Private A Spiteful Re-encounter

[Lysander von Ascania]

Adean Castor​

With morning training behind him and another class through saber instruction led, he found himself drifting elsewhere..

The glow of holo projectors cast shadows across the aisles of Coruscant’s archives. Fortunately, the recent siege had not touched this place. Lysander cradled a cup of caf, letting the warmth spread across his palm. Each bitter sip of the dark roast awakened his senses. It also brought back mornings in the Jedi library, when he had thought himself preparing for a life of diplomacy.

His other hand hovered just above the surface of the translucent interface. Streams of data began unfolding before him.. treaties that were drafted in moments of crisis, legislative records from old administrations, policy directives that once circulated through the upper tiers of the bureaucracy. Some were even sealed behind classification that suggested political sensitivity.

There was satisfaction in rediscovering that rhythm of learning, the way his mind engaged with ideas and downloaded details. But this was far more than nostalgia. Any intellectual curiosity had been set aside the moment he joined the Covenant, consumed by duty and other responsibilities. Tracking subtleties hadn’t really been forgotten, and there was richness in reflecting on their deeper implications.

Even these archives exposed patterns the galaxy had ignored. And somehow, he couldn’t help but convince himself that the Core had to fracture before it could be remade again.

An older service unit whirred down the aisle, nudging a holo crystal off a perch. Lysander’s hand reached out automatically, steadying it, even while holding a holotext. The droid chirped an apology and continued on its way. The reflex came too easily.. a reflex born from old training habits perhaps..

Quietness enveloped the space once more while adjusting his stance, and lifting the caf to his lips for another taste. The next stream of data would appear on the glowing screen, and his focus quickly followed.

 

[Adean Castor]

TAG: Lysander von Ascania

There were few constants among Adean's many aliases. It would be dangerous to keep many, after all. The fewer tethers from one identity to the next, the better. Yet one of those few was the gravitational pull to the archives.

How exactly she'd wound up on Coruscant in the midst of the Sith Covenant's occupation of the world wasn't exactly at the forefront of the Epicanthix's mind when she strolled through halls with just the right amount of confidence to suggest she belonged. Moving unnoticed, unintended, had become a bit of a speciality for her, both for good and for ill. Enough so that she had trained herself to stop worrying about the day her farce would be identified. Maybe that day would come, and maybe she would pay for it dearly, but until such a time, there was no point lingering on possibilities.

Regardless of how or why she'd made it there, there was knowledge to be gained. Meticulously cared-for fingers drifted over each shelf of media, curious to see what secrets could be pulled from each dataspike and holo crystal. She couldn't help but wonder just how far these archives went back, given the world's storied history and multitude of tragedies. Perhaps with the right eye, she'd find something truly fascinating.

Adean tried to suppress a shudder that traveled down the back of her neck when she realized she wasn't the only one in the archives. Of course, she wouldn't be the only one. It would've been stranger if she were. Nevertheless, trepidation bore heavily on her shoulders. Her lips pursed, noting that the figure's profile was vaguely familiar, though she couldn't quite place it at a distance.

She wasn't going to go out of her way to place it, either. That would just be foolish. But she would not be scared away from the entirety of the archives by just one person.

With the affirmation that she was allowed to take up space out of the way, Adean continued her search for interesting titles off the shelves, amassing a small collection in her arms. Perhaps she was too wrapped up in that affirmation, however, not noticing the service unit as it whirled about, at least not until she was careening toward the floor, research materials flying out of her arms.

Oops.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Adean Castor​

Funny how that data stream held him in a way nothing else had in years. Not even saber instruction, nor the never-ending missions. There were just lines of legislative code scrolling in a blue light. One clause after another. The Jedi taught him something close to it, with observation, understanding something before acting. The Sith taught something else entirely. To move fast, strike first, never leave anything standing. With the Covenant, decay and death followed every step he took; so much, perhaps, that he stopped noticing the smell of it. It was.. nice, to think he was capable of something other than destruction.

At the edge of his vision, shadows stirring just beyond the periphery; but he remained unmoved. Archives were often full of small motions. Behind him, the service droid’s whir drifted once more. That sound might have pulled others from their concentration.. but not him.

But the sound that followed certainly did. A startled breath?

Lysander’s awareness snapped into place, body moving before the mind could possibly catch up. The cup of coffee he'd been gripping shot forward and hit the floor with a thud.. contents splattering. His other hand reaching out blindly to grasp whatever it could.. an elbow, a shoulder.. anything to steady the person about to collide into him.

And suddenly attention was split between the person stumbling and the cascade of objects erupting from her arms in a constellation.

For reasons he would question later, and probably never answer honestly.. he decided to reach for everything at once.

But then a shoulder hit his chest, and he rocked back a step under the momentum, boots sliding before finally losing his balance altogether.

The holocube bounced off his forearm and the datacards scattered across the floor too. For a breath or two, he just froze in the aftermath, half holding her.. caught somewhere between surprise and amusement. The whole moment felt so absurd that a laugh threatened to escape. Of course, of all times, someone would tumble into him exactly when he wasn’t expecting it! As he reached down to gather a few scattered pieces, his hand brushed hers ever so lightly.

Words that followed were dry. “If you wanted my attention, there are easier methods than throwing yourself at me. I would’ve looked up if you’d just said hello.”

He cleared his throat, hoping she’d survived the landing. “You’re still intact, right? Medbay’s a long walk from here.”