Private A Snag in the Pattern

[Madrona A’Mia]

Desevro
Sith Covenant Academy
Newly Installed Greenhouse

​

The arboreal woman had made herself at home quickly. Such was the way with her, wherever she made landfall in a place where allies abound, the woman laid down roots to continue to spread her influence and garner new footholds for Spore Industries. A'Mia's purpose here though, on Desevro amongst Sith kin of a different stripe from the Order, was to teach the next generation. Having been more than accommodated, the neti quickly put herself to service on the icy planet and promptly set up a double insulated greenhouse just outside Academy grounds.

It was a frigid walk from campus proper to her little abode and workshop away from home, but she found that exposure to the elements was good for students. It sharpened their minds and kept them moving. She'd only hosted a few courses so far, but attended half a dozen elsewhere within their curriculum.

A few students had caught her attention, standing out for various reasons, but one in particular had drawn her curious eye. Acier Moonbound . Though not perhaps for the reason most Lords look to students, weighing their value in terms of power or as tools to be wielded. She was interested in imparting knowledge, yes, but more than that she was intrigued to know his story. Something about him, about the way in which he appeared within the Weave to her unusual senses, it bore exploration. It also didn't hurt that she could see an energetic bond of some kind forming between the young man and one whom she now considered kin, Lysander von Ascania

So she'd summoned the stern young man, instructing him on time and place, and now A'Mia prepared for their meeting as any professor might set up for office hours. Her office just so happened to be a lush greenhouse with a tea table at the center of overgrown verdancy.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Desevro

Equipment:
Acolyte Robes| Lightsaber | Cybernetic Arm

The walk from the Academy proper was longer than he'd expected. Ace didn't mind. Desevro's cold bit through the air with a sharp edge. Then the greenhouse came into view.

The temperature shift hit first, warmth bled through the seals, carrying the scent of living things. Soil. Moist leaves. Something faintly floral that didn't belong to any catalogued spice or incense he'd encountered. Ace slowed without meaning to as he stepped inside.

Green. Actual green. It shouldn't have mattered, but it did. It always did. Growing up on an industrial world trained you to think of nature as a fantasy. Here, it was real. Vines curled where they pleased. Leaves overlapped without symmetry. Life existed without asking to be useful.

Ace always took the time to appreciate whenever he was in the presence of real nature. Then he noticed her. Tall. Willowy. Skin like polished bark, deep red-brown and textured in a way that caught the light unevenly. Her hair... if it could be called that, was braided vines, pale green and alive in a way that made his Force senses itch. Her eyes held no pupils, just luminous blue-green pools that felt less like sight and more like attention.

Ace had seen a lot of species, but he'd never seen a Neti in person. He kept his posture neutral, hands relaxed at his sides, gaze steady but respectful. Curiosity flickered, then settled.

He stopped a few steps in, letting the door seal behind him, the cold of Desevro left outside.

"Professor." He said, measured, acknowledging her role without presumption. "You wanted to see me?"

Madrona A’Mia ​

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

Her eyes were upon him the moment he entered, her form still and unmoving, gaze unblinking. In that moment of pause between recognition and introduction, the woman might have been a statue. Then she stepped with graceful movements, as if social niceties were all part of some greater dance, and gestured to the table ahead of them which was set with a pleasantly steaming teapot and two simple cups.

"Why yes, though seeing you is only half as interesting as conversing with you I think. I've summoned you here to interview you and to allow you to interview me in turn, if you wish."

A'Mia made her way to the table and sat, her robes giving her movements a rather fluid look. She waited expectantly, pouring tea for him and then herself. The botanical oasis around them thrumming with life even as subzero temperatures outside tried to seep through the greenhouse insulation.

"Initial reports from your peers and professors would have me believe that your martial prowess is well on its way towards mastery. However, I've heard little to none about other skills or abilities we might be seeking to hone on your educational journey."

There wasn't an outright question yet, but she paused and allowed space in the conversation to see if he'd fill it or how he might react.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Desevro

Equipment:
Acolyte Robes| Lightsaber | Cybernetic Arm

Ace's eyes went to the table as she poured tea into the two cups. He didn't move to sit. Not yet. Instead, he remained standing just inside the greenhouse's warmer pocket, close enough to engage, far enough to disengage if needed.

Her words rolled out smoothly. Interview. Mutual. An invitation framed as equality always meant someone thought they already had the advantage. Ace didn't answer right away. The notion scratched at him. An interview that went both ways. That alone made him suspicious. Sith didn't invite questions unless they were testing something... or someone. A small, quiet part of his mind wondered if this was about more than curiosity. If she suspected. If this was a temperature check. Shadows didn't announce themselves, but people still learned to recognize the chill.

He listened as she continued, as she spoke of reports and professors and his so called progress. Martial prowess. Always that. The blade. The body. The visible things. When she noted what hadn't been said about him, he gave no reaction at all. No correction or defense.

Instead, he studied her, and not just with his eyes. Her Thread within the Force didn't behave the way he expected. It wasn't sharp or heavy or oppressive. It branched. Wove. Her presence threaded outward like roots searching for purchase, steady and patient. He could feel the line of her, distinct but not invasive, like she was part of the environment rather than imposed upon it.

Different. Interesting in a way that made him more cautious, not less.

When he finally spoke, his voice was even, like always.

"Covenant doesn't care about anything else." He said. "Just my 'martial prowess'."

The words sat between them as silence followed. A measured silence. Then Ace exhaled and moved toward the table. He took the seat opposite her, slow and deliberate, as if choosing to do so rather than being drawn in. Only then did he glance at the cup set for him, though he didn't touch it yet.

"There's a lot of Acolytes here." He continued, gaze lifting back to her. "So why me? Why not someone like Lysander. Or Varin. Or Ghruna." His mouth twitched, just barely. "Even the psychopath, Neriah."

Madrona A’Mia​

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

She watched him watching her, recognition dawning that he too had a way of seeing that which was more than physical. Though the form that sight took? Well, that was part of what she sought to discover.

Finely carved eyebrows rose slightly at the mention that the Covenant only cared about his combat abilities, but also in surprise at just how calm and muted his affect was. She was used to students of all stripes, of course, but Acier appeared particularly even-keeled, if a bit overtly cautious. A'Mia didn't fault him for that, though; it was generally a trait that kept young Sith alive.

Reaching for the cup before her with both hands, A'Mia cradled it between red-brown palms, not yet sipping though as the drink still appeared to be scalding. She gave almost no outward sign, but his final words inspired mirth in her. Those strange, pupil-less eyes roamed his face for a moment, as if searching for something bone deep, before she turned her gaze to their surroundings for a time.

"Lysander and Varin are both well known to me; their academic careers are rather advanced at this point."

She said nothing of Spore Industries, deciding that her blonde associate might have reason to want their business connection to fly under the radar.

"I turn the question back upon you. Why not you? Do you think so little of yourself, Acier? Or… is there something you'd rather not be put to scrutiny?"

Pointedly, she still wasn't looking at him. The neti was, however, tuned in to the subtleties of his reactions all the same. Aware of his heart rate and awaiting how her words might land.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Desevro

Equipment:
Acolyte Robes| Lightsaber | Cybernetic Arm

Ace registered the names without reacting.​

​

Well known to me.​

​

That phrasing mattered. It implied history - attention sustained over time. Whatever A'Mia was measuring, Lysander and Varin were already plotted points on her map.​

​

When she turned the question back on him, something in Ace tightened. Not much, but it was enough. If she was as perceptive as she seemed, she'd notice it in the micro-shift of his posture.​

​

He didn't answer right away. His gaze dropped instead, settling on the cup in front of him. Steam still curled off the surface, faint and persistent. He watched it for a second longer than necessary. Then he shrugged, a small, almost careless motion.​

​

"Neither." He said at last. "I'm just used to the idea that when someone in the Covenant takes an interest in me, they usually want something."​

​

He didn't say more than that. Nar Shaddaa flickered briefly through his mind. Windrun had been using him as her own personal living knife to be pointed and loosed into the underworld.​

​

Lysander, too, though in a different way. Fists exhanged crossed in the training halls, or Thrantin, conversations circling philosophy and intent, Ace less a peer than a surface to test ideas against. A sparring partner. A sounding board. Tools came in many shapes.​

​

Ace fell quiet again, attention drifting back to the tea. The surface trembled faintly as heat escaped. He remembered the thud of the beanbag round striking his ribs without warning, the way the Covenant favored lessons that arrived through impact rather than explanation. Pain. Disorientation. Surprise. All framed as education. They tested acolytes in ways that didn't always announce themselves.​

​

His fingers moved closer to the cup, stopping just short of contact. He looked up again, meeting A'Mia's gaze.​

​

"What's in the tea?"​

​

Madrona A’Mia ​

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

Her eyes fell back upon Acier and she leaned in slightly at the tensing of his form, as if attempting to understand the shape of his unease. A'Mia took in his explanation as a tree drinks sunlight, preparing to practice her most radical honesty with the boy even if she wouldn't be totally transparent. She waited though and let the conversation breathe, aware that trampling forward now would garner the opposite results she sought.

Finally, the student spoke again and asked a most prudent question indeed. A'Mia smiled then, the expression not quite reaching her eyes. Leaning back in her chair a bit, taking the intensity of her focus from him, she answered.

"Flight fern and meadowsweet, a traditional medicine and herbal tea. Used by several cultures for alacrity in conversation and inspiration of the mind. It's mildly psychoactive and really rather delicious."

With that, she took a sip of her drink and demonstrated she had no intention of serving something to him that she wouldn't also imbibe in. Though her response was completely true, she failed to mention the sliding scale that accompanied the qualifier of "mildly".

A'Mia continued on, voice bright and pleasant now, truly conversational if still a bit instructive. Her eyes returned to his face again, measuring his next moves as one might read their opponent in sabacc.

"As to the rest, I've stated my interest. To learn more about a promising student. Though I'll admit your caution is warranted, as few people are so forthcoming about their intentions. Perhaps you wish to ask your peers about me before we continue this interview?"

One curious brow rose, the neti wanted to know what putting the power of so many choices back in his hands would yield.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Desevro

Equipment:
Acolyte Robes| Lightsaber | Cybernetic Arm

Ace listened without interrupting as she explained the tea, attention fixed on the cup as if it might say something back.

Mildly psychoactive.

The phrase landed wrong. The way she said it so casually, like it was meant to be reassuring. To Ace, it sounded a lot like inebriation dressed up in academic language. A softening of edges. A loosening of filters. For most people, that was harmless. For him, control was safety. Control was how you stayed alive. Anything that nudged at that, even gently, set his instincts humming.

He watched her when she lifted the cup and drank, watched the ease of it. The lack of hesitation. The quiet confidence in the act. That helped, a little... but not enough. She could afford it. He wasn't convinced he could. Not when he carried so many secrets.

"That sounds a lot like being high." He said dryly, eyes still on the steam curling from his untouched cup. "Thanks, but I think I'll pass."

He didn't push the tea away. Just didn't claim it. For a moment, he became acutely aware of the way she watched him watching her. The realization settled in without surprise, of course she was analyzing him. Measuring reactions. Cataloging restraint. He'd been doing the same since he walked in. Two observers circling the same data from different angles.

When she spoke again, about her interest, about his caution being warranted, about the option to ask others; Ace lifted his gaze back to her and shook his head once.

"It's fine." He said. "I don't need to ask."

What he didn't say was that he'd already learned enought from this room than he would from Lysander of Varin. Reliably anyway. From the tea. From the silence. From the way she offered him choice and watched what he did with it.

After a beat, he exhaled, some of the tension easing - not gone, just managed.

"Okay." He added, blunt and uncomplicated. "You wanted to interview me. Go ahead."

He leaned back slightly in his chair, hands relaxed, attention forward.

Madrona A’Mia​

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

Their proverbial circling of one another soon settled into calm watchfulness from both parties. Depending on how perceptive the young man was, he might even realize there was more than one source of watchfulness scattered throughout the greenhouse. A'Mia gave no outward sign but silently she approved of the way Acier held himself in the face of choice and unknown variables. His refusal of the tea was not surprising per se but it was interesting, and the arboreal woman didn't seem at all offended by his choice. She took another sip of hers and set the cup down, mirroring his body language for a time— sitting back but watchful, posture pristine.

"So many paths we could tread…" she murmured, holding so still she might be a statue.

Only the liquid sheen of her eyes gave her away as a living creature for a time. They'd started cautiously, A'Mia extending the semblance of autonomy to the wary student. Why not continue with what was working.

"You'll soon learn that curiosity is perhaps my greatest vice— handy for a scientist of course, but challenging sometimes in conversation. So I'll again make the choice yours: begin with your familial lineage, discussion of your Force abilities which are not strictly combat related, or the tale of whatever happened to your arm."

Those strange eyes of hers fell precisely to where flesh and cybernetics met, making it clear that somehow she sensed or saw what lay beneath his sleeve. The questions were relevant to her interests but also another test. Would the boy willingly dive into personal matters, keep conversation much more practical and education based, or was he the sort to enjoy spinning a yarn? A'Mia had a long way to go in building rapport, she was sure, but this was a start.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Desevro

Equipment:
Acolyte Robes| Lightsaber | Cybernetic Arm

Ace noticed the shift in her posture almost immediately. She mirrored him. Leaned back when he did. Still, watchful, composed to the point that it bordered on inert. For a moment, if it weren't for the faint sheen in her eyes, she might have passed for something carved rather than grown. There was an odd wrongness to it. Not threatening. Just… lifeless in the way something perfectly controlled could feel.

His gaze returned to her when she spoke of curiosity. Greatest vice. The word choice stuck. To him, vice implied appetite. Then she laid out the paths.

Lineage. The Force. Or his arm. Something in Ace's expression hardened, a quiet narrowing. His lineage was a nonstarter. He'd learned early what names did in places like this. Targets formed fast around bloodlines, faster still around legacies. He had no intention of painting a mark on his back by admitting he was an heir to Clan Verd. Son of Darth Metus. Brother of Mand'alor the Iron.

His abilities in the Force were… thin. Honest, but unimpressive. Enough to survive. Enough to pass. Nothing that would satisfy someone hunting for spectacle.

And then there was his arm. His eyes dipped, just briefly, to his left hand. Gloved. The realization that she knew it was cybernetic gave him pause. That memory didn't hurt the way it used to, but it hadn't dulled into something casual either. It wasn't a story he gave away freely. He looked back up.

"I'm half Dathomiri." He said simply.

His mother's side. It was a measured offering, one to satiate her... vice.

"As for my abilities in the Force…" He shrugged, faint. "I know the basics. Telekinesis. I can sense echoes... memories tied to objects I touch."

He paused, just long enough to decide whether to keep going.

"There's this thing." He added, quieter. "Something I can do with the bonds I have with other people. I don't really have a name for it. Hard to explain."

That was enough. Silence settled again, and this time Ace let it stretch, out of curiosity of his own. His attention drifted, once again taking in the greenhouse more fully. The density of life. The way some of the plants felt… present.

Then he saw them. Small. Daisy-like. Pale petals framing something unmistakable at their center... eyes. Ace's gaze lingered, tracking the subtle awareness there. The realization clicked into place, not paranoia, just pattern recognition. So there really was more than one set of eyes in the room. He looked back to A'Mia.

"Those..." He said, nodding slightly toward the flowers. "What are they?"

Madrona A’Mia​

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

She watched as he closed. Impossible to know which of those questions, if not all of them, had caused the defensive tightening of his bearing. The neti simply listened, the tea set down before her for a time.

Half Dathomiri, she mused, as if a person could be surmised by percentages.

A'Mia suspected the answer was merely offered in attempted appeasement. However, the student's next answer and the elaboration he tacked on as if it were being pulled from him. Now that was something to work with. She tilted her head to indicate approving curiosity.

When Acier looked to one of her botanical Sithspawn, A'Mia didn't turn to look. It was as if she already knew precisely what he was pointing to.

"Bellis Perennis Videre," the professor answered in a bright, instructive tone.

"Sithspawn crafted for surveillance and data collection, among other things. You may pluck it, if you wish to get a closer look," she offered with a small serene smile, "Nothing in my greenhouse will harm you without my permission."

She tilted her head again and added on her next question.

"Will you attempt to explain? This power over bonds, as you say."

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Desevro

Equipment:
Acolyte Robes| Lightsaber | Cybernetic Arm

Ace absorbed the name as she spoke it, noting the brightness in her tone as carefully as the words themselves.

Bellis Perennis Videre.

He let his gaze slide back toward the daisies as she explained, eyes tracing their placement, their stillness, the way awareness seemed to sit just beneath the surface. Surveillance. Data collection. Among other things. He filed it all away, what they were, what they could do, and just as importantly, where they were.

Then there was the other part.

Nothing in my greenhouse will harm you without my permission.

That, too, went into his mental ledger. Ace looked back to her.

"That's a big extension of trust." He said simply, referring to her granting him permission to pluck one.

When her attention returned to him and she asked about the bonds, his posture shifted. He didn't answer right away, instead he weighed it. What she gained from knowing. What he lost by telling. Whether keeping it vague would invite more probing later. Eventually, he decided that half-answers here would only sharpen her curiosity.

"It's not something I trained." He said at last. "I didn't even realize it was… different, at first."

He paused, searching for words that fit something he still didn't fully understand.

"I can form connections." He continued, quieter "Strong ones. And somewhere along the line, I realized those bonds don't just go one way."

His hand shifted slightly on the table, fingers curling as if remembering something.

"When someone I'm close to is struggling... physically, mentally, in the Force, I can… lend them strength. Not mine, exactly. It's more like I'm a bridge. I let the Force move through the connection instead of through me alone. It steadies them. Sometimes it amplifies what they're already capable of."

A small shake of his head.

"I don't control it very well. I don't know the limits. And I can't force it."

His eyes lifted to meet hers again, steady.

"It only works on people I care about."

The line wasn't defensive. It was declarative. A boundary drawn without ceremony.

"Which means..." He added, "It isn't something you or the Covenant can exploit."

Madrona A’Mia ​

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

"That's a big extension of trust."

"Not particularly — I am a teacher after all, and expected to share my workings that they might enrich new generations."

But she said no more on that and in the pause, he seemed to be weighing his next move. A'Mia lifted her tea cup to take another sip, enjoying the aromatics and noting the onset of some visual anomalies encouraged by the drink.

"Which means..." He added, "It isn't something you or the Covenant can exploit."

So defensive, A'Mia mused to herself.

"A unique gift, by how you describe it. Do you wish to hone it?" She spoke mildly as she set the teacup back down.

"As to your… ’exploitation‘ Acier, well that is the beauty of the Sith is it not? None can make you do anything, none can bend you to their will, provided that you are powerful enough."

Her strange eyes gleamed, sizing him up anew, reading the Weave upon him as if discerning a roadmap. A'Mia's last statement wasn't so much threatening as it was a statement of fact, at least as far as the neti was concerned. She was a scientist and naturalist after all, it wasn't so much that "might made right" in her view of the world but rather that the strong or exceedingly clever were generally the ones to dictate the rules. She did however have a secret soft spot for the underdog. Persistence beyond all odds was a quality worth cultivating after all.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Desevro

Equipment:
Acolyte Robes| Lightsaber | Cybernetic Arm

I am powerful enough.

The thought rose clean and immediate, sharp and instinctive. But it wasn't entirely true. Power hadn't been what kept him from being bent when he was younger. He hadn't had power then. No title. No lineage he could safely claim. No influence. Just a mind that refused to fold and a stubbornness that outlasted most attempts to break it.

Power now only meant he could dictate more of the terms. It didn't change the core of it.

Her question lingered: Do you wish to hone it?

He considered that carefully. The bond ability wasn't something he'd sought. It had grown out of circumstance and connection, through people who had mattered enough to change him. But if his potential in the Force were to be paired with deliberate training? With actual mastery instead of instinct?

That would make him something else entirely. Not just survivable. Formidable. And if he was going to make it through this mission, through the Covenant, through the shadows, through whatever waited at the end of it... formidable might be the difference between control and catastrophe.

His dark gaze hardened slightly, focus narrowing not on her, but on the path ahead.

"Yes." He said simply. "But I want to hone more than just that."

Madrona A’Mia​

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

She waited, watching him, practically witnessing the road forward he was envisioning for himself. Her abilities and expertise in the Force granting her such painstaking insight which was offset with such staggering drawbacks as to sometimes obfuscate what precisely A'Mia was able to glean at discerning glance.

Hence the importance of conversation, or in more extreme cases — studying the subject under duress. Something had told her though that this one would merely harden at physical challenge, threat to life or limb, so she'd opted for the route more likely to catch him on the back foot proverbially speaking. He'd not given in to curiosity about the tea or to pluck a flower, but Acier Moonbound was still speaking so she counted that as success for now.

"What, then? Hone what and how? Continue to treat me as an adversary if you wish but I have knowledge - I'm a teacher at many academies for a reason. You think my own motives and ambitions so nefarious that you mustn't even speak of yours?"

Her tone was calm, still cheerful but there was something lurking there too. It was like gazing into a densely wooded forest only to realize there were depths there that the eye couldn't discern, a blackness amongst the vibrant green and earth browns that seemed to steal light.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Desevro

Equipment:
Acolyte Robes| Lightsaber | Cybernetic Arm

Ace didn't answer her first question. His gaze held hers for a moment, but there was no offering in it. Her comment about treating her as an adversary drew a faint scoff from him.

"You're Sith." He said evenly. "We're all Sith." He tilted his head slightly. "Rule number one here is to treat everyone as an enemy. Survival of the fittest, yeah?"

He leaned back in his chair, posture loose but not relaxed, and considered the rest of what she'd said. About motives. About nefarious ambition. One brow lifted slightly, an expression that asked Are you serious? without needing the words.

Her tone remained how it had been the entire "interview". But there was something under it. A kind of depth you'd feel when looking at a stretch of forest that seemed harmless until you realized how easy it was to get lost in if you weren't careful.

"I don't know what to think when it comes to what you want." He admitted.

His voice didn't sharpen. It didn't soften either.

"But I know it's not out of the kindness of your own heart. And it's not something that doesn't benefit you in some way."

He let that sit between them. Internally, his mind moved through possibilities. Data. Surveillance. A unique Force anomaly worth studying. A longterm investment. A contingency. A curiosity that could turn into something more industrial than academic. Teachers rarely taught without return.

Ace was still trying to figure out if he could afford to allow her the benefits.

"Besides..." He continued after a moment, "Information's leverage. Power in its own way. Guess I'm still figuring out whether you should know what it is I really want."

His eyes narrowed slightly at that, refusing to break eye contact this time.

Madrona A’Mia​

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

She did not agree with his first assertion, but she was an irregular Sith and by no means a paragon of that particular title. A'Mia wore the moniker more like a piece of clothing, a well loved and often favored garment but not the totality of the fiber of her being as it was with some Sith.

Rather than interject though, she waited patiently and listened. His concerns about her motives continued to baffle. Had she not been clear? His distrust was palpable though and the more simple answer to his continued lack of clarity on her goals for their meeting. Her eyes narrowed a bit, then widened, and finally she leaned forward to speak as if she finally knew how to reach him.

"Kindness? Of course not, you're not a simpleton or child. I wouldn't waste a ruse of such as that even on the likes of them, but you? No, I called you here to speak with you and know your mind more — in effort to understand what you're capable of, what you offer. I know now you jealously guard yourself, that you do not freely offer your talents, and that you're deeply suspicious."

She paused, her eyes drifting to the foliage behind him dreamily even as her tone stayed high, sharp and focused.

"As to information being power? Yes, quite right. I broker in it sometimes myself. Mostly though I guard it even more jealously than you do your innermost workings. As to your very first point…"

She paused then, less certain. There was a nuance to her retort that required further inspection.

"Perhaps for you the golden rule of being Sith is to treat any that come before you as an enemy, but in my experience that is losing mindset. Or it is one that youth must eventually grow out of if they wish to grow their power. I would amend your statement to say 'trust none as you trust yourself' and learn how to make use of allies where you can. We all live in this giant ecosystem we call a galaxy, each and every one of us a unique pattern in the Weave of life, death, of everything and endless nothing. That proximity and interaction necessitates collaboration."

She had strayed a bit far afield perhaps, but the words were as honest as anything she'd shared. Her strange eyes found his defiant gaze again and she waited.

Acier Moonbound​

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Desevro

Equipment:
Acolyte Robes| Lightsaber | Cybernetic Arm

Her words lingered for a moment in the quiet between them, his gaze drifted over to her eyes as she stared at the foliage behind him. He looked as if he was measuring the metaphor she'd laid out against something tangible.

The way she spoke about the galaxy, about ecosystems, threads, collaboration... it had a strange kind of honesty to it. A kind of truth predators learned after surviving long enough. His eyes slid past her and one corner of his mouth twitched faintly, but it wasn't quite a smile.

"For someone who doesn't deal in kindness..." He said slowly. "...You have a very… philosophical way of looking at the galaxy. Yeah, it's an ecosystem. But ecosystems? Everything in them's either feeding… or being fed on."

He shifted slightly in the chair, one ankle crossing over the other as he settled back again. Ace held her eyes, steady again.

"Allies included." His head tilted a fraction. "Sure, collaboration happens. Predators hunt together sometimes. Doesn't make them friends."

His prosthetic fingers flexed once against the armrest, the quiet servo sound barely audible.

"And it definitely doesn't make them safe." Ace studied her a moment longer before continuing. "You're right about one thing. Galaxy's a weave, or... a tapestry. Just means I'm careful about which threads I touch."

Then his organic fingers flexed against the other armrest, an exhale leaving his lips.

"What I'm trying to say, is... collaboration? You need trust. If you don't trust your allies, how effective is the collaboration?"

His gaze moved over her with a kind of quiet scrutiny, the way someone might study a mechanism to see how its pieces fit together.

"You talk like someone who watches the room before deciding where to stand." He said after a moment.

There was no hostility in the words. If anything, there was a hint of respect buried in the observation.

"You said you invited me here to "know my mind more". Which tells me..." His eyes narrowed faintly. "You're the kind of person who studies pieces before deciding where they belong on the board. So if collaboration really is the game you're playing…"

His brow cocked.

"Then you're not looking for allies. You're looking for pieces worth keeping on the board."

Madrona A’Mia ​

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

"Finally," her voice was warm and rich, deeper than the cheery facade she so often used to disarm or unsettle.

"We begin to understand each other."

A'Mia leaned forward to pour herself another cup of tea, unbothered that his drink would likely remain untouched. It had been a gift freely given yet still he needed more control than the clarity the brew might offer.

"The notion of friendship can't readily be accounted for in a rational sense — I deal with such fanciful notions in the same way I do poets or silly children, acknowledge they exist and move on to factors easier to measure. Concrete datasets are far more valuable than theory, no matter how well I play at philosophy."

It wasn't quite as dismissive as the words might have him believe. There was truth and mild bafflement there, the woman was clearly a somewhat cold and lonely soul. What she'd never admit to was that her own recent foray into the realm of such personal matters was in its fledgling stages. It wouldn't do to reveal to anyone, let alone this peculiar boy, that A'Mia was still learning to glide upon the turbulent winds brought by emotional attachment.

"Do you know how long neti live on average?" She suddenly asked, with an intensity that revealed it was relevant to their discussion despite how random it might seem.

Acier Moonbound​