Private Ashes at the Threshold

[Seris Velmora]

Tag: Lysander von Ascania

Coruscant did not sleep. It never could—not with the weight of its own ambition pressing down through a thousand levels of steel and shadow. Even here, deep within one of its darker arteries, the city pulsed. Not with life.

With intent. Seris Velmora stood at the edge of the academy's primary approach, boots planted against polished obsidian flooring that reflected her silhouette back at her in fractured pieces. The architecture rose in jagged, deliberate lines—less a place of learning and more a monument to dominance. Spires clawed upward toward skylanes choked with traffic, their tips disappearing into a haze of pollution and artificial twilight.

It was fitting. Her gaze drifted upward for only a moment before snapping back down, sharp, restless. Waiting was not something she did well. Her fingers flexed once at her side. Then again.

A slow breath followed, though it did little to settle the tension coiling beneath her skin. The Force here was… dense. Not merely dark—but layered. Structured. Controlled. It pressed against her senses like a hand that did not ask permission.

Seris tilted her head slightly, as if listening to something just out of reach. "…So this is what they've built." The words were quiet, but edged.

There was power here—real power. Not the scattered, feral currents she had grown accustomed to chasing. This was refined. Directed. Claimed. And she wanted it.

Her attention shifted toward the academy entrance once more, irritation beginning to surface as time stretched thinner by the second. She had not come to admire architecture. She had not come to stand idle beneath someone else's structure.

She had come because she had been summoned. Because Lysander von Ascania had requested her presence. And the Eternal Father had demanded her to answer it. Seris exhaled through her nose, sharp.

"He's not here yet." The statement wasn't loud—but it carried weight, the kind that didn't need volume to be heard. Her posture shifted subtly, weight rolling from one foot to the other. Impatience bled into motion—small at first. A step forward. Then another. Not quite pacing… but close enough to feel it building.

Her eyes tracked every movement near the entrance now. Every figure that passed was measured, judged, dismissed. None of them were him. A faint curl of a smile touched her lips—but it wasn't pleasant.

"If this is a test," she murmured, almost to herself, "it's a dull one."

The Force stirred around her again—responding, perhaps, to the irritation threading through her thoughts. A flicker of something darker followed, something less controlled. Seris didn't suppress it. She let it breathe. Let it sharpen her.

Her chin lifted slightly, gaze hardening as she fixed it squarely on the academy doors. "Let's see," she said quietly, voice steady despite the storm beneath it,"if you're worth the wait."

​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Seris Velmora​

Coruscant's lights washed over him. A place that would always feel too crowded. If not for his duties at the Academy, Lysander would have undoubtedly returned to Byss, a world that called to the darkness growing within him.. as close to home as he'd ever felt.

He emerged from the training halls at last. Sweat was still cooling on his skin. The younger acolytes had been restless today. What a waste, to see raw potential wasted on undisciplined minds. He'd corrected their footwork, breathing, and posture of their preferred lightsaber form. But teaching them was its own reward, passing on whatever wisdom he possessed always felt deeply satisfying. Beyond that, he knew their suffering today would spare them greater agonies tomorrow. Of course, this was a mercy most couldn't comprehend. One step at a time..

Clad in a simple black tunic and leggings, Lysander walked the obsidian approach alone. Above, the roar of skylane traffic reminded him of how far he'd come from the humble beginnings of Ukatis. Another Kainite awaited him. The connection would require careful cultivation. Darth Carnifex 's attention was not to be taken lightly, and ever since their alliance, the influence never left his thoughts.

Soon, she came into view, near the entrance. He recognized her immediately. Balmorra.. and the bodies crushed beneath durasteel. Her presence stirred something more primal. The Light preached acceptance without understanding what it accepted. The Dark.. well, it knew better.. it tested, it broke, and demanded proof of worth. And she had proven herself, hadn't she? Perhaps that was why, her Thread in the Force, vibrated against his psyche like lightning trapped in a bottle.

Lysander footsteps became quieter as he drew near, halting at a distance just beyond arm's reach. Silence stretched between them as he gave the moment a rare chance to breathe.

"Seris," rolled the name off the tongue. Then his voice dropped an octave. "I was not certain the Eternal Father would send you. I am not displeased that he did."

Twin emeralds fell to the academy before returning to her. "There is much I hope to learn from your doctrine, and much I intend to offer in return, if you are willing." Simply put, bridging any philosophical gap with Lord Carnifex would only strengthen their alliance, and make future endeavors far easier.

Another thought prowled in his mind. "Balmorra was the prelude. I suspect what comes next will matter.. far more."

He pivoted toward the Academy grounds, extending one hand in invitation, and taking the first step forward. "Tell me what the galaxy owes. Not your desires. Your.. birthright. A debt you believe existence itself must repay you."

 

[Seris Velmora]

Tag: Lysander von Ascania

Seris did not turn immediately when he approached. She felt him first. Not through sound—though his steps were quiet enough to warrant respect—but through the tension in the Force that coiled ahead of him. It was different from the academy’s ever-present weight. More focused. Sharper. Like a blade that had not yet decided where it would fall.

Only then did she shift. Her head tilted slightly, dark eyes sliding toward him without moving the rest of her body at first—measuring, dissecting, deciding. When she finally turned fully, it was unhurried, controlled in a way that suggested the restraint was chosen… not natural.

“Lysander.” His name carried none of the softness his had. It landed clean. Precise. Acknowledged—but not offered.

Her gaze held his, unflinching. “You kept me waiting.” No accusation. No rise in tone. Just a statement—flat, deliberate, and edged enough to test how he would hold it.

For a moment longer, she said nothing else. She let the silence stretch, let it press—because that was where truth lived. Not in words. In how long someone could stand in the absence of them. Then, slowly, something shifted in her expression. Not a smile. Something sharper.

“Carnifex does not send anything without purpose,” she continued, voice low, steady. “If I am here… it is because something is about to break.” The truth was she was sent because it was felt that she needed correction to fit in with the Kainate. But one really doesn’t tell a violent barely controlled Sith they are the problem.

Her eyes flicked briefly past him, toward the academy—toward its towering structure and the oppressive, ordered darkness it housed. When they returned to him, there was something more alive behind them now. Interest. Calculation.

“And you’re right,” she added, quieter. “Balmorra was only the beginning.”

At his movement—his invitation—her gaze dropped, briefly, to his outstretched hand. She didn’t take it. Instead, she stepped forward on her own, closing the distance just enough to move alongside him rather than follow. The choice was subtle. Intentional.

His question lingered between them as they began to move. Seris let it sit there. Let it breathe. Her jaw tightened slightly—not in hesitation, but in consideration of how much truth she intended to give.

Seris didn’t answer immediately. Not because she was considering the question, but because she was deciding how much restraint she was willing to pretend to have. A breath left her in something close to a quiet laugh.

“Birthright?” she echoed, the word tasting wrong the moment it left her tongue. Her head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing—not in thought, but in dismissal.

“I don’t care what the galaxy owes me.” Another step forward—sharper now. Less measured. “I take what I want.”

The Force around her shifted—less contained now. Not wild… but loosening. Like something slipping its leash on purpose. Her gaze dragged across the academy again, slower this time, but far less impressed. “Power isn’t something you wait to be given meaning,” she continued. “And it’s not something you shape into something polite so it fits inside places like this.”

Her lip curled faintly. “It’s something you use.” She looked back to him, fully now. Direct. Unapologetic. Alive in a way that didn’t care if it burned.

“If I want something?” she added, voice lower—almost conversational, but edged with something sharper, “I don’t stop to define it.”

A step closer again—closing space without asking. “I find it. I push until something breaks.” Her eyes held his, unwavering. “And if nothing breaks?” A faint, dangerous smile this time. “Then I wasn’t pushing hard enough.”

She turned her gaze forward again, continuing toward the academy without slowing. “But if you’re asking what the galaxy ‘owes’ me…” A slight shrug, careless. “It owes me whatever I decide to take next.”

A brief glance back toward him—sharp, expectant. “So the real question is—” Her pace didn’t falter. “Are you here to teach me restraint…”

A beat. “Or give me something worth chasing?”

​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Seris Velmora​

Lysander's boots rang against the black stone as he fell into step. For a time, he did not look at her; his gaze was fixed on the colossal gates ahead. Had he wished such, she would've felt the weight of his eyes nonetheless, as two blades hovering at her spine. Few dared mistake his youth for inexperience within the Covenant.

Both hands came behind his back, fingers interlacing. One eyebrow arched. "Waiting suggests you believed yourself a priority," he replied, voice cool as durasteel. "The Covenant exists beyond any single member."

Another step was taken before adding, "Your impatience.. suggests you measure worth by Balmorra's standards."

The way she spoke to him was far from his usual indulgence, though two could play that game. He'd tangled with enough ambitious Sith to relish a verbal spar. "Something is always about to break," added quietly. "The question is whether you intend to be the cause.. or the casualty." The Coruscant Academy had witnessed both fates all too often. "The Kainite have always been a wellspring of strenth." His voice lowered. "If he sent you, it is because your particular talents require a steady hand." Perhaps this assignment was as much for him as for her, beyond diplomatic finesse, to see if he c ould temper wildfire.

A slight tilt of his head followed. "Raw power without direction is just noise. Impressive to some.. but ultimately forgotten. Even thunder from storms fade."

"The galaxy," added casually, "is indifferent to our appetites." His index finger tapped once his wrist behind his back until he felt his own pulse. "Strength without proper discipline always meets its match in the right design.. it always has."

They passed under a grand arch into the training grounds. There were tiered platforms and a few containment fields. Spaces meant for testing both blade and will.

"I'm here to show you that restraint is a prize worth chasing." He matched her pace without effort. "Power without discipline is like wielding a lightsaber with no hilt. Flashy, mayhaps.. but ultimately a liability for me and those I continue to serve by choice." He let that hang between them. "The Sith who burns hottest often leave nothing more than ruins."

Another exhale escaped him. "You could pulverize worlds, Seris. Or you could sculpt them. One requires only brute strength. The other requires true mastery." With a sweep of one hand, Lysander traced an arc over the grounds before them. "Which do you think Lord Carnifex values more?"

Then, offering a rakish half-smile, his focus fell on her in full. "So, I'll teach you restraint. But be warned.. my lessons come with consequences."

 

[Seris Velmora]

Tag: Lysander von Ascania

Seris walked beside him—but not with him. There was a difference. It showed in the way her stride didn’t quite match his rhythm, in the subtle drift of her path that refused to fall neatly into alignment. She wasn’t resisting him outright. Just… refusing to be placed.

At his first remark, her head turned slightly—just enough for her to catch him in her peripheral. The faintest smirk touched her lips. “Priority?” she echoed, almost amused.

A breath slipped out through her nose—half scoff, half laugh. “I don’t need to be important,” she said, voice light, dismissive. “I just don’t like standing still.” Her fingers twitched once at her side, like something inside her was already growing restless at the pace alone. “It’s boring.” Simple. Honest. Unapologetic.

As he continued, her expression shifted—not offended, not defensive—but… resistant. Like every word about discipline pressed against something in her that refused to give ground. “Direction, restraint, structure…” she muttered, quieter now, more to herself than to him. “You all talk like that’s what makes something real.”

Her gaze dragged across the training grounds as they entered, taking in the platforms, the containment fields—the order of it all. Designed. Controlled. Her lip curled faintly. “I don’t forget things because they’re loud,” she said. “I remember them because they hit.” Her eyes flicked back to him briefly. “And I hit back harder.”

The Force around her pulsed again—subtle, but reactive. Not disciplined. Not clean. But alive in a way that didn’t ask permission to exist. At the mention of Carnifex—That changed something. It was small. But immediate. Her steps didn’t falter, but her attention sharpened—snapping fully back to him for the first time since they’d started walking. The resistance didn’t vanish… but it shifted. Focused.

Then—She laughed. Not mocking. Not dismissive. Just… genuine. “Good luck with that,” she said, shaking her head slightly.

Her gaze lingered on him a moment longer than before—not dismissing him now, but weighing him in a different way. “You think he wants something sculpted?” she added, voice lower. “Maybe.”

A small shrug followed. “Or maybe he just wants to see what happens when something doesn’t break.”

Her eyes drifted forward again, back to the training grounds. At his warning, though—Her smile returned. Sharper this time. “Consequences?” she repeated, like the word itself was something familiar—something almost… enjoyable.

A breath left her, softer now. Warmer. “They don’t stick,” she said. Her gaze cut sideways to him again, something restless flickering behind it. “It’s usually just another stimulus I can’t get enough of.”

And there it was again—that edge. That hunger. Not for control. Not for mastery. But for impact. She stepped ahead of him by half a pace now, eyes already scanning the grounds like she was searching for something to engage, something to test, something to break.

“So if you’re going to teach me restraint…” she added, not slowing,

“You’re going to have to make it more interesting than everything else trying to kill me.”

A slight glance back over her shoulder—sharp, expectant.

“Otherwise?” A faint grin. “I’m not going to care enough to learn it.”

​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Seris Velmora​

Lysander led the other Sith deeper into the training grounds as he processed her words. At the threshold of a small circular platform, he paused. One finger traced a pattern across the control panel. He hadn't spoken for several moments, but his mind still dissected the resistance.. which was plentiful, and searched for its foundation.

A containment field activated with a soft hum. Silence crashed down around them. The sudden sensory void made his ears strain for the slightest sound that simply wasn't there. Of course, he would be watching her closely, as he was certain she would be searching for anything.. tangible.

Though there was distance between them, his voice might've sounded unnaturally close in the vacuum. "You're wrong to believe stillness isn't the absence of meaning. That is where we finally hear what we've been drowning out." He tapped his temple once. "Discipline creates the vessel that holds what matters. Without boundaries.. even your strongest impacts are meaningless."

Rather than attempting to command from the edge, he strode into the center of the circle. "Your power is impressive," fingers curled around his lightsaber hilt, a thumb brushing over the activation switch without pressing it, "but you carry it like someone who's never been burned by their own flame. I'm not going to waste my time trying to put it out, but I will offer you a means to direct it."

This wasn't merely training; it was a chance to reach someone standing exactly where he once had. He understood her hunger because he had lived it. "Standing your ground requires more than luck," he finally countered, almost too late.

"And perhaps what you need isn't more stimulus," he said, eyes holding hers, while the crimson blade finally igniting between them with a hiss that felt deafening, "but the discipline of having it all.. withheld."

"I will show you how emptiness becomes its own hunger, how restraint builds something far more consuming than anything you've ever chased."

The blade was brought before him, crimson casting shadows across his youthful visage. He shifted into the balanced stance of Djem So, ready for the offensive.

"I could kill you here." There was no venom in his words. "And tell Lord Carnifex you simply lacked the patience to become something greater."

It was a chance to begin something transformative, a first step in rebuilding what had not been properly constructed.

"But that would waste what I see in you."

 

[Seris Velmora]

Tag: Lysander von Ascania

The moment the containment field sealed, Seris felt it.—or rather—she felt everything disappear. Her steps slowed without meaning to. Her head turned slightly, eyes narrowing as if she could see what had been stripped away. The constant hum of Coruscant—gone. The distant movement, the layered noise, the background chaos she never consciously registered—

—all of it, just…cut. For a heartbeat, she didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Her fingers flexed once, twice—like they were reaching for something that wasn’t there anymore. “…huh.” It slipped out quieter than expected. Not fear. Not discomfort. Curiosity.

Her gaze drifted across the platform, slower now, more deliberate. The training grounds beyond the barrier were still visible, but they felt… distant. Untouchable. Like watching something through glass.

Her attention snapped back to him briefly—sharp, assessing—then drifted again. “So this is where you keep them,” she muttered, almost to herself. “Tight. Controlled.”

A faint smirk tugged at her lips. “Do they ever get to let go?” she added, glancing back toward the wider grounds. “Or is there somewhere around here where all that discipline cracks for a few hours?”

Her head tilted, genuinely curious now. “Because if not, I’m going to get bored fast.”

When he called her wrong, she let out a soft chuckle—shoulders lifting slightly in a loose, careless shrug. “Yeah… I get that a lot.” Her eyes found his again, unbothered.

“I was made this way,” she said plainly. “Call it a flaw if you want.” There was no defensiveness in it. No shame. Just acceptance.

Her gaze drifted upward for a moment, like she was searching for something that wasn’t there anymore. “Nothing sticks,” she continued, quieter now. “Not really. Not past the moment it happens.”

A breath. “I don’t care about what things mean later.” Her eyes dropped back to him. “I care about now.”

There it was again—that edge. That hunger. “I always need more,” she added, almost conversationally. “More pressure. More noise. More… something.”

Her fingers curled slightly, like she was trying to grab hold of the emptiness around them. “Because if it’s not there—” She exhaled softly. “It feels like this.” Empty. But not in the way he meant.

Her gaze sharpened again as she looked at him fully now. “Carnifex wants discipline,” she said, more grounded this time. “I know that.”

A slight tilt of her head. “That’s why I’m here.”

She took a step forward—not aggressive, not yet—but purposeful. “But you’re not going to beat it into me,” she added, voice steady. “That’s been tried.”

A faint smirk returned. “Didn’t stick.” Her eyes flicked briefly to the ignited blade, watching the crimson light dance across the barrier between them.

“So I’m hoping you’ve got something… different,” she said. “Otherwise this is going to be a short lesson.”

At his statement—I could kill you here—She smiled. Not wide. Not wild. Just enough. “You can try.” The words were quiet. Certain. Her stance shifted slightly—not formal, not trained—but ready in the way instinct carved into bone.

“I don’t go down easy.”

A beat. Then, more casually—“But if I do?” A small shrug. “It won’t matter much to him.”

No bitterness. Just fact. Her gaze held his, unflinching. “I’ll take your guidance,” she said finally. “I’m not stupid enough to ignore it.”

Another step—closer now, just at the edge of engagement. “But if you think standing here repeating forms and breathing exercises is going to change anything—”

She gave a small, amused exhale. “You’re going to be disappointed.”

Her head tilted slightly, eyes locked on his blade, then back to him. “Give me something real,” she said. Something sharp flickered behind her gaze again. “Or I’m going to start making my own lesson.”

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