Private Stellar Exchanges

[Astra Sadow]

Astra met Lysander's eyes for a moment. "There's almost nothing else like this in the galaxy." She reached forth with a hand, but rather than move the ziggurats, the tip of her index finger carefully pressed on specific steps on each of the models laid out between them. "I've yet to learn much of those that preceded the mythical status of the Kwa and Gree, but I know this..."

The planetary recreation's rotation began to speed up until it was a blur. Superimposed over that motion were snapshots in time that flared into being for a single second. Static images of the continental drift of the world as the years sped by.

"...they understood something so fundamental, so powerful that it led our civilization to bask in the dim echo of their passing."

She laid a hand atop the Eastern ziggurat and the sense of motion sped up. The snapshots came with the same frequency, but it was obvious time passed even faster as land masses moved and mountain ranges rose and fell with regularity.

"They understood how to rewrite space and time."

Astra lifted her hand just in time for the project to begin slowing its own rate of advancement. Land masses now resembled something familiar. A sense that grew with every second until the planet resumed a leisurely rotation once more. The unknown planet displayed between them, seemingly solid enough to grasp, was a perfect reflection of Tython as the galaxy knew it that day. That hour. If one zoomed in anywhere on the planet they'd see the aftermath of recent activity and conflict on the planet.

"This," Astra straightened up, her eyes on Lysander and not the projection, "cannot. It only sees what was. What is. An atlas unbound by the constraints of time or our understanding." Sadly, one she hadn't yet figured out how to have it display actual people or the movement of military assets. It really did try adhering to the concept of a galactic atlas. "And it knows where things that once were should be." A light tap to the ziggurat at the center had a small shining spot light up on Tython's surface.

"I've been there. It's a ruin filled with reality-bending traps. I've often wondered if it was meant only for those that had discovered how to command reality itself as they had. And, if they were so powerful, where they went. But what I know is Force Users today sense their lingering touch on that planet, and strive in vain to measure up to it."

Astra paused and finally a shadow of a smile returned. "Is that... satisfactory?" Lysander hadn't forgotten his demand to see something she wouldn't show another, had he?

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

Lysander carried no burning desire to pick holes in her reasoning, even if the idea of realigning time and space sounded like pure science fiction. Even his curiosity wasn't quite fast enough to bypass his skepticism. A stubborn firewall that'd saved him from a few impulsive disasters. He braced a hand against the table’s edge as he calculated the implications of her claim. If she actually cracked some sort of code, then every holobook on his shelf was just a collection of ‘well meaning’ guesses.

"I’ve spent a fair share digging through studies on the Kwa and the Gree, though it's been longer than I'd like to admit. Everything before them always feels.. fuzzy. I believe most are comfortable calling it a myth, but maybe that's easier than acknowledging a fundamental gap in our intelligence. It's entirely possible we've been asking the wrong questions." Wryness hovered at his lips. "Bogan knows there are enough zealots out there who’d walk over a cliff trying to follow a map held upside down"

Another glance shifted toward the projection before returning to her. "Oddly enough I trust it more because it can't predict anything. It isn't selling me some sort of destiny. But at the same time.. it doesn't let our past become buried under countless centuries of other people's biases."

The amulet was rolled between a thumb and forefinger. "No.. admittedly, it's more than that. I wasn't actually expecting something that made me rethink where the beginning of history actually starts." Silence gathered in the space. “So.. yes, I'd call that a successful demonstration."

One brow lifted. ’Reality-bending traps' was quite the evocative phrase; he could easily say that was not the dry, clinical phrasing an official expedition report would have used.

There were a dozen questions waiting to be asked, none of them about the item itself. What happened inside those ruins? What had she seen? What had convinced her? None felt appropriate with sentries close enough to hear every word.

“I imagine there's a longer version of that story.”

The allure of further secrets was undeniable, but carelessly brushing past the remaining collection would be a disservice to Astra's efforts.

 

[Astra Sadow]

Fuzzy? A figment of a figment of a dream of a concept. Astra wouldn't hold it against Lysander for not spending more time on Kwa, Gree, or what came before them. Even most Scholars picked subjects that had a reasonable chance at obtaining new research materials, or at least verifiable ones on which to build a career.

Astra carefully placed her fingers atop the fifth ziggurat. In reverse order she slid one into the next as if they'd always only ever been one ziggurat. After the first such move the projected faded away. Only when there was a single ziggurat left atop the table did she carefully lift it and set it back in the box.

An open hand gestured to the line of items on display. "An item amongst everything you see here is yours. Save," her other hand set atop one side of the box that held the ziggurat. Astra liked Lysander. She appreciated his curiosity and intelligence, but they weren't close enough for her to gift something that was genuinely and objectively priceless.

"As for the story," a quiet laugh followed. "Yes, quite the ordeal. Couldn't explain most of what I witnessed there, but I could try over drinks." She wasn't above admitting it had been out of her league. At the time she wouldn't have admitted it, but hindsight helped bring things into focus.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

Observed through narrowed lids, the final movement of the ziggurat held the same hypnotic pull as the first. The demonstration alone teased the edges of logic. Better to not look too impressed, however, especially before a woman as sharp as her.

Everything happening in the Core made it clear that keeping this item felt like a liability. Between moving around constantly and lacking a secure, permanent hearth, finding a safe place to stash something so dangerous simply wasn't happening anyhow.

Lysander allowed an easy smile to break through. "I suspect it's safer in your hands than mine. For now." Until he became brave enough to argue otherwise.

His gaze drifted back to the table, the amulet, before returning to her. "I find that unexpectedly generous, Astra." But a thought followed quickly behind. Generosity with Sith always carried a cost. Some sort of string attached. Everyone knew that. "In your line of work, how do you decide when something has found its next steward?"

The potential shift toward the prospect of libation was a welcoming pivot. "I'd enjoy that," came the reply immediately, knowing full well she likely anticipated that answer before he breathed it. "You've certainly made a compelling case for digging deeper into this." Whether Astra wanted to be a partner in 'crime' or just a fellow scholar, keeping this dialogue open simply felt right. A little back and forth without the usual intellectual sparring might even be a nice change for the soul.

Lyrandar obviously lacked the cozy warmth found in that lounge back on Empress Teta, but Lysander doubted she would come to regret fueling his appetite for knowledge. "We've spent the better part of the evening chasing answers. I wouldn't mind seeing where the conversation goes without one."

 

[Astra Sadow]

Astra smiled across at Lysander in the face of his bold insinuation. A few ways a woman could read into that 'for now.' She opted for one that didn't involve imagining a dagger in one of their backs by the day's end. They'd deal with whether she'd ever part with it if or when the time came he felt confident in possessing it.

"When they place the right bid." Astra paused for a long moment with their eyes locked together. He had asked 'in her line of work.' "Other times," because she wasn't neutron-star dense, "they're a gift to someone that's been of service to Sanguine. A tribute to their skill, influence, and even character. You and I, Lysander, have business arrangements. Lucrative ones. I'm not the only Enterprise in the galaxy, and my costs are not lowest-bid tier. It doesn't hurt to demonstrate that there is more than what is written in a contract on the table." Some would call it a bribe or a kickback. Astra considered it simply an incentive.

"I'd like that," she replied to his accepting of digging deeper. There was little cause for concern in Astra's mind concerning Tython. Having personally witnesses the 'ruins' and some of what it held, she was very confident its spoils weren't getting pillaged any time soon. The 'fundamental gap' Lysander had mentioned earlier. That true, perhaps all it took was working with the right people to begun the painstaking process of bridging that gap.

With a nod, Astra's brows rose slightly. "Before we find comfort elsewhere, however," she trailed off. If Lysander stared back seemingly at a loss, she would give a slight tip of her head toward the table. A quick glance downward, if necessary. Hopefully saying it out loud wouldn't be needed -- that would be awkward after two non-vocal hints.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

Optimism was a rare commodity in Sith circles. Lysander was somewhat inclined to believe this was a promising start. The Emissary was prone to overthinking, so to enjoy the current arrangement without worrying what tomorrow might demand was a gift equally as rare as the items before him. Not that he always kept cards close to the chest; otherwise, he wouldn’t be where he was now.

Leaning back as he processed her answer, both hands folded atop the table. He’d never been one to shy away from recognizing a strategic investment, especially when it was presented so meticulously. Astra’s confidence in her operation was noted, and worth adding, well placed. Naturally so, time would reveal how that value held when the market changed.

"I hear you. Either way, I'm glad you're upfront about this. It is helpful to know exactly where the scales of this partnership are tipped. And Astra.. I've never been one for the lowest bidder mentality; usually, all you get for that is a subpar result." And that applied to everything. Building a reputation was a valuable thing; perhaps they'd truly been on the same page from the beginning; investing in a shared vision known as Brentaal was.. well, quite the lofty climb.

“Then I’ll accept it in good faith. A little insurance is sensible, given the galaxy’s habit of pushing back whenever we start making progress.” Loyalty would always be superior to a client list; though young, he wasn't unfamiliar with securing long term results, even if events in the Core were not exactly going as planned lately.

Catching the dip of her chin, Lysander’s gaze tracked toward the table surface before swinging back to her. “Right,” the Sith muttered as his touch spread across the surface. “I found myself lost in another hypothetical.”

Fingers tightened around the amulet. His free hand sought the Scholar’s Seal, lifting the bronze relic into the light between them. There were intricate engravings which caught the glow, revealing historic wear of countless centuries passed. Lysander held it suspended there for a long moment, then met Astra's eyes and let that speak for him.

 

[Astra Sadow]

"Good. My Kin will take care of the rest, unless you have an eye to purchase something else." A soft laugh behind closed lips followed. What sort of merchant would she be if she didn't leave the door open for a spending spree? Especially when the first one was free.

"Now, about that drink, should we go out? Somewhere without all the eyes watching." Lyrander might have offices stocked with exquisite drinks, but Astra wondered if they were as surveillance free as occupants believed. Astra would trust Lysander's judgment as to the location of their indulgence. Not to mention topics that he might not want to discuss in front of an audience.

There was no need for them to linger while the goods set out for his enjoyment were put back aboard the ship. Astra paid them well enough to deal with such things, after all. Better than being shot at -- though that could happen if the wrong person got wind of a treasure trove like this being in the open. She wasn't even concerned about sticky fingers. Sanguine knew how to properly inventory their products and services.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

Astra's laughter drew the Emissary's eyes into a fan of fine, crinkled lines. Rational thought insisted on inspecting a few more curiosities before committing to any purchase, but that little voice drowned beneath impulse. Perhaps it was just the thrill of acquisition itself, mingled with nostalgia from cradling the amulet in his palm. Financial prudence evaporated.

Glancing upward with a half-smile, the offer came easily, "I believe I'm quite sold on this, too. In fact, I insist you take my credits. Name a price that suits your sensibilities, Miss Sadow."

Unless the deal somehow edged into exploitation, credits were inconsequential. Just grease for the gears, really. There was a more dramatic rumor which claimed Lysander's surrogate mother to be a well-known Sith upon a throne, but it overlooked a far more potent truth: the real woman was regarded as an architect of corporate webs, and the wealthiest trader in the galaxy.

The Sith tilted his head before a casual addition, "I'm entirely open to bartering for it over a glass or two, should that provide more sport for your evening." Thoughts circled the logistics of their promising rendezvous next. "Whispers have reached me regarding a speakeasy tucked away behind a cluster of comm dead satellites near Lyrsandar. Station Nine, they call it."

He stepped away from the table, putting a comfortable distance between himself and the work of her Kin. The prospect of an outing continued to tug at his curiosity. Freighter choice hardly mattered. His or hers. The jump was short enough.

"Shall we?"

 

[Astra Sadow]

"Sport, is it? You wouldn't be hoping to take advantage of a physiological advantage, of course." Astra chuckled, not at all perturbed even if Lysander confessed to that very notion. "There's no need for us to stand here while the night wastes away. Let's talk payment later," she agreed. It was beneficial to her to have him so invested in acquiring such artifacts. A personal connection to help bridge any dips in business traffic. Astra had no plans for any dips to happen, but a Chairwoman didn't bet on everything working out despite all odds. Poor strategy planning was no excuse.

"Perfect." Lysander had a local spot picked out for their entertainment; who was she to turn down an opportunity? Astra made her way around the tables to join her companion with a smile.

"Care to drive?" She extended a hand toward the end of the bay where a hover car awaited them. Since he knew where Station Nine was she thought to give him the driver's seat. He could decline and be her navigator instead. "I won't read into it either way." A casual wink was thrown Lysander's way in case he worried refusing to be the driver would carry some unspoken meaning -- as their shared silent exchange just moments ago had.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

Lysander considered the woman's question; flipped around, and of course he'd be looking at the landscape with the same analytical eye. Spirits never stayed loyal for long. "I just enjoy competition. That's all. Sometimes I'm just looking for the most efficient path from point A and point B." The warm chuckle came easy. "Though I suppose it wouldn't be as fun if one of us had an unfair handicap." Many ways to look at it; the fact she was unbothered could've easily meant there was a counter move waiting in the wings. "Besides, short-term payouts are for people who can't keep partners."

The Scholar Seal disappeared into the inner pocket of his coat. "You've got a special talent for making the obvious sound inevitable." Their trajectory was already mapped out as the wink registered; what came back was an expression of theatrical innocence that his emerald gaze didn't quite sell. "I'll take the wheel."

Footsteps fell across the durasteel floor as the distance to the black Bevelle-class Light Freighter vanished. Fingers brushed against an external datapad, inputting an override code. There was a sequence of chirps before a hiss as the ramp descended. And then it was into the belly of the beast.

Once the pilot's seat claimed him, digits began dancing across the console; the ship was coaxed awake. Displays began to blink as the engines were brought online. "I hope you like rustic holoproectors and live synth jazz." Station Nine, in its entirety, as far as Lysander knew it.

A sidelong look was given to Astra. "Has anything you've dug up ever actually keep you up at night?"

He imagined the reply would likely fill the short hop to their destination.

 

[Astra Sadow]

Someone had to project confidence in the future. Especially if the future was in doubt. Astra found people were far more likely to spend credits and acquire select services if they felt there would be a tomorrow -- and not a woeful end where they should waste all their finances in spice dens for one, last thrill. That was how she kept the Board in line. Confidence. Well, that and a health dose of fear with them knowing her far more intimately than most of their customers.

A slight lift of her fine brows accompanied Lysander's turned toward his freighter. Not merely a driver, but the driver of his own and capable freighter. Large enough to transport a strike squad. He wasn't planning on launching an invasion on a nearby 'dead satellite' club was he? A smile spread over her lips.

The heels of her boots clicked as she strode up the ramp after Lysander.

She took her time entering the cockpit and even paused before making for the co-pilot's seat. They were in no rush. Just like the interior of the facility, Astra felt as though she should become acquainted with the transport he'd chosen for them. A soft purr accompanied the tips of her fingers as they brushed over controls within her reach.

"So long as there isn't a Yuzzum singer." Astra slowly turned her head to look over at Lysander with a smirk. "A lady has her tastes in music."

A light, melodic laugh, not too loud, but hardly demure followed his question. Astra turned her head forward so she wasn't literally laughing in the man's face. "You really do enjoy testing boundaries don't you, Lysander?" Some day he was just going to come out and ask what her greatest weakness was, Astra thought with amusement.

"Putting Tython aside," unless he wanted that to be her answer, "there was one encounter where I spent some time afterward reflecting on what had transpired. What the nature of the enemy had been. The boring things most Lords and Ladies would never claim to 'waste' their time contemplating. Though, I wouldn't say it kept me awake at night from dread." Then it was her turn to give him a sidelong look. "I've heard stories that our Empress -- may she annihilate all who oppose her," Astra recited as if it were an actual catechism, "looks forward to endless battles in an undying battlefield beyond this mortal coil." She was curious what Lysander's action to that would be. "My encounter with that land of ruin and ruination left me pondering what held back the deepest, foulest creatures of waking nightmare that lurked there in the Deep." She'd seen teases of something there. Something that moved among the waves of the dead. More than one if the disturbances could be measured as one did any physical body.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

Originally all primmed and poised, the Emissary's visage warped into something altogether goofy, which showcased a display of pearly teeth. He was clearly unfazed by the transformation. The outburst from his own lungs had been a stranger for a long, long, time.

Purposely gazing at the horizon, one hand claimed the yoke. That probing curiosity of his? It likely vaulted past his better judgment and tumbled into the air before he'd even thought to process it. No sliver of regret resided in his chest; among the dour, stone faced brethren of the Order, a little levity was welcomed.

"Caught me," came the admission. "Pushing against the edges of what's proper has been a habit of mine since I was once a Padawan. Might count as a flaw, sure, but it's just something I've never managed to outgrow." The power to chastise rested in the woman's fingertips, should she choose to use it; he'd already spoken on such earlier during the brief tour.

Departure was effortless; the freighter slipped into the night traffic. One corner of Lysander's mouth continued curling upward as he listened. Fascinating. Disturbing. Maybe both, or was it some ravenous ambition of a conqueror draped in finer silks of theology?

"I confess, I have witnessed the very place you speak of." Clearly, they were both privy to secrets that most courts would find either blasphemous.. if not utterly incomprehensible.

Lips flattened into a straight line. "Not many view death as some graduation to a grander theater," he mused with a huff while nudging the thrusters. "My visit there was brief. Months ago, during a.. parade on Alderaan, the local constabulary decided to turn the entirety of their planetary firepower toward me and a brother." Certain details were conveniently emitted, particularly the part where his jest toward a local senator somehow led to House Organa's collapse.

"I'm unsure whether that place was some toxic byproduct of my own hatred, or whether it existed independently waiting to consume us regardless of my own moral standing.. I couldn't even tell you whether that was a land of natural law, or under influence of Sith corruption, Astra."

Naturally, comparison of notes seemed prudent before landing. "Mind sharing specifics of what you felt there?"

Beyond the viewport, he recognized those satellite carcasses drifting; he'd spent enough time scrutinizing them from his office desk.

With a small shake of the head, he shooed away those ghosts. "Either way, I have no desire to return." Awareness of his inner circle and family alike made another admission soft for a Sith. But onward it spilled to the stars before them. "I have too much to live for."

 

[Astra Sadow]

"It's only a flaw if it gets you killed." Which curiosity might very well do just that with the wrong person about the wrong subject. Not that Astra was going to waste either of their time waxing on about all that. He knew well enough already. "But than the majority all too eager to sit there in silence." Not that she went out of her way to encourage her work force to probe her personal life.

After her brief mention of an undying land, Lysander had something to share on the subject.

"Both exist." Astra casually turned her head to look over at him. "The place made from your own qualities, and the one made from Sith lusting for power they weren't ready to wield. I know." A smile spread over her lips for a moment. "I've been there." Actually, she was fairly certain there were many such places. Other dimensions. Layers to the Nether. Plenty of poetic ways to describe the land of the dead. "But there's one thing they all share in common, Lysander: nothing ever changes. You're dead. The world around you is dead. Time stretches on for an infinity filled with nothing but death." Something to look forward to. Or, rather, to avoid. It was a mite early for her to share the details of those plans, however.

"Actually, there is one thing worse than death in those places. Being consumed by something more powerful. You lose control over your own, personal hell and are swept along in something else's endless torture." Was it ironic that the dead could die themselves? "That is what I felt there, Lysander. It churned in the Deep places. Something... ancient. Perhaps created from a time long before even the Gree."

With a nod, Astra turned to face forward again. "Being alive has more than its share of advantages. Personally, I enjoy the company of people that cling to it passionately."

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

Lysander's head tilted almost on its own. Depth in Astra's words pulled at him, like a mental abrasion itching beyond the usual chatter. If those realms actually operated in layers, and if they responded to power regarding the Sith, or the 'qualities' of a soul like his own, then what part of them truly drifted there?

Korriban had given him something similar to sit with for nearly one year. Witnessing passers-by brush against primordial rot only to reemerge as hollow shells played out like watching ropes fray against rocks. Souls shredded under something unseen.

Fingertips drummed against the yoke before an exhale unfurled. "Can't lie, I do find it fascinating, morbidly so, in a scholar's sort of way. Because for eons we've bickered whether that darkness is just some chaotic force or an endless torture, like.. " Lysander just let the thought arrive at its own pace. "Like some broken, ancient engine that doesn't know how to stop grinding souls." Another glance was given. "Your own experience down there must've given you a perspective few ever glimpse."

Before the Gree? That would put it in the age of crystal and dust. Lysander had read fragments.. writings so old they could surely crumble at a breath.

"I have a fairly stubborn relationship with being alive." One side of his mouth conceded a smile. "I imagine you'll find that I am remarkably difficult to unseat."

They glided between the comm dead satellites until a three second ping left the freighter.. a quiet little code someone from Lyrandar had slipped him weeks ago. Apparently, verbal ones were too risky, which he could understand.

A sealed docking bay came into view. It looked less like a proper port and more like a secret room carved into a post. No welcoming lights, no guiding beacons; the bay was swallowed by shadow. The docking cradle was nearly full. Moments later the engines wound down, and the ramp released with a long hiss. Lysander pushed back from the pilot's seat as a brow arched in challenge.

"I've heard the house pour in this place is enough to make a Sith weep."

 

[Astra Sadow]

Astra smiled. It wasn't an experience she'd recommend others indulge. She knew some did, of course. The Covenant, for one, enjoyed crossing that boundary between worlds to arrive wherever they wish. If they only knew...

The ship swept into view of the established with Lysander at the controls. Astra didn't say anything as he flew the ship. Not because she was afraid of disturbing him at a critical moment, but because it would suggest a lack of confidence in himself or herself. Still, an unlit landing zone was quite the inhospitable welcome. Kept out people that didn't have the nerves to handle setting foot inside, she supposed.

"To think there's such an abandoned refuge here on this prosperous world." Place looked like it was part of a forgotten base on a forlorn world. One where some horror had set up residence. How atmospheric.

Lysander than mentioned the local brew. "They know their audience," she replied as she turned to step out of her own seat. If he was on his feet, she wouldn't mind be uncomfortably close for a moment. "Who doesn't like a challenge? Care to join me in testing that claim?"

With a soft chuckle, she turned to stride back toward the ramp to disembark the craft. "This your sort of place, Lysander?" she asked. "I know you ran a place on Nar Shaddaa. From what I heard, it had a different vibe to it."

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

There was a distinct and dark artistry to a place like this. While he considered himself well-traveled, speculation still required a different set of eyes to untangle. The type you had to read sideways and question why it'd given up on appearance altogether. And someone here was still wiping down the glasses; that was its own kind of statement.

"You're right," offered with another easy half-smile, "They really know their clientele, don't they? It strikes me as something you'd find in the Outer Rim." He wondered if it carried some remnant of suppressed purpose; or if it could've been as simple as the world tiring of the location's ambition. What was equally fascinating was the idea of how a location could dictate a mood so thoroughly.

Fingers drifted upward to tuck a stray, silvering lock of hair behind his ear. "Fair enough. My capacity for local color is, frankly--" a small exhale that could've been a laugh, "a liability. Lead the way, Astra. Let's find out if the poisons worth the reputation."

He fell into step behind her as she moved toward the ramp, close enough to feel the wake of her stride. "A far cry from Smuggler's Moon. I'll say that much. The Red Ronin was a different beast. Built to flatter you, make you feel like you'd arrived somewhere important. Had to be that way. Granted, the Black Sun had a chokehold on the sector back then, so it had to be loud enough to distract.. just as it had to be sharp enough to kill."

Shoulders relaxed as they crossed the threshold. He began scanning the dim interior. Up ahead, Lysander witnessed silhouettes moving through a smoky haze; shadows were drifting in and out to a slower jazz melody.

"And," he added calmly, "blessedly, there isn't a Yuzzum singer in sight. I'm going to take the lack of screeching ballads as a good omen." He studied the shapes again and couldn't really tell what any of them were. But that didn't matter. They weren't Yuzzums.

Warm amber lamps drew a line toward the bar, the booths, and whatever direction they chose next.

 

[Astra Sadow]

A liability? Lysander? Well everyone had their flaw. Even her not that she'd tell.

"As a club should be," Astra replied casually regarding the Red Robin. "Cantinas and dive bars have their charm, but I won't deny favoring a place of luxury. Especially those with off-menu amenities." How else was to spend her personal finances? Decadent art pieces she never so much as glanced at? Sith artifacts? No, she provided artifacts to those with too much money and not enough sense. Any dealer worth dealing with didn't get high on their own supply.

Present company excluded, of course. Astra deliberately goaded him with artifacts. Not because she thought less of him, but because in this circumstance they were far more personal than buying him a speeder he didn't need or some flavorful, but momentary foodstuff. An object they had shared, and that might have greater meaning than as a paperweight. Between friends objects held meaning all their own.

Yes, she enjoyed indulgences. And excess. In private, or in very small groups.

With a smile, she drifted toward the bar. A gloved hand was placed atop the counter and withdrawn to deposit a small sum of credits once the bartender looked their way. Fine brows lifted. "Bartender's Choice." A risky proposition if you didn't know the other party. They could give you swill and still have your credits. Only, Astra had put down a very tidy sum. Being on her good side teased the possibility of more where that came from.

She turned to look over at Lysander. "It has atmosphere. It's a place you can remember having visited." Not all bars were. Most weren't if you picked them at random. There was a reason word of mouth was important when looking for high-end entertainment. Music could use a little livening up for Astra's taste though.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

Lysander stood at the edge of the bar. He hadn't missed the weight of the payment. More than the sum, it was the nonchalance of it; to him, it painted the picture of a woman who didn't just survive, she orchestrated. That wasn't to say he wasn't grateful for her generosity. But it did give him some pause. The Sith's primary language had always been one of cold power and manipulation. Indulgence was a delicate game, like stroking the throat of a viper. One had to be careful not to mistake silk for safety

"You’re spoiling me, and we both know it," came with a smile gracing his lips. ”I suppose it ensures the night has flavor, and I find I don't mind the vulnerability of it.” An admission offered almost experimentally; he was curious whether she'd push back or lean into it. "It’s the kind of thing I could see myself getting far too fond of."

The bartender returned and slid two glasses across the surface. The liquid inside was a faint shifting indigo, trapped light that appeared to swirl with a mind of its own. It was a shade Lysander did not recognize.. certainly no standard Core World vintage, nor any spice wine he’d encountered in the Outer Rim. It looked like a liquefied nebula.

Turning his attention back to Astra, his head canted slightly to one side. "Well," Lysander began dryly while gesturing toward the alien brew. "It appears our risky proposition has been met with something entirely unknown. I am suddenly very eager to see if you have bought us a luxury, or a very colorful way to lose our sense of direction. Shall we?"

Ironically, for all his speeches, a toast eluded him.

 

[Astra Sadow]

Astra leaned in closer to Lysander with the smile on her dark lips, and a glint to her eyes. "That's the idea." Then the woman afforded him a slow wink.

Their drinks arrived and the pair took a moment to turn their attention to the colorful display in a glass. It was quite aesthetically pleasing. One could only hope the flavor matched the spectacle. Her burnt eyes lifted just slightly to peek up at the bartender.

Lysander's voice drew her eyes back to him, of course. "Every day is a luxury. Every challenge an opportunity, Lysander." Astra reached over to pick up her drink and hold it between them. She made she he retrieved his as well, of course, before she continued. "To opportunities." The glass lifted, held halfway between them with a smirk looming over it.

There'd be a chance for Lysander to echo or turn the toast as he would, of course, before they drank. Astra would only wait the appropriate half-second before she drew the brew up to her lips.

She neither swallowed it whole nor took the smallest of sips worried it might be poisoned. The former would bypass the senses, and the latter was all too timid for her tastes. A tart indigo with a distinctive line of sweet coursed through it. A delightful contrast that took off the bite to lengthen the experience, and perhaps help distract a little from the power of its intoxicating base. Astra could feel the desire for her eyes to water from its strength.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow
​

A chuckle answered her unapologetic confirmation. Taking the glass, Lysander stared into the liquid. Astra's toast landed and a subtle upturn of his lips followed. It sounded optimistic in a remarkably Sith sort of way. Gratitude and ambition didn't have to cancel each other out. Still, their methods were probably as different as dawn and midnight.

Lifting his gaze, he met hers, his own contemplation settled into the space between them. "To good company," he said casually with some odd sincerity underneath. The glass tapped against hers with a soft clink.

He drank with a single and honest pull, feeling a vibration at the base of his skull. Exhaling slowly through his nose, he only caught the trail end of her reaction before his own vision blurred at the edges. "That was a valiant attempt to appear unruffled," arrived with a conspiratorial smile and the tone of a man narrating a nature documentary about someone else. He turned his glass once by the rim. "You look a little like you weren't quite prepared for that, Astra."

Sliding a stool back, he settled into it, angling just enough to give them both a cinematic view of the jazz ensemble. Questions sprouted like branches. Any of them probably could've carried the evening a little further. That was the trouble with good conversation; it always made one more question seem harmless. Fortunately, she'd played along so far.

He leaned an elbow onto the bar. "Do you ever get tired of being the smartest person in the room?"