Sinful Subjugation

Firenzetta, Onderon.

Marquess Ashar Nerofi stepped outside her apartments onto the adjacent balcony, as the sunset's warm glow bathed her familial estate. She looked upon the gardens where guests had begun to mingle in the past hour. The last few days had been busy, and she longed for some privacy at last. As much as the brunette appreciated festivities, especially since the current string of banquets and gatherings had been to celebrate her recent success, she had a particular love for her personal residence to be her own territory and not a playground she had to share over and over again.

She was proud of having been elected as the new representative of her home world, in uncanny succession to Salem Ave, who had expressed his will to see her follow in his footsteps. As such she had ensured to have multiple events to mark the achievement. Tonight would be the fourth and last one, to which further removed acquaintances had been invited. It included certain patrons from both nobility or trade, who had supported her new ventures, as well as certain other individuals she had crossed paths for diverse reasons over the years.

Just as the previous evenings, everything was perfectly orchestrated. Speaking of, she could hear the light music coming from the chamber ensemble from the Art School she had supported for several years, play lovely arrangements of traditional Onderon pieces.

She had delayed her entrance long enough, and had no other choice but to make her apparition at this point. She gave a last look at her reflection in the mirror as she crossed her apartments and stepped inside the hallway leading to the staircases. While her daughter was out of the hospital at this point, Ashar had ensured that her seven year old rested in peace on the other side of the estate, in a well-guarded and quiet secondary house. There was no need to upset Alrya. Of course, the recovering Nerofi was adamant about being part of the festivities; but she had settled to sample some of the delicacies prepared, get a couple of new attires made, and attend all the repetition of the music performers.

After all, Ashar knew well how her daughter thought, for she had taken so much after her.

Musing to herself, the new Senator of Onderon approached the large doors, and footmen opened them for her. She had chosen against being formally announced for this one, so she could simply mingle at leisure. Granted, as soon as the first guests spotted her, they greeted her and she got lured into multiple conversations at once.

A sharp, uncomfortable inhale escaped him but went unnoticed by the swarm of people who brushed against him as they moved beyond into the gardens of the estate. A few measured, rearward steps positioned his expertly swathed frame before an artfully muntined window overlooking the festivities below. Outwardly, he displayed an air of aloofness and his eyes transfixed accordingly to the scenery as to mimic the other guests. Inwardly, Thran had never been more uncomfortable in his life. Everything about this environment was foreign; the people, the vast mountains and forests surrounding them, and even the upscale gala itself made the introverted hunter long for the safety of his ecumenopolis home in The Core.

His hands remained in his pockets, as to disguise their trembling, and his shoulders remained stiff. His posture was always impeccable, even in times of distress such as this. Why had Verdelet sent him here? Undoubtedly, it had to do with the laboratory's move to the Koradin Sector; another point of contention, as far as Thran was concerned. A way to get him out of the way for the unforeseen amount of time they would be spending in this unfamiliar, unreadable place. He could feel his breaths quickening and in the tailored perfection of his black on black suit, he knew it would begin to show.

His breathing promptly stopped altogether when a hand grasped the cradle of his shoulder firmly, urging him to turn away from the window and set his intent gaze upon the man he had come here with. Keirick was the kind of man one couldn't properly sum up in a few words. Sin incarnate, perhaps; a plethora of vices, good looks, eerie insight, and so socially adept it made his aloofness seem entirely unnecessary.

Thran allowed himself to be turned and then his dark eyes dipped down to set of scotch filled tumblers balanced in Keir's other hand.

"I do not drink." He stated firmly, his eyes tracing their way back up Keir's own artisan suit and meeting his gaze evenly. The trembling had stopped and all the world seemed to fade away as he regarded this sly incubus coolly, his breathing even.

"Scotch."

The bartender bobbed his head and turned to the vast selection of liquor lining the walls now before him. Keirick turned a look over his shoulder, finding his skittish companion stumbling away from a group of party goers and sequestering himself in an alcove by a window. Promptly, he turned back to the bar tender.

"Make that two, doubles."

The bartender murmured a dutiful 'you got it' before sliding a bottle from the top shelf gingerly, flipping two tumblers on top of the bar and filling them as requested. Eyes, the rare color of quicksilver and arctic waters, assessed the task until it was done and then his hands secured the beverages. His gaze snapped up to the bartender and he cocked a wry, thankful grin in his direction before moving on; missing the faint blush that tinged the man's cheeks.

In a few long strides, he arrived at his companion's back; sidling one tumbler alongside the other and reaching up to steer his nervous companion to face him.

"I do not drink." He did not miss the cool inspection Thran delivered to his completely black suit. His brow furrowed and he released his shoulder, separating the glasses once before before jamming one into Thran's grasp regardless of his prohibitive stance on consumption.

"Tonight, you do. From the look of things, you're going to fall apart before we've made any progress." He took a sip from his own glass, his tongue darting across his lips as he savored the oaken flavor. Tentatively, he watched as Thran followed suit and fortunately kept his features trained enough to disguise his distaste. "Better. Now, another. Most of the patrons are below in the garden, we'll need to make our way there and start with the process of elimination. Isaac mentioned it is your area of expertise, rooting them...."

Thran wasn't even looking at him now; instead, his gaze had slowly been pulled away from him and to something over his shoulder. He turned just slightly, his silvery-blue gaze coming to twine with the path Thran's darker eyes had followed and finding the subject of his attention. Currently among a gaggle of nobility vying for her attention, he espied what could possibly be one of the most beautiful women he'd ever laid eyes on. He smirked slightly, giving his head a faint shake before sipping from his glass again.

"And... you do not disappoint. Aiming a little high so early, hm?"

"I don't know what you mean." Thran replied stubbornly, promptly redirecting his gaze and taking a stouter sip from his own glass.

"Of course you do..." Keir all but purred into his ear, his gaze never leaving that of Marquess Ashar Nerofi's face in the event that her own eyes found his.

While the atmosphere was perfect, following Ashar's every wishes for hosting properly was part of her family's pride, she couldn't help but find herself longing to fade away earlier than in the previous banquets and receptions that had recently taken place at the estate. She understood all too well the games of politics and pleasantries, excelling at them herself since she had been but a young girl. Her parents' death had forced her to take over House Nerofi when only a teenager, even though her bloodline would have otherwise allowed her to be trained as a royal handmaiden.

Tonight she simply yearned for freedom, her unsated wanderlust coming back to life full force. It was an uncanny feeling she had gone through many a time in her life. It was a manifestation of certain things she had thought about for years, that her potent intuition and dark streak might be more than what met the eyes. Yet she had carefully kept it for herself. While the galaxy was changing in terms of Force users and their places, she had never wanted to really explore the possibility what she believed might be latent gifts, might offer.

She was musing over it as she walked away from a local merchant who had much to say, more than he had to offer really, and accepted another flute of champagne. The stirring of her soul was surprising, and she wondered whether it could be due to the whirlwind of the past weeks, or for another reason.

At that moment, her eyes fell upon a pair of well-dressed men, their perfect suits accentuating their delightful looks. She unconsciously licked her lips, before taking a sip from her glass. She had never seen them before and found herself drawn to them in a very unexpected way. While was seemed preoccupied by something else, the other was persistently staring at her, and she fiercely returned it.

Two could play that game, she mused over a little battle of wills.

Even as one of the other local antiquary traders came to speak to her, she positioned her body so her attention would appear upon him, but over his shoulder, she kept staring at the stranger.

Knuckles turned a stark white as Keir’s breathy words ghosted over his ear. His first impulse was to take an immediate step backward; however, seeing as how there was a mullioned window and a twenty foot drop beyond it directly to his back, it was not in his best interest to proceed. He’d be damn if he let the unscrupulous flirt rattle him so much that he was tempted to fling himself onto the lawn below. Instead, he took another sip of his annoyingly alcoholic beverage and tempted a glance at the woman he’d espied previously.

Hunger lit his gaze when he noticed her attention transfixed his way and then promptly snuffed itself out like candlelight when he took in exactly who she was staring at. Of course, it was him. Thran disguised his disappointment with a bored roll of his eyes and then shouldered his way past Keir. He moved to the artful portico just before the arcing set of stairs that curved down into manicured lawns. People milled about in vast throngs that made his stomach twist uncomfortably and his face to contort into a sneer. No, he wouldn’t be going down there alone.

“If you’re quite finished, perhaps we could proceed?” He asked, his Imperial accent ringing louder, more authoritative than before.

Keir could feel the tension ripple up across Thran’s frame as he spoke so close, the reaction prompting a devilish grin from him. All the while, his eyes never broke from the beauty across the way. She appeared to be exactly the kind of trouble he liked to find himself in at the end of the night. Of course, his grumpy compatriot had to spoil the mood. Finally, eye contact was broken and he watched Thran stalk away, only to come to a stuttering halt on the portico overlooking the sprawling lawn. With a hapless sigh, Keir canted his head toward her in invitation before vacating the room as well.

Once outside, he polished off his glass of scotch and then discarded it upon the tray of a passing waiter. “You’re no fun at all, Thran. Is it too much to ask that you be charming rather than scaring all the pretty ladies away with that scowl of yours?”

“I’m not scowling.” Thran replied, a bit more forcefully than his typically cool, aloof manner might intone. “And if I am, it is only because you lack focus. I’m not attending this event to pick up women and… and shed my inhibitions.” The last bit came out in a hiss that had Keir’s incorrigible grin returning to the fore.

“It’s all part of the plan. This isn’t some back alley on Coruscant, it’s a gala. Convincing someone to come with us with deception is the name of the game, Thran, and requires more finesse than what you’re used to employing. If you need instruction, I will instruct you. Just… try to lighten up.”

Ashar moved with grace through the crowd. While she was set on approaching these two mysterious men, she never forgot who she was and what this gathering was about. She would get to her destination regardless of pit stops and detours, embracing the flow of pleasantries and brief exchanges, for the one thing she refused to do now was getting coaxed into another static conversation. She had already spent proper time with certain guests and fluffed some egos that would serve her well at a later time.

One of the two mysterious and utterly handsome individuals was easy to read as the boldest one; while the other seemed ill-at-ease, and yet not a weakling. The intrigued feeling, as well as a spark of attraction, rose within her and she eventually approached them. The crowd and the men's movement saw her reach them from behind, which provided yet another pleasant angle.

She eventually sashayed right behind them, having placed her empty glass atop a nearby tray a minute ago. As she heard one of them spoke, she caught the end of a sentence, recognizing the accent as imperial.

Without hesitation, the Marquess placed one hand on each of their lower backs, stepping right between them, as she could for it was one of her residences and her event.

"Lightening up would please your hostess," she stated in a confident and charming tone, though her attitude remained perfectly suitable for a newly appointed Senator.

She didn't introduce herself, for they had to know who she was.

Tension raked down his back as though someone had just poured scalding water down it and his wrathful eyes turned to pin whoever dared in place. Immediately, his expression slackened into something akin to muted shock. At a distance, she was a work of art. This close, she was a goddess emerged from the canvas. Or perhaps her voice alluded to her being a siren, come to ensnare his mind; a mind which feebly struggled to remember decorum and the procedure for introduction. His eyes somehow managed to stray from her, finding Keirick's in an uncharacteristic plea for help.

"Senator Nerofi, how good of you to join us. My name is Keirick and this is my friend Thran, sent on behalf of Isaac Verdelet; he sadly could not break from his work. He does, however, send his congratulations." Thank the Gods Keir wasn't utterly cowed by gorgeous women. He blinked to clear his thoughts and somehow managed to kick start a modicum of sense in his brain.

"A pleasure, Senator. It is a lovely event." When he lied, he at least lied well. His thick Imperial accent outweighed the smooth as silk inflection that Keir employed, sadly coating every word with a hint of disdain. Still, he maintained a genuine smile once he managed to form one, bringing her hand around from the small of his back and raising her elegant fingers closer to his lips. His lashes lowered as he bent his frame the rest of the distance, his dark eyes opening to meet hers for the span of time that his mouth maintained contact with her skin; a short, heated moment.

Keirick had an adequate vantage on the exact moment Thran came back to his senses; just one subtle blink and then the talented actor donned his adroit mask. The corner of his own mouth twisted into a wry grin and he did not miss a beat as his compatriot took the reins, sliding forth the hand that caressed his own lower back in sync with the dark eyed man adjacent to him. As Thran bent, so too did he. In contrast, Keir deftly maneuvered her palm to face the roof of the portico and bent his body low, plying his sinful mouth to the delicate skin of her inner wrist. A brief, heated moment punctuated by the almost inconceivable application of his tongue tip. Did she imagine it? The feral gleam in his eyes focused solely on her and the way his tongue swept across his lower lip suggested... not.

Delicious.

"The music is beautiful. Perhaps you'd save me a dance?" He asked, slowly turning her hand again and angling his body to improve their height advantaged view of the dance floor in the gardens below. "Of course, we wouldn't want to keep you from any additional social obligations. Then again, maybe I would..." He corrected, slanting a competitive grin toward Thran who visibly bristled.

The moody stranger's reaction was stark gawking. Ashar's expression remained unchanged except for a delicate brow she raised quizzically if not in outright dare. He was even more attractive from such a close vantage point. To say she wanted to take either the shock or previous dissatisfaction from his face was an understatement. Sinful if not almost violent impulses coursed through her veins as she held his gaze, until he looked at his equally appetizing companion. These two looked dashing in their clothes; but the newly minted Senator would not object to disrobe both of them.

She nodded to the introductions provided by the bolder one of both.

"Well met, gentlemen. I appreciate Isaac Verdelet sending you here. I am certain his research kept him busy, as always."

While the scientist was a complicated man to support for various reasons, she understood the value of his work, and given her own daughter's medical mysteries, she had been supporting Verdelet's projects for several years.

She smiled warmly as Thran reached out for her hand and the time their eyes met again, the combination of brief but intense connection, accented by the fleeting sensation of his mouth on her fingers, was utterly and delightfully distracting.

"I do aim for my guests to enjoy their time at my residence," she responded, her manners mostly good, if not for the purr Keir almost elicited from her her as he caught her other wrist.

When she felt his tongue briefly touch her pale skin, her eyes found his and she knew it was no figment of her imagination. He was the obviously bold and feral; but she had the intuition that Thran was no less dangerous.

It already made sense they would work for Verdelet.

When Keirick spoke of her saving him a dance, she saw how he was challenging Thran. It seemed their own dance was not at its first round; and she decided to shake things up.

"I will certainly save you a dance, Keirick," she replied with a daring smile.

As she retrieved her hand from him, she elegantly but promptly laced her arm with Thran's, nudging him towards where the music ensemble played and where couples dances.

"We will see you later."

She winked at him, and then gave no choice to Thran but to do her bidding and take her to dance.

Thran returned Keirick's grin with a vehement sneer of his own, only to have his expression dissolve into one of surprise yet again as the Senator linked her arm through his. He was quickly nudged in the direction of the dance floor, his accomplice managing to snag his glass out his hand and salute before he turned away completely. With each step, the music grew louder and the crowds grew thicker, each masterfully played note seeming to toll his impending doom. Certainly, he was jealous that Keir had stolen the first spot upon Lady Nerofi's dance card; in actuality, he did not know the first thing about dancing.

Still, he was nothing if not a very fast learner. His eyes swept over the crush of people swaying to the music and by the time they reached an adequate spot, his mind was already up to date on the basics. Now, application was another matter entirely. He drew her in without hesitation, one hand escorting her own to perch against his muscular deltoid while his other hand clasped the slope of her waist and encouraged her even closer. A glance where Keir had once stood gave him hope that the buffoon was actually taking their purpose here seriously now.

"I don't think I've ever beheld him being handled so easily, my lady." He allowed himself to smile now, returning his dark gaze to her own. He stepped in time with those around them, guiding her into a flawless first refrain. "It will probably only encourage him, to be honest. Still, I am wholly satisfied with the results."

There was something about both men that made Ashar wonder whether they were an item, albeit likely an open one, given the ravenous and hungry looks Keirick had offered her. The Senator was a wild spirit at heart, and that obviously made her wonder whether she might be able to steal sinful time with both guests later on. After all the night was young, and she would hate to send Verdelet's associates back without them having had a stellar time under her hospitality. Many men and women on Onderon made for delightful and decadent company; but she had a personal interest in this situation, besides the evident fact that both men were blessings full of sensual promises to the eye.

She let Thran guide her hands as they joined the mingling couples on the dance floor section of the garden. As they moved along the music, she could pick on certain lack of nuances that indicated a lack of deep dancing prowess, compared to the many aristocrats she had danced with; but he did quite well.

And she could use the space he sometimes created and discreet pauses to her advantage.

"It was impossible to resist," she replied with a flutter of long lashes as she looked up at him. A devilish chuckle escaped her lips before she licked them.

"You two seemed about to either kill each other or rip each other's clothes off."

She was prodding with no shame whatsoever.

"Granted, I would enjoy watching either of these options, Thran," she added with a grin, enjoying the way his name rolled off of her tongue.

She took advantage of the change of pace to step slightly forward and press herself against him a tad more than the dance required, all in one smooth move.

"What about you? What does encourage you?"

She was ready to discuss anything pertaining to Verdelet's agenda and how she could support it as she had been for many years; but it was also a party and caution could be tossed to the wind as well. Life had beaten her many times and she knew all too well that nothing was ever guaranteed, which was why immediate gratification wasn't a forbidden fruit in her book.