Private Homecoming

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti​

During the return journey, his thoughts sorted every possible disaster into columns, then returned to the first and began again. The news had found him anyway. Abregado-rae. The Covenant's march. The butchering. Some horrors carried no element of surprise, no matter which battlefield birthed them. Not any longer, at least. Their violence spoke the same dialect on every planet. Sure, some particulars might shift.. but a Sith's hunger never did.

Other concerns were far less philosophical. Contact with Naniti had been sparse. Enough to leave him concerned beyond what his foolish self would normally permit. That she had survived was not a question in Lysander's mind; he'd seen her survive what would have broken anyone else. Survival, however.. was not a synonym for untouched. A darker thought moved beneath the others.

And Lysander could feel it building an argument.. find whoever did this and make the lesson impossible to forget. Or.. just kill them outright. The idea arrived feeling perfectly sensible; that was precisely what made it dangerous.

The orbital station filled the viewport as the shuttle settled into its docking position. At the top of the ramp, fingers drew his sleeves straight, then checked the lay of his peacoat. One shoulder rolled beneath the fabric. Both hands flexed slowly.

The station registry stood beside the main corridor. Lysander placed two fingers against the terminal and searched her name.

Naniti: temporary quarters. Room 7-19.

Why the fuck was she in the medical wing? It only reaffirmed that he was late. Fingers curled around the edge. The room number remained bright before him. Then he released the console and walked away. A lift carried him upward through the station’s inner levels.

Reflected in the doors, his face looked calm; nothing in that reflection showed how violently he wished to tear the station apart nor how much he missed her. The lift opened into another hall. Room after room passed. When he found hers, Lysander stopped. Something in his stomach seemed to drop through the floor. One knock touched the door. The second only made the silence more difficult to bear, so he went on and entered slowly, preparing himself for impact.

 

[Naniti]

Feydrik Munin had put up quite the fight. Man loved his crushgaunts, and how they could crush hands. They hadn't exchanged more than a few words and focused more on trying to murder or mutilate one another. Plenty conveyed between them just trying to kill one another though. She hoped he came out of it as wounded as she had, but Naniti knew he wasn't dead. That hurt most of all.

As for herself, the violet Togruta had come out of the confrontation with two broken forearms. Naniti had broken a crushgaunt blow head-on. Only by pushing her unique talent beyond its limit did she distribute the force among multiple Possibilities. Not enough to go uninjured, but enough to survive. Better than his blow sending her arms flying and his fist smashing into her face.

Once the participants on the field changed, Naniti had been extracted off-world. Abregado-rae didn't have medical facilities. The ships in orbit were damaged. The major cities damaged. The war continued. Extraction had been the only option. And as much as she had forced herself to keep fighting with broken arms, once taken from the battlefield the only option was to endure the bacta, kolto, and whatever other drug the doctors felt were necessary. Agony did little to help heal.

Her arms were mostly healed, but given the extensive nature of the injury they were still sore and sensitivity to strain. Not that it kept Naniti from flexing her grip strength with a physical training device. The Dark Side would support her efforts to return to the field. It did nothing for those that wanted to curl up in bed and avoid conflict, but warriors? Yes, it would return her strength. Pain was just another way of drawing its support.

Forced to sit there as her injury healed, Naniti had been contemplating the means of striking the High Republic without Mercy 's blessing. The Empress didn't think highly of effort to build connections in the shadows. She was a woman of brute force and action -- publicly. Nonetheless, Naniti might not be running around lopping heads off everywhere she went, but she had connections. Not in the Republic yet, but credits had a way of opening doors. Credits she could seize.

Or, like Abregado-rae, appease the Empress' bloodlust. Would it get her to contribute? Or would it simply stay the woman's hand when the time came? Having an enemy at your back livid you'd taken self-initiative could be as lethal as a well-prepared enemy ahead.

Naniti reflected on all this when a knock sounded at the door. The Togruta sighed. Why couldn't the damn nurse droids leave her alone?

She hadn't given permission to enter because they never waited for it anyway. Middle of the night? Knock, knock, enter, fuss, fuss, fuss, leave. Tell them to go kark themselves? Didn't make them move an inch slower or faster. The temptation to crush them into spheres of metal was always there.

Her blue eyes were turned out toward the stars when the door opened. The hand grip trainer slowly squeezed and expanded again; one hand atop a knee laying flat off to her left, the other atop her right knee propped up before her. It took a second, but Naniti turned to look at whoever was entering once she recognized it had a presence in the Force. Something alive.

Naniti's squeezing of the hand grip equipment stopped and she just stared at Lysander as he stood there. How was Lysander standing there...?

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti​

Guilt shadowed his crossing of the threshold; hesitation braced for any number of horrors.. blood, machinery, sedation, all rehearsed endlessly in a holding cell. And there she was, upright and breathing; her gaze finding his. Torture required no touch at all; Lysander's mind supplied its own cruelties, giving every unanswered question about the Togruta its worst possible answer. Somehow, some small piece of her seemed to remain with him wherever the galaxy took him.

Silence fell while another step carried him forward. One by one, the details returned.. the montrals, the fall of lekku, the familiar lines of her violet face. Attention dropped to the trainer in her grasp, then to her forearms; his brows drew together. Slowly, a breath left through the nose. An unholy cold uncoiled beneath the relief. Whatever happened, someone or something had hurt her; already, his mind was trying to trace the damage back to a name he didn't have yet. Shutting down that instinct proved difficult.

Somewhere en route, he composed an entire speech, and now not a syllable of it could be recalled.

"Naniti."

Golden eyes fluttered shut at the sound of her name, then reopened. One hand began lifting, only to stop when his attention returned to her arms. "Before I do something stupid and send you straight back to bacta, tell me where you're injured?" The trainer in her hand suggested much, but some stubborn part of him needed to hear it from her own lips.

As he'd since learned, the trial went out across the HoloNet. He wondered whether she witnessed any of it; if she saw him there standing in Force-dampening binders, while his own thoughts circled constantly around her.. wondering where she was, what she was doing, whether she was safe. Since Jakku, too much unfolded beyond his influence.

"I kept wondering where you were. I hated not knowing."

One corner of the mouth lifted, the smallest possible upturn. "I did not enjoy being away from you.."

 

[Naniti]

The Togruta blinked at her name. Her hands came together, and both trainers were set behind her on a side table without looking. She couldn't take her eyes on Lysander as he stood there. "I'm not made of silica glass," she replied. Fragile, brittle glass was utterly useless. Everyone used transparisteel or something of equal strength.

Naniti swung her legs over the edge of the bed. As she hoped onto the floor, he could see she was dressed in loose, but dark shirts and pants. It wasn't attire befitting someone trapped in their bed awaiting recovery.

Where Lysander had been concerned he'd aggravate injuries, Naniti was not. She bound forward to throw her arms about the man that'd re-entered her life. "How are you here? I tried to have them send a fleet after you. Fought on Abregado-rae to convince them to listen. I was preparing to go without them, and now you're just here?"

The violet woman kissed Lysander before she added, "I couldn't stand the thought of losing you."

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti​

Lysander's lashes dipped at the mention of silica glass. He simply accepted it. Around Naniti, consideration always turned up a notch; a carefulness he rarely ever afforded anyone else. With others, audacity came easy and nonsense spilled without filter, but the Togruta never belonged in that crowd.. not since their days on Desevro.

Warmth bled back into the Sith as she drew near; his hands found her waist instinctively, palms fanning wide. That was the feeling of homecoming, truer than any return to their condo on Byss. Home was violet skin and montrals and the way she fit perfectly in this embrace. His moth opened to answer, only to have whatever words he meant to speak gently silenced. Whatever caution remained melted somewhere between them; he leaned into the Togruta, returning the pressure as though it were the most natural thing in all the galaxy.

"The Empress intervened before any sentence could be passed," he said thoughtfully after a moment. The thought of a fleet being dispatched for him kindled something wondrous. To outside ears the idea might have sounded extreme but of course he would never complain about that level of devotion. Given the chance, he would have done the same without a second thought.

Those few words could never untangle the depths of the whole story, and of course, he longed to lay it all bare for her. Whenever the time was right.

"Technically, I ought to be on Throneworld still, but I chose to leave. Whatever consequences wait for me there can wait until I return. I just couldn't stand to wait a second longer." Sunlit eyes lifted to hers. "You could never lose me, Naniti." His forehead tipped forward to rest against hers, and a small smile followed. "I would always find my way back to you." Another kiss brushed her lips like a promise. "I'm sorry I ever made you feel otherwise."

The former Emissary was still a little frayed at the edges, not quite stitched whole the way he had been before. Still, he was miles from the man he'd been before Jakku, and that had to count for something, even if wholeness would take more time. Fortunately, neither of them would have to mend alone.

 

[Naniti]

"The Empress?" Srina Talon? Naniti's brow wavered for half a second. That... made sense, but she didn't even know Naniti existed. Mercy had seemed the most prudent choice. But if Mercy had deferred to Srina to take action for Lysander... That was frustrating to think they wouldn't let her participate. As if only the Empress could walk into a Republic court unaccosted. How had she managed that in the first place? They would never have known Naniti from any other Togruta. For all their ideals they were still specist-blind.

After all, so many Humans looked the same to her except for Lysander. Probably because she bothered to actually memorize his facial features.

The Togruta pulled her head back a bit when Lysander said he had to face the consequences. What consequences? What was Lysander talking about? He'd been abducted off Jakku, taken to Naboo, and rescued from the Republic and Jedi alike. Why would there be any sort of special consequences for being abducted? Could it be considered a failure? Absolutely. Was it worth the personal attention of Mercy to call it out? Well, Naniti supposed ever Master was allowed their own way of conducting their affairs.

His soft utterance of reunion, however, eased her shoulders and she leaned into the embrace once more. "I'm just grateful for your return, Lys. I've never felt so powerless before when that ship was leaving and even the Storm couldn't swat it out of the sky." Well, of course, if the tornado or lightning had hit and the ship had crashed there was the chance he could have died... but that was how the Dark Side worked. Realizing the unintended consequences always arrived afterward.

"You'll take me with you, right?" A small smile surface. "When you go to Throneworld." Maybe she'd be forced to wait outside, but whether Mercy tried to crush her again or not there'd be a feisty Togruta to barge in if she thought to kill Lysander for... whatever was on his mind. What was that, anyway? Not that Naniti was worried she'd find it offensive. Just meant he might have pissed off someone truly powerful and handling that would be quite the challenge. She was curious why he'd done whatever it was though, and how it tied in to previous conversations.

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti​

Lysander's fingers curled into the fabric at her back; one hand slipped between her shoulder blades, drawing her close. "You weren't the only one who felt powerless, Naniti," he murmured, lowering his mouth near her temple. "But.. you were one of the few things they couldn't take from me." In the darkest stretches of captivity, small details saved him more than heroics. Those recollections never unlocked his cell.. but they stopped his thoughts from looping into oblivion..

Occasionally, he had managed to slip back into the Mid Rim; soon that route might vanish entirely. Strange to admit, but accepting that loss had begun to feel like a form of liberation. Less a door slamming shut than another chain dropping away.

His voice lost some of its gentleness. "Being captured wasn't my choice. But I made decisions that left me wide open to it." Consequences had always seemed like things he alone was meant to bear.. punishment for his decisions, or debts collected against his name. Discovering that the damage had rippled outward.. to her, to the Covenant, to people who had never agreed to stand in the path of his mistakes.. had been a cruel education..

Looking down, he spotted the smile on her face. Naniti's happiness didn't erase the problems waiting for him, nor did it excuse him from confronting them; yet for a few seconds, the burden was lighter. "Yeah. You're coming with me. I refuse to let you be left behind any longer."

More uncertainties lurked beneath the promise. "I don't care if I return as Point Emissary or not. Some things demand change." His grip eased. "I just don't want to expose you to danger." His brows pinched as a persistent thought circled the Sith's mind. "Maybe diplomacy is dead. I'm tired of chasing its shadow.." That wasn't entirely true. Lysander could still advise higher-ups; serving as the liaison between the Order and the Covenant remained worthwhile. There were still conversations he could navigate, tensions worth softening before they became more violence. Everyone else, who was to say..

"I'm simply better when you're by my side." Those words probably rang familiar to the Togruta, but they deserved repeating. The admission did not mean every mission.. or every dangerous corridor had to include her; still,, she did not have to be systems away..

"Oh, I brought you a little something.." His face brightened up at once. "Now close your eyes.. no peeking, and absolutely no sneaky foresight cheating."