Private Between Duty and Concern

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

T A R I S
Marketplace
Acier Moonbound


The scent of oil, spice, and ozone mingled in the air as Sibylla wove her way through the bustling lower bazaar of Taris. Sunlight fractured through the durasteel struts above, casting sharp lines of gold and shadow across merchant stalls and the patterned shawls of passing traders. The marketplace hummed with life, Mandalorians haggling in brisk Mando'a, Republic merchants exchanging coded smiles, and the soft chatter of translators bridging the gaps between them.

It was chaos, organized and thriving, and to Sibylla's quiet satisfaction, working. The open trade zones she'd helped propose between the Mandalorian Empire and offworld traders were flourishing beyond expectation. Where there had once been suspicion, now there was commerce. Clan banners fluttered proudly over crates of imported goods, and laughter replaced the cautious silence that had once hung between outsiders and locals.

Sibylla was in the midst of a discussion with one of the Clan Elders, a rugged, weathered man with eyes like worn beskar, and their conversation turned to agricultural reclamation. Hydroponic systems, soil restoration, and the curious Nabooan techniques that had saved Theed's eastern farmlands. He was listening, truly listening, and that in itself felt like a victory.

Yet her focus wavered when movement caught her eye.

Through the stream of people, across a sunsplintered walkway, she saw him.

That unmistakable shock of pale, platinum dreadlocks gleamed beneath the light. For a moment, she thought she'd imagined it. After all, Taris was hardly small. But no, it was him.

Sibylla felt her breath catch between relief and worry. His last messages had lingered in her mind for weeks, fragmented and tense, laced with something unspoken. Whatever was happening with Ace, she had the sinking feeling it was more than he'd admitted over holo.

Sibylla's smile softened as she turned back to the Elder, inclining her head with practiced grace.

"Forgive me, Elder Vekar. There's someone I must speak with."

And before she could think twice, she was moving.

Sibylla's steps quickened as her boots tapped lightly against the ferrocrete as she crossed the crowded avenue. The noise of the market seemed to fade as she got near enough to call out with both surprise and the faint tremor of relief.

"Ace!"

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Taris

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic

Taris was loud. The noise filled every crack in the air - traders shouting over the hum of speeders, the sizzle of cookstalls, the grind of droids on ground. But for Ace, it was all distant. Muffled. Like he was hearing it through glass.​

​

He'd been walking through noise for weeks now, half in it, half somewhere else entirely. Dathomir still lingered in the darkest parts of his mind. He didn't let himself think about Orryn, but she was there anyway. Every time he blinked. Every time he slowed. So he didn't.​

​

Taris was just a stop. Another errand before what was to come. The Imperial superweapon, whatever it was. Regardless, he needed to keep moving, stay ahead of the the guilt and shame that weighed on his soul.​

​

Tic perched on his shoulder, chirping a question that came out like a scold. Ace rolled his eyes..​

​

"Don't start." He muttered. "We're not staying."​

​

The little droid whirred and beeped again, indignant.​

​

"Yes. I know. I look like hell. You're not wrong." He sighed.​

​

As he turned down another market lane, the sunlight caught across his face, tracing the faint scar carved into his left cheek. Then, something shifted. A melody through the noise, a ripple through the chaos. The Force brushed against him like a warm draft through cold air, carrying with it the steadiness and quiet, familiar grace.​

​

Ace froze. He knew this feeling. Even without seeing her, he felt the distinct cadence of her presence: calm yet sharp-edged, disciplined but bright, like a string pulled tight between grace and conviction. A melody made of patience and purpose. Sibylla.​

​

For a second, he thought he'd imagined it. But then her voice carried across the crowd - clear, poised, unmistakably hers, and the air in his chest stopped moving.​

​

He didn't focus on what she was wearing or how she carried herself. It was enough that she was here, that she wasn't another memory. The sunlight caught across her as she drew closer, and for a heartbeat, it was almost disorienting: the brightness, the noise, the contrast of her calm cutting straight through the chaos of Taris.​

​

His throat tightened before sound finally followed. "…Sibylla."​

​

Tic chirped, sharp and bright, hopping up and down on Ace's shoulders.​

​

"Yeah." Ace murmured, his voice rough. "I see her."​

​

He stepped forward through the crush of the crowd, the fog in his head thinning just a little.​

​

"Didn't think you'd be the one to find me." He said at last, a quiet rasp that carried disbelief, weariness, and something softer buried underneath. "Are you okay?"​

​

Sibylla Abrantes ​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Acier Moonbound ​

The crowd seemed to blur as Sibylla reached him, the hum of the market falling away into something muffled and far-off. For the briefest moment, all she could do was take in the sight of him standing there, sunlight glancing off pale dreadlocks and the hard line of his jaw.

But then relief cracked almost instantly as Sibylla took in the scar that carved across his cheek, the way his shoulders carried weight that had nothing to do with his pack, the tension coiled through his stance like a live wire. It was as if every inch of him spoke, even when his mouth didn't. She didn't need the Force to see it, the exhaustion, the quiet hurt, the ghosts he was still running from.

"Ace…" she breathed out as her voice caught faintly on his name. Before he could even finish asking if she was okay, Sibylla stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close.

"I'm fine, I am glad to see you are safe," she said, the relief in her tone evident as she added, "You had me worried."

Tic's chime sounded beside her with mechanical cheer. Sibylla let out the faintest laugh under her breath before pulling back just enough to look up at him again.

And what she saw only deepened the ache in her chest.

There was so much unspoken in his eyes, shadows of places and choices that haunted him still. She didn't ask. Not yet. Instead, she reached down, looping her arm through his in that gentle, deliberate way she always used on Cassian when she wanted to talk -- well, when he wasn't running away from her to try and talk.

"Come on," she said in that unique soft yet firm melodic way of hers that had the diplomat give way to the friend beneath. "Let's go for a walk. Tic, are you coming?"

The little droid trilled its agreement, hopping excitedly before following close behind as Sibylla guided Ace toward the quieter edge of the market, away from the crowd, the noise, whatever else he was carrying.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Taris

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic

The hug hit him like a shock and his body went rigid on instinct. But as her arms tightened around him, the tension in his shoulders slowly gave way. His own arms came up, hesitantly at first, then with quiet certainty. He wrapped them around her, rough palms settling at her back, anchoring her, or maybe anchoring himself.

For a moment, he just stood there. The faint trace of perfume mixed with the sharper scent of city air clung to her robes. It was grounding and dizzying all at once. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed something as simple as warmth... not fire, not adrenaline, just warmth.

When she finally pulled back, Ace exhaled a long, uneven breath. The words that left him were blunt, rough-edged but sincere.

"Didn't mean to worry you." He muttered. "Sorry."

He meant it, simple as that. No half-smirk, no sarcasm to soften the edge... just truth. He looked her over then, taking in the calm poise she always carried, the confidence that hadn't cracked even here in the chaos of Taris. Still, a faint crease formed between his brows.

"I'm glad you're okay." He said. Since that promotion of hers, Ace was sure there's an even bigger target on her back.

Tic chirped sharply at that, as if agreeing. Ace's mouth twitched into something that might have been a smirk, faint but real.

He didn't move when she looped her arm through his, just accepted it. The motion was light, deliberate, grounding. Together they drifted toward the quieter edge of the market, where the sounds faded into background hum and the air felt easier to breathe.

The further they walked, the thinner the noise became. The sharp clatter of vendors, speeders, and voices dimmed into a low, distant hum, swallowed by the canyon-like alleys that led toward the quieter rim of the market. A breeze carried the faint scent of ozone and spice through the air, brushing at their coats as the light filtered down in fractured gold.

Ace said little for a while, letting the silence stretch between them. It wasn't uncomfortable, at least not to him. It was just easy. Silence had always meant tension, danger waiting to break. But with Sibylla, it didn't feel like that. It was just quiet, the kind that let his mind breathe.

He caught himself glancing sideways more than once, out of curiosity. Observation. The ache he'd felt in her back on Naboo, that sharp, hollow chord in the Force... was still there, but softer now. Diminished. Not gone, but tempered by something steadier.

It drew a small flicker of relief through him, one he hadn't expected. She'd been carrying so much even then, though she'd hidden it behind that diplomatic mask she was so used to wearing. But seeing her now? The faint curve of a genuine smile, the steadiness in her stride, it was like watching someone step out of a storm and remember how to stand in sunlight again.

"You look good." Ace said finally, breaking the quiet. His tone was simple, almost casual, but there was something sincere under the rough edges. "Lighter."

He didn't mean it as a line. It was just the truth as he saw it. Ace glanced ahead again, his voice dropping lower as he added "Whatever's changed… it suits you."

Tic let out a soft chirp beside them, almost approving. Looks like the little droid agreed too.

Sibylla Abrantes​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Acier Moonbound ​

It was evident from the first few steps that there were things Ace wasn't saying. Sibylla could feel it in the air between them, the silence that wasn't empty but full of all the things too heavy for words. Still, she didn't push. Not yet. She knew that sometimes, the quiet itself could speak for her, could say you're not alone far more effectively than questions ever could.

The soft scuff of their boots filled the space where words might have been. Every now and then, she caught his gaze, meeting it with a small, reassuring smile that carried a warmth she hoped he could feel. Her eyes drifted briefly to the new scar that crossed his cheek, and her heart tightened, though she kept her expression composed. It wasn't pity that flickered across her face, but empathy, a deepunspoken concern that came from seeing a friend wear his pain in plain sight.

When Ace finally broke the silence to tell her she looked good, Sibylla's lips curved into a faint, wry grin. There was something almost boyish about how sincerely he said it, and it tugged at a part of her she hadn't realized had missed his company.

"Ah, then perhaps I'm getting better at presenting the semblance of utter calm," she teased, tone light but fond. Her hand gave a small squeeze against his arm as they walked, the familiar cadence of banter easing the tension just a little.

Hazel eyes flicked ahead toward the rope bridge that arched over one of the shallow ponds near the edge of the encampment. The water below shimmered faintly in the fractured afternoon light, reflecting flashes of passing droids and banners.

"Between my duties as Voice and Ambassador, it has been one thing after the next," she admitted with a quiet exhale. "Though I can't complain too much. The work feels… meaningful, even when it's exhausting."

Then, with a perfectly composed face she added, "I'll have you know, I even had a tussle with an ancient goddess and the corrupted essence of her lover while being tossed and turned through one vision after another."

Her tone was perfectly level, but her eyes sparkled with mischief, waiting to see his reaction. It was deliberate, of course, the practiced playfulness of someone trying to remind him of lighter days, of easier conversation.

"Quite the ordeal, really," she continued, deadpan. "I'm starting to think I should add 'divine conflict management' to my list of diplomatic skills."

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Taris

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic

Ace listened at first, while she caught him up since Naboo. Her tone was calm, measured, perfectly Sibylla. He'd been halfway across the bridge, ready to tell her to take it easy for once, maybe not try to carry the whole galaxy on her back. Then she said it.

Ancient goddess. Corrupted lover. Visions?

"I--what?" The word came out rough and startled before he could catch it. Tic beeped at the exact same time, the little droid's lens flicking toward Sibylla in what could only be described as shock.

Ace shot the droid a look, then back at her. "Did you just say ancient goddess? Like, actually?" His tone wasn't mocking... just genuinely dumbfounded. "You can't just… drop that in between talking about trade deals and other stuff like it's normal."

Just when he thought he'd seen everything. Hell, he was about to go off on a suicide run in a couple of days to prevent a superweapon from wreaking havoc on the galaxy. And yet, what Sibylla had just said was probably the craziest thing he'd heard.

His free hand lifted slightly in utter disbelief. "What even happened? Was this on Naboo? Or... visions? You said visions. That's not a casual word either, Sibylla."

He dragged a hand through his loosely tied back locs, letting out a slow exhale that turned into a quiet huff. "You've got to be kidding me."

Tic gave another chirp, hopping on top of the bridge's rope, his chirp was bright and questioning, clearly invested now. Ace shook his head, still in disbelief, but then he looked at Sibylla. Her faint smirk told him she had done it on purpose, and the realization pulled a rough, quiet chuckle out of him despite himself.

The BD-unit peered down at the pond below. Ace's gaze lingered there too for a moment, on the light catching the water, the small bursts of color reflected from market banners above. He didn't say anything, just breathed in and let the silence settle for a few paces. The quiet came easy beside her, too easy, and that's what made it dangerous. Because when things got quiet, Dathomir crept back in.

Flashes. The red haze. His mother's voice. The weight in his chest when the world stopped moving and the only thing left was guilt. He could still smell the ash sometimes. Still felt it under his skin.

He shut his eyes tight, exhaling slowly, forcing the tension out of his shoulders, and gently pulled away from her. He moved closer to the rope, leaning over it, letting his eyes drift to the water. Sibylla grounded him more than she probably realized... and maybe that's why it scared him a little.

Ace knew that if she ever found out about Dathomir, about what he'd done, she'd never look at him the same. The thought hit like a stone in his gut. He valued her and their friendship deeply,, and the idea of becoming a monster in her eyes scared him more than anything waiting out there in the galaxy.

Sibylla Abrantes​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Acier Moonbound ​

Sibylla's laughter slipped free before she could stop it, light and bright against the hum of the wind across the bridge. It wasn't mocking but genuine soft melodic sound that carried a touch of amusement at his expression. The look on Ace's face was priceless, the incredulity in his tone enough to make the tension that had clung to her shoulders ease.

"Oh, it's true," she said between quiet laughs, the corners of her mouth curving into that wry little smile of hers as she lifted a hand in mock surrender. "Every word."

She let him see the teasing glint in her eyes before her expression softened again.

"I told you before about Set and Vere, remember?"

They walked a few paces further, their steps creaking softly against the bridge's wooden planks. The sunlight shimmered off the pond below, dappling their faces with gold and blue as she continued.

"Well, what I didn't mention before is that they had been imprisoned for millennia in a moment suspended within the World Between Worlds." Her tone carried a quiet reverence for the name, aware of what it meant, what it touched. "An archaeological team uncovered a temple, unknowingly disrupting the containment field that held them. I've been helping ever since, researching what I could on Set and Vere. It all traced back to connections with the Mortis gods."

Sibylla knew exactly how it sounded, like the kind of thing one might say after too many glasses of Blossom wine and too little sleep, but she didn't waver in her tale.

"Let's just say," she added dryly, "at the end of it all, I ended up inside the World Between Worlds and met them both. And whatever technology was used to imprison them was bleeding through. Time itself was unraveling, causing past and present to merge. Visions, echoes, fragments. I lived memories that weren't mine."

For a moment she grew quiet, reflecting some memory she clearly hadn't shared. Then she let out a breath and turned back to him with a faint shake of her head.

"An experience I don't intend to repeat, if I can help it."

When she felt the shift beside her, the quiet stiffness, the subtle change in his energy, Sibylla slowed. The rope bridge creaked faintly beneath their feet as she glanced over, catching the way his posture had gone taut again and the light seemed to have gone from his eyes.

"But," she said softly, voice falling an octave with care, "that's a tale best elaborated on another day."

She gave his arm a gentle squeeze, her hand lingering just enough to remind him she was here.

"Ace," she asked quietly, hazel eyes lifting to meet his in a warm and searching expression, "what's wrong?"

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Taris

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic

Ace listened while she spoke, the hum of the city fading beneath the quiet rhythm of her voice and the soft creak of the bridge beneath their feet. When she mentioned Set and Vere, the memory came easily and quickly. Naboo’s sunlit lake glinting around them, the gentle churn of the skiff’s engines as she told him the story for the first time. He gave a small nod. A silent acknowledgment that he remembered.​

​

But the World Between Worlds. The name itself stirred something unfamiliar in him. It sounded too large, abstract, like a place that existed outside everything he could grasp. Even the Force, in all its reach, had boundaries he could sense. But this? This sounded beyond. Otherworldly. The kind of thing only the galaxy’s myths whispered about when the night ran long and the stars seemed too still.​

​

Then she said she’d lived memories that weren’t hers.​

​

That line caught him off guard. His eyes flicked toward her, studying her profile. He knew what it was like to drown in someone else’s past, to see flashes that didn’t belong to you until you weren’t sure what did. The first few times he’d used psychometry, it had left him shaken for days. Disoriented. Disconnected. But Sibylla wasn’t the kind of person who crumbled under something like that. He knew she’d find the center in it.​

​

Still, the idea of her living through echoes not her own left an ache in his chest that he couldn’t name.​

​

Ace’s gaze lingered on the pond. All that really reached him was the faint wind, the soft creak of rope, and the quiet pulse of Sibylla’s hand resting on his arm.​

​

Without thinking, his fingers shifted; slow, tentative, until they found hers. Warm skin against warm skin, he didn’t know what he was doing. Or why. But it was nice.​

​

Tic watched from the railing, lens flickering between them. The little droid tilted his head, letting out a low, curious trill before settling back down.​

​

I’d rather talk about you.” He said finally. ”Ancient goddesses. Time unraveling. Way more interesting.”​

​

His thumb brushed across her knuckles as he spoke, a barely there motion. The quiet stretched again, long enough that Tic gave a low questioning chirp from the railing, as if prodding him to continue.​

​

Ace exhaled through his nose, shaking his head faintly. ”If I tell you…”He began, then stopped. His throat tightened, and the words came heavier, reluctantz ”I don’t want you to see me as-“​

​

He caught himself, jaw tightening as if he could physically bite the words back. Then, softer, he said instead ”I don’t want you to walk away from me, Sibylla.”​

​

Tic’s lens dimmed to a softer glow, his little frame going still. For once, the droid didn’t make a sound.​

​

Ace’s voice had no armor left in it. Just a quiet, bare honesty that left the air between them trembling. He didn’t look away from her, not this time.​

​

Sibylla Abrantes​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Acier Moonbound ​

Sibylla didn't need the Force to recognize what was happening. She had seen this before, in ministers, soldiers, and peers alike, the quiet shift in posture, the careful redirection of conversation, the fragile silence that built when someone's words began to crack beneath the weight of something unspoken.

She could have pressed, and part of her wanted to. But she also knew that sometimes, the gentlest thing one could offer was patience.

So instead of speaking right away, Sibylla listened, really listened.

The honesty in Ace's voice struck her more than the words themselves. It wasn't the confession of someone seeking pity. It was the quiet, frightened admission of someone afraid of losing what little good remained in their life. And as he said her name in that bare trembling, 'I don't want you to walk away from me,' something in her chest ached with understanding.

Sibylla felt her expression soften, and then, without hesitation, she reached up and wrapped her arms around him again. Not the kind of embrace meant to pull him apart, but to hold him steady, to let him know he was still here and still seen.

"You don't have to worry about that, Ace," she said quietly in assurance. "I am not in the habit of walking away simply because someone's truth is difficult to hear."

There was no judgment in her face, only calm resolve and quiet compassion.

"If you wish to tell me, I will listen. All of it. Whatever it may be. I cannot promise you that I will know precisely what to say, nor that my reaction will be without thought, but I can promise that I shall hear you in full and with an open heart."

Sibylla gave his arm a tender squeeze before she leaned back just enough to meet his brown eyes, the faintest hint of a smile softening her features.

"Friendship," she added softly, "isn't about pretending we're perfect or only showing the parts that are easy to love. It's about seeing each other for everything we are, and choosing to stay anyway."

The words hung between them, carried gently by the breeze that rippled over the pond. Tic gave a low, approving chirp nearby, as if echoing her sentiment.

Whatever Ace decided to say, or not say, Sibylla would be there ready to face whatever came next.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Taris

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic

For a moment, Ace didn't move. The first touch of her arms around him caught him the same way it had the first time, like a shock, like his body didn't remember what comfort felt like. Then, he exhaled against her hair, arms rising hesitantly before finding its place across her back.

When she pulled back, he met her gaze. The words she spoke: you don't have to worry about that, hit hard. But not in a bad way. Something inside him unclenched, the smallest fracture in the wall he'd built around himself.

And that was what unsettled him most.

It didn't make sense... how easily she could reach him like that, how a few words and a touch could quiet the noise he'd been living with for weeks. No Force trick. No effort. Just her. The realization made something twist in his chest, sharp and confusing, but he didn't step away.

Tic trilled softly beside them, a low, approving sound. Then the silence settled again. Softer this time. Not heavy, just... full. And in that space, he wrestled with it. What to do. The thought of it, telling her everything, were like stones in his heart. But then, he found the courage to speak.

"Not a lot of people know this about me." He said finally. "Think I've only told two people in the entire galaxy about where I come from."

He paused again. The wind brushed across the bridge, carrying the faint scent of oil and spice from the markets.

"I was born on Dathomir." He went on. "My mother was a witch of Dathomir. She fell in love with my father. Mine and Aether's."

Ace let that hang there for a moment, his expression unreadable in the fractured light. "It's… a long story." His voice hardened slightly, a quiet defense building in his tone. "I never knew her. She left me on Bonadan not long after I was born."

Silence lingered between them, heavy, but not empty. The kind that dragged the truth closer with every passing second until it couldn't stay buried.

"They wanted to kill me." He said suddenly, the words rough and unfiltered. "My mom's clan. Just 'cause I was born wrong. She gave up everything to save me."

He drew a slow breath, eyes fixed ahead, unfocused... like he was still living it. "Couple of weeks ago, they lured my mom back to Dathomir. Captured her, tortured her. I saw it. Dreams every karking night." His voice trembled, the sound catching in his throat. "So I went there. To Dathomir. To save her, only I--"

The sentence cracked. His breath hitched, words falling apart. Then he swallowed hard, jaw clenching tight enough to ache. "I couldn't. They killed her. Right in front of--"

He stopped again. His head dropped low, shoulders sinking as stray strands of white locs fell over his face, shadowing his eyes. A moment passed, still, fragile, breaking.

Ace pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to steady himself, voice fraying at the edges. "What I did next…" he started, the words shaking loose. "I…"

The rest never came.

Sibylla Abrantes​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Acier Moonbound ​

The moment the words left him, the air between them seemed to still. Even the wind that had been whispering across the bridge quieted, as though the world itself understood the weight of what had been spoken.

Sibylla didn't speak at first. She couldn't.

Not because she was shocked, though she was, but because she recognized the fragility of the silence that followed. Some truths demanded stillness, not interruption.

Her hazel eyes softened as she studied him, the way his head bowed beneath the weight of what he had just confessed, how his shoulders trembled under the strain of memory. There was no armor left on him, no sharp retort or wry deflection. Just raw grief. And she knew better than to treat that grief like something to be soothed away with simple words.

Slowly, carefully, she reached for him again. Her hands found his, steadying his trembling grip before she said, barely above a whisper, "Ace…"

While her voice was quiet, it carried the cadence of someone who was certain of what she said next.

"I cannot imagine the pain of that moment," she began softly. "Nor would I ever insult you by pretending I could." Her thumb brushed gently over his knuckles, as if to ground him in her words and that moment in a silent promise that she wasn't leaving.

"What you've told me… what you've lived… it's not something a person simply carries and forgets. You loved her. And she loved you, in the only way she could, by sacrificing everything to keep you alive."

"And what came after…" She drew a quiet breath, her next words threaded with honesty rather than comfort.

"Whatever it was, whatever you did, I do not doubt it came from a place of unbearable pain. That doesn't make it right, nor does it erase the weight of it, but it does make it human."

Hazel eyes flicked toward the pond below them, its surface rippling faintly in the fading light.

"Grief makes fools and monsters of all of us, Ace. But it also teaches us where our humanity begins again. That's the part the galaxy often forgets."

When she looked back at him, there was no pity in her gaze, only compassion, the kind that saw him for all his cracks and still reached for him anyway.

"You did what you could with what you had in that moment. And I know that doesn't make the ache any less… but you are not beyond redemption, nor beyond being understood."

She hesitated, a faint smile ghosting at the corner of her lips that was gentle and sad all at once.

"My brother once told me that sometimes the hardest thing is learning to live after it all falls apart. I think you've been doing that all this time, even if you haven't realized it."

Then in a softer tone she added, "You don't need to finish the story tonight. Not unless you wish to. But you have nothing to hide from me, Ace. Not anymore."

Sibylla's fingers lingered around his hand as Tic gave a low, mournful trill, the little droid's glow dimming to match the tone of the moment. Above them, the light fractured through the canopy of cables and banners, casting shifting gold patterns across the bridge.

Sibylla stayed beside him quietly, reminding him that even after everything, he was not alone in the aftermath.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Taris

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic

Sibylla's words hung in the air like the echo of something sacred. Not because they were grand, but because she'd said them without flinching. No judgment, no pity. Just quiet understanding. Because of that, Ace didn't trust himself to speak right away.

He wasn't used to that. Someone listening, really listening. It unnerved him more than silence ever had. But her hand around his steadied the tremor that had been building again. He felt the warmth of her touch through the rough skin of his palm, her thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles. That simple contact somehow made things go quiet again.

He looked up then, meeting her gaze, and in that moment, everything in him went still. Not calm, exactly, just quiet in a way that felt dangerous. Like the kind of quiet that could undo a person if they stayed in it too long. And that's when it broke. He felt it before he realized it, the sting in his eyes, the burn at the corner of his lashes. One tear slipped free, cutting a path through his cheek. Then another. It startled him more than the pain ever had.

He hadn't cried when his mother died. Not when he buried her, not when he slaughtered the clan. He'd packed the grief away, folded it into muscle and motion until it became something he could outrun. But somehow, with Sibylla standing there... with her patience, her steadiness, her refusal to turn away - the knot he'd buried so deep had become undone.

And beneath that ache, something else had started to take root... quiet, terrifying, and entirely out of his control. The kind of feeling that made him want to stay. The kind that made him want to be worthy of the way she looked at him. Int his moment, Ace realized he couldn't lose her.

Finally, he blinked hard, turning away and wiping his cheek. Embarrassed at unravelling in front of her like this. Tic chirped softly beside them, a sound almost tender.

"Kriff." He muttered roughly under his breath "Didn't know I could still do that..."

Gaze still averted, he thought to himself for a moment. Sibylla's words hadn't absolved him nor were they supposed to. The guilt was still there, the shame still sharp, but they'd shifted something all the same. The burden hadn't vanished, just… loosened. And that, he realized, wasn't nothing.

"You say I'm not beyond being understood..." He murmured. "I don't know if I agree, but... thanks."

He still couldn't look at her. But the weight behind the words lingered, raw and sincere, spoken from a place deeper than gratitude. The ashen-haired teen stayed there beside her, gently squeezing her hand as their shoulders barely brushed. For the first time in a long time, the silence that followed didn't feel empty. It just felt real.

Then, finally, his low voice filled the silence with a question.

"Tell me about your brother. About your family."

Sibylla Abrantes ​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

T A R I S
Marketplace Outskirts
Acier Moonbound

Sibylla didn't move at first. She let him cry. Let him breathe -- Because this wasn't something to interrupt or hush. Her chest ached at the sight. She had seen tears before, of diplomats crushed by failure, soldiers at the edge of surrender, refugees recounting loss. But this was different. This was not the grief of duty or defeat. It was the kind that stripped a person bare, the kind no one could ever truly prepare for.

When she did move, it was slow, instinctive. One arm slid gently around him, careful, steady, allowing him the space to pull away if he wished. The other hand brushed lightly against his shoulder, grounding him in the present.

"It's all right," she murmured quietly in a sure tone. "It's all right to cry, Ace. It doesn't matter the age or the species, so long as one can still feel. That's what keeps us from becoming what grief tries to make of us."

"If court and politics have taught me anything, it's that composure may win the room, but it cannot heal the heart. Sometimes, the heart must simply break before it can beat again."

The silence between them settled like soft rain, not heavy, not uncomfortable. Just real.

Sibylla finally leaned back a little, offering a small but comforting smile. When he asked about her family, the question pulled her gently from her thoughts.

"My family…" she began, her voice trailing as it turned a bit lighter, if with a bit of fondness and a mild sense of exasperation only siblings can bring up. She stepped closer to the railing of the bridge, her hands resting on the rope as she looked out over the rippling pond below. The light glinted against the water, painting her reflection in shards of gold.

"House Abrantes has been part of Naboo's history for generations. We've always served the Crown, though my father likes to say that we serve Naboo itself before any throne. He's the Ambassador to Enarc now, though before that, he was a decorated officer. Everything about him is duty, honor, and restraint... but more often than naught now he enjoys his time in the vineyards."

Her tone softened, the affection evident beneath the practiced composure.

"He's a good man, but sometimes I think he carries the weight of the Republic on his back alone."

Sibylla swung her attention to the horizon, musing about her family.

"My mother was once the Cultural Minister. She is the social butterfly of the family, truly, the heart of our House. She taught me how to see the beauty in things others overlook. And my brothers…" A soft, wry chuckle escaped her.

"Well, Cassian is my older brother; he is a General in the Defense Force. He's everything one expects a son of the house to be: honorable, dutiful, maddeningly protective."

She turned slightly toward him, the faintest trace of warmth finding its way back into her tone as she smiled up at him.

"Elian, the youngest, is brilliant, but too mischievous, adventurous, and prone to getting in trouble if you ask me. Certainly, the youngest child syndrome applies to that one. I swear he could get away with anything. Quite frustrating, really."

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Taris

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic

Ace let out a quiet breath as Sibylla began to speak. The steadiness of her voice, the warmth that threaded through every word. He didn't interrupt, didn't even move much, just listened.

Even though he had asked, he was still shocked. She gave him a piece of herself. Little pieces of who she was, the people she came from.

His gaze drifted toward the pond as she talked about Naboo, about her father's vineyards, her mother's grace, her brothers and their chaos. He could picture it. The sunlight spilling over open hills, laughter somewhere distant, the easy rhythm of belonging. It sounded like something so alien to him.

It wasn't envy he felt. More like a dull ache, a sense of distance so vast it might as well have been time itself. Although he had Aether now, and was truly grateful to have a half-brother. 'Family', in the traditional sense, was a word that still didn't fit right in his mouth. Hearing her speak it so easily reminded him just how foreign it was to him.

When she mentioned Cassian's protectiveness, a faint ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Can't blame him." He said quietly. "If what I've heard about your antiques is true. I'd probably be the same." Then he let out a faint huff as he reflected on his own experiences "Comes with the territory. Ori'haat, you should see Aether."

Tic chirped beside him, a small, approving sound, and Ace gave a slow shake of his head, almost amused. He turned his gaze toward her again, the reflection of the pond light catching faintly in his eyes.

"Your family… they sound like good people." He said, but there was no envy in his tone, just something gentler. "It's strange. Feels like I'm seeing another part of you."

He hesitated, thumb brushing against the railing. "You see them often?" It wasn't a question. Just quiet understanding, the kind that didn't need to be returned.

The breeze moved softly across the bridge, cool against the tear tracks that had long since dried on his cheek. The city hummed in the distance, but here, the world had gone still, caught somewhere between his grief and Sibylla's calm. He stole a brief glance at her reflection in the water, fractured, touched by sunlight. It reminded him of how easily she could stand in the middle of chaos and still seem whole. It was admirable, and hard not to notice. She was hard not to notice.

"Your family gave you a good start." He said, tone laced with quiet softness. "And despite all that, you're still you. You've got this way of holding your ground no matter what's falling apart around you. You listen when no one else can. You make people feel again... even when they've spent years trying not to."

He looked at her then, really looked. "You do that to me. Somehow."

The words weren't smooth, just plain and certain. He let them hang there before turning his gaze back to the pond.

Sibylla Abrantes​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

T A R I S
Marketplace Outskirts
Acier Moonbound

For a moment, Sibylla only regarded Ace quietly, the faintest trace of a smile ghosting across her lips. His words carried a sincerity that struck somewhere deep, somewhere she wasn't entirely prepared for.

Compliments, even kind ones, were a currency she was used to navigating with careful grace but this wasn't that. Ace wasn't performing or flattering. He was simply speaking the truth as he saw it. And that, somehow, disarmed her more than any Senate debate ever could.

"Hmm… well," she began, the sound accompanied by a soft exhale that turned into a quiet laugh. "Truth be told, if we were on Naboo or walking within the Assembly, you'd see a far more composed version of me. One that is always acutely aware of how every act, word, or glance might be perceived and how it might affect my reputation or political sway."

While her tone was light, one could tell it was tinged with ruefulness as Sibylla turned toward the reflection of the sky on the pond below.

"The life of a politician, I suppose. We learn early on that perception is a weapon, just as much as policy."

Yet as she looked back toward him, her expression softened and she gave a warm smile

"However, being here, serving as Ambassador to the Mandalorian Empire, has opened my eyes to a very different way of leading. There's a raw honesty to their politics, a fierce sense of culture and unity that doesn't rely on masks or maneuvering. Every clan has its own voice, its own values, yet they move as one when it matters. It's… humbling."

Her gaze drifted outward again, the breeze tugging lightly at the strands of her hair as she mused, "Honestly, I think working with Mand'alor Verd... Aether, has taught me far more about true leadership than the Youth Legislature ever did."

There was a genuine fondness in her tone when she spoke of him, and when she turned back to Ace, the warmth in her smile deepened.

"You're very blessed to have him as your brother. And he's just as fortunate to have you, Ace. Blood or not, family is what we choose to protect."

When Ace mentioned her ability to stay grounded, Sibylla's smile softened further, then faded into something quieter, more introspective. She shook her head gently, a faint glint of sadness in her eyes.

"I am not always composed, Ace," she admitted honestly. "And I am far from perfect in all situations. I was taught that empathy and listening are among the most powerful tools a politician can wield, but I would be lying if I said that hasn't blurred the line between compassion and persuasion."

She paused, her fingers brushing absently over the rope railing.

"There are moments when I wonder if I truly listen for the sake of others… or because I've grown too skilled at guiding what follows." Her lips curved in a self-aware smile if aware of how terrible she sounded, "But I try. And I suppose I understand how it feels to doubt, to question what's real and what's simply the stories we tell ourselves to keep standing."

And while her voice grew quiet, there was a melody of sincerity threading through it.

"Still, I'm glad if I've managed to help you at all, even in the smallest way. Sometimes all we need is for someone to hear us without expecting us to be anything else."

The light rippled across the pond again, gold glinting over their reflections, fractured and imperfect but still whole in the water's dance.

"You have a strength in you, Ace, even if you don't see it yet. The kind that survives what should have broken it. And maybe… that's the part I see most clearly."

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Taris

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic

Ace listened as Sibylla spoke, saying little, his gaze following the light as it broke across the water. When she mentioned Naboo and the Assembly, about her composure, a ghost of a smile crept at the corner of his lip. For a moment, he recalled their first meeting on Roon. Back when he was more raw, still figuring things out. He remembered her composure then, admiring it even, how she seemed to be able to hold it together.

He didn't know much about the world she came from... senates, assemblies, the careful games of perception. But the way she spoke about it told him everything he needed to know. The exhaustion beneath it. The weight of having to be more than just human in front of people who expected perfection.

Then, the topic fell on Mandalorians. "Yeah." He said quietly "They don't waste words. Everything about them exudes honesty, directness. Even down to how they fight. I get why that'd be refreshing after a whole life of politics."

Tic, perched at the edge of the railing, tilted his head curiously as if following her voice. His small photoreceptor blinked slow and steady, reflecting the gold shimmer off the pond. His version of listening.

Sibylla's mention of Aether drew a quiet breath that sounded close to a chuckle. "I am." He agreed "We only met several months ago. A year almost. But... it's like I've known him my whole life. I'm honored to be his brother."

He didn't say how much the word 'brother' meant to him, or how strange it still was to use. Instead, he just nodded toward her. " I think you've had an effect on him too. He considers you a friend. A real one. That's not nothing, especially with him."

When she spoke of empathy and persuasion, he didn't interrupt, but he caught the glint of sadness in her hazel-green eyes. His own eyes flicked back to her at the self-aware note in her voice. There was something about hearing her admit her doubts that hit him deeper than he expected.

Finally, he leaned against the roped railing beside her "I get it, Sibylla. Wasn't raised in high-society like you, but in the streets? Trying to survive? It's the same cloth. Masks. Manipulation. Control. I've seen it all... I've seen when people do it for their own gain. Done it myself too."

He paused for a moment, glancing back toward the water before continuing "I don't see that in you. Not when you're with me, at least. I don't think there's anything wrong with being able to guide people either. Especially if you do it to help them see clearer, not to control them. Maybe that's what real empathy looks like... knowing when to listen and when to lead."

His gaze lingered on her reflection in the water, fractured but steady. "You talk about doubt like it's a flaw, but I think it's what keeps you real. You see the galaxy as it is, and still find something worth standing for. That's not weakness. That's strength."

When she mentioned his strength, Ace finally drew his dark gaze back to her, jaw ticking. Then, he looked away again, turning his head - Dathomir flooded his mind again, the violent hum of his lightsaber filled his ears, the smell of burning flesh invaded his nostrils, and his mother's resting his face imprinted in his waking vision.

Gently, he shook his head "No." He argued "If I had strength, I wouldn't have done what I did on Dathomir. Surviving isn't the same as real strength."

Sibylla Abrantes ​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

T A R I S
Marketplace Outskirts
Acier Moonbound

Sibylla stood beside Ace quietly, her eyes following the light as it shimmered over the pond's surface, a faint, knowing smile curving her lips at his words. The way he spoke of Aether, the quiet reverence beneath the admission, was something that touched her deeply.

"I'm glad," she said softly after a moment, her tone sincere in thinking about Aether Verd . "That he truly sees me as a friend. Not just an Ambassador or another political connection to be weighed or used.... and you're right, for someone like him, trust isn't given lightly. It's earned, often over shared fire and battle, not through treaties and signatures."

THose hazel eyes would linger on the water, watching how their reflections merged and fractured with the ripples.

"You know," she continued, "he has this way of seeing people beyond what they project. Beyond titles, beyond the shields we raise to function in our respective worlds. That's something I've come to value greatly."

When Ace spoke again, turning the conversation toward her, she listened quietly, her head inclining just slightly as his words sank in. She hadn't expected him to counter her selfawareness so gently. Most would've nodded politely or brushed past it, unwilling to see the complexity behind what she admitted. But Ace didn't flinch.

His insistence that he didn't see manipulation in her earned a soft, small and selfeffacing laugh under her breath.

"The irony of it isn't lost on me," she confessed in a soft and honest tone, "I suppose even now I find myself in need of reassurance that I'm not what I've been trained to be. That my intentions aren't tainted by habit or… expectation."

The teenager let her fingers brush against the rope railing absently.

"It's strange, isn't it? The way we can spend years learning how to read and shape others, only to later question if any of it still comes from a place of genuine care. I try, truly, to help rather than guide, but I won't deny that sometimes those lines blur."

She gave a small smile, the kind that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Perhaps that's the cost of being human, always questioning whether our light casts warmth or shadow."

The words lingered between them before fading into the still air, only the wind stirring through. Then, his voice shifted, that quiet tremor threading through as he spoke of Dathomir again. His words carried weight like stone: Surviving isn't the same as real strength.

Sibylla's gaze lifted to him fully then to observe him anew, her expression soft but serious. She could see the way his body tensed, the flicker of something dark moving behind his eyes, the memories, the guilt, the ache that refused to fade.

"Then what is real strength to you?" she asked quietly, her brows drawing softly together. Her tone wasn't challenging, but conveyed in a deliberate manner, as if someone asking not to argue but to understand.

"Because from where I stand," she added softly, "I think strength isn't about perfection. It's about what you do after everything breaks."

The rope bridge swayed faintly under their weight, the water below catching the reflection of the fading light. Tic gave a low, inquisitive trill, as if echoing her question, before settling again.

Sibylla stayed there beside him, waiting, not pressing, not expecting, just present, and her heart very much engaged in whatever truth might come next.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Taris

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic

Ace's mouth twitched into something between a smile and a frown at her words... that quiet, self-effacing honesty of hers.

"Yeah..." He murmured. "We spend so long learning to read people, survive people, that after a while it's hard to tell if what we're doing is kindness or just instinct."

He glanced at her, the fading light brushing against her hair, and shook his head faintly. "Maybe it doesn't have to be one or the other. Maybe it's both. You can care and still calculate. You can mean well and still stumble through it. Doesn't make it fake... just makes it you."

Tic gave a soft whir from his place by the railing, his photoreceptor blinking once in quiet agreement. Then her last words caught up with him. The cost of being human. His jaw tightened slightly. Ace didn't say anything, but her words stuck with him.

When Sibylla lifted her gaze to him again, asking what real strength was, he didn't answer right away. The question struck deep, cutting through whatever wall he'd rebuilt since his confession. He watched the ripples spread beneath them, his reflection bending, reforming, breaking again.

Finally, he spoke.

"I used to think strength meant surviving. Pushing through whatever came at you. Thought if I just kept fighting, I'd come out stronger for it. Maybe even become someone better."

He slowly blinked a few times, interlacing his fingers together tight and clenched his jaw.

"Then after I found out I was a Verd and started to learn the ways of the Force. I thought strength was domination. Being able to impose my will on others through my power."

The ashen haired teen chuckled to himself, realizing how absurd and egotistical he was just a few months ago. Then, he exhaled, rough and slow.

"Dathomir showed me how stupid that way of thinking was. Surviving and domination doesn't make you strong. It just... keeps you breathing, or turns you into a monster."

Tic gave a low, sympathetic chirp. Ace reached out absently, brushing a thumb over the droid's head0casing before continuing.

"Real strength is mastering yourself. Stopping long enough stopping to see all the broken, ugly parts... and choosing to be better." He swallowed hard, eyes still on the water. "That's strength to me. Choice."

Then his fingers curled around the rope, tightening his grip so hard his hands shook.

"I had that choice. I knew about all the dark parts in me, and instead of stepping above it. I gave in, fed those urges. That darkness."

He exhaled again, throwing those walls back up again. Ace turned to her, a small, tired half-smile ghosting across his lips. "You've got this way of making me look at things I'd rather keep buried. Guess that's another kind of strength too. Annoyingly so."

Sibylla Abrantes ​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

T A R I S
Marketplace Outskirts
Acier Moonbound

Sibylla listened, her eyes fixed on the rippling water below as Ace's words unfurled between them. When he spoke of surviving, of domination, of power mistaken for purpose, Sibylla's expression softened with quiet understanding. The faint light caught against her lashes as she turned her gaze slightly toward him. He had articulated something she had often felt in different forms, how ambition, duty, and the hunger to endure could twist into chains of their own.

When he said, 'Real strength is mastering yourself,' she nodded slowly, the corner of her mouth lifting in a faint, contemplative smile.

"That," she murmured, "does sound like a good definition of strength. To see what you are, to acknowledge the parts that frighten you, and still choose to become better. There's a rare courage in that kind of self-mastery."

She paused then, her hand brushing absently against the rope railing as she let his words settle into the quiet around them. After a moment, her voice broke the stillness again, softer now as she lightly probed with thoughtful musing.

"But tell me, Ace... when do you think someone is able to reach that level of strength?"

Tic gave a slight whirl in contemplation.

"Is it something that comes with age? Or does it require something more? A particular event, perhaps, or a rite of passage?"

Another pause and then she elaborated.

"On Naboo, our youth go through the tests of the Youth Legislature. A measure of intellectual and civic maturity before one earns the right to vote or to even participate in governance. But that kind of competency is a matter of knowledge and composure. It doesn't measure the heart."

Those hazel eyes would drift back toward him, her tone still gentle but probing in the way that only Sibylla could be.

"So what, then, defines when a person has met this strength you speak of? When are we truly ready to choose better...and not simply survive?"

Tic tilted its small head, as if mirroring her curiosity, its lens flickering softly between them.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Taris

Equipment:
Field Gear | Lightsaber | Tic

Ace didn't answer right away. Her question lingered between them, soft but heavy. He could tell her question didn't demand so much as an answer but to draw one out of you. He let the silence breathe, the sound of water lapping against the supports below filling the space she left open.

"I don't think there's one moment. Not really." He said finally. "It's not some clean line you suddenly cross. Not something you earn once and your 'complete'. It's something you keep trying to hold on to. A process. Maybe that's the point."

His thumb brushed absently against the rope railing, feeling the coarse fibers bite against his skin.

"What really defines strength?" He echoed, casting her a sidelong glance "Surviving is self-serving, it's our most primal instinct. It's the quick, easy choice to make. It isn't strength. When there's a choice that's not selfish, and you choose that, that's strength."

Tic gave a small, contemplative chirp from where he perched, the sound soft and steady. Ace glanced at him, shrugging. Tic had made a comment that Ace's 'philosophy' sounded a lot like that of a Jedi.

"Yeah, maybe." Ace responded.

Then, his gaze fully shifted to Sibylla, sharp but not unkind. "That thing you said before. About your Youth Legislature test, how it doesn't measure the heart." He tilted his head slightly, studying her. "So, what? Is that how you feel about yourself? That people see your mind but not your heart?"

He didn't mean it as a challenge. It was quiet, curious, sincere - a rare glimpse of how he saw through her composure. He let the silence hang, giving her the choice to answer it in her own time. If she wished.

Gently, he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply before finally opening them. He looked ahead again, whenever he reflected on Dathomir, it was difficult to meet her hazel gaze.

"I know what you're trying to do, Sibylla." He said, tone flat "I appreciate it, but what I've said doesn't apply to me. Not anymore. I can't come back from what happened."

A pit formed in his stomach, she deserved to know. If anyone did, it was her. As much as he didn't want to lose her, hiding things from her was worse. And... she deserved to know the full story, to have the choice to walk away if she wanted to.

"I killed them, Sibylla. I struck them down without a second's thought. And, I would have slaughtered the children too... if someone hadn't stopped me." His voice was cold, his stare was a thousand yards as he relieved the moment "They killed my mother, and I was happy they were gone. Even now, I feel like they deserved worse than what I did to them."

Ace's head lowered slightly, a tired sigh escaping him as his shoulders loosened.

"That's what scares me the most, the guilt and shame that's eating at me. Not because of what I did, but because I feel nothing from it."

He looked at her again, body turning to face her. His dark eyes were soulless almost.

"I'm not strong, I'm just a slave to my emotions. A monster."

Sibylla Abrantes ​