Unwritten Verse
Against sandstone and faded walls, the Sith appeared like someone might've spilled ink across the scenery. The black tunic, leggings, and dark boots: tried and true, constant as ever. A tug at the collar came and went to let a little more air in. Absently, a thumb found its way to the opposite wrist, circling the skin every now and then.
Every direction was welcoming. Different from Throneworld, and different from what came before that. Nothing really barred the sky here. The view was pleasant on the eyes, beautiful in a way the Core could never possibly manage. Entering the Core again had felt like stepping back into a future already written. And barely afterward came the leaving of it behind. So now, Lorrd held the ground, though Lysander knew the time away from home wouldn't last for too long.
For a while there had been only walking alongside Efret. At a street corner, his shoulders finally angled toward her. He waited until she found him. Brows climbed as a crooked grin settled into place. Somewhere nearby, the scent of roasted meats and cooking oil wafted through the air. Of course, it complemented the sunlight washing over both of them in generous spills.
Right then, his stomach growled loud enough to announce itself to the entire street. There'd been weeks of tasteless rations and whatever else could be called cuisine. With real food so close, the gnawing could've been borderline religious.
"Okay, Efie, be honest," Lysander started, gesturing with an open palm, "on a scale from 'absolutely, I know this city like the back of my hand' to 'Lysander, I haven't lived here since I was basically a youngling,' what are the odds Bepru has something edible within, say.. sprinting distance? Because I could totally demolish an entire bantha, bones and all, and still ask about dessert. So please, lead your starving bro to salvation." Well, hopefully she had an appetite too. He'd feel a little less shameless about the amount of food he was ready to put away.