#⚘ ˚◞ imperial era ◞ .

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“They, you say?” The descriptor is picked up and commented on, the assumption is carried after. “So there are others you’ve come across then. How interesting.” Cordial and curious her pleasant tenor remains, hoping to avoid any awkward silence with the client and glean any more information on the artifact should she need to relay it. Not only for the bank’s report but to the externals she constantly owes information. She doesn’t expect a detailed answer — nor the derailment of the conversation by virtue of her client’s sudden clumsiness. 

One more step and her foot, designer heel included, would have been slammed in the durasteel vault door. The shock prompts the hands clasped at her front to clench the top of her cream blouse; her mouth falls open and her heart is set to leap from it. How in the Core Worlds did her fall cause that? Their closed exit is not her immediate concern; gaze is swift to turn and deduce her client’s condition at her side. Still standing; the panel broke her fall. “Uh no.” Uncertainty wavers her voice. “But, are you alright?”

The control panel gains the banker's attention next; the unlit buttons aren’t responding to her pushing them in sequence repeatedly. She's the least clever when it comes to technology but it does seem completely dead. “Oh dear.” Sight lifts to the hidden surveillance camera in the corner above the entryway, to which she offers a small uncomfortable wave, hoping someone in security is doing their job to see it. “Well.” On an exhale just short of a sigh, she recenters her thoughts. She wasn’t expecting to be stuck in a vault this afternoon. “We are at the mercy of our tech crew, I’m afraid. My sincerest apologies for this — oh, I don’t believe I was provided your name. Miss?”

𝙰𝙿𝙷𝚁𝙰 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳 𝙾𝙽𝙻𝚈 𝙻𝙾𝙾𝙺 𝙾𝙽 𝚁𝚄𝙴𝙵𝚄𝙻𝙻𝚈 as the glass cage clicked into place over the holocron. She had tried to get Vader to give up the details. Was it a map? A record of some old Sith Master’s secrets and techniques? A recipe? But he’d only stared back at her, silent and still as the darkness between the stars. She didn’t ask any more questions after that. 

“Yeah, they tend to keep glowing,” she answered, giving the glass a little poke for good measure. Still secure. As far as she knew, it would go on forever, waiting for the next Sith to find and crack it open. The bank would crumble into dust before it went dark. “If I had to guess, it runs on its own internal battery. It should be good to go in here.”

With no more excuses to linger, the Doctor pulled herself away from the pedestal, away from the credits, away from the sprawling treasure trove all around them. She wasn’t likely to see this place again, even if she did manage to stay in the Dark Lord’s good graces. What a shame. What a waste!

She wasn’t ready to leave. 

As they neared the vault’s door, Aphra tripped. Her arm shot out, landing near the control panel. As soon as her skin made contact, a jolt shot through her electro tattoos; in an instant she could picture the delicate circuitry within, little veins of electricity that connected the vault with the rest of the bank. In the time that it took to steady herself, she had already sliced through it all, and found the mechanism to lock the door. It slammed shut with enough force to flutter her bangs. That oughta buy her some time. She took a moment to wipe the grin from her lips, and school her face into the picture of concern as she turned back to that prim associate, now prisoner with her. 

“...Was it supposed to do that?” 

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With a measure of delicacy, small fingers retrieve the archaic device from the table’s surface, turning it once around. A thumb swipes over the desecrated but not fully erased symbols she need not know about. Preferably none the wiser in that department (meanwhile hers is to fund it). It’s another artifact needed by the Archivist in the final stretches of her research. There is too much movement right now with the syndicate that she requested Brianne play courier. 

“It most certainly is. I was told not to activate it so as long as it looks intact.” A pouch is produced from her bag and inside it disappears from sight, no more attention drawn.

The service droid’s apt presumption upon seeing the patron gain company beckons it forth. An oblong-shaped pot of tea already adorns the table, the half-full content of a cup filled and consumed while waiting sits lukewarm. Brianne’s attention returns to her guest and her own good manners. “Please go ahead. Order anything you like.” A friendly smile accompanies the request. “It’s on me, of course. And then there’s the matter of your payment.”

━ calloused hands reached into a leather jacket-pocket ( slowly; as to not cause any suspicion of an ulterior motive ) and plucked a disc-shaped device. the exterior was coated in a faded durasteel veneer. the monotonous gray was interrupted by translucent bulbs which one would assume would illuminate upon the devices activation. a faded etching was found on either side of the device. of no significance to the smuggler but perhaps an indicator bri was familiar with.

〝 ━ i'm no expert 〞perhaps, she could herself so for other forms of contraband. but not whatever this was. 〝 but whatever's on this is plenty old. 〞

she'd motion for bri to inspect the device if she so desired. her attention shifted to a service droid patiently awaiting to record orders for refreshments. kay would shoo the droid away ━ not for lack of interest in ordering a beverage but rather out of a suspicion of lingering service droids. their inclination for hearing things they shouldn't was the catalyst of many a botched job.

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New hires periodically pass under the manager’s purview but over the years she has not seen one Togruta. It is quite the rarity, but connections and her resume speak for her potential and one Brianne hopes to nurture. If anything, it is a way to pay it forward for the success her connections brought her since the early days of her career in a bank not as powerful as the one they now sit.

The go-getter attitude Miss Terrik exudes is unsurprising. All start alert and high-spirited knowing it takes something extra to continue up the Bank’s hierarchical ladder — the first step is to appease superiors like herself. Brianne appreciates it but also hopes she will not feel unsupported. “I have no doubt you will.” Reassurance is paired with a small smile, always pleasant. “And for my part, I will make sure you meet those you need to meet and that you are put on projects best suited to your skill set. It’s about output but also about connections.” As every job, of course. 

The power she speaks of produces a nod though she does not comment on it right away. “Ah. Not many have considering our security.” The vaults are under lock and key and an army of stormtroopers after all. “No doubt you would agree, but Coruscant’s changed an awful amount since I started working here. Not for our current employer, of course, but for my home planet’s bank. We have an office quite close to here actually.” Having worked as an assistant to the one who would become the governor of the Imperial Bank made her current position possible. “But despite their substantial position in the Core, it pales in comparison to the realities of the Empire’s hold on the economy.”

They sit within a galactic system of financial control. A means to manipulate and ensure the Empire’s expansion. If the Emperor demands credits, they make them. Beautiful though? Perhaps not a descriptor Brianne would make.

“If you ever get the chance to see the vaults, well, take it. Those are arguably more stunning than the lobby.” Sight falls to the chess board once more, her prior move perhaps was ill-thought. No bother. It is not this game that matters. “Remind me again where you transferred from.”

it had been long, long cycles since ahsoka fussed over her appearance as much as she'd done this morning. deep in the bowels of coruscant's undercity, with the already poor light her clunky spice freighter managed to produce, the young togruta had squinted harshly into her muddled reflection. the mirror shard she'd scrounged somewhere between finding the freighter and becoming fulcrum wasn't of quality make nor quality shape, but it was all the young spy had. she'd find better luck stopping in front of a window on her way to work.

what an odd thought, and certainly never what she'd expected from spearheading the rebel alliance's intelligence network.

ashla terrik is doing this, was her cold water dip back to the present. not you. get that straight. and thank goodness for that, since credits and credit smarts were the last thing on the jedi council's mind when raising up padawans. or, if that was ever a class available to attend, she'd missed it.

unlike her morning grousing, the circuitous walk to the bank was thankfully uneventful. her entrance and clearance check was, once again, mysteriously uneventful. bail and his contacts had come through for her in stellar fashion; ahsoka would have to learn just how they sliced and spliced all the information together for the imperial bank's newest addition.

but no matter who this more energetic, more outgoing version of ashla was, she needed to be successful.

 ❝  you test me, i test you, ❞ a regular togruta who had likely never known what the force felt like responded brightly.  ❝ only fair when the new hire needs to make sure she's a good fit alongside her employer. i give you my best, you receive my best. ❞

ahsoka's own nerves were well hidden under the thick layer of persona, but she found herself sitting up even straighter under the clear-eyed gaze of her questioner and folding together innocent-seeming hands in her lap. fresh young professional or not, an air of sincerity rang clear through the supervisor's anecdotal request. despite such dangerous territory, ahsoka was eager to meet her in kind.

 ❝  i've lived in coruscant my whole life and never saw this side of it. so much power inside this one building is terrifying in an almost beautiful way. does that make sense? ❞ all that power had darkness dripping from every side, the likes of which ahsoka had never seen. the familiarity of her old home was absent, replaced by shadowy imitations.  ❝  everything about it... it is overwhelming, yes. but i don't think it's frightening. instead, it's exciting. i'm eager to prove myself. ❞

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The lone woman’s motions harken familiarity with an air of socialite insecurity, of being lost in an overly grand crowd. All have been there, even herself when the energy to network depletes and the insecurities of youth creep back into her chest. It coaxes her to reach out, to lend that hand others indulged her in times past. The seat offered is one of reprieve from possibly uncomfortable shoes and the expectation to awkwardly hijack conversations with the expectation that you have something interesting to say. Exhausting.

Lyra’s introduction already hints at the same concern; to know who’s who in a room of importants. Brianne is quick to diminish the need and with a smile flourishing to her eyes; no stodginess from her. “Oh, believe me, you’re not expected to. But I know the name, of your husband.” The who’s who of Imperial researchers. “I’m Brianne Landry. I just work for the Bank.” Pinning herself as an inconsequential civilian is a habit, especially among officers with rank. “It’s nice to meet you, Lyra. I thought perhaps you’d like to take a little respite.” Her tone is slightly hushed. “I know these events can be rather tiring.”

A pause. Bright eyes wander the noisy crowd falling on a group of naval officers before returning to her company. Her gaze dips briefly to the glass spinning in her hand before attempting simple conversation. "What are you drinking by the way? It looks much more appealing than this awfully dry wine I mistakenly chose.”

care to join me for a bit ? ( lyra )

                     for a long beat, that she’d been spoken to didn’t penetrate.   and in a flash, she’d realized, dark eyes darting until they settled upon the clear speaker.   lyra’s fingers clutched a little tighter about the stem of her glass, a nervous smile playing across her barely painted lips.   try as she might, she wasn’t able to completely shrug off the discomfort which came from attending more formal gatherings, typically feeling more out of place than even galen.   a cave worm without its cave even, an imposter in a flowing gown.

                     another moment passed before she fully broke from her stunned silence, a hesitant nod preceding a quiet,   ❝  thank you.  ❞     she sank down beside the stranger, fingertips spinning the glass slowly between them.   a silent, agonizing moment slipped by and then, lyra turned her gaze to the other woman.     ❝  i’m afraid i don’t know you…  i am lyra, doctor galen erso’s wife.  ❞

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Off to the side, the banker stands. Her posture pin straight, elbows bent, hands folded at her front, her body stilled in quiet observation of the quirky patron gawking at the endless rows of credits before nearly pressing her nose against the glass enclosure atop one of the objects stored there either collateral or under lock and key. Akin to a child entering a candy shop. The inventory would need a check to confirm the type of tech she’s identifying though she’s aware the vault is just as extensive as the bank’s top-of-the-line security. Another reason why stormtroopers surround the grounds and are stationed throughout the premises assuring protection. One could expect nothing less for the Bank of the Empire. 

Sight turns from her to the pyramidal object she pulls from the bag; curious in the red glow it emits. It’s unfortunate for Brianne, everything must be taken note of and remembered as potential information to pass onto Lady Qi’ra and her criminal operation. Crimson Dawn owns her and information is a quota she must meet. 

“We definitely should.” In a voice aimed to please, she answers just as high-heeled steps click clack back and behind the one row of credits to find an empty pedestal she could relieve of its square dome. Returning, she carefully places it atop the object; it clicks in place, a perfect fit. Stepping back, a hum sounds with her curiosity drawled after. “Does it just continue to glow like that?” To the deliverer, her gaze goes; a simple explanation for the question follows. “If so, it’ll need to be noted in the deposit report, among other general information as a need-to-know. Something we can take care of in my office. That is if you are pleased enough with its placement in the vault.”

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙰𝚃𝙸𝚂𝙵𝚈𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚂𝚆𝙸𝚂𝙷 𝙾𝙵 𝙰𝙽 𝙾𝙿𝙴𝙽 𝚅𝙰𝚄𝙻𝚃 never failed to make her grin, though it was rare that Aphra used the key. Truth be told, she was just as eager to see what lay inside. Normally she would have balked at the notion of being an errand girl – even for one as prestigious as Darth Vader – but this particular chore held a rare opportunity: a glance into one of the Empire’s most precious hiding spots. The doors had barely parted before the Doctor scurried in, eyes alight with curiosity.

“Whoa…”

A veritable trove of goodies awaited them inside. While she expected some amount of credits, the sheer scope that lined the walls nearly staggered her. Thousands ( maybe even hundreds of thousands! ) filled each available corner, stacked all prim and proper. In the middle of it all, pedestals topped with artifacts, each one a trophy of the Empire’s conquest. Aphra darted to the nearest one, leaning so close that her breath fogged the glass protector on top. 

“This looks like ascendant technology,” she breathed. Oh, how her fingers itched to take hold of the handle and take that baby for a spin. The only thing stopping her was the memory of Vader’s voice, a deep timbre that both intrsucted and threatened: ‘Touch nothing. Enable the security measures and go’. Reluctantly, she turned toward an empty mount. After a little rummaging in her bag, she removed a small, pyramid-shaped object, glowing with a menacing red energy. A holocron. What she wouldn’t give to see what lay inside it. Unfortunately for her, it only answered to the force, and not the whims of less-than-scrutable archaeologists. 

“You got anymore of those glass cube thingies?” she said over her shoulder, remembering for the first time she wasn’t alone. “I’d hate to see this thing get dusty.” 

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The click-clack of high heels sound rhythmically against polished white tiled floors. The lady’s measured steps are part poise, part tight pencil skirt, but are swift in taking her up and through the upper floors of the bank. Along the way, it’s hard not to notice pairs of employees whispering in mild intrigue, hinting at having just seen a small spectacle. The manager heard a VIP client is in need of the upper vault, she just wasn’t expecting a young woman looking like she’s seeking a bounty at a bar in Ord Mantell.

Regardless, she’s quick to the uptake, lobbing a disapproving look at another manager in the process. “Just a moment, miss.” The banker’s perpetually pleasant voice chimes before the code entered produces the loud clank and hiss of the unlocking mechanism, sliding the thick doors open after. “I’m so sorry if no one offered to help you with that.” Glance is spared at the object burdening her hands; it looks heavy. “Though there must be a need for your handling of it to assure a safe deposit.” An unmarked question before hand gracefully gestures for entry ( though she’s none less curious of what it is and who she is than everyone else ).

@prvtocol liked for a starter!

"𝚈'𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆, 𝙸𝚃'𝚂 𝙱𝙴𝙴𝙽 𝙰 𝙻𝙾𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴 since I went into a bank through the front door.” Working for Vader certainly had its perks, not least among them access to the highest echelons of the Imperial Galactic Bank. In her dusty boots and faded vest, Aphra was a splash of color and grime against the otherwise immaculate interior. She could have sworn even the droid wore an expression of incredulous contempt when she first presented her rank cylinder — and every manager after them. Finally, she was on the top floor, the city of Coruscant glittering outside a transparisteel wall behind them. 

“Well? Are you gonna open it?” she said, nodding to the vault. Aphra readjusted the bundle in her arms, a special deposit entrusted to her by Lord Vader himself. “The higher-up’s are eager to get this thing tucked away nice and safe.” 

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That joking remark effortlessly pairs with the young woman's nonchalant body language — a brandishing of youth and occupation combined. This smuggler is deemed brash before she even commences the deal. Nonetheless, Brianne's kind gaze is unwavering; sky-blue eyes quiet in observation. Her cheeks are slightly gaunt from age, her clothes all black, but somehow she exudes a solemn softness one wouldn’t expect, especially not from someone who needs to disappear.

Seventy-Seven, her BX-commando droid, sits static at her side; black chrome, cold eyes, always watching. Security is a necessity and easily afforded. The smile, brandished a bit late, acknowledges the joke to be polite. “Well, the company always matters more in those situations, doesn't it?" Out of anyone, the wealthy Aargauun knows this place is far from a spotless up-city bar on Coruscant. 

"Regardless, very glad you could make it. The package. May I see?” She gestures, knowing what's inside will ingratiate herself with an old acquaintance as she seeks reprieve from the chaos underway. // @stonesthrcw

@prvtocol liked for a starter ! ( f: kay vess )

>> Tansarii Point Station ━ can't say it was her favorite spot to be waylaid. sure the drinks were cheap and the local militias were either incompetent or ignorant enough to leave well enough alone. but on a list of must-see places in the mid-rim it was probably bottom of the list. surprisingly a system being an arms depot for several hundred years does not produce a particularly friendly environment.

━ but a vacation this was not. kay was set to meet with some-such loanshark money handler about a package she klept on the corellian run. ( surely if it was any value they would've bolted it down to the cargo bay. ) lucky for her she didn't have to wander too far to find an interested buyer. however, some such precognitive sense happened to tell her that such an out-of-the-way meeting likely wasn't over just one little stolen package.

the smuggler would sit down, adjacent from her contact. she'd flash a wily smirk as she juggled a mantellian coin between her fingers.

〝 rough place for a first date huh ? 〞she joked. kay was going to make it known that she really hated this place. especially after they axed the lunchtime special.