sparky // a padawan story

chapter 70. the gala.

Elegance is not exactly what I'm accustomed to, if I'm being honest.

I walk through the large, open halls of the Organa's castle towards the ballroom. The marble floor is cold beneath my feet. Even though I was lended shoes along with my dress, I'm not wearing them. I could barely even stand in them, so how could I be expected to catch a spy in them?

Two guards open the grand doors as I approach and enter. The room has a cool-toned tint to it, lit by the exquisite chandelier hanging from the middle of the ceiling. A band plays a familiar tune softly, serving as background noise to the chatter filling the air. Circular tables are neatly aligned in the back of the room, while the front is swarmed with senators and other politicians intermingling, all dressed in extravagant gowns and tuxedoes, holding their glasses of alcohol between their fingers.

This is certainly new territory. Parties, galas, and aristocracy in general... I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing.

But thankfully, I'm very well-acquainted with someone who does.

"Oh, there you are, Arlo! I was looking..." I turn to my right and see Korkie approaching me as his sentence trails off. "...Sorry, I was, uh, looking all over for you."

He straightens out his incredibly formal outfit, a dark navy blue, velvet, tailed jacket, complete with matching velvet pants, a waistcoat, and a shiny pair of dress shoes. His disheveled helmet hair has been neatly combed back into place, and somehow, the navy of his suit makes his blue eyes even brighter.

"Maker, Korkie, am I glad you found me," I admit. "I feel like I look like a lost porglet trying to find my way."

"On the contrary, I think you look stunning, Arlo."

My face gets unwillingly hot as I go to fiddle with the hem of my shirt, only to find nothing there. I play it off by pretending to brush something off of my dress. Korkie sees right through me, though, and chuckles softly as I reply.

"Oh, uh, thank you, Korkie. You... you look nice as well. So, um, what are we supposed to do? Besides, you know, catch a spy," I ask him in a hushed tone.

"Talk to people you're barely acquainted with as if you've known them your entire lives, dance, dance more, and drink overpriced alcohol from expensive glasses. That's all there is to it."

"...I would rather go hide in the corner."

"Just follow my lead. You'll be fine," he tells me as he offers me his arm. I notice he's still wearing the small braided bracelet, slightly hidden by the sleeve of his jacket.

I slip my hand into his arm with a smile, giving his bicep a small squeeze before we start towards the fray. A moment later, he leans over and whispers into my ear.

"Do you have your lightsaber?"

"Of course I have it. That weapon is my life. Where's your blaster?"

"Well, I'm a Kryze, Arlo. We solve our problems with nobility, with words. In a situation like this, I'd rather not resort to my blaster if I don't have to. I always believe in trying to find a peaceful solution, but maybe that's just the Satine in me."

"Okay, and you think I want to use my lightsaber all the time?"

"I know you don't. But I also know that, well, you don't usually think to negotiate at the start, when you probably should. So you tend to resort to defending yourself. With a strong and powerful offense."

"...Is that a compliment or an insult?"

"I don't think I could ever actually insult you... so yes. It's a compliment."