As Velyn’s fingertips feathered the Conference Hall entrance, she was halted by an alluring paradox of insult and flattery. Velyn recognized this voice; to turn around would be to spoil the surprise. Ringing throughout the convocation chamber, with a coaxing and commanding tone, this voice belonged to a politician well-seasoned in the practices of speech. Velyn had examined Senator Wayanna Tsu from afar and had preferred to keep that way, admitting to herself that she still had not quite figured out the senator on her own terms. The exchanging of traditions, language, dress, etc. between the representatives to establish simple similarities was common, the Senate was too much a wealth of culture to not learn from other species and races. Even more common was the “fleshing-out” of each representative by one another. Every bit of information was valuable in the creation of the whole personality, which then, could hopefully be conjectured enough to relate to some figure from the respective Senator’s planetary government. From there, social strategies could be applied that were used in the past on the counterpart. Amata said that this system was not used by all Senators. Since it was a basic social function of any being, Amata was sure that many people did apply it to their political relationships. She had acknowledged that Velyn was a good predictor of an entire person given only a few hints, and therefore encouraged her to use her analytical talents to work her way through the foggy territory of the Galactic Senate. The negative of this system was that lies were hard to uncover, so predictions and instincts could be wrong. False faces were never-ending and the truth was buried deep. Velyn soon realized that uprooting the true inner-self of a senator didn’t matter as much as observing their consistent patterns of action. That was the best way to conceive how to react accordingly. The truth can only hide so long behind masks and silver lips before it emerges in print and past grinding molars.
This Echani Senator… there was too much of her still in shadow to make any solid judgments. What Velyn knew was that Wayanna’s manipulative power was equivalent to the highest Hapan nobles. It did not take much to see how at a flick of her wrist, men went scattering to please her or at how a single well-worded proposal sent the Senatorial conferences into a frenzy. Was it Wayanna’s beauty, intelligence, or a deadly combination of both that had given her such a high place in the Senate? Velyn found manipulation an admirable, but tainted way to get people to do what you wanted. Not that she hadn’t used it before, it was the lifeblood of her planet. It inadvertently stated that the opinions and the desires of the predator were superior to that of the prey and being too much of a diplomat, Velyn shunned the practice. Years in military service had taught her to respect the ideas of her peers and to have a sense of responsibility to common welfare. To manipulate was to gain control of the mind of someone else and likely consume ideas that would never be voiced or realized. What if they offered something to the collective? You would never know because those ideas would be replaced in their mind by your own. The strategy should be used strictly when the predator is absolutely sure of their purpose. A predator who is always sure their ideas are infallible is a fool. Was it not true the fools ran the galaxy?
This “moral-philosophical meandering”, as Amata called it, was a poison to Velyn’s political progress. Velyn did it often and secretly never rid herself of the habit. She did not view it as moral or philosophical at all - it was logic. Intellect would always be confused as morality and not just in the Hapan Consortium. Fortunately, Velyn knew that intelligence lead to power, real power, that lasted longer than power gained by idiots. If this belief made her an idealist, then so be it. Morality had nothing to do with it.
Velyn glanced at the door before turning around, not trying to seem too eager to have been stopped from exiting the conference hall. The high Hapan tilt of her chin and arrogant raised ribcage was unmistakable as she faced Wayanna. It was a tradition and a defense technique that occurred between two females when conversing, no matter if the content was loving or malicious, or if the woman one was speaking to was one's mother or an enemy. This tradition and mandatory way of greeting, along with numerous other requirements of behavior, was enforced upon young Hapan girls as soon as they could walk. If forgotten, the perpetrator would be punished physically. At dinners and events, should a young girl not fulfill all proper standards, her family would be greatly shamed and possibly removed from Hapan nobility. Jewelry, muscles, breasts, shoulders, were all displayed to intimidate a challenger or salute a friend. In Hapes, beauty was the main weapon between opposing females and the human notion that it was used to attract men was obsolete. Velyn's body did this unconsciously. If Wayanna was offended by her, or even see the difference in body language (many women of the Senate carried themselves that way), Velyn would not understand why. She took a step closer to Wayanna, her crystal earrings swaying against the light skin of her neck and jawline.
“I would never wish to appear weak in your eyes, Senator Tsu.” Velyn said, as she gathered the folds of her gown in either hand and curtsied before the higher Senator, looking down at the floor. Would Wayanna recognize the mockery behind Velyn’s softly-humbled tone, respectful bow, and lowered head? It was excessively bold, verging on stupid, to center that implication in her mind while speaking to Wayanna, but Velyn couldn’t resist the adrenaline of such an sumptuous risk. It was not an insult to Wayanna, it was an invitation or a means of testing the familiar waters between the two of them; did the Echani woman find the ridiculous pettiness of much of the senate as redundant as she did? There was something about this woman that had her entranced, even beyond the elegant white gown, exotic pale hair, and dark red eyes. Her beauty, properly shaded, would undoubtedly be welcomed in her homeworld. It was too bad that she had not had the honor of being born in the bright world of Hapes; Wayanna’s power, if not for her coloring, would be most appealing to many of the women on Velyn’s home planet.
“If you would allow me to confess, however,” Velyn began, her eyes locking directly with Wayanna's, “this much blatant, moronic scheming and poor conversation in one place has made me nauseous.” The drunken cavorting and loud music of the crowded party seemed to fade, leaving the two senators alone in a silent void. The urge to look around to see who was within earshot of them was confined to a single quick glance of Velyn's gray eyes, a slightly embarrassing, but necessary precaution that Velyn took as a new senator (and military veteran) that she was certain Wayanna would notice. Smiling, Velyn whispered, taking full advantage of the privacy that Wayanna had initiated by removing some of the distance between them, “There is not a greater, larger demon, than the one that has been enjoying your company this evening. Let‘s hope he‘s not immortal.” The burn of treason on Velyn’s tongue was hot and delicious like Corellian brandy.
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