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."

 

[Naniti]

"Lysander," speaking of serious voices, "if you replace your aspirations with worry about my safety," her embrace started to tighten about the man's sides, "I'll give you a reason to care." A second later the embrace relaxed back into that of someone thought lost returning home once more.

"If you want to change, I won't stop you, but if you just think there's no point, there is. Diplomacy is about connection. And if you'll listen to a simple Togruta, Mercy needs all the help she can get. She relies too much on her sisterly bond with that Empress. But you? The Empress of the Order and Mercy both know you. You're in the perfect place to make or break everything." Peace was not her forte. Socializing was not her forte -- that was Lysander's. But Naniti paid attention to details. Even if she wasn't certain how to use what she knew, she knew it.

A quick kiss followed him saying he was better with her at his side. "And don't forget it."

Blue eyes blinked when Lysander suddenly said he'd brought her something. "Alright." No chance she did this for anyone else. Naniti's eyes slid shut as he'd asked and she stood still. "Nothing wrong with cheating, but since you asked..."

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti​

Lysander knew she was right; that didn't make knowing any kinder. Understandably, that particular anxiety left its mark long ago. Back on Naboo, it was even the culprit of some sleepless nights. Another part of him understood clearly that awareness without effort was just another name for waiting, and waiting never saved anything worth keeping. The effort itself would have to be conscious, chosen again each day. Just like so many other things in life.

Disagreeing with the Togruta rarely happened. "Connection.. I get that, Naniti. Really. Only the Covenant refuses to translate. Put economics on the table and I'm fluent, that's home territory. Everything beyond that? I'm starting to wonder if any of it justifies itself anymore. I'm aware of exactly where I stand with both Empress', it’s just that destruction sounds more.. rational lately. No different than how we've always operated." Silence stretched. "Never thought I'd catch myself rationalizing Tapani. Yet here we are."

"Before you decide what this looks like, it isn't that," Lysander murmured, thumb tracing the slow journey of a band onto a violet finger of her right hand. "It’s not jewelry. Not really, anyway." Transformation toward a necklace or another adornment was possible, but given its inherent nature, this felt like the more practical option. "I mean, technically you wear it, nobody has a clue what it actually does, and anyone stupid enough to corner you gets a very polite surprise. So consider it another card to play."

His smile grew softer. “I know you don't need anyone fighting battles for you. Every competitor in the Galactic Kaggath received one of these trinkets. Besides the memory itself, the thing is the only piece I have left from those days. Nothing felt more right than seeing it with you.."

"Among those who know it, the name is Riteblade. Or, more precisely, the ring is the call for one, as I understand it. Picture any form.. a sword, spear, axe.. hold it in your mind for a few seconds and let the Force answer."

The story required no retelling; Lysander already shared it with her once before. What came after the Kaggath was simple enough looking back. Lysander and two other competitors, including the tournament's eventual victor, formed a quiet pact. Two of them would ascend to the Triumvirate. Together they created an enclave after the Galactic Empire's Emperor dared to insult the Empress, and they swore vengeance for the offense. And vengenace was had. Six months later, the Empire fell, and millions perished for the arrogance from a false Sith's tongue.

 

[Naniti]

Naniti wasn't going to waste their time trying to sort the Covenant's issue, but she would need to explain more later. It wasn't whether destruction was right that had her concerned. It was how everything balanced on the connection between two people. A connection Naniti herself didn't quite understand. If it frayed, everything would be at risk. Lysander could be another way of keeping it from flying apart.

It wasn't... Lysander proposing to her? It didn't look like that? Well, it was the wrong hand. But it was a ring. Of course, Lysander was probably worried she'd have a fit over jewelry. Generally speaking, outside of domestic areas, jewelry was a bad idea for a warrior; especially necklaces and other free-moving pieces. Though there were some that weren't cause for alarm. Rings on fingers, bands around lekku or montral horns... static pieces you didn't have to worry would slip around, fall off, or make noise. And none of that mattered because Naniti's first thought was on it being a ring on her hand. But not that?

Her eyes slid open to look at it once he began to explain it wasn't just a ring. Naniti assumed she didn't need her eyes closed to listen to the explanation.

Lysander echoed the refrain of her being a perfectly able bodied fighter, but he left out the bit she'd just reminded him about -- that he shouldn't go out of his way to avoid placing her in danger either. It was sweet, but a woman had to make sure people didn't think them fragile or a lesser fighter. The Force didn't care about gender, and her training didn't care about someone's opinion.

When he said the ring was all he had left of 'those days' Naniti gazed up into his eyes. Not that she'd intended to refuse or complain, but that statement certainly would have made it more difficult -- for a Jedi. A smile graced her lips.

"Thank you, Lys. It's very thoughtful and useful. I'll always keep it with me." She reached up to caress his cheek. She had questions, but some things had to wait. This wasn't an academic moment. Far too personal to be poking around.

She held up her hand off to the side to look at it. "Of course, now they're unbalanced." Naniti lifte and turned over her left hand. One had a ring, the other did not. Her blue eyes peered back up at Lysander expecting him to do something about it. All in good humor, of course. Though she wouldn't be affronted if he did. Not upset if he didn't. Totally onboard if he did though.

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti​

A thank you was the last thing on his mind; seeing her smile was its own reward. Especially in a place like this. The Riteblade belonged to memory, absolutely, but maybe it didn't have to stay there. Around her finger, it could belong to the present too. Finding each other on Desevro so soon after the tournament meant that chapter was already woven into the fabric of their story; perhaps this moment served as the next stitch drawing it closer together.

Always might have been a dangerous word for a Sith to cradle, but from Naniti, he found no instinct to shy away from it. Lips parted on an inhale, words hovering just out of reach. Somewhere in the back of his mind was the old lesson that stacking one confession atop another had never exactly been a winning strategy, which bred a second of hesitation despite so much pressing at him to be spoken.

Now that she'd mentioned it, that hand did look remarkably bare. And honestly, when was the last time he'd spoken plain truth without weighing the consequences? Holding back now would be giving her half measures when she deserved whole truths.

"You're not wrong. That one deserves something chosen for you. And I'd be a terrible liar if I pretended the thought hadn't already crossed my mind."

There were several ways to read the hand she'd so helpfully presented; Lysander was quite fond of at least one of them. His green eyes searched her blue ones, a smile beginning to betray just how much the blonde was enjoying the implication.

"I can't help it, Naniti. I'm still so ridiculously into you." Which was an understatement, really. No matter how many times the galaxy tried to pull them apart, it was always the violet Togruta he returned to.

Fingertips skimmed against her waist, coaxing her closer. His smile turned playful at the edges. "Still feeling unbalanced?"

 

[Naniti]

Naniti rocked her hips against Lysander as she slid up along side. "I always know where I stand with you," she replied softly. There was something 'nice' about not needing to feel angry or suspicious all the time. Of course, anyone that tried to hurt Lysander would find out just where all that rage was kept -- as they nearly had on Jakku.

"You know," a smile touched her lips, "especially with you back, there's nothing holding me here. Want to go somewhere... more scenic?" The Togruta's blue eyes sparkled. She'd only stayed there to make use of the facilities to heal faster so she'd be stronger sooner to tear some heads off. Since Lysander was back the rending of flesh could wait. Some people still earned it, but it wasn't as pressing now.

A soft chuckle followed. "Maybe grab something to eat on the way." Not that the hospital food had been terrible, actually, but it wasn't gourmet either. To say nothing of the decor not exactly of the romantic caliber. "I could use the excuse to stare into your eyes."

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti​

Lysander's arm curved around Naniti's waist, pulling her in without a second thought. "You knowing exactly where you stand with me might just be the healthiest thing I've managed all year." The smile that landed on his face was, he knew, hopelessly stupid. He couldn't find really a single reason to tuck it away either.

His back foot slid half a step. Another followed. Only then did did he register what his legs were up to; he was already guiding them both toward the door, apparently under the assumption that wherever the Togruta planned to go, his place was beside her.

Somewhere on Throneworld, several very powerful people probably expected him to eventually explain where he'd gone. That sounded increasingly like a problem for future Lysander, whom present Lysander wished every possible success.

Always simpler priorities when she was within reach. And that sounded wonderful.

"Anywhere you want, Naniti. And you know you're allowed to stare without inventing an excuse." One more step.. and then the door caught him between the shoulder blades. A breath of laughter escaped him, but it faded as he searched the violet planes of her face. "I wish.." The word stuck for a moment, so he started over. "I wish I could tell you everything I feel about you without worrying about whether I'm saying too much at once." Not that she'd ever stopped him from saying anything. "You wouldn't have to give me anything back. Just.. let me say it sometime."

Both hands slid down until their fingers laced together, and he squeezed once. "Come on. Food first. Then we can decide how irresponsible we feel like being about the destination." For the first time in a long while.. tomorrow felt limitless.