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.”

 

[Adean Castor]

TAG: Lysander von Ascania

It all happened too fast for Adean to process when exactly her trajectory shifted from the ground to something far softer. Her hands were caught between reclaiming a handle on the items that slipped from her grasp and further ensuring a safer landing. Once her brain caught up to the stabilizing hand, the best course of action seemed to be to accept her fate.

The silence of the aftermath, while spanning seconds, seemed to go on for hours. Adean was left somewhere between dumbfounded and mortified, her ears burning at the scenario she'd found herself in. Not even a beat later, it dawned on her that neither of them had moved. Extricating herself from the semi-embrace, there was suddenly nothing more important in the galaxy than picking up all the scattered data.

Well, that and ensuring any recording of this incident was thoroughly scrubbed. But the latter could take time. She hadn't intended to properly infiltrate the Covenant. Though, in all fairness, when had she intended to infiltrate anywhere?

Her train of thought was interrupted when his hand brushed hers. Adean finally looked up to behold her savior. While she was well practiced in maintaining a neutral face, the back of her throat curdled in recognition. A rude comment towards one of her table partners in class, back at the Korriban Academy. Competition for the governorship over a planet, fueled by spite that had been left to boil to a degree that had been a surprise even to Adean herself. And now, helping her pick up the scattered data. Funny how things ended up that way.

Despite her first instinct to avert her gaze upon recognition, Adean avoided doing so. She might've recognized him, but that didn't say much for the other way around. After all, their previous interactions had hardly been direct, both of which were under different names as well. Until he displayed any signs of recognition, she was a complete stranger. And she intended to keep it that way.

But who would that stranger be? Someone different from how she'd presented at Korriban, surely, but how...

His dry words informed her response before she had a chance to think on it.

"Why would I want that?" Deep down, Adean was caught between high-fiving herself for the remark and wanting to sink further into the ground. "Yeah, I'm fine. That droid won't be if it pulls that stunt again, though."

She busied herself with collecting the rest of the fallen materials, figuring it'd be better to keep the interaction brief, lest recognition strike him as well, or the heat in her face return with a vengeance. Her eyes narrowed a fraction at the spilled caf - had it been instinct or kindness that had led to its demise? And if it'd been instinct, was it born of altruism or self-preservation? Or a combination of the two?

"Sorry about your drink."

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Adean Castor​

Lysander stayed where he was for a breath longer; one knee braced against the floor, and the other was positioned off to the side. Soon, the archives began humming right back to life. The whir of projectors, and he could hear the shuffle of that service unit retreating. Not a terrible idea. When he finally looked over at her, something tugged at him. A familiarity he couldn’t name.. hovering just out of reach. Hard to place, really. The cruel passage of recent years had dragged him from Korriban’s red sands to Brosi, then through the Tapani Sector before circling back to the heart of the Core. So naturally, faces and voices blurred. It could’ve been nothing at all.

A hand drifted down to the datacards resting near his knee, fingers curling around one, then another, stacking them in a leisurely manner. Steadier than his nerves, to be sure. His posture slackened from the rigid alertness. Lysander's eyes darted to her face, then away, only to return again.. an unconscious dance of attention he was painfully aware was too transparent. She seemed unsettled. Some moments, no matter how hard you try, refused to escape. He understood that better than most. Or liked to believe he did. Before the Covenant bound him, he'd spent many a day trying to race far away from truths.. only to learn that things always catch up.

When her question arrived, it could have gone many ways. As an aristocrat, he recognized it as someone potentially choosing violence. As a holodrama fiend, he totally knew this was exactly how Act I banter begins right before someone gets stabbed; he had seen it in more than a few series, even his favorite, The Rule of Two Hearts! But he chose the fair interpretation, a word that was pretty uncommon for those who walked the darker path. His mouth did have a habit of opening early at times.. and words always spilled out. Perhaps he earned that one.

Finally, he spoke. “It’s fine, I think I’m the one who somehow stepped into your flight path.”

A few strands of white hair had fallen loose across his forehead. They were brushed back with an almost sheepish gesture. Maybe it would’ve been awkward if the archives were full, but right now it basically felt like the two of them suspended in some super random pocket of quiet.

His eyes then drifted to the spilled caf. A defeated smear across the floor..

“That drink was doomed long before you arrived,” came a murmur, tone slipping into something wry. “You just gave it a dramatic ending.”

Bogan please. He really did sound like someone who watched too many holodramas. One moment he was parsing legislative code like it was his job the next he was saying things like that?

Gathering the last of the datacards, he offered them to her. Part of him was unsure whether she’d even take them.

“Here, these are yours.” Pointing out the obvious, of course. “Really.. no harm done. I’ve survived much worse collisions, I assure you. And that’s not the concussion talking either.” Not like he actually had one; he did after the Galactic Kaggath, so he understood what it felt like.

“So um.. what kind of academic pursuit was nearly sent into orbit? Or.. was it some kind of epic political fiction?”

Somehow the ground became comfortable, which was something else he didn’t expect today. Standing could wait, which was kind of ridiculous.

 

[Adean Castor]

TAG: Lysander von Ascania

Adean's brow furrowed a fraction, dipping her head as she finished picking up the items in her immediate vicinity. Was it just her, or was this not the same person she remembered in that botany lab? Or competing for Governorship? The individual before her, helping her pick up the fallen datacards seemed almost kind, almost friendly.

Almost human.

But surely, there was a catch to that. Perhaps it was just a front put on for a supposed stranger. Or perhaps the other behaviors she'd seen of him were the fronts. It was hard to say, without further research. And that wasn't research Adean was convinced she wanted to undergo.

Still, kindness was kindness, even if she didn't trust it. Adean wasn't about to invoke anyone's wrath if she could avoid it.

"Thanks," she responded, taking the datacards and laying them all out so she could better organize the small collection. "I'd certainly hope this isn't the blow that did you in." If he was in a joking mood, it was only fitting she did the same.

"Diplomatic dealings over the millennia. I wanted to see how far back this archive actually went. What about you? What research did I interrupt?"