Private Serenno Stag Do

[Roman Vossari]

Tags: Lysander von Ascania ( Corazona von Ascania to lurk)

​

The ramp of the Vossari Yacht hissed as it lowered, the polished durasteel gleaming under the sun of Serenno. Roman stepped onto the landing platform, the familiar presence of Lysander beside him. Roman couldn't help the fond smile that tugged at his lips. Lysander, his master's younger brother and his best friend, was a breath of fresh air after training with the same NJO Padawans week in and week out. A trip home to introduce Lysander to his friends was just what they needed.

This trip had been on Roman's mind for months, for more reasons than one. He wanted Lysander to experience the beauty of Serenno, to have some fun, and maybe, just maybe, teach Lysander his way with charming girls. Roman had a few ideas on that front, but he figured it would be easy for the young Prince once they got to know him.

Across the expansive landing area, Grell, the family's faithful retainer, approached them with the measured pace of one who had seen countless grand arrivals. He bowed low, his aged face etched with genuine warmth. "Lord Vossari," Grell intoned, his voice a low rumble, "welcome home. Your parents sent apologies, they are away on business with House Vesk and will not return for another week or two."

Roman raised a brow, a smirk beginning to form. This was unexpected, but perhaps, for the purposes of their holiday, fortuitous. He had imagined having to contend with his mother's watchful eyes, or his father's snide comments. The whole estate to themselves? That was certainly something. He shot a glance towards Lysander, a silent question in his eyes.

"Well, Lysander," Roman said, turning his attention back to his young friend, "what are you in the mood for? A tour of the grounds? A swim in the thermal baths? Perhaps we could head to the training grounds and I can test out what you have been learning on Naboo. Or if that's not it, I'm sure I can arrange just about anything else that tickles your fancy." He let his eyes roam over the expanse of his home in all its glory waiting for Lysander's response, his heart feeling lighter than it had in months. He was, after all, on a vacation from the monotony of training. And even better, he had one his favorite people with him to enjoy it.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Roman Vossari Corazona von Ascania (

)​

​

The idea of visiting a new planet was always exciting for the Padawan. The moment his boots touched the ground of Serreno, he felt an intoxicating mix of curiosity and nostalgia. Having planned this since their fishing trip on Naboo, it now seemed as though the air was humming with endless possibilities. Before long, his attention turned to a man that approached; the scene triggered an all too familiar feeling, mirroring the same affairs from Ukatis, where everyone simply had a part to play.

Lysander stood tall; his athletic frame was adorned in a sapphire-colored tunic that seemed to be tailored for it. Confidence and ease radiated from his being, as he wore lightweight trousers that allowed for easy movement; they were perfect both training and more.. courtly pursuits. He’d outgrown his old clothes from both a recent growth spurt and consistent physical training. These were a clear sign of that very change; now, he stood at the same height as his sister but was still a world apart from the towering, and older Padawan.

His head tilted slightly, meeting Roman's gaze. It was a connection that went beyond words, both fully understanding what this rather unexpected revelation meant from the older figure. Just as expressive as a Loth-cat, and curious to explore his surroundings like one, the corners of Lysander's mouth twitched upwards. No longer would he need to sneak about in the shadows of Shiraya's Sanctuary late into the night, or face the constant scrutiny of Cora on Coruscant. Here, he was free to be himself.

A soft breeze ruffled the signature blonde hair. “Maybe a little of everything?” he said, his voice laced with mischief. “I guess we should probably stick to our training first, right? Besides, I’ve been curious to see how I match up against you for a while now,” he added, a glint of friendly rivalry igniting in his emerald orbs.

His gaze then shifted to the cargo container in his right hand, packed with all the supplies and clothes he would need for the next few days. But most intriguing of all were the homemade pastries he had prepared— a secret mix of treats saved for the perfect night.

In that moment, between the promise of adventure and the comfort of brotherhood, Lysander couldn't imagine a more perfect beginning.

 

[Roman Vossari]

Tags: Lysander von Ascania

​

Roman grinned, a spark of genuine excitement igniting in his eyes. "Training it is then!" he declared, clapping his hands together with a sound that echoed slightly in the open space. He gestured for Grell, who had been waiting patiently, to take care of the luggage, then turned to Lysander, a guiding hand lightly touching his shoulder. "Come on, let me show you the grounds."

He led Lysander with a loose, easy stride, through the manicured gardens, the vibrant colors of the exotic flora a stark contrast to the more somber Propsperity. Roman pointed out various features of the estate, but his mind was already on the spar. "Now, I'm not going to go easy on you." he declared, a playful smirk dancing across his lips. "I want to see how your training has been going on Naboo. Don't think for a minute I'm going to let you win." he added with a wink.

They soon reached the small clearing nestled within the embrace of the surrounding forest. It was a place Roman held dear, a haven he had carved out for himself during his own days of adolescent angst. The scorch marks on the surrounding trees spoke of countless hours spent honing his skills, each mark a testament to his own journey. A particularly large tree trunk, scarred and gnarled, stood as a silent sentinel, a relic of the imaginary Sith Lords of his youth.

Roman gestured for Lysander to take a position on one side of the makeshift arena. With a pat on the shoulder and a wide, almost mischievous smile, he said, "No training sabers… Don't tell your sister." He moved a few paces away, a graceful ballet of motion, and unclipped his own lightsaber from his belt. The familiar snap-hiss of the blue blade igniting filled the air, its light dancing across his face.

"Let's see what you've got, Prince von Ascania." Roman teased, his voice laced with friendly challenge.

He settled into a defensive Soresu stance, his blade weaving intricate patterns in the air, a clear invitation for Lysander to make the first move. He would let his young friend set the pace, gauge his abilities, and then respond accordingly. He was here for a good time, and that included pushing Lysander to be the best he could be, not just a casual training spar.

Roman would make sure his friend returned to Naboo with a few more tricks up his sleeve, but he wouldn't show him all his cards just yet.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Roman Vossari

​

The moment Roman gestured for Grell to take his luggage, hesitation washed over him. What if someone, with curiosity to peek at the contents, snagged the brownies before him and his brother got the chance to eat them? The thought was uncomfortable in his stomach, stirring anxiety, and making him bite down on his lip. For an instant, the teen began to feel possessive of the cargo.

As they pressed onward just after, and with the sharpness of a hawkbat, his gaze scanned the surroundings with precision. Every single detail served to paint a grand picture of opulence before him. He was very much an aristocrat at heart, judging the meticulously kept hardens and architecture of the estate here on Serreno. But his feeling inside was only one of warmth, acknowledging it all with admiration; he was completely drawn to its beauty.

As they ventured deeper, the landscape changed in an instant. The trunks of many trees carried scars of the past, and they oddly resonated with him– it was like a reminder of his frustrations when the galaxy didn’t agree with his demands! Lysander couldn’t help but smirk at Roman’s demeanor, and one of his own suddenly appeared. The idea of gentle sparring sounded incredibly boring anyways. “Going easy on me would be a mistake you would definitely regret later,” he mused aloud, as his mouth shifted into a grin, which illuminated the boy's youthful features. “I could trim a Wookiee's beard with just the flick of my lightsaber if I really wanted to, just so you know!"

Refraining from the usage of training sabers was thrilling, causing adrenaline to begin surging through his veins. Lysander always thrived when the stakes were high; facing a challenge of any kind simply stimulated him. The thought of someone being injured seemed impossible-- he trusted Roman.

His glance still lingered on his companion. “Honestly,” he said, his voice completely casual, “it’s probably better if she doesn’t know anything about this whole trip. It will only complicate things later on. I trust that you gave her a good excuse before leaving Coruscant, right?” While speaking, he began twisting his hips; the torso followed just after. It was all part of a ritual, like preparations that some had before war, a topic he recalled sharing with his friend Danger recently. But as he tried loosening up, the pressure of the moment left him feeling rushed. The thought was pushed aside, now focusing on the task at hand. This was a domain where he felt more than capable of holding his own. He was absent of any weight pressing down on him.

As Roman transitioned into the Soresu stance, the boy's heart sank, and his eyes rolled back. Why did the Padawan, who was the epitome of being cool, choose one of the most boring forms? A sigh was exhaled. Upon further inspection, he had to at least admit that the redhead made the form look good.

With grace, Lysander shifted into the Form II. Being in the mood for theatrics, the purple hue finally flared to life. With a few slashes, he appeared as a dancer gliding across a marble floor, separating the distance between them. His fingers delicately held onto the curved hilt of his lightsaber. The weapon hummed softly, now an extension of his being. The currents of the Force were felt flowing through him as though he were being caressed. Even so, the grin was still visible.

“Well, as the Prince of Ukatis,” he stated, green eyes glinting mischievously, “I would have to make you my champion knight!” The Padawan could barely suppress his laughter. “But for now, you better guard your twig and two berries, or all those fair maidens may not fancy you much longer!" Now that banter had pierced the air, and while staying true to the elegance of his own preferred form, he suddenly lunged with intent. The blade thrust forward, purposely aiming just below Roman's belt, exactly as warned. The opening strike of the duel was never meant to be fatal, and given his cheeky mood, this one felt spot on.

 

[Roman Vossari]

Tags: Lysander von Ascania

​

Roman assessed Lysander, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. The violet blade was indeed striking, a perfect match for the young prince's flair. And Form II, Makashi, it was an elegant choice. Roman knew the form well enough, having studied its intricacies. He knew he could handle whatever Lysander was about to throw at him, relying on the steadfast foundation of his own favored Soresu. Images flashed through his mind of countless hours spent with the Temple Guard, Matthew, enduring rigorous drills, often blindfolded, learning to anticipate attacks while maintaining unwavering focus.

"Well as your champion knight, I'll have to show your highness how to defend his kingdom properly!" Roman teased back, a grin widening on his face. His gaze flicked down to his belt at Lysander's "stick and berries" comment, a chuckle escaping him. "You won't even get close to my stick and berries!" he called out, his voice laced with playful defiance.

The moment the banter ceased, Roman's playful demeanor vanished, replaced by a laser-focused intensity. He watched as Lysander's stance shifted, his movements fluid and swift. He was quick, Roman admitted.

Breathe, Focus, Act.

He held his ground, a wall of calm amidst the flurry. Lysander's blade flashed, aiming just below his belt, exactly as he'd warned. Roman, without a moment's hesitation, met the attack, his blue blade intercepting the violet arc. He smoothly redirected the force of Lysander's blow, deflecting it harmlessly into the air, the blades briefly kissing as they passed. With a swift, almost lazy sweep of his arm, Roman twisted his blade, giving a playful jab in the same area Lysander had targeted, a light touch meant to taunt rather than harm.

The move was a silent message, a testament to his own skill and a clear indication that he wouldn't be an easy opponent.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Roman Vossari

​

The shift in the air was palpable– heavy and signaling that it was time for the dance of blades. Under the surface of his typical playful demeanor, he was still able to recognize the weight of this encounter; it was a duel to test both of their skills.

Another rush of adrenaline washed over him.

It even brought a frown; the returning strike mirroring his own; thus, the blonde quickly ruled out that becoming a eunuch was going to be his destiny. A small jolt of urgency went through his veins, and he instantly enacted a defensive maneuver. With a grace, he shifted his weight to the back foot and pivoted, evading Roman’s lightsaber while maintaining a calm composure. The blonde hadn’t needed the strength of his own to navigate away from danger; instead, he flowed and twisted every limb, using natural grace.

While he didn’t have the bulk that so many Jedi carried, more like a beefy Wookie, which seemed impractical, he did take pride in both speed and agility.

With a final spin, and remaining true to Makashi, he now extended an arm, the purple blade pointed directly at Roman— perhaps offering one final jest that was paired with a sly smirk. “Looks like you know what you’re doing after all,” he said, the voice laced with mirth. Yet, simmering just below, one of sincerity emerged. “But, I guess you’re actually more than just a Padawan now. You will have to be the one to protect our sister now since Naboo is my home.” He continued walking to the side; Lysander’s footwork felt as natural as breathing air, which allowed the words to linger a moment longer. It was also meant to remind Roman, just as he’d done so on Theed, that he was practically another von Ascania now.

The thought of someone harming Cora threatened to fan flames of anger deep in his core. Inhaling a quick breath, he now prepared another offensive. Once more he stepped forward, initiating a feint that was aimed high, hoping to naturally draw the redhead's gaze upward. But before he would have a chance to see whether it was successful or not, he then swept the blade low, targeting the ankles in an attempt to disrupt the footwork behind Form III. Like a Loth-cat ready to hunt for its next meal, he would now begin searching for weak links.

 

[Roman Vossari]

Tags: Lysander von Ascania

​

Roman's eyes narrowed, a flicker of something akin to pride flashing within their depths as Lysander acknowledged his skill. The prince's words, a mix of playful jab and genuine sincerity, hung in the air. But there was no time for sentiment; Lysander had already shifted, a blur of motion as he executed his feint high. Roman didn't rise to the bait. He'd seen the young prince's tell— the subtle shift of his weight, the almost imperceptible twitch in his shoulder. It was a mark of his training and his experience in sparring with his own masters. Lysander may have been fast, but Roman was patient.

The violet blade swept low, a calculated attempt to disrupt his footing. Roman, however, had anticipated such tactics. He rooted himself to the spot, his legs anchoring him like the roots of an ancient tree. Soresu was not about aggressive strikes; it was about utter stability, and Roman was its embodiment in that moment. He absorbed the blow, the blue blade meeting the purple with a resounding clash, the energy echoing and vibrating through them both. The impact was minimal, the force of the blow diffused by Roman's perfect defensive posture. He didn't budge, his focus unwavering.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Trying to take out my legs?" he taunted, his voice low, laced with a playful edge, "How am I supposed to defend your kingdom without them?"

Keeping his stance, Roman smoothly transitioned from defense to offense. With a tight twist of his wrist, he redirected the momentum of Lysander's attack, pushing his blade aside. He then launched a counter-attack, his own blade moving in a calculated sweep. It was not a wide, sweeping strike meant to inflict damage, it was precise, directed at the point where Lysander's guard was likely to be the weakest– he aimed for the prince's wrists, not his body, with his own blade, testing his opponent's defenses. The blade was fast, but controlled, a challenge wrapped in a taunt. "Let's see if your fancy dancing can handle this…" Roman's eyes were alight with challenge, the thrill of the duel coursing through his veins.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Roman Vossari

​

His emerald orbs narrowed, trained to detect the smallest shift in energy. Roman’s blade danced closer, but Lysander remained calm, tracking the trajectory. He knew the intention behind the attack, aimed directly at his wrist, and he was prepared. As the speed increased, he could feel the strain on his muscles now, the adrenaline coursing through his veins, sharpening his focus and heightening his senses. A thin layer of sweat began glistening on his brow.

Slender digits tightened around the lightsaber hilt. The curve allowed for a swiftness that mirrored his near flawless footwork. With a flick of his wrist, he intercepted the oncoming blade, although the moment requiring him to dig deeper than he would’ve liked to maintain balance. While sliding closer to his wrist, he could feel the searing heat radiating from it, but he then executed a second twist, deflecting the attack altogether. The curved hilt was more than just a fashion statement, but also a tactical choice, which luckily gave just the right amount of leverage needed just then.

Rather than responding with another counterattack, the Padawan chose to bide his time. Lysander's peripheral vision absorbed the surroundings like a sponge. Next, he analyzed Roman’s stance before glancing to meet his eyes that could possibly hint at the next move. Serene calm washed over him. "Not bad at all," he stated, a faint smile twitched across his lips, "but I’m just getting started."

When the next step was taken, Lysander's blade cut through the air in a wide arc, but not before finally adding a taunt of his own. "Surrender now, and I'll still vouch for you to the ladies later!" The goal was to draw Roman into a vulnerable position, so that he could follow up with a second strike. The blonde's lithe frame moved like a serpent. As the pace accelerated, droplets of sweat flew off his face. And before the sweeping strike could be intercepted, there was a nimble sidestep; with another flick of his wrist, he unleashed a powerful jab that flew with enhanced speed.

 

[Roman Vossari]

Tags: Lysander von Ascania

​

Roman's breath hitched as Lysander's jab exploded forward, a sudden burst of speed that caught him off guard. The violet blade grazed past his side, the heat of it a searing whisper against his tunic. He stumbled back, his Soresu stance momentarily broken, his feet scrambling for solid ground. Impressive, a grudging thought surfaced as he regained his footing. Lysander was indeed fast, almost unnaturally so.

But Roman was not easily flustered. Instinct took over; his own blue blade flashed up, intercepting Lysander's follow-up strike with a crackle of energy. The impact jolted up his arm, but he held firm, redirecting the force away from his body. He wouldn't let the young prince gain another advantage.

A surge of something competitive, something akin to ego, bloomed within him at Lysander's taunt. His cheek burned from the near miss. He wasn't about to let the younger Padawan get the better of him. Too quickly for thought, he saw an opening in Lysander's guard, a fleeting vulnerability in his otherwise fluid movements. The lightsaber was quickly forgotten as he planted a quick, hard jab, his knuckles colliding with the prince's eye with a sickening thud.

Roman's chest heaved as he pulled back, his own gaze alight with a cold intensity. He'd crossed a line, perhaps, but the Lysander deserved his best, to prepare him for the darker side of the galaxy. "Perhaps you should focus less on the ladies, and more on… not getting hit." Roman finally teased back, gauging his friend's reaction to see if he had taken it too far.

He adjusted his stance, the blue blade now held with a renewed purpose. "It seems I will be the one vouching for you, after they see that shiner."

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Roman Vossari

​

In the midst of the duel, the blonde could feel confidence washing over it. His intentions weren’t meant to harm Roman, but there was the rush to prove that he was capable of holding his own. The thrill of the moment was undeniable, a primal satisfaction that few would understand. Before he could even brace himself for what came next, a fist collided with his eye, like a bolt of lightning that rattled his senses. Pain rippled across his skull, and time slowed, with bright colors swirling around him like a blur.

But even in the thick haze, a flicker of pride ignited within Lysander. He had taken a hit and remained standing; an affirmation that, despite his antics, he was far from the fragile boy some might have viewed him as. He was far from upset; rather, he chuckled softly while trying to refocus his gaze on Roman. "Well, I suppose I didn't see that coming. But I hear battle markings are attractive to some. Just need a cool story to go with it." A grin crept onto his lips, feeling like he was ready to join some kind of special club, even as the swelling began. “Two can play that game.”

His free hand shot out, feeling the pulse of the Force thrumming through him. Focusing to the best of his ability, he summoned a thick branch from the ground nearby, which was now propelled, aiming for the side of Roman’s leg. He followed through with a more strategic move, kicking up a cloud of dirt into the air, aimed straight for the older Padawan’s face. Lysander affirmed the action by telling himself he was just using the environment to his advantage!

The duel shifted; it was no longer a dance of blades, but one of strategy. The teen’s gaze was locked on him, trying to be prepared for whatever came next.

​

 

[Roman Vossari]

Tags: Lysander von Ascania

​

Roman cursed inwardly as the branch slammed into his thigh, a sharp, jarring pain that sent a ripple up his leg. The follow-up attack, a face full of gritty dirt, made him cough and blink furiously, his vision temporarily obscured. This wasn't the graceful sparring match they'd started with. Lysander had thrown down the gauntlet in response to his punch, and Roman had to admit, it was exhilarating.

He spat out a mouthful of dirt, his blue eyes now narrowed in focus, a grin pulling at the corners of his lips. He'd opened the door to this chaos with his cheap shot, and now Lysander was showing him he could play dirty too – a lesson Roman grudgingly respected. This wasn't just a his friend showing off, it was a genuine display of instinct and adaptability.

Roman shifted his stance, the Soresu form dropping away, replaced with a more aggressive posture. He adjusted his grip on his lightsaber, the blue blade now humming with a renewed intensity. Djem So, form five. It was a style he was still wrestling with, far less fluid than his usual defensive posture, but it was built for power. The sheer force of it was an intoxicating feeling, perfect to throw the young prince off guard.

He used the Force, pushing away the lingering dirt and debris, his senses sharpening. He could feel the energy of the forest around him, the hum of the ancient trees, the subtle shifts in the ground. Roman was intimately familiar with this training ground, and he was ready to use it against Lysander.

With a burst of speed, he lunged forward, his blue blade tracing a wide arc as he aimed a series of powerful blows towards the young blonde. Their lightsabers met each other in a flurry of sparks, the forest floor now a chaotic blend of energy and movement. He pushed forward, using the uneven terrain to his advantage, he used a low hanging branch and used the force to push himself up and over Lysander, trying to get the drop on him, landing behind the young Padawan.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Roman Vossari

​

The lightsaber rested lightly in his grip while remaining poised in the stance of Form II. Lysander’s shoulders were squared, and feet were planted firmly once more, exuding a focused aura. Yet, instead of focusing on the next move to follow up with, his attention quickly waned, as he was fixated on the branch thudding against Roman’s leg. Amusement flickered in his gaze while finding himself simply captivated by the sight of Roman spitting out dirt. There really was a certain beauty in the chaos; all of it tugged at his calm demeanor.

Then there was a shift; it resonated through his core, bringing alertness within him. He noted the currents of air change, the tension thickening. It didn’t take much more to press his lips into a straight line rather than risking another smirk. With a fierce grip, he clenched the lightsaber tighter and shifted his weight as Roman advanced with a flurry of strikes. Instinctively, Lysander stepped back, hearing whispers of past training echo in his mind as time slowed. Each parry sent jolts up and down his arms; while not necessarily painful, they quickly became uncomfortable.

Vibrant colors danced around them; the blue blade suddenly became much more intimidating.

The uneven terrain worked against him; his heart raced as he nearly lost his balance, wobbling for a second before finally regaining composure. It was then that he shifted his stance into Form V. His free hand joined his main one on the curved hilt. Inhaling deeply, he began channeling the power necessary to make it more efficient and also protect himself.

When Roman leapt into the air he tracked and calculated the trajectory. There wasn’t much time to weigh the different options. It was then decided he needed a moment to physically recoup, so he closed his eyes and began to focus. Drawing upon the Force, he began conjuring a shimmering barrier around him that thrummed with energy. When he reopened them, his gaze was filled with determination. "Why don't you show me what you can do now, I dare you" he said mockingly. The effort required his full attention, extending outward as he began purposely striding forward and separating the space between them. He meant to unbalance Roman and push him back with it, the unconventional move intended to assert his dominance in their duel.

 

[Roman Vossari]

Tags: Lysander von Ascania

​

Roman landed lightly behind Lysander, the shift in terrain barely registering as he launched into a powerful strike. The blue blade arced down, aiming to catch the young Padawan off guard, but instead, it met an invisible wall of shimmering energy. The lightsaber hummed as it collided, the powerful blow dissipating against the force barrier, sending a jarring vibration up Roman's arm. He recoiled, a flicker of surprise, then grudging respect, crossing his features. Improvisation. A good choice.

Lysander moved forward, a mocking challenge hanging in the air, the force barrier acting as an unwavering shield. Roman backpedaled, his own lightsaber flashing recklessly against the shimmering field. He was trying to find a weakness, an opening, but the barrier held firm, each of his strikes doing nothing to penetrate the power of Lysander's defense. Stubborn.

"Don't lose your focus now!" Roman called out, attempting to sway his attention just a little.

Focusing his mind, Roman reached out with the Force, his senses expanding to encompass the surrounding forest. He could feel the loose rocks, the decaying leaves, the sturdy branches scattered across the forest floor. With a sharp mental command, a torrent of debris erupted into the air, hurtling towards the barrier. Rocks and dirt slammed against the shimmering surface, a barrage of chaotic energy designed to weaken it, or at least break Lysander's concentration.

He watched intently, his blue eyes narrowed in focus, a slight smile appearing at the corner of his lips. It was working. He saw a slight flicker, a subtle wavering in the energy, a sign that Lysander's concentration might be faltering. Good. Roman waited for the moment of weakness, his muscles coiling. He channeled the Force, using it to propel himself forward, a blur of motion as he launched himself directly into the barrier. He wasn't trying to cut through it but rather, aimed to slam into it with all his weight, intending to knock Lysander off balance, hopefully breaking their stalemate.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Roman Vossari

​

Once more he found himself attempting to maintain a serious expression, or even a mask of concentration, as Roman unleashed a series of powerful strikes that were simply met with ease by the Force barrier. With minimal strain on his muscles, he listened to the clashing energy that filled the air; it was like a symphony of power and frustration!

Deep down, he was actually relieved. He knew, unfortunately, that this wouldn’t be sustainable for much longer. The strikes did have a certain.. rhythm to them, and the moment the barrier opened, he would be vulnerable. The Padawan mentally began mapping out any remaining strategies. Regardless of whatever happened next, this was undoubtedly his best moment so far in forcing Roman to retreat, and the joy of it flickered in his mind.

Lysander’s brow furrowed as he caught Roman’s voice cutting through the air. Just as he was prepared to fire back a retort, a cacophony erupted all around. A storm of debris slammed against the shimmering barrier which sent subtle vibrations through his core. Now, he was struggling to maintain his concentration, and panic danced at the edge of his mind; one rock collided with the barrier so violently that it even made him flinch. The reaction itself bothered him, for he felt no true fear; rather, it was like his body betrayed him.

When the older Padawan’s next intention became crystal clear, an idea sparked. What if simply let the barrier dissolve and allow him to charge right through? But as that thought came to life, he found himself frozen as Roman came sprinting forward. The next collision had the force of a tsunami. All the energy he’d woven together shattered in an instant, knocking him back and through the air. He tumbled helplessly. Every single rotation felt surreal and painful. Lysander was at least pleased with not impaling himself with the purple blade in the process. Instead of landing on his feet, it was with a loud thud on his back.

Kicking his weight, he flipped back onto his feet. Eyes narrowed and the lightsaber instantly raised high into air, prepared to retaliate. Hurtling forward, the world blurred while closing the distance, his grip firm with both hands. Energy surged from the forest floor, connecting to him as he transferred the power up through his hips, and then allowing it to flow into his arms. “Brace yourself, Roman! Chit is about to get real!”

The blade came down in a violent arc, humming with intensity as it cut through the air like a comet. The glow illuminated the sheen of sweat on his face and the boy's determined expression too. "Now it’s time to face the consequences of crossing a Prince of Ukatis!" Lysander continued tapping into the Force, channeling his energy into each and every strike. They lacked the precision of Form II, relying more on raw power, and carried a certain wildness to them. Fatigue was quickly building, but he was at least capable of masking it with the thrill of actually having fun for once.

 

[Roman Vossari]

Tags: Lysander von Ascania

​

Roman's momentum carried him forward, a battering ram crashing through the dissipating energy of the barrier. He felt a jarring impact as he slammed into Lysander, sending the younger Padawan tumbling backward. However, the maneuver wasn't without cost. Roman, having flung himself with such force, stumbled as he landed, his lightsaber flying from his grasp and clattering against a tree trunk. He tumbled across the uneven forest floor, the ground a blur of dirt and leaves as pain seared through his body.

Finally, he came to a halt, face down in the dirt. Roman groaned, pushing himself up slowly, his muscles screaming in protest. He coughed, spitting out a mouthful of dust, and tried to clear his vision as he heard Lysander's approach. With a surge of adrenaline, Roman scrambled to a knee, reaching out with the Force to summon his errant lightsaber. The familiar hilt flew into his hand just as Lysander's blade came crashing down, the blue and purple lightsabers clashing with a hiss and a shower of sparks.

Roman barely managed to brace himself against the overwhelming power of Lysander's blow. His eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face as he saw the raw determination etched into his friend's expression. This is fun, he thought, the thrill of the fight igniting his senses. He met Lysander's strength, pushing back with everything he had, finally managing to regain his feet, blades still locked in a furious struggle.

Pushing with the force, Roman suddenly sent a surge of force to Lysander, creating a small amount of distance. Before he could even take a single breath, Lysander was back, his blade a blur of purple as he unleashed a series of brutal strikes. Roman struggled to keep up, parrying each blow, his arms burning with fatigue. "I could do this all day, Prince!" Roman shouted, trying to keep the air of dominance, but even he could hear the breathlessness in his voice as he launched his own furious counterattack, grasping his blade with both hands and swinging wildly.

He knew he couldn't keep up with this pace. Gathering the last of his strength, Roman locked blades with Lysander, and with a burst of power, he shoved the younger Padawan back, creating a gap between them. Roman quickly leaped backward, pushing off the ground with the Force.

He landed with a powerful thud, his fist smashing into the forest floor, sending a shockwave through the dirt that rippled outwards, the ground trembling like a startled animal.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Roman Vossari

Every strike demanded more from his already depleted muscles. Endurance felt as if it were slipping through his fingers; every second pushed him closer to his limit. Though Lysander had tasted the levity he even craved during training, this test still threw him straight into the deep end of his readiness. The unpredictability of Roman was exciting, far out of his comfort zone of lightsaber dueling. It forced the blonde to quickly adapt. Or try.

When he heard the comment about being able to continue all day, a final surge of adrenaline was felt amidst the exhaustion, giving him the rush he needed. Lysander’s eyes widened in silent agreement, unable to process the words. His breathing became labored, and even his sense of humor was waning. Though he’d been rigorous with his physical training back on Naboo, his limbs were now heavy.

More than a physical test, it was one for the mind as well. The boy was afraid that the moment he stopped working against the building fatigue, that it would claim him entirely.

When their blades locked, his eyes narrowed, as his brother was also pushing himself. But Roman’s random burst of strength caught Lysander off guard, and he stumbled back once more. The shove reverberated through his entire being. It was then a harsher reality hit him– beyond the elegance of Maskahi that was like second nature, his balance was terrible. Djem So, in which he was far less experienced, it felt more like a desperate attempt to hold any ground with pure aggressiveness.

His gaze attempted to track the following movements, but before he could process everything, the ground felt like it was rushing to meet him. Lysander’s legs buckled, and he spiraled towards the ground at an awkward angle. For a second it was like being caught in a tornado, spinning recklessly until he collapsed with a loud thud.

This time, however, he remained completely still. Inhaling deep breaths, he was a spectator to the sky above. Now there was only silence as he lay there in the dirt. It was oddly comforting.

The clouds drifted by and he closed his eyes for a moment, feeling as though he could surrender to a nap right there; he was also reminded of the swelling in one of them. It was difficult to open now. Losing for once didn’t feel so terrible; perhaps it was like a reminder of the balance he sought.

 

[Roman Vossari]

Tags: Lysander von Ascania

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The surge of power that had propelled Roman backwards, the force that had shattered the forest floor, drained the last of his reserves. His muscles screamed in protest, each fiber burning as if alight. He staggered, knees buckling, and crashed to the ground, his hands scraping against the rough terrain. His lightsaber, suddenly feeling like an unbearable weight, slipped from his grasp, clattering onto the dirt beside him.

He pushed himself up onto his hands, breath coming in ragged gasps. It had been exhilarating, a true test of skill and spirit, a welcome change from the training grounds. Yet, the physical toll was undeniable, his entire body vibrating with exhaustion. He could feel his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs, and a film of sweat coated his skin. I've got to be better, Roman thought, his gaze drifting towards his fallen weapon. This duel with Lysander had revealed more than just his friend's capabilities; it had shown him his own weaknesses. His conditioning, he realized, needed serious attention.

He pushed himself, using his arms to sluggishly crawl over to where Lysander lay. The exhaustion was so intense, that he felt a strange disconnect from his own limbs. He tapped his friend gently on the shoulder, his hand feeling like a clumsy weight.

"You okay brother?" he asked, his voice raspy and strained, barely above a whisper. He then lowered himself to the ground beside the blonde, mimicking Lysander's position, staring up at the vast expanse of sky.

"I don't think I've had a duel like that in quite some time. It was refreshing." A short pause, he needed to make sure Lysander understood how truly impressive he had been. "I wouldn't want to be anyone threatening your kingdom in the future." Roman let out a soft exhale, the only sound besides their labored breathing.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Roman Vossari ​

​

For Lysander, time stretched and yawned like a Loth-cat basking under the sun. He felt as if he were in a dream. With one arm now casually behind his head, he gazed up at the sky. A gentle breeze danced across his blonde hair while being enveloped in Serreno’s warm embrace. In that moment, any worries he’d ever had just faded into the background.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Roman struggling to crawl over, his own limbs appearing to be sluggish as well. The sight was welcomed, bringing a sense of camaraderie.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he replied, the fatigue in his voice evident. “Just tired, you know? Honestly, I could lay here all day.” He took a moment to look from one cloud to another as they floated. “It’s already been a really nice break from the daily grind on Naboo, even if I really love it there. It’s good to have a breather, you know?”

Lysander turned his head again to glance at Roman. “And I definitely agree about the duel. I’m glad we could use actual lightsabers this time; it made everything feel so.. real.” He paused, musing on the topic. “I feel like we should be allowed to train like this more often, without Jedi Masters losing their minds over it. Wouldn’t it better prepare us for real battles? I mean.. I’m certain the Sith are already doing it. It could give them, you know.. an edge.”

A soft chuckle soon escaped. “Well, I’m glad it wouldn’t be you attacking my kingdom. I’m just thankful to have you on my side. It feels good to know.”

The Padawan released a soft sigh; he could feel the sweat glistening on his face. “At least whatever else happens today, we made it productive already by getting this out of the way.” A grin slithered across his lips as he allowed his thoughts to wander. "You know what sounds amazing right now? Those thermal baths.. I smell worse than a wild Batha right now," he mused. "And perhaps, some of the Serreno girls to keep us company."

 

[Roman Vossari]

Tags: Lysander von Ascania

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Roman lay there, staring up at the sky, his hand unconsciously pressing against his ribs. A wince escaped his lips as the dull throb of pain began to settle in, a souvenir from their duel. He understood the sentiment of needing an escape. The constant pressure of their training and expectations was never-ending, and even though he relished the commitment to the New Jedi Order, a break was always welcome.

"Yeah, it's good to get away for a bit." Roman agreed, his gaze still fixed on the sky. "Anytime you need a break, my home is open to you, Lysander."

He shifted slightly, feeling the cool stone beneath him. "Maybe they won't let us train like that because we'd beat the chit out of each other if the stakes were raised." he chuckled, the image of their unrestrained combat flashing in his mind. "But I'd agree. I think I've learned more in times like these, where everything feels real." His thoughts drifted to the brutal training he'd endured with Diarch Reign and his daughters. The real-world aspects of training were incredibly valuable to him and would certainly make him and others more battle-ready.

A sly grin spread across Roman's face at Lysander's mention of the thermal baths, a place where many nights had been spent with friends, unwinding and sharing stories. "I think we can make both of those happen!" Roman said with enthusiasm, rolling onto his feet with a groan. He playfully slapped Lysander on the chest, a reassuring gesture. "Think you can manage to walk there, or do I need to come drag you?" Roman offered a hand to help him up. "You go ahead and get settled. Let me work on getting us some company."

A little while later, Roman emerged from the estate, vibrant swimming trunks a splash of color. He carried a stack of fluffy towels, placing them neatly on a nearby stump before stepping into the thermal baths. The heat enveloped him, easing the tension from his muscles. "My friends will be here shortly..." he announced, a grin playing on his lips. He glanced at Lysander, his own chest slightly raised. "How's your face?" he asked with a touch of playful concern, revealing the faint redness and burgeoning bruises on his own ribs. It was a mirror of their shared battle, a testament to their raw training and friendship.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Roman Vossari ​

​

Lysander chuckled softly; the sound was light but carrying a touch of camaraderie. “I appreciate the offer, Roman,” he replied, his head turning so that he could gaze over some of the available landscape. Feeling humbled by their training, it was easy to find beauty in the moment– an appreciation for the aesthetics of the planet. He paused for a moment, allowing it all to linger in his thoughts before venturing elsewhere.

It shifted back to the idea of honing their skills with lightsabers. The thrill of danger was exciting, or anything that fueled his adrenaline. Whether mentally through words or physical exertion, it gave a certain stimulation he actually craved. “Sometimes I do wonder if the Jedi can be a touch too cautious. Stuck in little boxes, afraid to step outside comfort zones.” He leaned back slightly, hands resting behind his head, reflecting on some of their teachings.

“There should be a better balance,” he mused aloud.

A sharp sting radiated through him from the slap, feeling a bit more painful than the typically would’ve expected. Instinctively, his arms shot out in a defensive manner, but it was a few seconds too late. With a smile, he then grasped Roman’s hand and stood back to his full height. "I’ll be fine,” he said confidently, though he could feel the ache in nearly every muscle. “I may just be moving a little slow.”

As time passed, he soon found himself adorned in vibrant purple trunks that stood out near the thermal baths. Slowly, he placed a single foot in the water, testing its temperature. He then allowed it to envelop his lower torso and up to his chest, feeling its gentle embrace wrap around his being in soothing warmth. When Roman asked the question about the eye, a boyish smile lit up Lysander’s entire demeanor, his eyes brightening with mischief.

Despite the bruise that now marred his handsome complexion, he felt amused by the incident that led to it– an unexplainable sense of humor that easily outweighed any possible irritation.

On the topic of his friends, he suddenly became contemplative. The blonde’s curiosity was piqued. “Are they human too, or something more.. exotic?” He slowly immersed himself deeper into the water, relishing the heat. “Anything new going on with you and Cora?” he randomly inquired, “How’s the training going? Hopefully she hasn’t become too boring now that she’s on the Council.”

Moving toward the edge of the bath where some of his belongings were, he reached for a bag saved for this occasion. Inside was a baked brownie, which he broke in half. He glanced at the bruised area along Roman's ribs before offering him a portion. “You should try this,” he suggested with a sly grin. “I guess you could say they’re.. spicy. But from what I've gathered, they’ll totally help a lot with any pain. Just don’t say anything to Cora, okay? Besides, it’s kind of just a one time thing for me.”

Without wasting time, he bit into his half.