Private Petals in the Wolf's Den

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Coruscant - Sith Academy

Equipment:
Knight Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm | The Wayward

Ace adjusted the cuff of his glove as he moved through the academy corridors, the prosthetic beneath giving a faint mechanical shift with the motion. Acolytes passed intermittently around him, conversations low, footsteps echoing softly through the halls before fading again.

He'd returned from Bonadan earlier that morning. The Vergeworks had stabilized considerably since he and Lysander crushed the remaining gangs fighting over Tessk's corpse and the vacuum left behind. Routes were functioning again, smuggling lanes were cleaner, and people stopped disappearing randomly every other night. Violence still existed, obviously, but now it had structure. Direction. Control.

Ace kept walking, posture loose, expression calm. Someone greeted him in passing.

"Knight Moonbound."

A small nod was all they received in return. Most of his reason for being back on Coruscant amounted to logistics more than anything else.

His gaze drifted briefly toward one of the narrow overlooking windows lining the corridor. Coruscant stretched endlessly beyond the glass, lights stacked into infinity beneath the night sky.
He still wasn't used to how high up everything here felt.

Ace exhaled quietly through his nose and rolled some lingering stiffness from his shoulder. Exhaustion sat heavier lately, though not the physical kind, more the constant weight of maintaining momentum once you'd already committed to a direction too far to comfortably reverse.

Still, there wasn't much point dwelling on it. The galaxy wasn't getting simpler anytime soon. So Ace kept moving through the academy at an unhurried pace, mind already shifting toward whatever Arris would inevitably drag him into next.

Isobel Serraris​

 

[Isobel Serraris]

PETALS IN THE WOLF'S DEN​

LOCATION — Coruscant, Sith Academy
TAGS — Acier Moonbound
PARAPHERNALIA — Academy Robes and Vesper et Aurora.

The brightest of lights could not be dimmed by the darkness; the abyss would not consume the minor devotion her heart still harboured for Ashla. . . No matter how many lashings her teachers had tried to give her, how often she was reprimanded for not partaking in the countless violent pursuits of her peers--how she dared not look, dared not see, the downfall of yet another acolyte.

This path was fated for her, aye. . . but did it mean she must sacrifice her soul to its calling? Isobel complied in the formal lectures, tried to bring passion and fury into her execution of the force, yet too continued her silent rebellion--in the shape of 'hidden' embroidery in the inside of her robes--black flora, and a single moonflower. . . Nevertheless, as the mystics on Voss had dared proclaim, visions were never wrong, and however much it hurts, one could not alter the threads of fate.

Days spent on Pelagon brought her the knowledge of the true workings of being an Acolyte, and her studies would soon ensue on Coruscant--the same Coruscant where she had been previously called out on the Jedi dogma. On their inaction. It ached like a wound poorly stitched; it burned to know there was a faint truth to the accusations, a truth now manifested into this newfound allegiance. . . To the Sith. It was a poor joke. A terribly poor one. . .

The Acolyte wandered the halls of the Academy, it was grand and oppressive, the shadows of the pillars loomed over her like a reminder of both hierarchy--within the Force, within the Covenant itself. She felt smaller than a pawn upon a Shah-Tezh board, no more than a speck of paint upon a wide canvas. It mattered little to her; for she harboured no selfish ambition, no yearning to become some prominent lady within the vicious cycle of rulership. Merely to answer the calling of the Force when it was time to fulfill her part. . .

The gravity of her thoughts halted momentarily when she overheard a lost name: Moonbound. Her ambling came to a halt as the suffocating weight of loss settled upon her once more. Of irritation. Of uncertainty. Acier. The same rogue who had abandoned her upon Genarius for reasons she still did not comprehend. Yet it was not fury that settled within her core, but a hollow void... of loss, one akin to what she had had to endure alongside it.

Then a figure drew around the corner, bearing the precise visage she remembered him to have, save for the bits of 'very seriousness' etched on his face. Perhaps fury should have seized control of her body in that moment, yet instead it was relief--a glee even--at knowing he lived! And in spite of the recklessness he had displayed upon Genarius, they had not died that day, and thus she would not and could not blame him for it. "Ace!" slipped from her lips as she hurried toward him, throwing herself into his embrace before he could react.

"I thought you were gone--dead even. . . you bastard..." The words held no malice, for a part in her had blamed herself for his abrupt disappearance. Gone, just. . . gone, without a word, without a trace. "All to become a Sith," A soft self-deprecating laugh escaped her lips, as she struggled to pin what she should be feeling in this moment--delighted, angry, confused?

​

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Coruscant - Sith Academy

Equipment:
Knight Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm | The Wayward

Ace felt a presence, something familiar brushing against his senses through the Force. It was soft enough at first that he couldn't immediately place it. It wasn't hostile or threatening, but it was... known. His pace slowed slightly as the feeling lingered at the edge of recognition.

Then, he heard someone call out his name, cutting cleanly through the corridor noise. The way she said it was too familiar for anyone in the Covenant. Ace turned toward it automatically, brows narrowing faintly before the confusion hit almost immediately.

Isobel?

For a second, he genuinely just stared at her. The last time he'd seen her was Genarius. Chaos, fighting, collapsing structures, Covenant forces flooding Edic Bar. Afterward, he'd disappeared into the Covenant completely and the galaxy had only become worse from there. Truthfully, he hadn't known whether she'd survived any of it.

Apparently she had. Something in his chest shifted unexpectedly at the realization. Relief maybe? Appreciation? Something older than the person he'd spent the last months forcing himself to become.

Before he could say anything, Isobel closed the distance between them and threw herself into an embrace. Ace stiffened immediately, not aggressively, just completely blindsided by it. His body locked on instinct, arms remaining at his sides rather than returning it while his brain tried to catch up with what was happening. Physical affection wasn't exactly common in the Covenant, or something he was used to anymore outside of Fatine. Neither was seeing people from before all this.

"...Isobel?" He said finally, confusion still clear in his voice.

He looked down at her slightly as she spoke, listening quietly while the emotions tangled themselves together somewhere behind her words. Relief. Frustration. Hurt. Then she laughed softly and said:

"All to become a Sith,"

Ace's brow lifted faintly. That was when it actually registered. Her robes, the academy, and the fact she was here. His eyes moved over her again more carefully now, confusion slowly giving way to something more unsettled beneath the surface.

This... didn't make sense. Not Isobel. When he'd known her, she'd clung to her convictions so tightly it almost bordered on stubbornness. The Dark side wasn't just something she disliked, she viewed it like corruption. Rot spreading through living things. Even now, part of him struggled to reconcile the woman he'd known with the acolyte standing in front of him.

But then again... People changed. He knew that better than most now.

Ace exhaled quietly through his nose before finally speaking again. "Why are you here?"

Isobel Serraris ​

 

[Isobel Serraris]

PETALS IN THE WOLF'S DEN​

LOCATION — Coruscant, Sith Academy
TAGS — Acier Moonbound
PARAPHERNALIA — Academy Robes and Vesper et Aurora.

Absence. The hollow space within her heart that had become akin to a black hole, an abyss that claimed more and more of her with each minute. . . Betrayal, loss, and unknowingness; how was a Jedi meant to remain on its path of virtue when so much much of what she had been subjected to were lies, or worse still. . . the absence of an answer itself? Ambiguity corrupted the mind in ways falsehoods never could, enclosing one within a maddening prison of doubt whose bars clawed endlessly at one's heart and soul.

Fury sought to grasp her, to seize the reins of control over her body and pull her from his embrace so she might battle whatever frail excuses may fill the void of his past departure. . . The flames never climbed higher, as they were rapidly extinguished by the cold sorrow drowning her senses the agony of living without the knowledge of whether she might have been able to save him, be it from death itself or from the Sith. But what did it matter. . .? The Force's composed strange tales, weaved strange paths--he lived and so did she. There was naught one might be able to do to alter such threads, and naught one might seek to accomplish the impossible.

The purple hyacinth of regret and sorrow withered and left behind an empty field--devoid of passionate emotions to grip her, as the space between them gradually opened up again. Isobel took a step backwards, eyeing his dark robes--no different from back then, but worn with a new form of gravity. Of allegiance. The scruffy looking scraps he had donned then still held their mark on his fashion now--the almost rebel-like attire did not carry the regality another Sith might harbour. . . There was a modesty in it, one she had not discovered with the Sith before.

"Me? I ought to ask you the same," The grin on her face refused to falter, as the humour in her voice found an unexpected return. "I. . . left the Order after Edic Bar--" Part of that truth, the reality, still stung like a freshly cauterised wound. The brightness of the sun faltered from her voice, leaving only a sorrowful seriousness as her gaze eluded his

"My vision was obscured by someone, and the Order failed to remedy it--failed to prepare me for the realities of this galaxy. The façades I had only thought to know from the nobility, displayed so carelessly by nearly everyone I have encountered. And the violence with which it all unfolds. . ." Her hands moved to cover one another, as her nails dug into her skin. "Yes, it begs the question of why I would join the institution responsible for it. But the Force has shown me this path night after night, in every dream I've dreamt. A place within the Covenant. . . one I am destined to tread, whether I willl it or no."

Her words were soft, and yet echoed throughout the lonesome halls of the Sith Academy. She dared not proclaim herself to be Sith; yes, she was an Acolyte, but. . . all within her cohort knew she did not truly belong with them, no matter how desperately she attempted to acquiesce to the ruthless teachings of their instructors.

​

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Coruscant - Sith Academy

Equipment:
Knight Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm | The Wayward

Ace felt it through the Force before he fully processed her words. Not anger or hatred, but exhaustion. Grief stretched thin enough that it had almost circled back around into numbness.

His eyes stayed on Isobel quietly while she spoke. The Jedi had failed her. Ace understood the disillusionment more than he probably should have. Their hesitation and endless insistence on restraint while the galaxy burned around them. He'd seen too many people die because someone stronger, smarter, or crueler moved first while the Order debated morality afterward.

His lips parted slightly, ready to ask the obvious question. Why she immediately would run to the Sith. But she answered it herself.

Destiny.

Ace's eyes lowered briefly and he pinched the bridge of his nose between two gloved fingers with a quiet exhale. Of course. Lily Rhodes had said almost the exact same thing on Bonadan weeks ago. Stop fighting it and accept the path.

"I know all about that." Ace answered vaguely.

The Final Weave. The prophecy surrounding his birth, and the path he'd supposedly been meant to walk long before he'd ever existed. Unite Dathomir. Conquer the galaxy. The galaxy bending itself around a future someone else had written thousands of years ago.

And somehow, despite every turn his life had taken, despite every attempt to walk away from destiny entirely, he still found himself here. Standing within the Sith Covenant. Commanding power. Moving pieces across the galaxy exactly the way people feared he eventually would.

Maybe fate was real. Maybe it wasn't. Ace honestly wasn't sure he cared anymore. As far as he was concerned, these were still his choices, his actions, and his reasons. That was enough.

His attention returned fully to Isobel then and his expression tightened faintly. Because even now... he still couldn't feel it in her.

The rot.

Not the way he felt it in himself, or people like Arris. Mercy. Even Lysander and Varin carried traces of it beneath everything else. That erosion. That hunger.

Isobel didn't. There was still something painfully untouched about her.

"You need to leave here, Isobel." Ace said quietly, gaze drifting briefly toward the distant halls beyond them. "This place isn't your answer."

He paused, glancing back at her before adding:

"You're lost. I can feel it. But I know this isn't where you should be."

Isobel Serraris ​