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Fandom Star Wars Scenes: Imperialism [Closed]

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Lucyfer

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Nemain Tarkin – Spira –9
Spira was an interesting planet.

It had plenty of activities to keep even the most hedonistic and corrupt senator entertained, and Nemain had started to realize it even at the precious age of nine, though to be fair, she noticed quite a lot of this even younger in the crystal shavings on ice cream that was stupidly decadent and absolutely tasteless.

Someone bought it for her, trying to impress her father. They forgot her father was Best Friends with the Tagge family. He didn’t need money. He didn’t need anyone showing off wealth. Was he going to stop people spending money on him? Of course not. Especially not a crime lord.

Sadly, it was not the crime lords they were there to see, but, according to Taranis Tarkin, “the idiots playing Imperial” from Wild Space, which sounded like a much more interesting place to visit, but no, they had to meet on neutral ground, rather than Wild Space. And neutral ground meant Spira, because that’s where Imperials and “fake Imperials” went, as well as criminals, rebels, and anyone else.

Sadly, Nemain wasn’t allowed to roam around, either. She would have gone to the aquarium that was literally underwater. “You have to go play with the fake Imperials.”

“Dancing isn’t playing.” Nemain countered.

“It can be, if you learn to dance well,” her father winked, something she wouldn’t understand until later in life – then dancing became very interesting, but right now, it sounded boring. “Trust me.”

“Fiiine,” she was walking alongside her younger brother, and younger sister, Aeron and Beatrix, who looked no more enthused, as well as her cousins – the elder Abelard and the one that was her age, Johann. “But I want to go to the aquarium after."

“Of course,” he always gave in easily, and the door to the dancing room slid open, revealing they were the first there – besides the instructor, who greeted her father warmly enough, and let the arrivals roam the area. Although it was technically dancing class, there was a meet-and-greet aspect to it, which always meant food.

Which meant Nemain went right to the food area to try and find the sweets, of which there were plenty.

“Want!” Beatrix, only four, made grabby hands at the table that was too high up for her.

“Want what?”

“Fruits! Fruits! Pleese?”

Nemain plucked fruit and gave it to her sister, as familiar faces piled in – including her partner in crime, Jensen Motti. She rushed up behind him almost immediately and almost tackled him to the ground as her arms wrapped around his shoulders – and then his neck. “ACK!” and down he fell, with her laughing, even if his fall was backwards, and she was still hanging on – and so fell as well.

Right on cue with the arrival of the Fake Imperials. The dancing instructor went to greet the adults – some dark woman with a streak of gray in her hair, and a blustering red-head.

The Elder Motti could only sigh in disgust (at the Order? At his brother and Nemain?) before going to join Nemain’s more judgmental cousin in the corner.

Nemain ignored him, looking immediately at the new arrivals as Jensen got himself back together and tried to quickly straighten out his suit. She didn’t bother getting up, but stayed laying down, eying them all rather more like a predator than any child had a right to look – but then again, nexu cubs were predators. One never got rid of that in a Tarkin.

“Hey, get up,” Jensen hissed at her, nudging her with his foot. She probably should have, laying out like that wasn't what good Imperials did for their image, but Nemain didn't care. It wasn't as if the blue dress wasn't spotless, without wrinkles. She hated it already. It needed mussed. At least it was short enough to show bruises and scratches on arms and legs -- well earned!

Still, she did sit up.

Standing was for suckers.
 

Xx-AhsokA TanO-xX

𝒯𝓇𝓊𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓃 = 𝒯𝓇𝓊𝑒 𝓅𝑒𝒶𝒸𝑒
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Armitage Hux - Spira - 11
Armitage was more than just annoyed. His mother, Rae Sloane, had a tendency to drag the young boy around on exclusive excursions, resolutely for powerful members of society. The family was of no excuse.

Spira was an extravagant planet. More boring than anything. There was nothing for the kids to do other than sit around quietly if they didn't want to be chastised later for loud behaviour.

As soon as the ship landed, there was a hushed silence when his mother appeared. The young boy just followed obediently behind her, not saying a word.

Armitage just stood quietly at the far corner of the room. The festivities and gambling were loud. The cantina was teeming with intoxicated Imperial officials. Events like these always gave the boy a certain edge, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. There were too many other rowdy children in the room.

He always had a determined, but also snobbish aura about him, never really sure when he was going to bore someone out of their mind or he was going to have a good conversation.

Armitage tended to stay quiet. More quiet than anyone else in the room. Technically, he might even ignore someone if they're speaking directly to him. He just didn't have the most respect for other people.

It was in his blood.

The boy sat down with his blue milk in hand, the only thing that the tender would serve the kids. While it might have been an Imperial gesture to give kids liquor of sorts, this was a prestigious event.

He just hoped that he wouldn't have to speak to anyone during the event. He just wanted to go home, back where he could hang out with his pet Tusk Cat, which he, very characteristically, named Tusk.

 

Lucyfer

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‘Think. Your father has goals here. Think.’

Nemain had snapped back into that mode of recalling she actually had a purpose here as soon as the strangers – the Fake Imperials – walked in. Names began to associate themselves with some faces. Rae Sloane was the only one her father had considered important, even in the face of names like Pryde and Brooks.

‘Sloane has no kids.’ There’d be no gathering information that way, then.

That was all well and good. Nemain was unlikely to have selected any children from Sloane as her eyes went over those who arrived. All resolute, disciplined, and boring people from what she gathered, but one broke off from the others.

Either the weakest link, or the strongest.

It at least got Nemain up as Sloane and the blustering red-head, ‘How’s he important?’ walked off to go join the Actual Imperials, satisfied with whatever conversation had passed between them and the instructor to accept that they could go to this semi-formal event and try to wheedle their way into the good graces of the Tarkins, the Tagges, the Mottis, the Yularens, and everyone who really mattered.

Not that Nemain was biased. “Be back!” she touched Jensen’s shoulder before darting away, as some of the others walked over to introduce themselves to the group, and figure things out – led not by Abelard, but Johann.

Nemain went to where the strange boy isolated himself with his blue milk, and of course, said the first thing to pop into her head, “Your hair’s pretty,” no, not biased at all. “I’m Nemain,” she didn’t bother with her last name. He knew it, or he didn’t, and she rather hoped he didn’t, because the people who immediately sucked up to it were tiresome. She’d rather see who he was, first. “You’re not gonna get out of mingling over here, you know. They’re gonna make us all dance ‘cause it’s what polite society does to mingle, even though polite society is boring and never polite.”
 

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𝒯𝓇𝓊𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓃 = 𝒯𝓇𝓊𝑒 𝓅𝑒𝒶𝒸𝑒
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So informal.

There were unruly children running around everywhere. Armitage felt highly uncomfortable in this sort of setting, especially since there were really no kids who took any acknowledgement of his presence at the event. He felt like a stranger lost in an unfamiliar city.

Until she showed up, of course.

The girl, Nemain, just rambled on, not taking any particular consideration that Armitage was, in fact, not really paying attention. His focus span was minimal. Of course, the boy had no idea who anyone at the party was, so he didn't know which Imperial family Nemain belonged to. Not that it mattered to him in any way, but it clearly mattered to everyone else.

"My name is Armitage Hux. A pleasure to make your acquaintance." His tone was always so much more formal than most other kids his age. He'd been taught when he was younger to "always speak formally because you never know who you are talking to". It was habit.

The pleasantries had not appeared particularly pleasant to the boy as his gaze darted around the room.

"I can mingle if I please to do so, but as of yet, I have no reason to."

He avoided the girl's eyes as much as he could. He hated making eye contact. Especially with people he didn't know.
 

Lucyfer

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‘Hux.’ That was a name that Nemain knew. Not one she was supposed to be fond of – Brendol Hux was the name tied to that family, and known to have been in charge of raising up children into the Empire on…okay, Nemain forgot the planet. But she remembered her father thought he was a child-killer. ‘How does he have a kid?’ well maybe it wasn’t Brendol’s kid. Maybe it was a cousin of Brendol. Wilhuff wasn’t her grandfather or anything.

Still, the name did bring a frown she didn’t bother hiding, but she wouldn’t assume Armitage was as bad. He probably was, but maybe in a different, fun way, which was absolutely not the sane way to think, but when your family legacy was destroying a planet, you learned to accept a lot of messed of things in other people pretty easily.

Besides, he was scared.

Maybe not of her, but of all of this. He couldn’t even meet her gaze, the poor little gra!

“Sure you do! You’re trying to impress the future of your enemies or your allies – that should be all the reason in the world to mingle, ‘Tage!” Nicknaming him ‘Armie’ sounded too much like, well, Army. Tage was right there! But maybe Mit? Mitty? Decisions, decisions. Mit didn’t seem right. Too close to ‘Mite’. Tage it was!

But she didn’t try to drag him out of his corner just yet. Instead, she took a seat, solidifying her ‘staying around’ status, likely to his annoyance, but the instructor was letting everyone else mingle and get to know each other, so she had time to waste. “What kind of important thing would make you want to mingle with people if not the entire fate of the galaxy?” of course she was dramatizing it, and her grin showed as much, but she was curious.
 

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The way the Nemain talked to Armitage was so informal. It almost made him uncomfortable, but not quite. When he was younger, he had a habit of making -- granted, unknowingly -- rude comments about people. He was just being honest, but clearly people didn't like it. He refrained from calling her out.

That nickname did it for him. "Tage," he mumbled to himself inaudibly. He'd never had a nickname before, as the only name he'd been referred to as was either Armitage or Hux. That was it. His eyes turned towards the room once more, his gaze colder than ice.

There was no way he would let this girl talk so informally to him. It was just not appropriate for someone who was of such importance.

"You should probably talk more formally.. this is a prestigious event after all." His voice was quiet when he spoke, almost as if he was debating on whether he should actually say the words while he was speaking them.

Armitage knew his father would be coming to the event later, so that was what had him on edge.

His father hated the boy. And he hated his father.
 

Lucyfer

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Nemain saw the way that Armitage’s lips moved over the nickname, even if she couldn’t hear him repeat it. No, instead he simply suggested she ought to be more formal, which caused her to roll her eyes. Formality. ‘That’s for people you hate.’ Or that was as much as her father said. People she hated, and very particular situations where you were making an impression in front of millions, and that impression was also very particular. As she understood it, the impression was ‘not someone to mess with’.

That wasn’t the impression she was trying to make here.

Her sigh was overly dramatic, not only for a child of her age, but for the situation she was being exasperated over. Yet, the sigh was enough to click everything painfully into place in her head, if only for the sake of proving she could. “If you insist on formality, you shall have it, Cadet Hux,” everything about her changed in the instant, her voice, her posture, even the glint in her eye.

That wasn’t gone, but it was tinged with something not quite nice. “Although you ought to know, I reserve formality for people I dislike, and I did not wish to dislike you, but if it is what you like, I will try not to let it rub off on how I think of you…no promises.”

Of course, before she could suggest anything else, they were approached, and she canted her head up at the eldest Tagge, Yelena Tagge, with someone she didn’t know, so of course, another First Order cadet. “Apprentice Legislature Tarkin,” Yelena was formal, “Cadet Canady wanted to meet you, as does Cadet Delano.”

‘Canady. Some sort of naval officer?’ Not that the Cadet was a naval officer, just the child of one. Delano rang no bells.

“Yes, we would all like to, Apprentice Tark—”

“Apprentice Legislature, or did you mishear Lady Tagge?”

Canady swallowed. “Apprentice Legislature,” he corrected, “My apologies, it’s such a mouthful, I—”

“A well earned one,” she cut him off with ease again, “but yes, I’ll come meet the rest of you, I’ve gotten bored.” She slid off her chair, posture as straight and strong as any Imperial could want despite her stature. She was back to formality, she may as well stick with it since now she had to mingle properly if she ever wanted to get this over with and go to the aquarium.

“No, the bastard isn’t worth much,” Canady sympathized, “Despite having a kitchen wench for a mother, apparently he’s no good at even carrying drinks, and he spends all his time with his cat….”

“Cat?” Nemain turned back to Armitage, “You did not tell me you had a cat, ‘Tage,” formality dropped, “My father won’t let me have any pets, and I’ve tried.”

Canady looked a bit taken aback.
 

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