment when she made it clear that his interest and assistance was neither wanted nor required, and that had more of an impact on him than he would have expected. It was not so much that he thought he would be needed, or wanted; but on some level he had hoped he would be. Despite the flirtation, despite the hospitality as Shadowstar had called it, Aiden still felt the remnants of the subtle animosity he'd felt from her at their first meeting. Served him right for being an unsavoury Imperial, he supposed. Perhaps Emelie would be more interested if he was a little more rugged and rebellious - based on her employees, that seemed to be her type.

"I'm sure you are," Aiden conceded, with a small nod and smile that reinforced his point, though did a somewhat less effective job of concealing his disappointment. He let the expression morph into a furrowed brow. "Just... remember that the Governor made me responsible for managing and coordinating this whole League situation. I don't know how to do that without giving a shit about the people I work with." He paused for a brief moment. "I have a feeling you can relate."

[Emelie Shadowstar]

Emelie considered him, really considered, not just on a surface glance or regard for how much trouble they could get up to. But rather deeper, a lingering examination of what he'd said, of the expressions, of the faint awareness of something that drove him to say what he did. It was times like these she envied the rest of her family, of their ability to feel and project emotions on a level she could only vaguely understand. It wouldn't exactly provide complete insight into what the Imperial was thinking, but thoughts alone seldom had little value if you couldn't understand the intent behind them, anyway.

"Some people consider it a weakness, you realize?" Emelie retorted as she leaned back on the sofa, letting her arms stretch and lounge out across the length of the backrest. It put her glass as far away from her as possible, but the gesture felt right. "Caring about your people. Not just seeing them as assets."

She looked back towards Aiden, a short and heavy breath escaping from her nose an an amused huff.

"I never prescribed to that myself. Never could help it. I've always taken an instant shine to anyone I've had in my employ and in far shorter a time than is probably reasonable I knew I would do anything for each and every last one of them. It hasn't always worked out. Makes it all that harder when you lose someone."

Her voice trailed as several faces flashed within her mind's eye. They weren't dead, at least not as far as her information could gather... They just weren't hers anymore and Emelie mourned the fact all the same.

"I believe I you an apology, then, Mr. Tahmores. I haven't counted you among those who have my trust so implicitly. I'm afraid that too is something I can't help sometimes."

Emelie again adjusted her position, not out of a sense that she couldn't be comfortable, but more that sitting still just never was her style, not unless in quiet contemplation. The closer someone was, the more animated she became. The most recent shift had her sit forward, another drink taken and the glass abandoned on the table in front of her before her hands neatly folded in her lap and her eyes entirely focused on her guest.

"Perhaps I can make it up to you? You see... there is another family matter I have at hand. And this? This I could most certainly use your help with."

[Aiden Tahmores]

Aiden heaved out a sigh, making a point of theatrically rolling his eyes.

"If this is going to be one of those your cousin is cute, but I'll feel guilty about starting a relationship if I can't find someone to date my not conventionally attractive sister kind of family matter favours, I should warn you, I need at least three drinks in me before I start entertaining those kinds of notions."

It would be a misrepresentation to say that Aiden found Emelie Shadowstar easy to talk to. In truth, she had very little to do with it: Aiden was merely someone who found it easy to talk regardless of the situation, perhaps a little ironic given his primary employment as a stoic and silent Imperial Guard. Or perhaps that was the reason why, his mind and mouth seeking to compensate for all those hours of wordless isolation. What was true is that there was something about Miss Shadowstar that was disarming. Not necessarily charming, though he didn't doubt she actually could be, if you were the kind of person she was inclined to try and win over; it was something else, something about the way she talked, something about the confidence and unapologetic ego - or maybe just the high tech privacy shield - that made it feel as if much of life's pretence and scrutiny had stepped out for a smoke break. It wasn't any easier to speak his mind - when your inhibitions were already zero, there wasn't much prospect of reducing them - but it felt more permitted, less likely to wind up being a problem that he had.

There was also something that drew out a certain honesty from him, that his usual efforts to run his mouth would usually have got in the way of. His tone and demeanour shifted, out of respect for the sentiment that filled his words.

"Family is important," he offered, not quite managing to conceal the deeper truth that lurked beneath that statement. "What can I do to help yours?"

[Emelie Shadowstar]

The mention of her cousin almost made Emelie laugh, she knew of two that were scheduled to arrive and while there certainly may have been a three drink minimum for the one, Emelie was fairly sure Dom was not Aiden's type. She could have been wrong though. The other cousin, though? Well, she hadn't spent a lot of time on Zeltros around that particular family member but Emelie couldn't exactly remember anyone turning down the offer, either. Stars the amount of trouble she was going to get in to on Cloud City...

But the comment, or series of comments, or whatever ill concocted words were forming on the tip of her tongue never came to fruition as the Imperial's tone changed, as the smugness dropped for just a moment to let another glimpse of genuine something show.

It was enough to let her, just for a brief moment, do the same. The haughty air dropped just enough to make her seem more... Well, Emelie wouldn't call it natural, but it felt less like she was sitting in her VIP area of her club and more like she was elsewhere, speaking somewhere truly private with the man next to her.

"I have family arriving from Zeltros tomorrow. I've been trying to get them to have priority access to one of the nicer hangars, not quite VIP status you understand, but enough to make a statement and give them a proper greeting. Sadly there isn't room within Elysiums' private space or I would just have them arrive there, but even then..."

Emelie shrugged a shoulder and looked back towards the Imperial.

"It just wouldn't feel like it was enough, you know? I guess I'm trying to show off a little, but bureaucracy is making that difficult. Something about lack of room for expedited requests or other such nonsense... Which, I believe has put my prospects for their arrival somewhere in a less than desirable area."

She felt a laugh leave her at how serious she felt about all this. It shouldn't have mattered where on Cloud City the Faei clan first set foot upon, but to Emelie it somehow was everything. The half-breed, the taboo member of an illustrious Zeltron family, and all she wanted to do now was show that she had risen to their standards, away from the lower levels of Coruscant to here on Bespin among the clouds.

"Not quite the slums, but certainly not somewhere I want to be a first impression. I know you have certain pull, but..."

Asking for a favor wasn't her style. Implying, however.

[Aiden Tahmores]

A silent laugh escaped from Aiden's nose, a flicker of understanding tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Long story short, you don't want your family stuck waiting in traffic, and you'd rather they didn't have to spend two hours in line waiting at Port Town customs."

Aiden Tahmores was not a man prone to profound observations, but they plagued him on occasion. The more time he spent on Cloud City, the more he was struck by the accuracy of its microcosm portrayal of galactic society. Here was a city whose literal structure and geography was built around the social castes that formed the heart of the Galactic Empire, and the Galactic Republic before it. On the highest levels, you found the wealthy, enjoying the best facilities, the best views, and the best lifestyles. Below them were the administrators and bureaucrats that ensured society functioned. Below them, shipping and industry; and then below that the laborers and working class on whose backs every society thrived. It was no surprise either that the lower you descended, the less human the population became. It was blatant, to the extent that it surely had to be by deliberate design, and yet it was so easy to remain oblivious. Cloud City made it all too easy to avoid descending any deeper than your social standing described; and all too difficult for anyone to climb higher.

Emelie Shadowstar was the rare example of someone who, by deliberate choice, had interests that spanned multiple levels. Elysium catered to the working class, while Elysian Acquisitions catered to the upper class: and her choice of name, that unmistakable similarity between those two socially opposite interests, was just blatant enough to make the right people the right kind of uncomfortable. Aiden felt called out by it, as he rightly should: society had determined he was a Tourist District sort of guy, and it would probably do him some good to spend more time down here in Port Town, learning how to contend with Port Town problems.

"I can't make any promises," he began, and despite the demonstrated privacy that Miss Shadowstar had surrounded them in, he still found himself adopting the kind of double speak he might have used if they were at risk of being overheard, "But I wouldn't be surprised if the Trade Spine League finds itself in last-minute need of a platform close to the Elysian Acquisitions offices tomorrow. And Zeltros, you said? If memory serves, that's a world outside of Imperial space. It would probably be prudent for the Wing Guard to screen them and their ship privately, rather than risk delaying the public ports with the extra scrutiny that might require."

He let his smile tug a little wider, but then it faltered, a faint hint of a frown collapsing onto his brow.

"Gotta admit though, I've never been much of a fan of having owed favours lingering around for too long: so I'll trade you my help for a single honest answer."

[Emelie Shadowstar]

No promises, then, but Aiden's wordsmithing made it clear that an effort would be made, more than one really. It was more than enough, and it truthfully made Emelie smile in return. Nothing good ever really lasts though, at least that was what life had so determinedly taught her over and over again; and the frown that tugged away the smile on the Imperial's lips reflected once more.

Emelie however, buried a similar fall in the edge of the glass of her drink. The remaining contents downed, not in any spectacular fashion but rather because there was little left.

An honest answer. There was a lot of danger in that when someone knew how to ask, what to ask. The Imperial had already nudged on questions regarding what had happened between her people and others, the incident that had wounded her small family. Those were answers she didn't want to give, didn't feel she had the right to. Only part of it was her story, after all. Still, that was the part she might have been able to relay, a twisting of the truth if he wanted part of it.

It was a weighty trade, but one that Emelie was bound to twist to her own benefit. Her family was worth it, weren't they?

"I'm not a fan of having such things linger, either." Emelie softly replied, her voice clear in the deadened space.

A heavy sigh passed her lips as she leaned forward towards the small table before her, a few key presses on a hidden console sliding open a chilled drawer from which she drew a bottle and refilled her glass.

"So ask your question. I can't promise you'll like the answer though."

[Aiden Tahmores]

The frown furrowed a little deeper, time taken as Emelie refilled her glass to chose his words carefully.

"If we are going to work together, it's important that things are somewhat amicable between us."

That wasn't true, he supposed; or at least, the way it sounded wasn't correct. The vast majority of Aiden's experience as a member of the Imperial military had involved consistently working together with people he didn't feel even remotely amicable towards, and yet was required to do so by the nature of his duties. He supposed that things were very much the same for Emelie Shadowstar, particularly in a place like Cloud City. She didn't need to like her customers: just take their money, and deliver what they paid for. Yet, when it came to Ceto's plans for the Greater Javin, and the associated responsibilities unwelcomely dropped onto Aiden's shoulders, things changed. Instead of a soldier, instead of a guard, Aiden found himself with the opportunity to decide for himself how things would be. Not everyone would help him towards the end he desired, of that he was certain: but he knew that all hope of things going his way would be lost, if he failed to at least have an ally in Emelie Shadowstar, if not a friend.

A moment of silence passed; Aiden almost nodded to himself as he settled upon the right string of words.

"I got the sense during your meeting with the Governor that there is something about me that does not sit well with you. This does not surprise me: who I am, who I represent, and what I represent is a problem for a lot of people, and for a lot of justified reasons. But if we are going to be working together, and there is going to be something that we need to work through, or work around, I would like to know what it is. Was it something I said, something I did, something I remind you of?"

The words felt weighty; a little too serious, and sombre.

"If it was something one of my brothers did, I take no responsibility; though I will happily point you towards the asshole paternal figure who is more than likely to blame."

[Emelie Shadowstar]

"Oh. That."

It hadn't even been something Emelie had been overtly aware of at the time of the meeting. Most of her attention had been focused on the Governor, for multiple reasons, the least of which probably being that he had deserved it at that moment. It had been an irksome thing, nagging at the back edges of her mind throughout the proceedings that she had only become overtly aware of when reviewing the footage that Abrax forwarded her of the recorded event. It became plain as day then, the uncomfortable body postures, the subtle shift as she had spoken away from the Guard at every opportunity. It didn't exactly plague her, but it was difficult to explain to anyone but herself.

Atton probably knew why. The bastard.

Or perhaps not.

It was no secret, really, but merely something the half-Zeltron kept close to her chest. It was the reason she rarely if ever chose a meal that contained meat, why the shifting hues below that danced across every surface of her club verged on nearly every color of the rainbow, and why... even know as she considered it, her hand strayed to her hair, a finger twisting and wrapping around blonde and lavender locks that had been bleached and dyed so many times that only the very oldest of files would ever reveal the natural crimson color that her mother has passed along to her.

He had asked for an honest answer though. Honest never meant easy.

Something crossed between a laugh and a sigh left her as she lowered her hand from her hair and avoided her second nervous tick even as it edged in as a slight bite against the skin just inside the edge of her lip. Oh dear, no. This wouldn't do at all.

"It wasn't you, exactly. And clearly living here and our current association has proven I'm not against the Empire, that's not it at all. I never could find a taste for the cause of the rebellion or the Alliance as it is now known as. So don't worry, I'm not some secret conspirator against your cousin."

Not exactly the truth, as some of her associates were very - very - apt to remind her. But they were neither here nor there, nor on the books officially or...

Gods she was avoiding the answer wasn't she?

"It's a personal thing. I'm just... Not overly fond of the color red."

That was the truth, wasn't it? She could just leave it there. He was an Imperial Guard who had been wearing Imperial Guard colors and she loathed that color. Leave it to irrational statement and let it lie. But something in the way Aiden looked to her didn't sit right. Emelie barely knew the guy, but the extra effort he was willing to make to her family - not to mention the fact that Celleste might just blurt the damn thing out - was enough to elaborate.

A long drink was taken from the glass at hand even as her free fingertips twitched something awful for a stimstick. Vossing karking hells, Emelie. It's kriffing bloody damn public records if he wanted!

"It's just..."

Her mouth opened, gaped a few times like she couldn't get her tongue and voice box to form the words. Another small, almost embarrassed laugh came as Emelie realized just how long it had been before she had to face her past, had to speak it to someone else.

Another deep sigh, a breath taken to bolster her courage even as both hands closed around the glass, the cold shock of the drink biting into her palms through the chilled glass.

"I watched both my parents die when I was very young," Emelie considered the details as they threatened to tread upon her, of the aftermath, of the way she had been discovered and all that followed. No. That was far too much to give away, and each word would cause a memory she was far from keen on revisiting. A few days of followed silence wouldn't be worth it. "It wasn't a clean death."

[Aiden Tahmores]

There was a tone that wove in beneath her words, something that most people might not have picked up on. It was a pain, a reality that went unspoken because there just weren't the words, and there weren't many people in the universe who could ever hope to understand even if you tried to explain. Aiden wasn't one of those people: even if Emelie had recounted every intimate grizzly detail of what she had seen, and felt, and lived through, there were some things that were simply beyond empathy; some things that could only exist within the mind of the singular consciousness that experienced them.

Yet, Aiden recognised the tone. He knew the tone. He'd felt that same tone escape his own lips, and knew the unknowable situation that created it. His situation was different. His situation was unanswered comm calls, unanswered doors and overridden locks, the soul-shattering sight of something no child should ever have to see. It was the intricate details that burned into his mind. The dampness of evaporating bath water, and lingering scent of perfumes in the air; the persistent crackle of a vox player still active despite having run out of music to play; the strange neatness of the way clothes had been set aside rather than casually discarded; the five pills still lingering on the bathside, emptied from the bottle but surplus to his mother's requirements. The glassy, empty eyes. The bloated, palid features. The javelin through the chest of a vision that he would never be able to unsee. The torture of having to be the rock, of being the one who couldn't break, the one burdened with watching the words he was forced to speak break the hearts of each of his siblings: all thanks to a father whose duties were too important to spare the time to care. The total absense of anyone who could understand, or empathise, or offer any sort of comfort that didn't sound meaningless and hollow.

For Emelie, it was the colour red. For Aiden, it was bath salts. He couldn't begin to understand her private pain; but he knew his own well enough to see that it was there.

"I'm sorry."

His voice was quiet, but drenched in sincerity. There was no platitude offered, no attempt at comfort, no pretense that their respective experiences made them in any way the same. There was nothing to be said, and Aiden knew from experience that the desire to say something was selfish, helpful to the person offering the sentiment but seldom to the one receiving it. He managed to find her gaze, and held it just long enough to convey his understanding of the unspoken gravity of the answer he had demanded.

"I had no right to that answer. I didn't realise it would be so personal."

[Emelie Shadowstar]

"No," She replied quicker than expected.

A soft shake her head followed, along with her voice losing whatever edge it had tried to gain. "No, you don't need to feel sorry. Everyone in this galaxy has their pain. I suppose that's especially true for people our age who grew up during the wars."

She had caught it, barely. On the edges of her own emotions were ones that Emelie had known weren't her own. If she had more of her family's skills maybe she could have understood to what extent Aiden fully understood the feelings she had learned to live with. But just as he had expressed a bit of remorse at his questions, Emelie had no wish to pry, no real desire to uncover hurts that had her own admissions had apparently brought to the surface.

"You asked for an honest answer, and as much I make a habit of veiling truths in lies and secrets, you deserved this one. If for no other reason than to know it wasn't anything you had honestly done or said, or anything like that. Truth is, I find you an agreeable sort, Mr. Tahmores. I hate to let such a - " She didn't want to say trivial even if it felt like the right word - "Complicated thing make you think I don't look forward to further associations with you."

It sounded so unlike her, the real her, at least. It was the right thing to say, what Emelie had wanted to say, but just not how. Oh well, it wouldn't be the first time she had made such a mistake, nor would it be the last.

[Aiden Tahmores]

Aiden sat quietly for a moment, letting the sentiment of the conversation settle, letting the sincerity have the respect it was due before he opened his mouth to detract from it. It was a habit he'd forced himself to acquire, that important pause between sincerity and sarcasm. Too quick, and your defensive use of humour, your jovial deflection towards a less sombre subject or tone came of as callous, and uncaring. In the Pilot Corps, quick-witted snark was the order of the day: but everyone had been a pilot, everyone of the same mindset, the same reflexes, the same necessary detachment from anything that could drag you down. In a starfighter, dwelling on sadness or doubt or regret was a death sentence, a distracting weight that hung on the reflexes that were supposed to keep you alive.

Out here in the real world, however, or among the upper echelons that his affiliation with Tarkin and Rübezahl had allowed him to rub shoulders with, people weren't used to things moving so fast. Learning to slow down, to pay the kind of respect that others expected, was a hard-learned but necessary skill.

"A habit of veiling truths in lies and secrets," Aiden quoted, finally breaking the few seconds of silence he had allowed. "You make privacy sound so sexy, Miss Shadowstar."

He risked a brief sidelong glance towards her, a fleeting thought of that's probably not the only thing strolling casually across his mind.