Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Between Duty and Concern



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T A R I S
Marketplace
Acier Moonbound 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!"

 

hIB90xA.png
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?"
 


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.

 

hIB90xA.png
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
 


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."

 

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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
 


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?"


 

hIB90xA.png
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 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.

 

hIB90xA.png
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
 


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.


 

hIB90xA.png
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
 


eWEGUhY.png
T A R I S
Marketplace Outskirts

Acier Moonbound 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."



 

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