Private A Snag in the Pattern

[Madrona A’Mia]

She was suddenly still again, watching him with a faint smile, statuesque and unnervingly focused in. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what had shifted, but the tone of their talk was no longer merely conversational. There was a new weight to A'Mia's words — finally, they'd reached the crux of it all. The neti's eyes were alight as if a specific pattern of the Weave had just revealed itself to her.

"Long time, indeed…" the woman answered with a faint sense of mirth.

"Millennia."

A'Mia let the word hang for a moment, it's gravity needing no other emphasis. Then she continued in an almost sing song, words staccato and underlined by inflection as finally she wove a vision for him of how her mind worked.

"Several millennia, in fact. The lifespan of most other sentients? A mere season in comparison. As you might imagine, neti experience and think about the passage of time differently than most. I am particularly predisposed to playing the long game, as the saying goes."

Finally the woman broke her eerie stillness and leaned forward, long fingered hands steepling before her.

"The likes of figures such as Darth Carnifex , Mercy , or Taeli Raaf — the ways that those individuals shape the galactic landscape is certainly noteworthy. For our earlier analogy, they are major players are they not? Even one such as Corazona von Ascania , fleeting as her light may be, is someone currently poised to affect the greater galactic ecosystem in significant ways."

Her smile was a cold thing, not because of deceit or hidden motive. No, in that moment there wasn't an ounce of guile in her. She was dispassionate in the way that nature so often was — detached from the minutiae of pithy passions and instead moved by grander forces akin to the four winds or alignment of distant celestial bodies.

"So I singled you out, summoned you here to speak with me that I might glean if you're a piece destined for the game board. I'm open to the possibility that you're made of sterner stuff than that. Maybe you'll be a major player, not just some pawn. Regardless, I intend to know if you're to have some meteoric rise. Offering even, to help you on your way."

A'Mia paused then, having given him quite enough to mull over and respond to.

Acier Moonbound​

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Desevro

Equipment:
Acolyte Robes| Lightsaber | Cybernetic Arm

Ace blinked once at her answer. He'd expected centuries, not millennia. It reframed her instantly. The distance in her tone, the way she spoke about people like passing weather, the quiet detachment he'd picked up on earlier... none of it was affectation. It was perspective. Time stretched so far ahead of her that everything else inevitably shrank.

His eyes lingered on her a second longer than before, measuring again. A'Mia was more dangerous because of it. Not more dangerous in the way most Sith were, but something else entirely. The kind of threat that didn't need to win today to win eventually. He wondered, briefly, how old she actually was.

When she began listing names, his attention sharpened again.

Darth Carnifex.
Mercy.
Taeli Raaf.

Two of those names weren't just distant figures to him. He'd seen what they could do. Felt the weight they carried in the galaxy. His jaw tightened slightly, almost imperceptibly, as he turned those encounters over in his mind against what she was saying. Major players.

Then, she brought up Corazona von Ascania. There was a flicker of pause, subtle but there. Fatine's name didn't follow it, but it didn't need to. Same blood. Same orbit. He didn't know much about her sister, not really... but if someone like A'Mia was placing her on that board… That meant something.

Ace said nothing. He just watched her. A'Mia spoke without hesitation or heat, like she was outlining a natural law rather than making a pitch. It clicked into place piece by piece. This wasn't curiosity. It was evaluation. Investment. She wasn't asking what he was. She was deciding if he was worth anything.

Silence stretched a moment longer after she finished. Ace didn't rush to fill it. His gaze drifted slightly, unfocused for a moment, not on her, but somewhere past the room entirely.

His father. The circumstances of his own birth... and what that made Ace, whether he liked it or not. On paper… yeah. He fit. Power. Bloodline. Timing. All the right ingredients for someone the galaxy would eventually start orbiting.

He shook his head once, small but firm, and looked back at her.

"I don't want people looking to me. I'm not interested in being anyone's patsy either."

There was an edge to his voice now. Not raised, but harder and more grounded.

"Far as I'm concerned, I'd rather clear the whole board. Let people be what they want to be. Not what they're pushed into. Not what 'destiny' or circumstance decides for them."

Madrona A’Mia​