Private Metaphorical Music

[Lucien Dooku]

Coruscant // Galactic City // Jedi Temple //
// Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt //
[ T H E M E ] ​

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Luc shrugged at the initial query he received from Lyra, offering up that same half-smirk as before as he stirred his drink idly, his eyes peering relentlessly into her own. He was a man who believed that one could tell a person's true nature, or at the least transmit ones' own true nature, through something as simple as eye contact. Such was part of the foundation of his own confidence, aside from his belief in his own abilities.

"I think our allies here are about as effective as we were ever goin' to get. Whether we're speaking on the Alliance itself, or the Jedi within the Alliance, out of the few viable options for us to have chose from, there's no doubt in my mind that we went with the most solid pick of them all. Their focus on the Core is understandable, given where they're located, but as proven by Muunilinst, they're willing to bring the fight to the Sith when it really matters. They might be a bunch of stuck-up Core-worlders, but they've shown a willingness to fight whereas the rest of the galaxy has not."

Luc could still recall the pitched battle between himself, Ryv , the Sith Lord Venari and his ilk. He smirked on the outside, but there remained a lingering pain within him from the sheer amount of losses that his unit had sustained. The combined force beneath Ryv and himself charged headfirst into an ambush whilst the two Jedi led a pitched battle against their pursuers in the buildings overlooking the city. The planet was won at such a high cost that Luc couldn't be bothered celebrating the victory himself. His men died in droves while he was tied up fighting elsewhere. It was one of his biggest regrets; seeing the faces of his remaining men after their victory, reading through the KIA/MIA logs, only to see that less than a quarter of Crest had even survived. He questioned himself constantly after that day, running the battle over in his head to see if there was anything he could've done differently. In the end, it felt like his own hubris had led to the events of that day, and all he could do is try humbling himself for the next time.

Although his mind wandered away from the topic, his eyes remained fixated on the beautiful company standing with him for however long he'd be able to keep her attention. She kept talking, and he wasn't complaining, as that just meant that he'd pulled her attention enough to keep a conversation between them going. Her questions continued to flow, and he listened intently before gathering up the words for a clear response to it all. Not even taking a moment to think them through clearly, Luc simply let what was on his mind out freely, a typical move in his book. "Duality seems like an interesting way to frame it." He began, pausing to take a sip from his drink before continuing on. "I'm not with the idea of classifying those who partake in the light or the dark as inherently good or bad, if you catch my drift. I've met Jedi who were selfish pricks not worth living, and I've met 'Dark Jedi' who didn't want to slaughter people wholesale like their light-side counterparts would like to frame them.

It's all a matter of perspective, and how that person in specific decides to go about their life. Take me for example- I'm what most people would align with a Jedi, apparently. I don't believe inherently in the light or the dark being what signifies one as being whatever traits you assign to them. I've used weapons and items that were meant for Sith, yet I don't see myself growing a desire to enslave the galaxy." Tapping at his temple with his finger, Luc would give her a wink. "It's all a matter of perspective. if you let yourself be enveloped in the ideals of the Light and the Dark as heavily as the religious cultists that form the classical idea of Jedi and Sith, you're setting yourself into a position of being able to think rationally and see things from an impartial perspective. Be an individual, is all i'm sayin'." He finished with another sip, satisfied with his response.

Moving on from that topic, Luc did hesitate for a spell before he answered her next inquiry. Having been outed for being a bit overconfident just a moment before, he felt damned no matter the response he gave her next. "I suppose that's correct." He spoke up, although it was definitely possible for him to have just been some mercenary still, had things gone a different route. Taking a step back, Luc playfully offered her a casual bow, the hand holding his drink being held off to the side before he rose back up to speak with her once again. "I'm the Warlord of Nirauan now, to put it straight. Granted it means little in terms of actual territory, since that's also the Order's homeworld, but I suppose it has its perks." One of those perks being the resources necessary to rebuild his unit to whatever capacity he could think of. The survivors of Crest Section would form the backbone of the Order's newest Legion, which was currently in the process of being reorganized under his command. "It comes with a bit of influence and the resources to field my own forces...but I plan on keeping things modest. I'm actually kinda' happy that I don't have to worry about the governance aspect of the job, for the most part I just get to do what I want~ And you can probably guess that I love my freedom."

A toast followed, and Lyra elaborated on her duties for the night and just how she ended up by her lonesome on that pleasant evening. Soldier or not, it was a crime to even consider leaving someone like her to go about her own business when there were plenty of single men present that night. Giant parties for the rich and influential would always consist of a fair population of desperate weirdos seeking to catch the eye of a single woman. Perhaps if the stars weren't aligned the way they were, Luc could've been perceived as one himself, but he'd like to think of himself as mindful enough to actually be great company on occasion. He just hated stuffy events like the one they were at then, a fact which would become even more evident once he replied back to her again. "Well since you're taking suggestions, how about we ditch this Gala and go do somethin' a soldier like yourself, and veritable spacer trash like me, would enjoy. I know about a cantina or two on the fun side of town that offer the holy trinity of fun; music, food and better alcohol that what this place is offering." Sitting down his drink, Luc extended a hand towards her after presenting his offer on the table. "As for your boss-- Feel free to throw me under the bus for borrowing your company for a while."

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

// Coruscant // Galactic City // Jedi Temple
// Lucien Dooku //
// Wish

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Lyra brought the rim of her glass to her lips as she caught Lucien’s gaze, he was direct but she had yet to meet anyone in place of command without a stiff spine. Her amusement was smothered as she took a sip from her glass. She didn’t have an idea what he was searching for, hardly ignorant to his studious eyes and it seemed a hair too personal and her brows pinched together. Peering back at him with a grey stare, the corners of her eyes were well bloodshot. There was really no way of hiding it and the woman pushed her stirring worries to the back of her mind, tilting her head, staring past him as she adjusted the drape of her skirts, glancing toward the Hall’s entrance. He wasn’t a fool, thoughtful at least but Lyra turned her attention squarely away.

“You have a positive outlook on them then, I can’t argue that..but you are right. They were the only ones out of a whole galaxy,” Lyra muttered in agreement, words descending into a simple scoff. The perspective aligned with her first assessment of them, she did not know a single soul from their rank on a personal level but their hearts had to be in the fight-she had heard the stories about the Jedi after all. It had been a thought she had pondered long, if the fight was so great-why hadn’t more come? Even if they successfully marched up the Braxat..it would never end the tyranny, there would be something worse to fill the vacuum of power and a dark look passed over her expression. They’d always be fighting it seemed. Inhaling deeply, he weathered the practical interrogation and she renewed her attentiveness. Taking care to listen, one ear solely dedicated to the man as she watched the night stretch out over the upper cut of the society in attendance.

Impartial, it felt wrong to simply default back to the doctrine of the Imperial Knights in correlation to his own ideology. She doubted any of them could stand up next to Lucien’s own bravado, they were a different breed of soldiers and she was loathed to even consider them that. Lyra had to wonder if that was the solution to all her problems, individuality tasted odd on the tongue. So many faces lost to the rank and file, Lyra was growing far more and more restless in her duties..Her mirth faded away and she settled into a bitterly and..inebriated state. Crossing her arms, minding her glance as her fingers drummed along it. She hummed thoughtfully at his words, nodding her head in agreement.

It was next to blasphemy, but she snorted as he chalked matters up to enslavement of the galaxy. Yet he wasn’t wrong, the thought a tad sardonic. She wished she could exude a bit of Lucien’s good nature. Perhaps it was best that her Master had left them to their devices, there were too many machinations the man had his hands in and she didn’t want to see it devolve into more casualties. Unlacing her arms as she shifted her weight from one side to the other, she realized this was the first time she had spoken to another practitioner of the force.

“Well spoken,” she said, praising him lightly. The corner of her mouth quirked up as she toyed with her drink. There was an air of intelligence behind him and she appreciated it, it was more than she had been bound to find amongst the tailored suits and silks. There were questions that lingered on the tip of her tongue, but she kept her mouth closed firmly not the interrupt, she had already asked enough and in the limelight of the gala seemed like a poor venue to press.

“Now should I curtsey or salute you I wonder?” Lyra mused, tossing in the quip. Was this man bothered by much if anything she wondered as he dipped into a bow. She bobbed her head again as he described his position in the sphere of the Order, he was young and she was aghast considering her own age in leadership if for a heart beat. Was it skill alone that had bequeathed his mantle or a powerful name for later benefit the Imperator himself saw. For the briefest second her lips pressed into a thin frown before she swallowed the expression. Lyra weighed the burden of command and almost jealously wondered how he had managed such a feat-if he even did. “I fear you’d never leave your desk, but that’s the benefit of delegation isn’t it? I would say governance falls a bit short given how active the war front itself however, but yes-I can tell.”

She wasn’t going to excuse it though.

Acquainted, she could say that at the very least now. All these months, the more she considered it-Lyra hadn’t seen him at the proclamation she realized. Though there were plenty of men who had stood in that room that had not lasted to even Muunlinist. With title and toast aside, Lyra found herself regarding the goblet in hand there after. It was empty and she sighed discarding upon the next tray of a passing server after her nigh awkward attempt to seek escape. Maker help her and her pension for technicalities. The alcohol hardly ironed out the fraying edges, making her more a fool prone to her mind. In her defense he wanted out equally as much it seemed. As he extended his hand, she out right grinned; her spite rearing its ugly head.

“Now that there sounds like a plan, how ever I wouldn’t worry about that Lucien. Fuck my boss he’ll just have to deal with it,” Lyra spouted off, she knew she'd get away with. Command however, if it became an issue, she'd have to produce some straight face lie. Either way, Lyra dropped her hand in his, “and don’t get me too mistaken with my fellow patriots. I was an industro rat once upon a time.”

 

[Lucien Dooku]

Coruscant // Galactic City // Jedi Temple //
// Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt //
[ T H E M E ] ​

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Luc waved off the formalities once he revealed his station within the Order. For a long time he'd been nothing more than some exiled Prince masquerading as an improvised commander of men, and in a sense he still saw himself in the same light as he was from before. "Let's skip the formalities, Miss Voi'kryt. Warlord or not, i'm just Luc. I don't expect people to see me as anything more than what I am- just a guy with a dream~" He offered a a wink, the suave talker that he was, with a dash of playfulness always finding its way between his words.

Truthfully he loved the idea of freedom too much to ever consider himself ambitious enough to seek any further increase in his station. The bureacracy that came with governing Nirauan was so little that it made the position a comfortable gig all around for somebody who just wanted to focus their attention on things that actually interested them. He left the inner-workings of the Order's capitol to the suits, while instead he focused on what he could actually affect himself. Endearing himself to the people, the establishment of his own Legion, the formation of a fleet.

These were all things that actually were of interest to him, of course. Not for the sake of power, but instead as part of a larger plot to establish himself to the people as someone who truly posseses the power to make their lives better if at all possible. He'd heard the rumors of him being a puppet Warlord, or that his position was given to him strictly based off the favor he held with the Sovereign Imperator himself.

Luc could see where they were coming from-- from the outside looking in, that is. He empathized with those who thought that the position of Warlord was useless, when your domain happened to be the beating heart of the Order itself. Perhaps they were right to a degree, but Luc had never been the type to hold his tongue or not aim for what was right, usually at least. His newfound power base came with the opportunity to do just that, and puppet Warlord or not, he went against the grain on many issues when it involved discourse with his fellow Warlords and Moffs in the assembly. After all, he was a man of the people, and pushing for the prosperity of the people despite such a bloody war being undertaken was one of the main platforms that separated him from many of the others around him.

Perhaps that in itself was a ploy, but who knows~

For now, he was simply Luc, and fairly happy to be in the company of a beautiful woman who had decided to take him upon the offer to ditch the Gala and go elsewhere. Her reply regarding her boss elicited a chuckle, and with it he lead her forwards and through the crowd. "Agreed. Fuck 'em." He'd reply, not out of disdain for the man, but instead for the simple fact that whoever he was, he'd left a truly interesting person like her alone by herself. A glance moved back towards her momentarily, to which his free hand once again waved off her comment with a coy smile planted on his face. "I figured as much. You've got that air of command about you, but I never took you for some of those pompous Imperials that found their way to the Order." Ignoring the crowds gathering to converse and mingle around them, he deftly maneuvered the two through the massive Hall, only ever looking back to glance into her eyes, almost as if he were reading her thoughts. If only.

An airspeeder awaited them outside, and Luc hopped in the driver's seat after being the gentleman that he was and letting his company seat herself first. "I hope you don't mind a little speed." Was his last response before the vehicle set off into the sky, cutting its way smoothly into the traffic before descending down from the affluent towers of Galactic City, and off to the destination he had in mind.

- ​

It didn't take long for the fast-driving spacer to cut his way across the city with his company in tow. Landing outside of their destination, the dimly lit building presented in front of him. The familiar smell of unhealthy fat and oil-fried foods brought a smile to his nostrils as he hopped out of the speeder and presented the Diner with open arms to accompany the smile. "Pretty sweet, eh?" Luc would ask, then moved to open her door like the gentleman he was for the evening. "I thought about draggin' us to one of those cantinas, but I figured after the terrible alcohol and finger foods we had earlier, that you might be in the mood for a decent, unhealthy meal." He smirked. "I know I am, at least. Plus the music ain't half bad, and the alcohol ain't as dry either~"

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

// Coruscant // Galactic City // Jedi Temple // Nirauan
// Lucien Dooku //
// It's Called Freefall

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“The Order has a way of attracting that sort, too much opportunity to stake their pompous claims. Good thing the likes of us are in charge-someone has to get shavit done,” Lyra mused, the quality of a soldier aside, no smile graced her lips. She put too much stock in words and found herself caught in the ramifications.

She had never expected the Order to reach the heights it had, it’s collection of politicians and the like. They weren’t what the echelon desired, they had real skin the game. They wouldn’t have made it this far without complications like bureaucrats and the rest though, but now they would face the difficult fight in a new government. When had facing the Empire turned into its own entity? This war machine had turned into a living and breathing machination that she did not recognise, what she had hoped would have been a singular warhead with its mission. When did it end?

She had stepped foot on bloody Coruscant after all, she had brushed it off before but Lyra knew secretly she was still amazed. It shouldn’t have worked, none of their struggles should not have brought them this far but..it had been a rare moment of hope.

She had to give it to him as that sly smile crossed his visage. When she looked back to that night, she had to wonder if he would have written off the Sith if he knew. He wasn’t a keen one in the way she’d expect from an agent, not even a soldierly sort. It had been child’s play, selfish to step out with Lucien but the alcohol and spite didn’t need to inspire her. When they had swept out the gala only to find themselves barreling through traffic. It had reminded her the better part of the trouble she had sought out in her late youth, she could pretend the highrise and the small diner they had pulled up to was somewhere tucked away in depths of Bescane.

“Not what I expected but damn you know better than I clearly,” Lyra had agreed, slipping out her contacts and sliding the tinted glasses over her eyes after. What Lyra knew better was her thoughts however-her worries didn’t matter and she had a purpose to serve on the front where the real war was fought.

A diner crawl in taffeta of all things though, it had been ridiculous but she had gotten a laugh out of it and the company. Lyra could talk very well about nothing, the kind of chatter soldiers made but a passing fondness made the conversation with Lucien compelling enough. She was jaded, overly so, desperately ignoring harsh truths that were entangled in the greater scheme; for one night she had put those thoughts aside. Where they stood as individuals, Dooku and herself were lost to the greater purpose. But the chance encounter made for a bright spot in the dim galaxy-it was a memory she had clung to well after.

How many months had passed since then? The war had been moving along faster, in the wake the Empire’s desperate strike. Lyra hadn’t had time to reach out to the man until they were moving in to storm the beaches, she was barely keeping up with the reports that came after. Lucien proved to be every inch reckless-some young hero arch type. She didn’t get why he had back tracked through the trenches but it was only so much her place to question. Consumed by the country and duty, the thought drew a bitter scoff from the woman. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t figure it out. Nirauan was a temporary stop before she cycled back to the front, conditions be damned-she owed him and there was an inkling of worry there just the same. The fight was brutal, and she was tempted to give him an earful just the same.

Finding a diner on the sophisticated world of Nirauan had taken a bit of effort on her part, and a bit of digging among the rank for direction, but it existed. Maybe it’d make for a personal touch, the venue was modest but Lyra had a feeling it’d be appreciated nonetheless. Ever burdened by punctuality she had sent one message sent well ahead of time to Lucien Dooku for the rendezvous. She had tucked herself in the corner booth the moment she had arrived, content to mute all communication and kick her boots up on the dingy seat across from her; waiting. They had a lot to catch up on.