Private Scales of Fire

[Lysander von Ascania]

Srina Talon​

Coruscant would always be too noisy for Lysander, but from the height of one senatorial office in the upper levels, it was at least a little quieter. In that way, perhaps it mirrored him. A planet that had become his home once more refused sleep.. and he rarely allowed himself to lately.

An open space near the windows was chosen over resting behind a desk. There he would sit, cross-legged, hands resting upon his knees, clad in all black. A simple pullover and leggings. Meditation would forever be important to him, a cornerstone of mastery in his opinion; so, he’d never neglected it, even in the growing exhaustion of recent campaigns. The weight of the Tapani massacre, and now the Core, pressed heavily upon his shoulders. Surely it would pass in time. Or more likely, it would just become something he adapted to, one more thing folded into discipline. Either way, for once, he found himself.. a little tired.

The city would soon recede; that didn’t mean he forced it away.. he just wasn’t chasing it any longer. The Senate rotunda below transformed into a beating pulse beneath awareness.

As a student of the Dark, Lysander’s intention was never to silence the storm.. but to seize control of it. Rather than clearing his mind, he sought to expand it.. to let it both breathe and deepen. Turning inward, he traced those familiar edges of pain, old memories where he fell short. Fractures that never left, or when strength had not been enough. Feeding embers to a growing blaze, he welcomed the heat and let the flames consume.

He imagined his will as something material. Each inhale was akin to lifting a hammer from the anvil’s edge before the next strike, to remove impurities. From plans of retribution to thoughts of his niece, his family, the intensity that burned inside never waned. But.. it was contained and molded, never given an opportunity to consume him chaotically; for within that fire.. he found his bearings and direction.

Upon a low table before him rested two empty cups beside a small heating device and a bag of tea leaves. Midday approached, and he saw no harm in honoring something from back home on Ukatis. Sith or not.. there was no shame in holding to a simple custom. A little less formal than the archives on Jutrand, and maybe that was a sign in its own way, that he trusted Lady Talon, which was rare for their kind. There weren't any doubts per se; recent victories brought many new responsibilities, ones he even studied for in the past and found himself committed to, yet they also left him seeking a reliable presence he might look up to. Seeking a guide was not a sign of weakness.

An invitation was sent out earlier. Now all that remained was to wait, eyes closed.. mind still at work.

 

[Srina Talon]

TAG: Lysander von Ascania
LOCATION: Coruscant [In Your Window]

____________________________________________________

She was far from home.

But…That was often the case. The white-haired Sith walked the halls of the senatorial building with some measure of apprehension and disdain. Nothing good in her life had ever come from Coruscant. It was a place that was filled to the brim with poverty, lies, and despair that were all neatly wrapped in a bow so it could be pleasingly delivered to the masses for easy digestion. It highlighted everything wrong in the universe…

It wasn't something she was certain could be changed.

Even though the Covenant controlled it.

Between her fingers, she held a small slip of paper that had been rolled meticulously to fit into a small metallic delivery unit. Were it not for the fact that Mercy kept summoning her when boredom struck, or she needed someone to decide who won a slap bet—It would have been much harder to reach her. The only saving grace to this cesspit of inequity were the children that she held in high esteem.

Srina was protective of people—Not things.

So it was that she found herself seated in the window opposite of Lysander von Ascania whilst he meditated. The wintry woman did not announce herself or interrupt, merely existing in his space and heretically illuminated in sunlight. Pale skin became glowing alabaster, and ivory hair melted into lengths of white-gold. She seemed…So different, here. The shadows bent to her whim on Jutrand. She was severe, in control, and the axis of the galaxy turned for her rather than existing as a separate entity. Her head tilted back to rest against the wall behind her, and her eyes closed.

Settling, the heart of any storm.

Srina almost seemed peaceful.

Almost.

There was a sense of wrongness that accompanied such an angelic visage. Lengths of cream and pearl spidershell-silk wrapped neatly around her, modest, but carrying the illusion that she had been poured into it. The sleeves were exactly long enough. The neckline was exactly where she preferred it to be. The length of her skirts just barely whispered when she walked. It appeared effortless, lovely in simplicity, but it was all by design…To counteract the wrongness. To hide in plain sight. It was...Difficult.

Her presence was enormous, unsettling, and paradoxical while unraveling secrets by simple proximity. It was the sensation of the sun and the moon hanging low in the same dark sky. Snow falling on the hottest day of summer. The taste of bitter chocolate and cream—The scent of ozone and jasmine. She was both death and deliverance…

And yet—She heeded the call of this one.

"You wished for me?"

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Srina Talon​

Heat stirred deep within, molten rivers flowing beneath the skin. Memory and discipline fused together, old fractures mending.. but pulsing with fire. These currents wove through his bones. Intense, yes, but tempered.. shaped by years of practice. Images surfaced from the shadowy recesses of the Sith's mind.. only to sink back into the void. Some lasted longer than others. He drew another breath, filling his lungs, then released it slowly..

Even then, a distinct signature resonated in the air, one impossible to overlook, so potent that the atmosphere shifted. Whether near or far, with Lady Talon, distance held no meaning.. one of many truths discovered upon Jutrand.

And soon enough, her voice reached him. One final exhale eased out, slow and steady, as his eyes fluttered open. There she was, the Empress. Of course he recognized her, but something in her presence was different this time, altered by the light rather than shadow.. and still, none of it made her any less commanding.

“Lady Talon. I am grateful that you’re here.. it honors the path we share.”

Those words sounded too formal the moment he spoke them. Just a leftover habit from years of his upbringing, now mixed with a new veneer as he began navigating the political arena. The curve along his mouth softened his youthful countenance further. Perhaps honesty might triumph over decorum.

"I wasn't sure you'd come, but I do appreciate you making the time."

A solitary finger rose and tapped the heating unit, setting it to life. Warmth began to build. The porcelain vessels would be warmed first, steam curling up in little clouds. A rich earthiness aroma unfurled between them when he opened the small bag. The leaves were measured by touch alone. A little habit from a place he called home.. the only home that mattered. Not this hellscape of Coruscant that he would never learn to love.

Once water reached the appropriate temperature, aroma deepening, he poured her cup first. Then he moved it slightly closer to her side of the table. Only then did he pour his own.

The crease on his lips grew, small.. but the shift was clear enough. "The book you gave me," a quieter tone carried the line, "was my companion during the siege.. it served me well."

Strange, if he stopped to think about it. Gratitude for a paperbound item, instrumental in a way that aided him in spreading death like a plague across the ISB headquarters's yard and beyond. More fitting to call it a slaughter, really. Years ago, the idea of thanking someone for a tool that helped him kill would have sounded utterly preposterous.

But now.. with the shadows tightening their grip around his heart, with the fire inside burning hotter than it once had.. it might've just been admittance of another truth.

“There are some thoughts I haven’t been able to put to rest, which I wanted your insight on. And.. well, I thought I might benefit from jut speaking with you in general.”

Twin emeralds emerged through the pale whisps. "I've been in talks with Lord Carnifex lately.."

The sentence drifted. Lysander was searching for the right place to begin.

"Why do you think our doctrine always splinters? It has to be more than ego or corruption. Or greed.. something else in our nature that drives us apart. So many empires fall from within before ever taken from without. Fracture.. reform.. fracture again." A gentle throat clear slipped free. "I promise I didn't summon you just to ambush you with all my questions. We can talk about something lighter, if you prefer."

 

[Srina Talon]

TAG: Lysander von Ascania
LOCATION: Coruscant [In Your Window]

____________________________________________________

"You should be certain...I will always answer."

He didn't seem too surprised to see her, though; that was actually the appropriate response. When her younglings called for her, she responded. What kind of Mother would she be if she did not? For a long moment, she did not respond to Lysander von Ascania and merely let the room settle around them. It was warm in the sunlight, enough that she could have remained like a Loth Cat made content. Things had been…Difficult, since Coruscant.

Her dreams were not pleasant. Her nightmares…worse.

Try as she might, the pale sovereign had yet to fully eject the taste of Mercy's blood from her mouth. The sensation of the phylactery around her neck activating, forcing life and breath back into her broken body. She had taken a hit to ensure that none of her people got killed. To ensure victory because the Faithless had attacked her people, her children, for the final time. She would rather have died than allow them a foothold in this universe any longer.

Steam curled between them, and it softened the hard lines of the city beyond the glass. Coruscant roared beneath their feet, tireless and diseased, pretending to have found some sort of Order on the surface. But…It was a wounded acropolis. The bodies were piled high, and the blood was ankle deep. The scent of unwashed rot never went away. Srina wrapped her fingers around the offered porcelain without hesitation. Warmth bled into her skin…And she noticed, first, that Lysander was changed. Not weak or uncertain…Just…

Changed.

"It pleases me that my gift was able to aid you…I hoped it would."

He had fared better than she had, truth be told, but that was a matter of perception. She had taken on the task of going to ground with Mercy and had always known the risks. Her gaze lifted to him slowly while gold-hewn orbs slid over his youthful features. Many would likely assume that they were about the same age at first glance…But she was very much so his elder. "Our doctrine splinters…Because it was not initially meant to be shared. Do you recall the study of the Rule of Two?"

It was an old law that rarely applied in a new age, but their society still suffered from the isolationist tenets that were bred by one destroying their own master. Not simply surpassing them…Destruction—In every sense of the word. They would then take their own apprentice, and the process would repeat until only one, almighty, Sith Lord remained. Strong enough to occupy the Eternal Throne.

It was where the adage came from: Sith were Eternal.

"The Dark Side is intimate. It demands all…Power, destiny, sacrifice, loyalty.", her thumb traced the rim of the cup absently, her expression turning thoughtful. "Two Sith can align in purpose…But they cannot inhabit the same throne in their own minds. One will inevitably…Hate the other."

"Ego and greed are symptoms…But the fracture comes from certainty. Each of us believes that we can shape the future more clearly than the one beside us. And…We are not wrong. That's the problem."

Srina had been through this thought process many times on her own, in late evenings, but almost always came to the same conclusions. Empires that were built on a singular will did not decay from weakness. They started to erode when too many singular wills reached equal aptitude with different dreams and ambitions. Slowly, she got comfortable in the window seat. If he was speaking to Darth Carnifex it was likely also true that he was already aware of many things she might say. They held differing opinions on many things…But in much, they were aligned. "Unity is not our natural state…"

"I force it because I can, and no one exists to challenge me. Unity is a discipline…And discipline exhausts even the strongest among us. One day…I, too, will fail."

Her shoulders shrugged then, thinking of his Master, and how she might feel about the question.

"Not to mention that some men have also been in power too long. They can be…"

Whining, loud, and often selfishly entitled without earning their station?

"…Impatient."