#and before some people forget to breathe...discussions or posting propaganda without realizing it because you dont know it is or...

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

A general thing ...

If you post Russian propaganda or their talking points under my posts - it gets deleted and depending on what you post, you also get blocked. And no, I'm not going to discuss this with you. Also save your time from getting angry about it in my message box. I delete it and block you.

So eiter stop posting Russian propaganda and touch some grass. Or fuck off.

And yes, this includes all aspects of Russian propaganda. I don' care if we talk about Ukraine or history or propaganda about the people involved.

[angstmongertina]

The Republic and the Unmasking (Sartoris!verse, implied Jace/Satele)

Whoops, I meant to post this earlier but then I went out dancing. My bad. :P

Have some Sartoris-verse Republic silliness surrounding Darth Marr’s unmasking! Plot and Kryn belong to @inquisitorhotpants who always graciously lets me play in her sandbox. <3

By the time the Imperial strike team leaves Tython, Satele is already expecting some formal announcement as to Vitiate’s successor. After all, the Empire would not be much of one without an emperor, and it doesn't take a Force user to predict the name that must be passed along as said successor, given the current state of the galaxy.

Apparently, and yet woefully unsurprisingly, Saresh does not expect the announcement as much as she does. That is clear enough at the Supreme Chancellor’s bitter expression when she enters the office to find Darth Marr’s acceptance broadcast playing in full color and sound.

Jace is already waiting there, his somewhat pinched look softening to genuine warmth and, once Saresh redirects her gaze back to the screen, an eyeroll the size of which he has only ever saved for their dealings with Saresh. She tilts an eyebrow at him, both a sign of amusement and a silent question, and his lips curl into a hint of a smirk. “Just in time.” He nods towards the broadcast as Marr makes his way into view of the screen. “Pushing it close, are we, Grand Master?”

Satele can only shake her head in response as she settles into a more comfortable position, clasping her hands loosely in front of her. Jace, exasperation expressed, at least for now, shifts to settle beside her, his arms folded across his chest. Meanwhile, Saresh is getting increasingly more irate, judging from her posture and the tight grip she has on her glass, and from the corner of her eye, Satele can see Jace subtly counting down from ten.

He has barely reached six when Marr references the Republic and Saresh’s snifter makes contact with her desk so loudly that it is a small miracle it doesn't shatter. “Of course. We can’t have one speech where we don’t impugn the Republic. That might get in the way of our propaganda.”

Satele turns on reflex, knowing without a doubt that Jace is prepared to say something that may very well threaten his position in the Republic military once again. The shake of her head is met with an expression of such forced innocence that she cannot quite resist an affectionate eyeroll of her own.

She regrets it instantly when he grins triumphantly, turns his attention back to Saresh, in the process of pouring what may well be her third serving of Alderaanian brandy, and raises his eyebrows in a show of what she would call mild incredulity on anyone else. “It seems a bit early in the day for that much brandy, does it not, Supreme Chancellor?”

Before Saresh can formulate a response, their attention is caught by Darth Marr’s movement as he unmasks and Satele is not sure if she has ever before been so thankful for the Sith’s timing. Beside her, Jace stiffens with some surprise and… is that satisfaction she senses?

Her thoughts are distracted from musing on Jace’s odd response as their Supreme Chancellor harrumphs her way through the rest of the speech, at least until pure outrage replaces Saresh’s disgust at the proposal to name Darth Nox his empress. Then again, considering her own interactions with the woman in question, Satele cannot quite blame the woman; she, at least, has earned the grudging respect of the Sith in question, while their Chancellor has earned only derision.

By the time the new to-be Emperor and Empress leave and the screen goes to black, signaling the end of the transmission, the bottle of brandy is mostly empty and Satele is beginning to wonder whether there is a polite way of requesting that Saresh take the rest of the day off before some truly horrendous diplomatic fiasco can occur. Saresh can be painfully blunt on even the best of days, to put it mildly, and after this show from the Empire…

She really doesn't even want to think about it. The conference following the Imperial-Hutt treaty is still burned into her memory as a time when, regardless of what Jace said, the Republic was unnecessarily close to a conflict it was not ready for.

Meanwhile, Jace apparently is trying to put his career in jeopardy once more; his datapad chimes and he answers it with surprising vigor, blithely ignoring the baleful look that Saresh casts in his direction. The suspicion in her expression only increases when he smirks, satisfaction clear in his every movement. “Well, Satele, where would you like to go for dinner? Someplace nice? I just won…” he pauses, pulling out the pad again, “400,000 credits, apparently.”

She blinks. “Sorry?”

He grins with a gratified, childlike mirth, gesturing to the black screen and completely disregarding Saresh’s mounting fury.

It takes another moment before she realizes. “Jace Malcom, you did not.”

Jace shrugs. “The bets were in place long before today. Made during the war, I think.” He chuckles a little. “I am surprised they even remembered, honestly. But pleasantly so. What will it be, then, Grand Master?”

She shoots him a sour look. “I do not require any fancy outings, and particularly not with such ill-gotten earn—”

The chime of another datapad, this time from her side, cuts her off, and Jace’s eyes widen almost comically large. “What? How dare you?! And the Jedi Grand Master to boot. What would the rest of the Order say?”

She pointedly does not respond to his goading, instead turning her attention to the notification. A cheerful message informs her of her winnings, totaling 300 credits, alongside a short note. “I had to once I knew what Marr was planning and I am sure I was not the only one tempted to. I do hope people are around when you see this. No need to return the favor; the mental image was payment enough. —Nox”

She sighs, loudly enough that Jace raises an eyebrow at her. “Well?”

“It seems the new Empress has a strange sense of humor.” She blinks slowly; it is harder than she thought to keep her voice entirely smooth. “Quite frankly, Commander, I had half-expected it to be from you.”

“Me? How could you suspect me of such a thing? Though, you know, just because you say it is from Nox is not actually proof. You could just be prevaricating to throw me off the trail.”

Has it always been so hard to remain calm when Jace is relentless? She takes a deep breath, willing herself into serenity. “Indeed, but there is no purpose in such a endeavor in the first place. Gambling itself is simply foolish.”

“If you two are quite finished? I am certain you both have work.” Saresh’s voice, surprisingly civil considering the situation, cuts Jace off before he can continue to gloat and Satele nods, thankful for the interruption.

“Yes, apologies, Supreme Chancellor. I am certain that there is much to discuss but we can do so at a later date.”

Saresh’s lips thin more than she thought was even possible. “Indeed. I trust you can show yourselves out.”

“Gladly.” She leaves the room, Jace at her heels, and turns to head back to her office within the Senate building. But first…

“Before I forget, Supreme Commander.” She glances over her shoulder, waiting until she sees Jace’s inquisitive expression. “I will see you at the Thranta’s Respite tonight? My treat.”

He laughs, warm and full. “Very well then. Let’s say at six?”

She finally gives into the smile that has been tugging at the corners of her mouth for longer than she cares to admit. “I look forward to it. See you then.”