Private Form, function, balance. Repeat.

[Varin Mortifer]

Nyara Dakhan Lysander von Ascania

Varin smirked at her remark as he watched her walk away.

“As you wish.”

As she left he grabbed his bag and his rag and began to clean himself off. The white rag eventually turned red from the clean up. He gathered his supplies as the dull pulsing pain of his brow began to flare up ever so slightly.

“Yep, that's going to scar. Happy I'm not obsessed over my looks though, this would be concerning.”

Varin’s classes were done for the day and he was pretty sore after all of the fun, maybe this time and only this time will he indulge in the herbs Lysander was so critical about when Varin set off the fire alarms. He had heard it had properties to bring relaxation. No doubt he would need something to help ease the headache that will follow him for the next couple of days, and so close to the concert as well for that matter.

However he couldn’t help but keep thinking about his sparring partner.

Ah crap I forgot to ask her name, I guess I’ll figure that out later.

As he made his way back to his dorm he opened up the door and dropped his stuff on the floor looking around for his roommate.

“Lysander……I think I’ll take that smoke offer….”

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Varin Mortifer Nyara Dakhan​

Lysander had spent the better part of the morning cooped up in his dorm. But rather than being in his room, he was hanging out in the living area. Though his legs were crossed in a meditative posture, it’d long since drifted from the practice. Having decided to skip the earlier classes to relax, he chose to embark on another journey of marathoning The Rule of Two Hearts on his larger datapad. His gaze, narrowed enough to make one question whether his eyes were even open, was glued to the HoloDrama. Occasionally, he took slow sips from a bottle of water sitting next to him.

Deep in contemplation, he lost track of time dissecting the nuances of the couple on screen– their glances, the underlying tension conversations, noting the well-known dance of trust and even doubt. For the blonde, it was more than random entertainment; it was like a puzzle that stimulated the acolyte's mind.

When the door suddenly opened, breaking his concentration, he looked up to his roommate. The fresh cut on Varin's brow was impossible to miss, even in Lysander’s sedated state. Before the words even escaped the his mouth, he knew exactly what Varin needed. Besides, he’d taken his share of L’s in melee and hand to hand combat lessons, but always reminded himself that they were just learning experiences, and not failures.

Reaching into the jar by his side, he retrieved an aromatic nug. Crumbling it apart, the scent wafted to his nose, teasing the senses. He smoothly packed the bowl of his glass item. Even better, instead of it being filled with boring water, it was a fruity juice obtained from the local market to enhance the flavor.

But feeling too lazy to even move, he simply gestured to it on the floor.

“It’s all yours my man,” he said with a lopsided grin. "How was the training?"

Next to him was a smaller datapad, typically reserved for personal messaging; it was the same one that had gotten him in trouble during lab on several occasions now. After pausing the current episode, there was no hesitation in tapping out a quick message to Haro Aven .

Just got some new stuff in bro, you should swing by later.

Without missing a single beat, he pulled up his conversation with Sibylla Abrantes , then paused for a long moment, fingers hovering over the device. Eventually they would convey his current thoughts.

If a Kaadu could give life advice, what do you think it would say???

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Lysander von Ascania

Varin dabbed the rag over his fresh slightly still bleeding wound and winced at the pain as Lysander packed him some herbs.

“It’s all yours my man, How was the training?"

Though he was still sore from sparring he smirked at his roommate and sat next to him taking a slow draw from the glass object. The floral mix with the tart fruit of the juice was a very welcomed mix as Varin held it in for a few seconds and exhaled giving a small cough.

“It was…..very exceeding in expectation, best training session I have had in a long time. She was focused, strong and her form; it was excellent. But I just can’t seem to get her eyes out of my head. She enjoyed sparring as much as I could tell.”

The herbs were already working their magic as Varin lowered his guarded mind in talking about the events that happened earlier, likely something he would have kept to himself.

“We seemed to have given each other something to remember each other for the time being.”

Varin was confused why his force healing would not close up the wound, almost as if his body naturally wanted to scar. A badge of honor perhaps. After a few minutes Varin realised that without any intention he found himself watching this show with his roommate, he had no idea what the plot was but it was certainly entertaining for his current state.

no don’t open his datapad woman, you’ll find his double life! You’ll be devastated …..yep she's opening it.

You can’t be serious right now boy, you're already losing your focus, any second now someone could come barging into that door and what will you do? Stare at them to death?

Now that would be an interesting force ability, look at someone and they just die.

I’m serious, boy.

Varin gave a chuckle at the thoughts in his head, it was uncontrollable, something was just making him feel aloof, and he knew it, but he could not stop it. He looked over to Lysander as he pulled out his white crystal bearing red cracks within it and gently rubbed his thumb over it.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, Lys, how did you get your scar? Another person I should worry about? Can’t have one of my most social encounters disappearing on me, and we all know Revna can be more awkward than me at conversations sometimes.”

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Mandalore.

The word alone settled in Sibylla's chest like a weight.

They were en route to the Court of Iron, where the new Mand'alor awaited their arrival. And while others might have seen this as a historic diplomatic venture, Sibylla knew better. Her memories of Mandalorians weren't forged in council halls but in the smoke and ruin of Dee'ja Peak -- where plasma fields burned, where civilians screamed, explosions marred the cliffside, and death had nearly taken her twice by blast or by drowning.

She stood poised, back straight, expression unreadable, the brush of beads from her headdress tickling her cheeks as the dropship began its descent. The presence of the Shiraya Grandmaster at their side offered some measure of comfort, but Mandalore did not promise safety, only tension wrapped in tradition and beskar.

Still, this was her role now. Diplomacy, even when it pulled her into the Vornskyr's den.

Which was precisely why the soft double buzz of her datapad earned a scowl at first. At least until she glanced down.

Lysander.

Whatever nonsense he'd written this time made her snort aloud; an entirely undignified sound that earned a raised brow from a nearby aide. Sibylla pressed her fingers to her lips, smothering the grin that had already bloomed.

Shiraya help her, it was ridiculous. And exactly what she needed.

With a quick tap of her fingers, she sent Lysander von Ascania 's datapad ablaze with buzz after buzz of incoming messages.

If a Kaadu were inclined to give advice
Which I assure you would only happen if bribed with fruit.
It would likely be something you are already familiar with...

Trudge through the mud if you must
It builds character and keeps the wrong sorts from following.

And for Shiraya's sake, know where the nearest watering hole is --
emotional or otherwise.​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Sibylla Abrantes | Varin Mortifer
​

Lysander’s features lit up at the mention of training; normally, this was a subject he could delve into for hours. An amused grin appeared while shaking his head; even in the current sedated state, some things were not entirely lost on him. “Oh. Ok,” he started, taking a slow sip of water while weighing his words. “Soo.. she was exceptional in close combat.. but it’s her eyes now living rent-free in your head? How intriguing. What's her name?"

The acolyte stretched his fingers, extending them long and deliberately, before flexing the joints of one hand and rolling his wrist. “As long as her preferred lightsaber form isn’t Ataru. I swear to Bogan, every time I see an acolyte flipping all over the place with that fancy acrobatic chit, I just want to punch them straight in the face. Djem So is totally cooler.”

His gaze drifted to the boy’s brow; apparently, they were going to be matching soon. As his roommate began taking the hit, his focus returned momentarily to the current episode of The Rule of Two Hearts, lowering the volume so there was background noise in the dorm room.

A smirk teased the corner of his lips when the question arrived. “It was actually from Naameh. Guess you could say we had a small disagreement on the way back from Woostri on the Empress’ shuttle.”

The grudge that once lingered had been replaced with understanding, accepting it simply as a lesson learned. “If you ever grapple with a Zabrak, just be mindful of those horns."

He purposely left out the bit about Haro eating his straight cross like a champ, proving the non-Force user among them didn't have a glass jaw.

There was no bitterness in his tone. "But we're good now."

Suddenly, the datapad buzzed—a series of back-to-back alerts caused tightness in his chest. As they continued flooding in, it triggered an anxiety that Lysander wasn’t accustomed to. The blonde stared at the screen, bracing himself for the worst. “I think I really pissed her off this time, Varin,” he murmured.

Two more notifications arrived.

Taking a deep breath, he scanned over the texts; but ultimately, all that came from it was an amused chuckle escaping after reaching the end, as if Sibylla was imparting ancient wisdom that one might typically only find in a Holocron.

Their conversations exchanged through the HoloNet wasn't exactly a secret any longer amongst friends and peers at Kor'ethyr Academy. But for him, it was more like an indulgence of the heart; some may have given him a hard time over it, but his joy from the texts never waned.

His thumbs struck quicker than Sith lightning across the screen.

“Yo, that’s like.. deep stuff, Sib. Kaadus really be out here dropping free game for everyone. I might have to meditate on this later. I mean, what if Kaadus are actually the philosophers of our galaxy, and we just never knew it? Bribed with fruit, vibing in all that mud, knowing exactly when and where to hydrate. I think you’ve found the secret to inner peace or somethin'.

Speaking of fruit, I bet you’re rocking the orange aesthetic today. Let me find out you're secretly sponsored! I bet you smell like citrus too!

With an exhale, all tension melted away, and he turned his focus back to Varin. “Yeah, Revna kind of trips me out bro, to be honest. But not in a bad way. You’d think she’d be some super scary Sith lady hiding behind a mask, but surprisingly.. she’s friendlier and more supportive than any of the fake Jedi I’ve ever crossed.” His eyes flicked over to the other datapad in front of them. "This season is so frustrating. Toren shouldn’t even be in the story anymore. Zyra and Daine clearly have more chemistry. But this other guy? He just keeps lingering like some annoying side-hoe Force Ghost that's pretty much a stage five clinger. I’m really hoping that in the finale he trips through an open airlock. Good riddance.”

As Lysander carefully packed another bowl into the glass piece, he couldn't help but pause before bringing it to his mouth. “You know who else isn’t following The Rule of Two Hearts?” He let the question hang for a moment for dramatic effect. “Haro, Naamino, and Leshanna. But.. all three of them are actually cool, so.. it'll be interesting to see how that whole thing plays out.”

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Sibylla had expected a reply; Lysander von Ascania was nothing if not predictable in his inability to resist a good quip. She'd even wagered he wouldn't last half an hour without sending something utterly absurd.

And she wasn't wrong.

Her datapad gave the faintest buzz against her palm. Just once, mercifully, before she managed to silence it beneath the hem of her sleeve. The last thing she needed was to have that noise interrupting delicate talks with the Mandalorian assembly. A misplaced chime could end in a diplomatic incident. Or worse, an awkward silence.

Her expression didn't shift, not overtly -- House Abrantes had trained her far too well for that -- but the smallest furrow gathered at her brow as her hazel eyes skimmed the message.

Lysander: Yo, that's like... deep stuff, Sib. Kaadus really be out here dropping free game for everyone..."

She stopped reading aloud in her head, lest it cause some sort of intellectual collapse.

'Yo'?'Vibing'?'Rocking the orange aesthetic'?

Shiraya preserve her.

She blinked. Once. Twice. And then, as if her brain needed time to fully process the tail end of the message --

Lysander: I bet you smell like citrus too!

A flush rose unbidden to her cheeks, swiftly chased by a thin press of her lips. A citrus aesthetic? Sponsored by a Kaadu-themed enlightenment movement? She scrolled down to the coup de grace: a Lothcat emojicon, cartoonish and smug, with a glowing 'L' on its forehead.

Infuriating. Utterly ridiculous. Possibly the most Lysander message to ever exist. Was he high on those Ukatian pastries? Caught sunstroke in the desert? Inhale too much sand?

An aide leaned in quietly. "Lady Sibylla, we'll be arriving shortly."

"Thank you," she murmured, slipping her datapad aside...but not before tapping out a reply with enviable swiftness. A string of quips, barbed gently around his vocabulary:

Dockworker slang? Are you auditioning for a holodrama now?​

​

…and ending, against her better judgment, with a parting shot referencing her supposed citrus scent.

Well, you'd have to get close enough to confirm, wouldn't you?

She hit send with perhaps a touch more haste than was strictly necessary.

Focus, Sibylla.

Senator Sarn was speaking. Senator Vonn glanced her way. And Dominic Praxon, the other Junior Representative, had arrived, giving her that ever-so-curious look as if she hadn't noticed the interaction between him, Grandmaster Briana Sal-Soran, and Senator Vonn earlier.

She straightened, chin high, composure restored.

Well, as she swallowed hard, the shuttles ramp unfolding to reveal the series of Mandalorian escorts in full beskar armor, almost.

Right. Mand'alor. Walking into the Jexu's Den. Unsure of what to expect. Here's to hoping this Court of Iron doesn't end with a few extra holes in their skins.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Lysander von Ascania

Varin sighed "Thats where I think I dropped the ball Lys, I was so caught up in the aftermath I forgot to ask her name."

Varin listened as Lysander told him the short version of his encounter with Naami as the thought of the horns just tearing into his flesh brought a slight uncomfortable shiver over Varins lower spine.

"I'll have to keep that in mind if I ever spar him. Truth be told, thinking about sparring him sometime, it excites me."

The young sith watched as Lysander thumbed through his messages with a sense of anxiety it seemed. Varin tried his best not to read over his shoulder, he knew he would want the same courtesy, besides getting into others personal affairs just wasn't him, but the herbs made him rather curious.

"You sure are rather proficient with that thing." He eyed the datapad.

"I cant seem to get it down, i have the basics and i can finally do my drawing in it, its strange but its starting to become almost second nature."

“Yeah, Revna kind of trips me out bro, to be honest. But not in a bad way. You’d think she’d be some super scary Sith lady hiding behind a mask, but surprisingly.. she’s friendlier and more supportive than any of the fake Jedi I’ve ever crossed.”

Varin followed his gaze back to the holodrama as he thought about what he had said. It’s a bit weird that he would find a master that was…..almost motherly?

“Best be careful with that Lys, Sith masters are known for manipulation.” Varin spoke with thick sarcasm, but truth be told, he wasn’t sure if he was being honest with himself or not.

"This season is so frustrating. Toren shouldn’t even be in the story anymore. Zyra and Daine clearly have more chemistry. But this other guy? He just keeps lingering like some annoying side-hoe Force Ghost that's pretty much a stage five clinger. I’m really hoping that in the finale he trips through an open airlock. Good riddance.”

“Well that's not very nice of you” Varin gave a short laugh.

“This has some of the cheesiest acting I have seen and I grew up on live performances. How is this so…..addicting? Some of the plot is predictable from half a star system away.”

But Varins eyes kept glued to the screen.

“You know who else isn’t following The Rule of Two Hearts? Haro, Naamino, and Leshanna. But.. all three of them are actually cool, so.. it'll be interesting to see how that whole thing plays out.”

Varin chuckled, as he thought about the whole ordeal.

“They certainly are a peculiar trio. Some of the first people I talked to, Haro, seemed a bit of an oddball for someone on a Sith planet.”

Varin looked at Lysander as he continued his observation.

“He doesn’t have your typical fend for himself kind of attitude you’ll mainly see on these planets. But I'm sure not one to talk.”

Varin watched his roommate take another drag before he continued.

“He genuinely seemed to care.”

After lysander finished his drag Varin took another inhale of the substance, this one hit a bit harder in his lungs causing them to burn, Varin coughed for a few seconds before getting a handle on himself. He began looking at his partially cracked datapad as he took the stylus and began drawing in the device. He could start to feel his emotional walls begin to break as the herbs took a further affect. Without even thinking a question just slipped out of his mouth.

“When’s the last time you saw your family?”

There was no going back from that, the question hung in the air. Secretly Varin hoped he didn't just kill the vibe of the room.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Sibylla Abrantes | Varin Mortifer
​

The acolyte allowed Varin’s messages to sink in; but before he uttered a single syllable, there was a slow exhale, which resulted in a cloud of pale smoke drifting towards the ceiling. His attention flicked over to his roommate, but it was to study the fresh cut. “Well,” he started, feeling sincere, “I do hope you get to see her again. Because man, unanswered questions really suck. And who knows? Maybe it’ll just happen to be your turn. Or, if you get super lucky or something, maybe you’ll actually be the one someday.”

The mention of a potential sparring sesh with Naamino piques his interest. The Zabrak was both naturally skilled, and disciplined, undoubtedly a deadly combination. Varin’s abilities were a mystery to him, but they did both serve the same mentor, which was promising. “I find it kind of exciting myself,” he admitted, a sloppy grin being conjured. “I think you should do it; after all, iron sharpens iron.” In truth, the idea of witnessing such a duel in person was much more exciting than replays from the HoloNet. Those who didn’t understand the art generally just wanted to see brutal brawls with pointless bloodshed.

For the blonde–ever the enthusiast of striking and grappling, viewed them differently. Truly understanding the display meant he saw choices being made, openings, patterns that might make someone predictable. Beyond that, they were invaluable lessons in movement and psychology.

Rather than just reacting to violence, it was an opportunity to apply knowledge.

A chuckle slipped out from the jab about his datapad obsession; this was officially common knowledge in every hall of Kor’ethyr Academy. Ironically, it just so happened to be when another two messages pinged back-to-back. The acolyte didn’t need to glance down; he already knew who they were from.

“What kind of drawings?” There were notes of amusement in his tone.

Casually leaning back, he was enveloped in a lush fog. The line on his lips broadened into something else, perhaps half amused, but at what, he wasn’t even sure. A single hand came to drape behind his neck. “Manipulatin’ me? I’m awready full of bad decisions." His voice was soft, unconsciously slipping into a drawl, much like Danger Arceneau . “Ain’t wise to try an’ play me.. you’ll end up caught with yer pants down, an’ I reckonin’ that’s a mighteh big mistake.”

When the conversation veered back to the HoloDrama, the current episode being one he’d watched more times than he cared to admit, and the boy soon found himself feeling nostalgic. It did, in a way, remind him of child tales back on Ukatis, where knights rescued princesses from towers that were protected by fierce dragons. “I’m just an idiot who likes all the emotions mixed in with fate and destiny and stuff,” he confessed with a sigh. “And, bro, some kind of big reunion in the rain? Yeah, I want that.”

Soon, his mind was digging deep, lost in thought, so lost, that silence began to stretch between them.

In truth, his little social circle wasn’t easy to break into. Since his upbringing back home, he was taught to not waste time on those who didn’t bring something to the table. Loyalty and capability would always outweigh meaningless connections. He was still getting to know one fellow Derriphan student and might have even been a little biased. And had there been some kind of scoreboard monitoring who he smoked with, the half-Kage was at the top of this list, doubling, if not tripling everyone else's number.

It just kind of started happening after a trip to the arcade.

“Yeah, Haro doesn’t seem like the fighter type. I don’t see that kind of fire in his eyes.. but man.. give him five minutes, and he could probably rizz half the academy without even realizing it. Not gonna lie, even I’m taking some notes here and there.” The warmth in his voice betrayed his fondness for their non-Force sensitive friend. “He sure is a skilled mechanic though! That two-wheeled machine he built for me is surprisingly holding up strong, which says a lot considering how much I abuse it.”

Whatever rhythm there was between them slowed as the question of his family surfaced. Amusement that painted his face dulled. Recent memories from Ukatis still found a way to sting. "I have. They've seen better days." Pieces of the puzzle leading up to the coup were still being revealed

Some truths revealed were like a blade without mercy; the wounds were not of flesh, but understanding.

"It's ok though. Really. At least I’m starting to understand why people say blood isn’t thicker in water."

A pause

“What about you?”

As always, fingertips ghosted over the datapad; they were poised, but unrushed. A myriad of responses flickered at the edges of his consciousness. With a slight tilt of his head, a choice was made.

Sibylla, I was under the impression that if I auditioned, they would beg me to take the lead.

Would that make it a true choice then?

Or just recognition of the inevitable?

You, of course, are far wiser than I

So, go on

Bestow your superior insights upon me

Before I drown in my delusions

A sigh lingered for a single breath, then disappeared.

Something to think about.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Lysander von Ascania

Varin chuckled at the thought of a relationship. Not because he wouldn’t want one, but in his experience and the things he saw, letting someone that close is a tactical disaster. One could easily be used against the other, or worse, his future bride could be a spy sent to infiltrate his legacy. The thought made Varin distracted for a moment as he realised he lingered a bit long on the thought. Must be a side effect of the herb.

Iron sharpens Iron, such a beautiful phrase, to break someone down only to build them up, while simultaneously receiving the same treatment There's probably no one else in his circle more honoring to Varin than the Zabrak known as Naamino.

His roommate let out a chuckle about Varins datapad quip and asked him what his drawings were. Varin hesitated for just a moment, before flipping through the various detailed drawings of various landscapes of his home world mainly in a black and white style but there is some color added to certain focal points. Cliff mountains consistently battered by waves of the ocean carve the exterior of its walls, while sitting atop is an abandoned tower, far above that tower are three moons each of varying sizes, The biggest and brightest shown a vibrant gold overshadowing the red and blue moon on each opposing sides.

“Just some pictures of home.”

The next one is of a massive palace of obsidian stone, red lights shine from its inner walls bleeding out of its stained glass windows into the streets.

Varin silently flipped to the next image of what looks to be a little girl tending to a massive oak in the middle of an even more massive garden, various colored plants blot the ground beneath them giving a sense of chaos yet beauty.

“What about you?”

Varin paused as the question lingered as he flipped to the last sketch of a perfectly remade family portrait. His father, mother, sister and an older model HK protocol droid all standing together in an embraced pose.

He let out a sigh, his emotional walls were crumbling , but he wasn’t ready to talk at this time.

“I haven’t seen them since before I crash landed..” He let out a chuckle as if to play off the emotion a bit.

“You know how rulers can be, sometimes too busy to talk to their sons at school. But I don’t blame him, there's a ton of work to be done for him, and truth be told I haven't reached out either.”

He paused for a moment. “To care for some people so deeply is a great gift, yet a great burden. They give you a will to live, until that is taken away. There’s no worse feeling than wandering a wasteland as a husk with nothing to love or work for, to provide for. To be so distracted by their smiling faces, you can’t see the void sneaking up on you.”

He looked at Lysander “A quote from my father. It makes him sound like he's grim and regretting having a family, but that could never be the case. It was merely a warning to let others know what they sign up for when they do engage with another in partnership.”

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Varin Mortifer​

When Lysander leaned back, the familiar haze settling upon him like a soft blanket, he still found himself both sharp and curious. And even in the relaxed state, he was focused, squinted eyes tracing every detail of the pictures. The acolyte imagined the quiet sounds, which had a way of pulling him just a little deeper. But when words finally spilled forth from his dry lips, they were simple. “Bro, that place looks like it holds secrets. I can feel them from here.”

The bits of Varin’s earlier words about rulers hovered at the edge of the boy’s consciousness. His brow furrowed with thoughtfulness; not all nuances of the conversation were lost on him.

It made him mull over his own father, Marcel.

A name heavy with loss.

Though they hadn't been close, the man's death on Ukatis left a hollow ache in Lysander’s heart. Fortunately, the remedies from A’Mia’s greenhouse kept the edges dull. From the first light of morning after his runs, until it was finally time to lay his head to rest, the herbs lured him into a state of calm, making him believe that everything would be okay.

As the acolyte's gaze drifted downward, there was a faint flash from the datapad screen; it was a warning that the battery was dying. A final flicker followed, like a dying ember. He stared at it a moment longer, hope etched across his face like a fool, as if pleading for another message to bring it back to life.

To bring salvation.

He slowly rubbed a palm over his face, as if wiping away the fog threatening to consume him.

It didn’t work.

There was also a pull in Lysander's gut, considering prying deeper about the crash landing mentioned.

But something caused him to hold back, deciding it was something better left veiled.

At least for now.

“All you can do is keep moving forward. What truly matters is how you get back on your feet—lessons you won’t find in a Holotext.”

A soft exhale followed. “Sounds like a heavy legacy to carry. I can understand why it may be difficult to reach out, no matter how deep the blood runs. I've experienced something similar.” A wry, knowing look, surfaced. “Sometimes, it’s easier to let the distance remain. Safer, even. Other times, though.. the past has a way of catching up, whether we’re ready for it or not.”

Countless lessons were etched into his memory; not from his father, but from the handful of mentors who wielded a firm hand and shaped him during his years at the royal academy. Pragmatism, self-investing, this was the foundation that came with expectation and duty of honoring the von Ascania lineage.

Those voices echoed now.

“I come from a family that demands much,” the blonde added quietly. “My teachers always told me to focus on myself.. to raise my standing enough to be worthy of a woman from a higher station. The instructions were clear–accept anything less, and my father would probably kill me himself.”

Under the truth, there was meant to be a touch of humor.

“It’s funny,” he mused, voice softening. “For the longest time, I thought that was just the way things had to be. That worth was measured in rank, in accomplishments, in what you could offer. Sometimes..” An index finger drummed against his knee. “I don’t know, man. Maybe it’s not about reaching high enough. Maybe it’s about finding someone who sees you, regardless of where you stand.”

A breath. “Or maybe it just sounds easier. The one I want… it’s like reaching for the stars themselves.” His gaze lifted to the ceiling. “For so long, she was like a secret I wouldn’t dare speak.. because saying it out loud might actually make it vanish. But keeping it locked inside? That’s getting harder every day. It’s physically painful.”

But here, now, in Korriban, it was clear that he was doing the exact opposite–as if his ambitions were distant.

Traversing the deepest shadows in his psych, it didn't take long to brush against the images of the Junior Representative in the Mid Rim. But along the way, he tripped over his own delusions, for what was once the promise of something beautiful, tried revealing itself to be a cruel illusion.

Another sigh; this time, deeper.

“It’s kinda ironic, no? How.. care can be both an anchor and our chain. Your father’s words, I get it. Maybe it can be the heaviest burden we carry.”

He let the silence hang a moment. “Either way, I’m here. If you ever want to talk about what happened, or just need someone who’ll listen without pushing too hard.”

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Lysander von Ascania

Varin smiled.

“It’s secrets are vast, I lived there all my life and have barely scratched a layer of dust in its secrets.”

Varin listened to Lysander muse about the past, he agreed with everything he said and there was a lot of wisdom in his words, or maybe it was the herbs easing his mind. Either way Varin frowned as his roommate finished.

“The past is never done with anyone, even in death.”

He listened as Lysander spoke of his family, in many ways it was similar but in many ways as well it was very different. He was born with an expectation to be on a pedestal that depending on his own ambitions was either too big, or he just hadn’t reached it yet.

“Never hold in your emotions Lys, that is how they control you, you become your own personal slave.”

Varin scoffed quietly. “But I’m not one to talk. I have so much rage in me I feel I could level an entire city. Maybe I could.” He let out a long sigh. “Reaching for the stars seems impossible if you are close sighted, Even the distance of stars have limits and can be reached. What will you do when you have grabbed ahold of what it is you seek? Use it for your kin? Or yourself? You’ll never truly know until it lies in your grip. An anchor is useless without its chain, and a chain needs direction and something to latch onto and pull. Though being locked into this conflict seems dangerous, the rewards could outweigh the consequences.”

He gave his roommate a quiet nod at his offer.

“You and I have very similar backgrounds, yet vastly different. I think between our predicaments, you and I are the only ones who could truly understand the others struggles. When that time comes, I'm sure we will find each other. Until then I extend that same offer to you. My door is usually open.”

Varins eyes started to feel heavy as the herbs maintained their hold, slowly Varin stood up.

“I might go lie down, you might need to report to your next class though. Revna has a way of keeping tabs on us.”

He began his slow walk back to his room and plopped face first on the bed.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Varin Mortifer ​

Lysander blinked slowly, his gaze lingering somewhere between Varin’s form and the ceiling above.

There was a long pause before he exhaled through his nose.

Almost amused.

Almost impressed.

“..Bro,” he said finally, voice low. “You just turned our dorm into a.. philosophy cave. Without Rancors. That kind of cave.."

The acolyte leaned his head back against the wall, eyes still half-lidded. “You ever realize that people only talk about chains when they’re high? Like, no one ever says that during normal conversation. But in this state?” He tapped his temple. “Chains make a whole lotta sense!”

His fingers traced circles on his pants as he stared off, mulling on the rest of it. “Honestly, man… I don’t know if I’m built for the stars or just.. stargazing. But if reaching for ‘em accidentally gets me somewhere decent for once.. I’ll gladly accept the win."

Then, after a beat. “Yeah, I’ll make it to class. Probably. Eventually. Unless I get sidetracked by, like.. snackies.”

He scratched at his temple. “Besides, I’ve never actually seen Lady Revna upset? Nahhh.. she won’t be mad. I’ve never seen her mad mad. Probably. I mean.. just that really calm pause she does where you start wondering if you're about to get cooked by Sith lightning or somethin'."

A confident nod followed. “She’ll totally get it. I’m still experiencing personal growth either way.”

The boy’s legs then stretched out further. “Yeah bro, get some rest.. Before you level an entire city. Big mood.. I can’t even level my GPA. But yeah, I’ll be here.. just emotionally unpacking I guess.”

The teen didn’t move.

He just vibed.

Sitting alone as the silence lingered in the room shortly after Varin’s departure, one of the boy’s previous comments resurfaced, slithering through the room like a serpent.

“Never hold in your emotions Lys, that is how they control you, you become your own personal slave.”

The temperature seemed to drop as he glanced upwards once more.

“Yeah, maybe I’m just tired of a certain type of pretty, you know? Tired of that whole snarky, unattainable nonsense. The whole, ‘I speak in riddles and disappointment’ like it's some kind of fething birthright.” A hand rubbed across his eyes, and a dry laugh escaped. “And I’m tired of that weird orange ass Jawa aesthetic called fashion. Don’t even get me started. Acting like that ugly burnt desert looking dress is a trend of something. Like congratulations, you belong on Tatooine, not Naboo.” Lysander simply stared at the ceiling like it might have an answer. “I'm tired of being all in when she's got, what.. half the senate probably up in her DMs waiting for a turn. And me? I’ve just been holding out when I could be making more emotional mistakes with others who probably aren't even emotionally available.” An arm waved in the air. “I know I'm good enough to pull at least four and a half different types of damaged sentient beings. But nooo. I got stuck on her. And the concert.. oh my gods, the concert. Bro. I could’ve had a fething VIP wristband. You know? I could’ve been backstage, blowing spice off some Twi’lek’s booty and living the dream.”

Groaning, the blonde covered his face. “I just.. okay, look, I’m not even mad, I’m just…” He paused, looking at nothing in particular. “So exhausted. Emotionally, spiritually. Maybe it’s just time to start my villain arc. At least that's what all the cool kids on ZikZok call it.”

And so it was, once the silence reclaimed the air, an oddly comforting weight settled over him, as if all burdens had been finally released.