Private Soft Universe

[Corazona von Ascania]

“What do you think of this one?”

Corazona and Isobel had first met in the fields that surrounded the Ukatian enclave’s temple. Among the newly sprouted crops, a lesson in consitor sato had taken place.

Cora pressed the cloudberry between her fingers, pitching it at the crown. The berry’s soft flesh gave, as she pulled it in two. One half popped into her own mouth, and the other was offered to the child strapped to her chest.

A year ago, Cora had stood in this very patch while she guided Isobel through manipulating the tall stalks and their adjoining vines. The cloudberry crop had been no accident; she’d craved them intensely during her pregnancy. The off-world fruit had taken root in their soil, steadily working its way into the Ukatian diet.

A sour note hit her tongue, and Lucy made a face. Cora retrieved a cloth, chuckling quietly as she wiped the saliva and discarded berry mush from her daughter’s face.

“You’re right,” she cooed. “That one wasn’t ripe yet.”

The crop yield of last year hadn’t been exactly meager, but the landscape had changed notably. Sparse, young crops now grew lush in the fertile valley. Some of it went to the temple kitchen, and the surplus supported the surrounding community.

“How about this one?"

A second berry was selected, halved, and given to the baby. Deep blue in color, soft in its sweetness. Luciana received it with no pinched expression, and her mother smiled.

The mists surrounding the temple moved in a way that was distantly familiar. They didn't act as a warning, nor a harbinger - but as a gentle indication that something (or someone) had arrived.

Isobel Serraris

 

[Isobel Serraris]

SOFT UNIVERSE​

LOCATION — Ukatis, Jedi Enclave
TAGS — Corazona von Ascania

The labyrinthal paths once trod now forged a different formation; the recalled steps only leading to the same exit time and time again without mercy to soften its blow. Strange, it. . . had once called to her, the enclave that stood like a lighthouse amid the dense fog. Was this but another brand inflicted by Bogan? A mark that tainted her with the rot that kept her from holding onto the Light for longer than a precious moment.

That is not to say she had not experienced it in recent days, the fateful encounter with Lysander von Ascania on Zardossa Stix had left her heart with a melody that almost echoed with Ashla's Light. But too faint to compose a lasting symphony in Her name.

The Serraris donned no armour, no acolyte's robes, merely a loose-fitting set of drapes, embroidered by the numerous flowers of hope and renewal; Irises, tulips and roses. Weaponry had been left with her droid 'Ser Sprout' on the ship, for must it come to battles, she would prefer them to be faced with the Force--or with words.

Memories had drawn her back to Ukatis, to the Enclave she had once felt at peace in, guided by the teachings of Cora as the roots of Consitor Sato had been planted within the garden of knowledge. It had felt akin to an eternity by now, but still, each time Isobel brought life into the flora around her part of her mind was lured back to the innocent encounter upon this planet.

Her patience was thoroughly tested as minutes bled into an hour, until at last the ruins of the castle came into sight--just as she had remembered them to be. Greenery woven into the eroded stone bricks, the distant stalks of cloudberries that still left a strange taste on her tongue. Not sweet, not sour.

The Force hummed in her ear with the warning of two signatures not far beyond her, one fainter than the other. . . Familiarity brushed over her being as she hesitantly stalked closer, one hand upon her waist as though her lightsaber were still within grasp.

Blonde hair that shone gold in the Ukatian sun, robes that seemed pristine in spite of nature's squalor and a long fabric stretched over her abdomen that cradled something close to her. "I can still recall them being no more than sprouts in the soil," Isobel maintained her distance, but drew ever closer to a crop of Hsuberries, one she had recommended during their first encounter. The tree appeared to produce its first fruits, and she instinctively reached out to one of the fuzzy berries to taste it, the long scar upon her arm visible in the moment.

"It has been some time, has it not, Cora?" The lady's eyes drew toward the gurgling babe attached to the Jedi's chest. "Too long it seems. . ."

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora turned, but only halfway, her profile illuminated by the sun. Golden light traced along the line of her lips where they pulled into a slow smile.

"Proper tending," she mused. “Along with good advice.” Her flesh hand lifted to caress a trio of richly greened leaves. Then she turned, the sun now at her back.

Cora was not aware of the teen's foray into the Sith, but sensed the way the Force clouded around her - troubled, uncertain. She observed Isobel for a long moment, as if to confirm that there was no visible bodily harm to the girl.

Isobel reached for the hsuberries, and blue eyes narrowed at the band of scar tissue running along her arm. That expression dissolved as quickly as it had come.

Lucy squirmed in her sling, letting out a grunt. She didn't fancy being ignored.

Cora chuckled quietly, fingers stroking along a dark, wispy curl. "Too long," she agreed. "It's good to see you again, Lady Isobel. Truly. And this…"

Craning her neck down, Cora pressed a kiss to the crown of her daughter's head. "This, is Luciana. She's nearly six months old."

Little Lucy cooed, her doll-like blue eyes focused on their beautiful visitor. Her chubby arms waggled in excitement, lips splitting into a gummy grin.

Isobel Serraris

 

[Isobel Serraris]

SOFT UNIVERSE​

LOCATION — Ukatis, Jedi Enclave
TAGS — Corazona von Ascania

Sourness wielded no blade sharp enough to cut down the happiness that made her heart thunder with excitement. An unbridled grin painted itself upon her visage as Bel gazed toward the needy little babe wrapped around her mother's chest. The purest form of life, innocent and sweet, where the only concern is to eat and. . . in this babe's case, whether she received enough love.

Instinct guided her hand as Isobel took a hesitant step nearer, her boot sliding over the wet grass, barely lifting above the soil as though she were traversing a mine field. "It gladdens me to hear they bloomed here. Have the Jedi gotten hold of the elixir recipe or must I. . ." A beat, as her teeth grazed the pad of her lower lip: "Seek to acquire it," The light tremble of hesitation within her voice whispered the want for refusal—a way to avert contacting her kin once more.

The distance fractured between the Knight and the Mystic, until they stood but three metres apart from one another; part of her feared that any step nearer may demand Ashla's judgment or force the babe to wail in fright. Still, as a quiet remedy, the shadows fled from her presence under the light of Ukatis, until only what mattered remained: the safety and the gentle ease and comfort of her presence.

Dark curls swayed along with the wind as for a moment, word nor thought seemed to suffice at providing a path, an explanation. No vision claimed hold of her sight, dared to beg for a choreographed course of action, there was naught.

"Luciana. . . Light, is it not? She seems. . . healthy, good. Good." An uncertain mumble fell from her lips akin to dry leaves descending from a tree after harvest season. "It is. . . good to see you too, my lady."

The Nabooan reached down to the grass, fingers settling on one of the white flowers sprouting like weeds throughout the patch of grass. A gentle nudge of the Force stirred it into bloom, until petals unfurled and a light orange crown coloured its core. With a quieted SNAP Bel brought it up before extending the stalk to Corazona, and her babe. A bloom offered in lieu of unwanted ramblings. . . a silent request veiled in its petals.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora watched the way Isobel inched closer with caution, as though she were approaching a frightened animal. The Jedi neither leaned forward nor pulled back. She stood, rooted to the earth, and let her guest move at her own pace.

Whatever had happened to Isobel seemed to weigh heavily in both her words and body language. Hesitation filled the space between them, carried on the wind through the crop field.

At her mention of the hsuberry elixir, Cora inclined her head. “We have a batch that has just begun to ferment.” Her brows raised, then lowered. “The recipe that we have is incomplete. I’m curious to see what we’ll do with what we have," she added with a pinch of good humor.

When Isobel crouched to the grass and roused a seedling to bloom from the earth, one edge of Cora’s lips lifted. The Force still stirred around the girl in a gentle, practical way, even if something about it had changed.

The flower was accepted silently. Cora rolled the stem between her thumb and forefinger, watching the way delicate petals stirred with motion. Then, she dabbed its pale orange core against Luciana’s nose. The babe giggled, and her mother brushed away the pollen.

“Come,” Cora said, extending her hand. A smile bubbled to the surface after hearing her daughter’s laughter. “Come and walk the fields with me. You’re always welcome here, Isobel. I’d like to hear about what you’ve been up to.”

After all, there was a reason she’d sought out this enclave. This field. This particular patch, and the woman tending it.

Isobel Serraris

 

[Isobel Serraris]

SOFT UNIVERSE​

LOCATION — Ukatis, Jedi Enclave
TAGS — Corazona von Ascania

Sparks of curiosity besieged regions of her mindscape, wondering how the Jedi may perfect this Gungan recipe, and whether it truly lived up to its legend. . . They were soon drowned out by the giggle of the babe, a sound so sweet and hypnotising almost--for how could she not adore this little Von Ascania? It seemed to have become a natural trait for these nobles to claim some sort of dominion over her heart. Her being.

"As you wish, my Lady," A silver shield to veil the scars upon her body, a frail defense of what she truly wished to relinquish--this endless strife, this taint upon her thoughts, blurring the gaps of her memories and making her wonder occasionally what is to be dream and what is reality. For with the Sith, their brutality knew no bounds, no mercy to be had but the one they 'delivered'.

The softened lines of her body seemed to tense as she wandered beside the (slightly) taller blonde, her eyes occasionally falling upon the adorable child. . . It stirred a strange feeling within her, a familiarity and perhaps a distant longing for the warmth of it, mayhaps. "I do not long to part from this planet. It. . . is magnificent still--a fairytale come to life." The flora to be found on this place had excited her before, and it thrilled her to know she had only uncovered a small portion of its surface. "It almost makes Naboo pale in comparison. . ."

The question whispered in the back of her mind, demanding an answer of sorts as feet shuffled awkwardly over the pathway. Where might one start? Where might one end?

"My paths diverged from Ashla, her Light had become. . . dim," As though speaking to the nature of Ukatis, her eyes trailed over their dreamy canvas of flowers and plants, refusing to accept Cora's judgment yet. "Your words," A nervous laugh slipped from her lips, nigh on amused and irritated with her foolish past-self: "I should have known! We spoke of breaking chains on our first encounter." Lys. . . Lysander von Ascania , how had she been so blind? And how had this wound been mended so easily by his devotion?

A beat. "It was not only that blade that forced my path awry. . . Deceit, however intentional haunted me with another too--one might think them counterparts," A deprecating huff left her. "Believing a friend Acier Moonbound to be dead because of your inaction does leave its marks." Each act must have its reason, and she found it so dire to believe there to be one--for it all to not be some grand folly! All these junctions, these unseen roads within the Force, had converged once more--mere moons ago. As though the threads of fate were destined to weave with friend and foe alike, as though her story had not yet reached its end. . .

Mayhap she should have sought her Master's Josiah Denko guidance, or the Grandmaster's, but it had begun to blight all the warm life of her body. Corrupting all until there was naught more than the pulsing desire to flee--to run away as a startled guarlara might.

"Months of wandering, adrift on worlds beyond my knowledge. . ." Amusement slowly slipped into agony as tears welled in her eye, as much as she tried to keep up the smile. "He and I crossed paths on Ilum," All words suddenly felt akin to dry, breathless gasps as her glossy brown eyes finally trailed toward Cora, stopping in her tracks.

"And I joined the Covenant."​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora's smile shifted into something a little thinner, quietly somber, at the mention of Ukatis' fairytale landscape. While the enclave and many rural lands beyond it were indeed picturesque, rot still lingered beneath the surface. It always did, whenever you found something beautiful.

The young mother gave Isobel the space she needed to say all that she wanted. Just as much meaning lingered in the quiet between carefully chosen words. Her eyes did narrow, perhaps a little too sharply, at the allusion to Lysander. Then, her expression eased.

From Lysander to Acier and now to Isobel, this had become a dismally familiar tune. Young Jedi pulled into the embrace Dark, either sought or drawn.

It was a surprisingly easy thing to happen, and it felt almost natural. There was a time, during her Padawan years, where Cora had filled the cracks in her heart with a Sith's love. To hear that Isobel might be doing the same made her ache in a way that was distantly familiar.

She couldn't save Lysander or Acier. Sometimes, you had let these things play out. Certain lessons could only be learned that way.

That didn't stop her from wanting to protect them all, to shield them from vicious consequence.

A slow, audible breath exhaled from her nose. It was almost a thoughtful sound.

"You've had quite the journey, Isobel."

Lysander. Acier. The Covenant. A Light that felt far away.

Cora had shifted her gaze to the distant shadows of haze-wrapped mountains. Now, she let her attention fall steadily over the young woman beside her.

"It can be hard when we no longer feel like the path that we're walking is the right one,” she admitted. “What does the Covenant offer you?"

Isobel Serraris

 

[Isobel Serraris]

SOFT UNIVERSE​

LOCATION — Ukatis, Jedi Enclave
TAGS — Corazona von Ascania

The query lingered in the tense space between them, as trembling fingers rose up to swipe away the tears threatening to trail down her cheeks. 'Twas folly to feel sorrow for one's destiny; for it had been written, chapters upon chapters as tragedy, agony and bliss were given their respective spotlight. . . One more than the other, but all ever present, the watcher.

Silence followed her as boots continued down the path, seeking for the answer as much as Cora. What had the Covenant given her but a fractured mind, the memory of maiming Calyx, and the constant humiliation for not fitting in with the murderous cohort of acolytes. Why had her dreams--her nightmares--lured her down this treacherous road? Why had her heart chosen for the discord of the Covenant over the safety of the Order?

"Ashla, why have you abandoned me," A muse, more than a plea, as her attempt to flee weakened. The Von Ascania was not the enemy, there was no need to put up all these walls and feign a control Bel did not possess over her doubts. Hesitantly, her boots slid along the grass and turned back toward the Knight. Tension intensified and faltered around her shoulders as her head rolled uncomfortably around, seeking to find whatever might snap her body back into composure, so that she was not fully and wholly exposed.

"Nothing. I was offered safe passage by your brother, but I never thought it to lead to. . . this." A hand shot up to gesture to her entire body, a shaky breath followed her after. "I miss the comforts of home, of the Order, of the Light so dearly, but the fates have not blessed me with their return... not wholly,"

Flickers of the Light had broken through the shroud of darkness, often found in the impossible warmth of Lysander's presence, or even the feeling knowing that Acier was alive and 'well' against all the odds. But they were glimpses, faint rays of sunlight amid a dreary cloudy day. How could they ever match the Light and Life that had once blessed her?

The Exile shook her head, her curls dancing left and right as she neared the Jedi and her babe. Her expression softened as brown doe eyes darted to Lucy--the girl did not have to see such melancholy on a stranger's face. It would be an injustice, one she would not forgive herself.

"In spite of all my visions, of both awful and beautiful futures' untold. . . I feel lost, my Lady. So very lost, Cora."

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora always tried to move about things in the most careful way - but sometimes, instinct decided to take over. Even moreso after becoming a mother.

So when tears began to gather at Isobel's lash line, the elder woman reached out to brush the pad of her thumb just below the lost teen's eye. It was a simple gesture, one that fell away quickly lest she linger in Isobel's personal space.

"It's hard coping with the loss of something you always had," she murmured, low and warm like a summer breeze. "Just because you can't feel Ashla's Light as clearly as you once did, does not mean that there's anything wrong with you."

But it could feel awful. Like a sickness you couldn't find the cure for when all you wanted was to feel well again.

Lucy might not have been able to understand their words, but she understood tone and mood. Her gurgling coos quieted, and her fickle attention fixed on the swaying lines of grain that lined the field. The symbol of house Ascania.

Cora's gaze followed the motion of Isobel's arm, narrowing just a tic when she clocked the scar beneath the shift of her long sleeve.

Lysander's touch seemed to be everywhere. Coruscant, Naboo, even here in the enclave he'd never visited, that her perhaps didn't even know existed. And while her little brother felt like a wound that she couldn't stop scratching at, something akin to pride swelled in her chest at the notion of how he'd looked after Isobel.

Perhaps he wasn't as far gone as she'd thought - or perhaps, this was just the Dark being capricious. That thought slipped from her mind along the next breeze that rolled through the crop field.

"It wasn't clear for me in adolescence," she admitted. "When I chased the Dark."

Her gaze fell softly on Isobel, devoid of judgement. "What visions did you see, may I ask?"

Isobel Serraris

 

[Isobel Serraris]

SOFT UNIVERSE​

LOCATION — Ukatis, Jedi Enclave
TAGS — Corazona von Ascania

Comfort was hard to come by, whether that be in the empty fields of seclusion, or amid a treacherous court like with the Sith. Even with veiled blades near, there were still some who had made her chuckle, made her briefly dismiss the acheing troubles of mind and body; but warmth had been a scarcity reserved to one. And though Lys' sweetened kisses had felt akin to bliss, they were but a shallow remedy to the radiance she sought, to the blessings of the Light. . . Still, it had sparked a certain glow upon her skin, a dim fondness within the glimmers of her eye, to know there was still some hope to be found.

The pad of Cora's thumb swiftly snapped her out of the spiral of thought, as her gaze fixed on the Von Ascania again. Whatever threads wove Cora's aura, they emitted a certain calm, a feeling that made her trust the Jedi on instinct. With others she may have stiffened or, usually, flee far away from the intrusion, but. . . not with her.

A sniffle left her as she shook away the sadness from her being, and try to rationalise the wisdom uttered by the knight. Had it truly become habit for her to feel the Light? Even when she had not known about her Force-sensitivity until three years past? "I see . . ." A whisper no louder than the breeze, before it firmed: "But the Jedi of old saw the Dark Side as a rot; a corruption that spreads and spreads until it takes over the entire body. Is that not wrong?"

Too many questions lingered within as her gaze wandered over the floral surroundings woven around the Enclave. "If our environment stops feeling or seeing life clearly, will it not wilt in time? Be consumed by the blight?" The former Padawan could not make sense of why or how there could be nothing wrong with her, when she had indulged the dark! The rot! When she had used the instruments of the enemy.

Her tone quieted as she bore witness to Cora's admission. How. . . had she brushed with the dark side? When she seemed so. . . calm? The swaying line of the greenery around seemed to blur and stagnate, whilst her gaze morphed into scrutiny--trying to assess anything that might confirm the words of the Knight. How? Why? When? There was not a trail to be followed, no clues to be found to solve the grand mystery. "You. . . jest," An irrational conclusion slipped past her lips, and all irritation seemed to dissipate, clearing like fallen rain under the bright sun.

Her visions.

The canvases of flora that oft-alluded to a plethora of meanings: "My visions bear no clarity like the Mystics of Voss, but I have dreamt of scorched fields at the hand of the Empress of the Core. . . of inner strife threatening to tear groups asunder. Of defections and deceit within Jedi and Sith alike. . ." A bashful redness bloomed on her face, as a fond smile made all the defenses crumble. "But as of recent, of life and love. . ."

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

“Mmm,” Cora murmured, canting her head subtly in thought. “The Jedi of Old weren’t wrong - judicious use of the Dark can lead someone to rot from the inside out. From what I’ve seen of the Sith, some embrace it while others deny it.”

A few moments passed as she let those words land. Force, but did her heart ache for the young woman’s plight. Some lessons had to be learned on their own, outside of the classroom. That didn’t mean that Isobel had to walk this road alone.

“Permit me to share a story,” she began, glancing to the lost Jedi beside her. “I wasn’t much older than yourself when I was arranged to wed my first husband.”

Tender fingers began to stroke Luciana’s hair, an idle gesture of comfort. “It wasn’t a good marriage, and I was so desperate to feel loved that I fell into the arms of a Sith Lord.”

Cora’s gaze gradually drifted to the treeline, eyes lingering on the sun-dappled leaves as they swayed against the summer sky.

“The Dark gave me everything that I was missing. Affection, warmth, and the illusion of safety. Even if it was real - and I’m certain that some of it was - I could feel my humanity slipping away. The Sith who was so kind to me, was so cruel to others."

Then, Cora brought her attention back to Isobel, speaking in that same soft, clear cadence. “There’s always a cost,” she murmured. “But there’s almost always a way back.”

She believed it, to a degree. A brush with the Dark was something you could recover from. Even Sith who’d committed atrocities could be reformed, though it was rare.

Deep down, it felt like a double standard when she thought of Lysander, the choices he'd made and how far he'd gone. The notion sat heavy like a stone in her gut, refusing to move.

There was a difference in feeling further from the Light, and indulging in the Dark. The former often made you more susceptible to the later, and to Cora, it wasn’t weakness - it was life.

A field rabbit happened along their path, small and tan, just a few shades lighter than the dirt beneath their heels. Lucy squealed with delight, chubby arms and legs flailing in excitement. The rabbit wrinkled his nose, and bounded off into the nearest patch of greenery.

The smile it brought to Cora should’ve been brief, but traces of it still lingered as Isobel relayed the visions she had seen. Snippets of the future. There was every indication that war was coming, and perhaps people like the young woman beside her could influence the way it would unfold.

“Life and love sound like a positive turn,” she offered. “Do these visions involve anyone in particular…?” There was some mirth in her tone now, and genuine curiosity, too.

Isobel Serraris

 

[Isobel Serraris]

SOFT UNIVERSE​

LOCATION — Ukatis, Jedi Enclave
TAGS — Corazona von Ascania

A tapestry of tragedy was woven within the confines of her mindscape, threads of ruinous blood, of sorrowful blue and a treasonous orange begging to provide comfort whereas it only offered a poisoned blade. The tale harmonised with her own, though not borne of the promise of marriage, her leap into the abyss had the quest of comfort looming above. When home no longer felt a sanctuary, what remedy might one find within its walls? What peace may one return to at dusk?

The Nabooan's head rhythmically, though faintly, nodded as she processed each word spoken by the Jedi Knight. The hopelessness enveloped in kind words, the lack of guidance, it. . . ached within her core, as though a blight was swiftly claiming dominion over all truth within her heart.

"I had no idea," A shallow, breathy admission as the mind struggled to find the right words to. . . soothe? To acknowledge the burden. . ? To do anything at all. "When I look upon you, my Lady, I see only the radiance. As though the light has shunned all of your shadowed past-- It's--" Nods were exchanged for a shake of the head as Isobel began to pace around the pathway, looking upon the ruins of the Enclave. "Forgive me."

A heavy breath slipped past, nigh on sounding like a chuckle while her hands flailed around; what other pasts have her eyes been so blind to? Lysander, the first to come to mind, a Sith, so gentle. . . so loving, but a Sith beneath all the charm. Acier, the one who must have been tempted by the dark for longer than she could've seen. . . Calyx, that vexing blonde who shoved that dagger into her back when she sought to avenge him. The motives of many, the pasts of many were but unopened tomes gathering dust upon the shelves.

Always so blind. . .

Always so naive.​

After moments of trailing around without a goal, her feet slowed and body turned back to face the Jedi and that precious babe of hers. "It is a vicious cycle; a lack of hope driving us into the claws of the enemy, praying the ache shall numb the hollow within." Whether spoken for herself or for the Ukatian, it remained a devastating truth in their midst.

The fingers on her right twitched, acheing for a presence far, far away, whilst she brought her left palm to cover half of her lips. The energy around her shifted from gentle waves to sharper tides, as though the rose were growing thorns once more, each one bound to sharpen should she refuse to prune them herself. . .

Life and Love; the merry images of a future shared, of a sun bright in the skies, of warmth summoned in their midst. And though it beckoned a flutter from the heart, a redness blooming upon her cheeks--was it true?

"I fear. . . I love him," A murmur masked by the hand as gaze fixed upon Cora, her dark brows tensed and eyes softened in a consistent cadence. There was no need for a name to be uttered, not when it moved akin to a common thread through their last and current meeting; "Yet I cannot wonder whether this is not all some Dark illusion." Zardossa had not been an illusion, no. . . quite the opposite--and still, the tale of the older Von Ascania echoed within her mind now. To seek the comfort of the Dark, to experience the gentleness of one face, whilst the other slaughtered without second thought.

"My mind is a tempest, swirling with as much affection as it is doubt. . . For how can I remain with a Sith as its institution threatens to tear me apart from within?" Arms swung out again erratically. "And yet, all my troubles fade when I am near him--each thought, each ominous dream awaiting fruition." Bel questioned whether the Emissary shared the sentiment, whether some fragment within yearned now of the same oblivion.

An agitated grumble found release as her shoulders dropped and all tension vanished from her taut frame; "I dreamt of Naboo," The notion made her laugh frantically: "Dreamt of a home, of. . . something with Lys, with friends--some great chimera it is. . ."

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora offered Isobel a soft, sad smile. "It took me years to truly feel well again. Emotions that feed the Dark - pain, fear, rage - are normal and natural. I think we forget that, sometimes," she said.

"And when we feel those emotions strongly, it makes the Dark seem more palatable." She hesitated for a moment, weighing her next thought because it was a little controversial: "I believe it's hard to truly know the Light without touching the Dark in some way."

Cora fell quiet, watching Isobel as she milled about in agitation. For her plight, the wayward Jedi seemed very aware of what was happening to her; that didn't lessen the sting, though. If anything, it probably made her feel worse.

"I fear. . . I love him,"

Some conclusions drew themselves, and for a moment, Cora had forgotten what it felt like to be a young woman in love. Love and fear shouldn't be in the same sentence.

Everything about a noblewoman was supposed to be carefully choreographed. However, neither the Nabooian nor the Ukatian seemed to ascribe to this particular virtue in the moment. Their conversation was raw and real, and for this reason, Cora reached out and took Isobel's hands in her own steadying grasp.

"No matter how far he's fallen," she rasped, "I cannot picture my brother capable of luring you in with illusion."

Was he capable? She truly didn't know. She couldn't imagine. She was also very biased, but Lysander seemed to maintain a certain level of honesty despite his chosen path. It had been over a year since he'd spoken of her, but his words had been poignant enough for Cora to remember:

“I just.. noticed her. And everything after that felt..”

He searched for the words, eyes half lidded. “..bright. Like Ukatis in spring when the fields catch the twin suns.”

Lucy looked on and gurgled softly while Cora brushed the backs of Isobel's hands with her thumbs. The mother in her had always felt protective over other women, especially those younger than her, and all she could do was be honest.

"If this had been any other Sith, I might be of a different mind," she murmured gently. "Have you told him any of this? How does he treat you?"

Isobel Serraris

 

[Isobel Serraris]

SOFT UNIVERSE​

LOCATION — Ukatis, Jedi Enclave
TAGS — Corazona von Ascania

Anarchy blazed through each crack of stone of order shaped by the restless psyche; A castle with its moat bridged, its battlements besieged by a despairing revolt from within. . . Each sliver of defense had found resistance, be it from the whispers beyond, or within--endlessly assaulting her with the single query: Might one surrender to the rebellion within, or remain shackled to the ever-changing visions of war?

Light and Dark were destined to battle, and though for the longest time her allegiance, nay.. her role, had felt uncertain. . . the queries, the acknowledgement-- The spiralling mind was soothed as gentle hands cradled her own, forcing the ceaseless wandering to come to a startling stop. The roaring flames hushed beneath the calm cold of one, finding no foothold to persist, to flourish once more. . .

Serenity welcomed her as her brown eyes gazed upon the blue of the Ukatian, whilst the gentle coos of Luciana warmed her heart with an unfamiliar joy. As though instinct guided her path, a small smile pressed itself upon her lips; "Hi Lucy," Before the focus was diverted back under the icy bite of those words, though not cruel, they enveloped the fiery remains of her body with a frosty wave. Did Cora speak true? How could she possibly know when he had become her enemy in recent moons..? The Sith were deceitful by nature, and yet. . . yet . . . a squeeze found their intertwined fingers as the mind sought proof against her claim.

Not once had Lysander willfully led her astray. Not once.

Her Light had always drawn him in, even when it had 'slipped' from her grasp, like with their reunion on Ilum. . .

"And if you wish to nurture this, whatever it may become.. then also know this well: I have long needed the Light you carry."

A sigh slipped from the lips as reluctant nods were offered to the Jedi Knight; "Mayhaps not, no." The murmur was permitted into the air between them--absent-minded, hesitant.

"His. . . 'fall'," The tone in her voice grew wary, doubtful of what Cora sought to prove: this corruption within Lys. "Not a shadow, not a glimpse of the dark has sullied our moments together. As though they were naught, some farce spread by Twirrls!" Eyes widened and looked down at the young daughter to see if she was frightened by the volume. . . only to found no more than excited gurgles as her chubby paws tried to grasp one of Isobel's curls. And eventually found their mark: "OW!" she winced, trying to free her hands to save herself from a few severed hairs--and the headache.

"Keep your hair braided around kids. . . better yet, do not have them." A softened murmur as she liberated her right to gently nudge the babe's arm into freeing her locks. "She's no better than a Guarlara foal; a cute yet ferocious little creature. . . Are you not, sweetling?" The girl nigh on leaned over to get down onto eye-level with the babe, but saw that grabby little claw move up again. Not again. . .

"If this had been any other Sith, I might be of a different mind," she murmured gently. "Have you told him any of this? How does he treat you?"

Straightening up, the gaze did not stray from the child, but allowed the Knight's words to bleed into the mindscape. A nigh-on instant flush of warmth dominated the senses, a bloom of a familiar blush upon the soft curves of her visage, whilst her lips were pursed. What more can be told than the simple, plain truth? It was wonderful, a constant, a mercy, for he sought not to change what was within her--not to convert her to Sith ideologies in spite of his offers of safe passge.

Hesitantly, she sought to weave a link between their minds, offering Cora the key to peruse a handful of memories that slipped into her thoughts; for was this not the purest show of truth?

​

Spoiler: The memories

"How would you, a Sith, ever dream to win me over, Lys?"

"Maybe you're the most graceful disaster known to me." Words arrived before wisdom could intercept. In certain company amongst the Covenant, that might've even earned the emissary a dagger's kiss. "I must confess, milady, I stand ambushed and utterly conquered." Somewhere between rhythm and nearness, he found himself lost in the sweetest haze. "Should you happen to step on my toes again, I'll shall find a way to blame myself. Your awkwardness is.." he exhaled softly, almost wondering, ".. rather endearing, actually."

How she longed to voice it, and yet it terrified her, in spite of his closeness, in spite of the pleas he voiced begging her not to part. . . The petals drifted off into the air, unable to remain where they had bloomed. Isobel fractured the proximity and took a step away, turning to face the water, picking at her nails in anxious succession. "Fate shall not bring us apart any longer, but what if I. . . ruin it? I-- I feel all these things, and I have not the faintest understanding of what they encompass, nor what I am doing. Your presence makes me at ease, and I cannot deny that I. . ."

Time stretched into a crawl during that airborne arc. Humid air whistled past the ears, the body forced into a violent backward bend as boots lost all purchase on the sand! Seconds later, the surface of the water shattered upon impact in a rather ungraceful splash.

(...)
“You’ve pushed a Sith Knight into the abyss, Isobel. That’s a dangerous game to play.”
(...)
"You're lucky that I.. like you," ​

With all armour expelled, with only the raw emotion to fuel her, Isobel found herself leaning in once more, tentatively brushing her soft lips against his own, trying to mirror his motions whilst her fingers dug into his arm... Her eyes drew shut as she savoured every second of it, feeling the same warmth she had felt on Naboo, the same warmth she had once felt in Ashla's Light. . . Yearning to never part from it again.

"Because you make me care," bled past parting lips, a reckless spill of truth, before thought could dare to steal them back in cowardice. Another slow inhale of her fragrance painted a new spectrum inside him, straining all architecture with shades so vivid he had no name for. "When you're happy, I want to be the reason.. need it, the way you need to understand a color before you can use it honestly in your paintings." Her happiness was a color he wanted to learn by heart, to mix until it stained him. Heat pooled in ways it felt like a sin to ignore the lesson hidden in her tutelage. "When you're gone, I always notice.. and that is a dangerous amount of influence for one woman to have."

All that remained was a fragile whisper against the soft swell of his lips. "I am yours, Lysander von Ascania."

​

"I only beg of you. . . to not dig too far," A flustered laugh found the lips, idly shifting the hands to cover one another, poking against the nail beds. . .

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora’s expression creased in tentative concern as Isobel expressed her disbelief in Lysander’s corruption - but that particular line of thought was disrupted by grabby little hands.

“Oh!” she startled as the child strapped to her chest grabbed a fistful of dark curls. “That wasn’t very nice,” she admonished in a tone that didn’t sound admonishing at all. After Isobel freed herself from the tyranny of Lucy’s iron grip, Cora gently held her wrists back while the young noblewoman sorted herself out. The ‘do not have them’ comment earned a faintly arched brow, but nothing more.

Lucy giggled, showing off a gummy smile. The girl clearly wasn’t feeling any remorse for the momentary sharp pain she’d caused, pleased with Isobel’s full attention. The sound of her laughter seemed to break up the clouds hanging over grim subject matter.

Cora smiled, too. A tired smile that shifted into quiet surprise at the gentle nudge of Isobel’s psyche against her own. A temporary link woven between them, open and honest. She didn’t quite understand, until the Nabooian gave her verbal confirmation.

Lucy squirmed against her mother’s chest, attention squarely on Isobel. Cora patted her daughter’s back through the sling, and posed a question: “Would you like to hold her?”

Cora unwound the sash around her waist and over her shoulder, then helped to transfer the baby into Isobel’s arms. At six months old, she was more mobile and energetic with chubby little limbs and bright eyes. Her tiny hands pressed against Isobel's chest, fingers curling into the fabric as she gazed up to behold her new caretaker.

The mother stepped behind Isobel, sweeping chestnut curls over her shoulders and out of range. Fingers worked slow and rhythmic as she separated dark hair into three sections.

Touch helped the link to maintain its strength, and Cora courteously obliged her way through snippets of chosen memories.

There, she saw something she’d rarely glimpsed: the soulful tenderness of an adult Lysander. When they were young, she’d nurture his inquisitive nature with texts from father’s study. Taught him to be gentle in tending the garden. Encouraged him to conquer challenges - horseback riding, debate, fencing and more - until he took pleasure in perseverance.

In turn, Lysander taught her patience while she read to him. He’d had a strong sense of honor even as a child, coupled with a curious nature. He noticed things she didn’t, took in the world with a hunger that couldn’t be satiated by stories alone. He always wanted to know, to do, to take everything apart until he understood the whole of it.

And questions, so many questions. It made her want to be better.

Now, she saw him in the midst of affection and adoration. The way he cupped Bel's cheek, the way he looked at her like she could realign the stars in his galaxy - there was an earnest intensity to him that made Cora blush - even though she'd been invited into these particular memories, it still felt like she was witnessing something profoundly private.

Her fingers paused, trembling mid-braid. Two realizations came to Cora in succession: the first, that her brother was utterly devoted to Isobel Serraris. The second: he was not quite the lost cause she was beginning to fear.

It was the first spark of hope she’d had since the Prosperity.

She hadn’t spoken while viewing the proffered memories, but now the blonde exhaled. A slow, shuddering gasp.

“He told me about you,” she murmured. “Over a year ago, it was. You’d only met twice, but he was so infatuated with you that he looked almost…fragile.”

Despite Lysander being grown, dangerous, and capable, Cora would never her protective instincts. From the Sith. From the galaxy. From heartbreak.

“Fated was the word he used.”

Cora’s fingers moved again, on their own. Dark locks woven into a neatly coiffed braid were then secured with a ribbon from her pocket, blue and gold in House Ascania colors.

“Just…be careful with him,” she said gently. “He's more sensitive than he lets on. Look after him where I cannot.”

Isobel Serraris

 

[Isobel Serraris]

SOFT UNIVERSE​

LOCATION — Ukatis, Jedi Enclave
TAGS — Corazona von Ascania

Warmth; unlike the weight of a sun's radiance, unlike tempestuous flames swirling around one in battle. . . This was different, an inexplicable sensation that cradled the heart in a soft, smooth fabric. It was an anomaly of sorts. A long-forgotten feeling.

Hands struggled to find a proper way to contain the babe's energy, though it could not deter her own bundle of emotions. In fluid motions, she began to rock Lucy, hoping to soothe some of that restless mayhem that almost cost her her hair--the very same curls that had become the map for Cora's exploration. Was this home? That familial kindness? It had been so long, she had forgotten how peaceful it all felt. How safe. . . In a galaxy filled with so much slaughter, so much disaster, these treasures had become as farcical as legends, as sparse as planets untouched by mankind.

In mischievous tilts and shifts, Bel tried to nudge the babe into laughter, frequently earning herself some coos. "She is. . . so adorable. It almost makes me want to-" The sweet melodic nature of her voice wilted and a sniffle washed over her, even when she attempted to expel it with an amused huff. There was something about how precious, how innocent, how oblivious Lucy must be to all the terrors, even when she tried to shape her own tyranny just now. It was nigh on enviable to be blind to it once more, freed from the Sith, freed from the visions, to merely exist without neither thought nor worry for what the future might bring.

Instinctively, she leaned a bit further forward, the delicate weave of her mane falling awry as she puffed playful breaths against the cloth around the babe's belly. Infectious laughter rolled over the pair, bright and sweet, even as solemn tears cascaded down the plumpness of her cheeks. "It's the allergies--" A foolish excuse for Isobel had none, trying desperately to keep Luciana laughing despite the tinges of sorrow prodding at her once more. "Had I known," A sniffle. "I would have brought tissues, a lot of them."

The maternal tone of the Jedi Knight did not ease the blend of agonising joy: Infatuated, fragile. . . It had always been how she knew him, there was no other side to it. None other, but the curiosity of their meeting upon Naboo, the adventurous side of him as they waltzed, nay stumbled, amid the masquerade, the surrender as soon as their paths crossed once more on Ilum. Long had the seer refused to acknowledge the flower she had given their relationship upon that frosty world--a blue rose, the bloom of mystery, of finding the impossible, of love at first sight. . . but from the words of Cora, she may believe the third to have affected her ever since they were destined to meet.

"Fated," A sob ran through her, not borne of sorrow, but the fact Lysander used that word. Fated. . . Isobel moved the babe back to rest easily in her arms, watching as a chubby hand reached up toward one tear descending her jaw. "Fated, I--. . . he said that? Oh my Light," The coiffed hair shifted left and right as she shook her head lightly. "Has Lys told you how we met?"

Her glossy dark eyes never settled upon the blonde, but her true attention never strayed from Lady von Ascania. "It poured that fateful day, so horribly that I was so close to deciding not to go to the plaza. Of spending my day hidden in the greenhouse until someone might come to find me, and had I done so-- I would have never met him." A sad, weak smile marked her soft lips as she continued: "It was Serraris tradition. . . or mayhaps mine own, to hand out bouquets to those in need of it; to be the sunshine upon a cloudy day, the light amid the dark." She tilted her head, a bit thoughtful of the events--even when they reoccurred within her dreams every so often.

"He saw me. . . and I think, Ashla decreed him to be my sunshine from that day on, and. . . I would not dream of hurting him, of," A hand freed itself to boop Lucy's nose, before her gaze at last lifted to Cora. "Abandoning him." And perhaps that was the crux of it all, the sole allure of Bogan's call.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

The sweet combination of Lucy and Isobel’s laughter drifted like chimes in the wind. Cora, too, found herself smiling. She’d never tire at the sound of her daughter’s glee. Children - babies, especially - lived entirely in the moment, unburdened and unconcerned. She wanted to protect that for as long as possible.

Cora’s fingers were slow to work the ribbon around Isobel’s braid. They hesitated after pulling the loop taut, trembling faintly at the wayward Jedi sobbed.

“No,” she said gently, stepping around Isobel again to bring them face to face. Her fingers flexed, curling the wide sleeve of her tunic over her fingers, and dabbed gently at the young woman’s tear-streaked face. “He didn’t tell me how you met. Only that he was very glad to have done so.”

Cora couldn’t quite place a date to the memory as it came to her - twelve years ago, maybe? Perhaps a little further? She recalled a much younger Lysander, face soft and chubby with early childhood, as she cleaned the tears from his cheeks. His scraped knees had been bandaged first, and she'd cautioned him to wear long trousers until they’d healed, lest their father find out he’d been playing where he shouldn’t.

As Isobel’s tale unfolded, Cora couldn’t help but find a little amusement in her brother discovering sunshine while in a dour mood. It seemed fitting - fated, perhaps - that they’d found each other this way.

“Lysander has always been a romantic at heart,” she mused tenderly. “When we were children, I would read him tales of old Ukatian lore - there was always an honorable knight, defending the innocent and rescuing a fair maiden. Perhaps,” she offered, two fingers skimming rogue curl back behind Isobel’s ear, “It was you who saved him, then.”

Lucy giggled as her nose was gently prodded, little hands reaching for Isobel’s finger.

“He treats you well, then? Tell me true, my dear. I wish to know if I need to discipline him.”

Cora couldn’t imagine Lysander being anything but courteous to a young lady - but he’d become so many things that she hadn’t imagined.

Isobel Serraris