Private Stellar Exchanges

[Astra Sadow]

Soft laughter accompanied his thought of her as a bedtime monster. Haunting wayward youths was but the smallest terror she could visit as the mood took her. But there was no need to flaunt it. In fact, it was more alluring the less she revealed.

"Didn't I?" The sharp edge of a nail slowly and carefully brushed up along the side of Lysander's neck. "I violated literary law just for you." The rule was to show not tell, but he'd chosen otherwise. Probably the wiser choice, but not the most entertaining one. Not that it was a limited time offer, of course. Astra didn't even need permission.

"Everything ends, Lysander. It isn't about avoiding that end so much as taking the next step afterward. Yes," Astra smiled, "even death."

Her other hand slid along the counter and toward Lysander's waist. If they were going to remain close perhaps she could coax him into a dance.

"Is that why you imagine the Covenant falling apart? So you're ready? Or are you hopeful for Ukatis' sake? I wonder if the Order can be relied upon any more... for Ukatis' sake." Three people he wouldn't betray if the time came? A short list. Reasonably short. How many people did a person ever truly know to say they'd be there for the when the world ended?

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

The pull of his throat was slow enough to track beneath that slow drag. Lashes lowered without closing, something almost indulgent in the way silence landed after. "Quite the transgression to lay at my feet." That particular flavor of satisfaction was far more uncomplicated. Never had there been a single objection lodged against rules being bent on his behalf. Nothing wrong with preferential treatment.

His palm opened willingly upon being captured, fingers hooking around the base of her thumb before releasing. Normally, words could be shelved, answered at his own leisure, except now he admittedly wanted to remain in the orbit of the other Sith's voice. "Everything ends, sure. Doesn't mean I'm willing to let someone else choose the ending for me," was the best he could return on that note.

"I've always been hopeful. One of the few habits I've never managed to kick." There was so much to be said on the Covenant, enough to fill the rest of the evening. Leaning in a little closer, even if no one was listening in on them, the blonde let his warm exhale brush against hers. "Astra." Her name before anything else. "The Core is such a hard sell on those with the Order, do you know why?" A truth so obvious it was routinely missed. "It has no real connection to the Sith."

His gaze snagged on the plush of her lip before climbing to Astra's golden eyes. "The Core is interesting. But, it's not home. Perhaps, one might say in that same vein.. Jutrand is interesting. It's more home, but still not home." Given where his current sentiments drifted lately, that admission came entirely too easily. The idea of sitting back and watching the ship sink might even be enjoyable, if only to see what might grow from the wreckage. "Korriban is home."

And there was no need to barter for more of her truths. "More of my blood is behind the Blackwall than anywhere else." He drew back by just enough, her touch still branded somewhere on his skin. "Was there somewhere you meant for me to escort you?"

 

[Astra Sadow]

Hope? Astra didn't balk at Lysander drawing closer. Though she did wonder how a man like him still retained a sense of hope? Hope implied a desire for a better outcome than one should reasonably expect. Something lofty and idyllic. Something... romantic. Every thing she did was to acquire the absolute best in the galaxy, but not because she hoped it would be so. Blood and sweat were her currency -- and those she employed -- not well-wishing. Not dreams. Sounded like Lysander thought the Covenant was already bankrupt. Not enough blood and sweat in the galaxy to make the vision happen.

"Home. If Korriban is home what does that make Ukatis?" she asked in turn.

"Escort me?" Astra stepped aside suddenly and pulled on Lysander bidding him to follow. Insisting, actually, as she didn't release him from her grasp. "I mean to live, Lysander. To survive. To thrive. To claim and consume. Are you sure there isn't somewhere you mean for me to escort you?" The pull would ease once they found an open place to orbit one another without colliding into anything.

"I haven't been back to Korriban in ages. Nice enough place to visit as a museum, but it is a crucible to excise the weak. What makes it home, Lysander?"

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

"Ukatis is the soil I grew from. Korriban is where I gave my name purpose." There wasn't much time to elaborate. A surprised laugh escaped before falling into step could ever be properly considered. Maybe that noble upbringing made dancing instinctive regardless of his current state. Being asked if there was somewhere for him to be escorted was a particularly dangerous question for a man who'd spent the last two months reconsidering his destination.

"I'm following, aren't I?" More laughter softened Lysander's words, and his palm turned to offer equal pressure. They wove through the space between others with some careful negotiation, a half step back here, another tilt there.

Ease settled along his jaw. "I think you're just trying to fit Korriban from a Corpo's perspective. Stop doing that for a minute." Putting 'Sith Spirituality' into a spreadsheet offered nothing but constant headaches from his own experience. Of course, Brentaal still caught him trying. One of the few constants in this recent period of confusion. "Territory, utility.. none of that is going to make sense that way. Museum to you, maybe. Consider it a pilgrimage site. Many from the Order still go there, whether they admit it afterward or not." And then there was the prestigious Kor'ethyr Academy. There would always be a need for such institutions; what better place in a galaxy constantly shifting? "Their King is one of the most respected Dark Councilors. And my cousin is his Queen."

Knowledge of jazz dancing amounted to nothing. Not a single practiced turn outside the grace of a waltz could have prepared him for this. Made no difference; one hand found her waist, fingers resting just above her hip. "I rather attached to living myself. Always have been." Another smile, another turn. "We just approach it from different directions."

 

[Astra Sadow]

"I already told you, Lysander von Ascania," Astra made a sharp turn before making another back the way they'd come, and then ship was the one that tipped him over, "I color outside the lines." The burnt golden rings sparkled. His dark companion leaned down, her voice a conspiratorial whisper as she held him bent over backwards, "They erected a tomb for an ancestor of mine there. I have no plans on joining them. Do you?" Tombs were for people that surrendered to the rigors of time and fate. Everything ended, but sometimes, if you were fortunate enough, that end might be put off long enough as to seem neverending.

Her lips parted slightly as her golden eyes followed the slope of his neck.

And just like that, she straight upward him still in hand, and their dance resumed.

"Your cousin is Queen of Korriban? Family. Attachment. I'd be surprised, but I already know you're the type of man to form connections with others." Astra didn't find it appalling. She wouldn't mind company to pass the time with herself, but there were complications. Perhaps, someday.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

Lysander's hand cinched at her waist when she tipped him back. One foot slid back to find purchase, the other arm catching the woman's shoulder. Could've been part of his training more than anything else, that automatic redistribution of weight. He righted himself with color high across his cheeks. But there was no dizziness in it.

"Someday. But I suppose that's another fork in the road between us. You seem interested in conquering death. I'm more interested in making it wait." A grin softened the cleverness on his tongue. Obviously, he had strong opinions about the how and why of that grand finale. If there were a way to annoy Death, he'd find it. Preferably with company.

"It almost sounds like you're starting to understand me." Most didn't stay in the sentence long enough. His fingers pressed once. "List the complications all you want. Sounds like you haven't considered the benefits." What happened to preferring the shadows? He inclined toward her before the other part of his answer arrived. "Once somebody becomes real to me, I find it difficult to reduce them back into a role, you could say." The number of people who had ever managed that would not have filled a single booth.

Something adjusted in him then. Submission had never been part of his vocabulary. Not in a single bone, either. Being led through that dip hadn't troubled him, but he noted it and now reached for the reins. Eyes dropped to observe the pattern of her steps, his momentum shifting before attempting to turn Astra in return. Whether she followed was almost beside the point. He had to try.

"Still certain you're the one escorting me?"

 

[Astra Sadow]

Astra actually grinned as Lysander proclaimed their differing approach regarding death. She made no reply, but her grin was not half so boyish as the Prince's. That was a long conversation, which was ill-suited for being drunk on their feet. Though, if Lysander looked close enough, he might see her burnt golden eyes had more clarity than they had back at the bar.

"Benefits?" She spun the two of them around on the dance floor. "You haven't found the key to me just yet, young Lord." He'd be surprised just what sort of... attachments a woman like her could have. Just how strongly bonds could form. "Oh, I understand all too well," she laughed regarding Lysander's inability to reduce someone back to a trifle role.

With Lysander's eyes upon her feet, Astra's step was light, fast, and unhindered by gravity or circumstance. She twisted and led with a practiced ease. It was obvious what sort of dancing Lysander preferred. No fault given. Though she preferred more primal sorts. Provocative. Wild. Astra put on the good Chairwoman facade long enough every day that she needed opportunities to let go.

Lysander seemed inclined to retake the lead, however. Astra didn't balk or try to wrest it back like it was a game of strength. Her eyes burned in the dim light of the interior. "I could take you places most dare not to dream lest life pale by comparison, Lysander. Show you wonders that would make cherished beliefs seem paltry, and terrors that'd never let you find a night's sleep the rest of your days." Astra chuckled to herself. "Pick a road, and we'll see who escorts whom."

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

Taking the lead was a matter, Lysander found, of listening through the hands. A different kind of conversation against jazz. Notes spilled in a way that made counting feel useless. At first there had been an attempt to impose something close to a waltz boxed into three.

The gold in her eyes surfaced in a glance. Attention dropped next not to feet but to shoulders and hips, because studying there gave a truer map of where momentum could go. Two steps back were taken while guiding her forward; as the distance widened, the woman blurred at the edges.

"I've no intention of forcing the lock," offered lightly, stepping back in closer, "but you do keep rattling it from the other side." Not that he imagined she would mind. A key suggested possibility of entry. Astra should have known better than to give that kind of optimism to someone so curious.

Titles were peculiar things. Some described what a person did. Others remembered who they'd once been. Young Lord? Almost strange, to hear it land that way. When had anyone last used that address? The dialect of home. But under the bar's lights, those vowels were rounder, consonants older. "Queen, was it? You wear the crown well for someone who claims not to want it."

Laughter snagged behind the teeth. "Those aren't exactly competing roads, you know." Wonder or another horror? There was already enough of the latter written across him in the form of scars. "One wonder against another. Then I'll pick, and you can make good on the threat."

 

[Astra Sadow]

Perhaps Astra enjoyed someone's attention about things she had yet to reveal or speak about. Lysander certainly wasn't lacking for interest.

"I never said I didn't claim it; only that I have no interest in ruling The Core." Mercy could be the Empress, which freed Astra up to work angles without having everyone's eyes watching her every move, or hanging on her every word. The bombastic woman certainly didn't mince words and worry overmuch about how people took what she did or said. Obviously ruling over people sat well with her. Whether her subjects thought so or her empire thrived were different questions.

Their eyes met for several seconds as Astra considered what Wonder to provide. There were several, subtle or gross. "I can show you a world where your dream comes true. No war. No strife. No ignorance." A moment's pause and Astra added, "It was not for me. I am not made for that life." She smiled in spite of how some might take the meaning.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

Astra's response drew out something that wasn't quite a smile and wasn't quite a concession. Both, maybe, in equal measure. No immediate answer came to fill the space. The jazz had a tempo; Lysander's feet had a different opinion, and the gap between them was becoming noticeable enough that laughing was the only dignified move left. Apparently, a misstep wasn't so terrible with good company.

"Rhythm's a little fast for me tonight."

The grander pattern dissolved into something modest. Enough to count as dancing, close enough that conversation no longer required any real projection. His lead hand turned upward between them. An opening, if she wanted it.

As Lysander spoke, he angled toward her, letting the words disappear into the space. "That's better, actually. Crowns mostly tell people where they're expected to look. The real rulers are the ones a room learns to answer without ever being told their title."

A place that truly knew peace sounded like nothing more than a theory. Yet the offer was extraordinary all the same; perhaps that was why it registered as unreasonable. Was it just kindness, or another beautifully laid trap? "I don't know if I believe you." More curiosity, really. "The galaxy is large enough to hide stranger things, I'll give you that. But ignorance and strife disappearing together sounds.. suspiciously like someone discovered a loophole in sentient nature." The rationalization of a catch was still forming somewhere in the back of the Emissary's mind when another smile got there first. "When were you planning to take me?"

 

[Astra Sadow]

Astra gladly took the opportunity to draw them together and apart, but still joined by their hands. His disbelief didn't seem to phase Astra as the dancing continued. If anything it seemed the tempo of the music had increased. By the time Lysander asked when they were going there was a sharp squeal, then a metallic bang followed by a wet thud.

His partner came to a stop, but didn't bother looking back at the stage where the rest of the band fussed over one that'd toppled. Astra's chest rose and feel as though catching her breath with a sated smile on her lips.

After a moment her eyes slid open and she looked for Lysander. "Whenever you'd like. But I warn you, it'll only make everything out here more frustrating. Knowledge is power, but it is also a burden. Sometimes. Personally, I don't find that statistic inevitability a disruption to my view of galactic affairs." Personally, she was grateful it was isolated to that place.

"Thirsty?" Astra would gently pull at Lysander's hand to guide him back toward the bar if he thought to stay there a while longer.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

Emerald facets caught the stage for a moment before coming back to her. Whatever tonight had turned into for Astra, whatever private transaction was happening between her and the live performance, it wasn't his to audit. Enough years in the company of crueler Sith had a way of calibrating a person. Some things just got stepped over.

The incredulity showed up anyway, slow across his mouth. That poor bastard.

Breath came back in pieces. Lysander drew one deep into his lungs, then released it through his nose. "If I come back frustrated, then I come back frustrated." Doors didn't get left closed just because someone described the room. "One condition. You have to tell me the truth about what I'm looking at when we get there." More conditions were highly likely to surface later. No point manufacturing them now.

Their hands stretched before he finally caught up. Fool that he was, he almost commented on the escort business again; clearly, that argument had finally been settled. But the invitation was welcome nonetheless. He wasn't in any hurry to discover where the night intended to end.

The warning was acceptable. Something else she'd said earlier was harder to leave alone. Easier to concentrate on certain things now that he wasn't dancing. "Why do you keep talking like someone else already decided what you're made for?" The question reeled her back into focus. "Doesn't really track with someone whose spent the whole evening telling me she colors outside the lines."

 

[Astra Sadow]

"The truth?" Astra looked back at him with widened eyes. "Have I ever lied to you, Lysander?" She chuckled as they made their way back to the bar. A raised hand gestured for drinks -- water this time. "I'll tell you what I know." The water wasn't as urgently needed on her behalf despite the extended dance routine and conversation. It wouldn't hurt, but she'd already had a taste. Could have done more, but that would have necessitated a break in the flow.

Her burnt gaze tracked over to Lysander once more, however, when he posed a question. "Why aren't you content with wanton destruction and mayhem? Same thing. Right now, in this moment, you and I are who we are. Some things agree with us. Others don't." Astra chuckled. "Besides, it's not as fun when everyone consents. The not knowing and shock are part of the experience too." The smile softened as she regarded Lysander for a moment. "Easy to mistake for sadism, isn't it? Just part of what I am. You don't begrudge a wolf for stalking its prey." She held up a hand to acquiesce. "There's a little sadism."

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

"Not that I'm aware of." Lips pressed together to suppress the mirth. "You could take that as encouragement to keep the streak alive." Ruining such a pristine record would be wasteful. All that missed potential for interesting conversation.

The need for water was distant. Battlefield habits ran too deep; going hours without a drop was routine. Drills back at the Academy forbade drinking round after round. The thoughtfulness behind it made refusal seem churlish. For that reason alone, fingers closed around the glass, only to take the most modest sip.

Shock had its appeal, no question. The Tapani Sector was a prime example of that, if nothing else now. At the same time, mayhem without some sense of architecture grew boring. Wantonness suggested a lack of taste. But Lysander could appreciate the honesty; an invitation to talk rather than shut things down deserved its own respect.

"A wolf hunts to eat. You seem a little more invested in the flavor.."

Reaching up, a stray moonlit lock was tucked back into place before leaning into the bar. Consideration was evident with the small nod which followed. His head turned to look at Astra, smiling looser now. "Fair point. We are what we are. Tomorrow would depend on what we agree to tonight." One might argue consent still left oceans of not knowing. "Personally? I've always found that negotiation sharpens anticipation. Knowing the lines just makes stepping near them more purposeful. "

With the roll of his wrist, he tossed back another idea of hers that'd been examined. "Could be you're just taking the easy route. Shock is immediate, sure, but anticipation requires finesse." And because testing the woman's competence was its own reward, he added, "Would be a shame if you've confused permission for predictability, dear Astra."

 

[Astra Sadow]

Astra stepped closer once more. A sharp nail of her index finger pressed against the underside of his jaw. "If that were true," her breath hot yet light, "I wouldn't have wasted time on hors d'oeuvres." She stared into his eyes for a second longer before the finger fell. Her face was delayed in following the turn of her body back the way they'd come -- toward the stage. "You didn't ask if they were still alive. Aren't you curious?"

"What separates me from the beasts, Lysander, is my investment in the flavor. There are countless creatures in this galaxy to feast on. Something with only thoughts of survival wouldn't care what form or quality their meal came in. A base, instinctual urge would drive them to consume -- to glut in case of famine. A sad carry over from millennia of genetic encoding that has yet to erase itself from so many species."

Astra paused for a moment. Then she absently added, "He'll live. For all the same reasons everyone in this room isn't dead or dying already. Because immediate gratification isn't always best." She slowly turned to look back over at him with a smile. "Not always."

"But you have me talking about myself again. Hopeful I'll say it outright?"

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

The nail's edge stopped the next answer before it could find any shape around that remarkably dangerous metaphor; Lysander's chin barely lifted. Reflex had gotten there before pride could. The smile never once left; curiosity was not always the hungriest thing in the room. His gaze rested fully on her, mouth parting just enough to breathe. "You also warned me that knowledge creates burdens. I've grown fond of leaving certain things on the shelf."

Consideration softened into agreement. Her framing made sense. "Maybe I wanted to see what your mind does with something it never had to hunt for."

His attention followed hers toward the stage. The break in the music, however brief, was welcome. It gave him a few seconds to gather the pieces of their conversation before Astra could rearrange them again. Useful, with someone this adept. "You weren't under the impression I was only collecting answers, were you?"

"So the hunger is just survival wearing a different coat." An elegant distinction. "Everything you choose to savor once you're safe, though? That part is entirely yours."

Another point of alignment, then. Immediate gratification had never suited him particularly well. Cheap dopamine was a double-edged sword; easy pleasures only dulled the appetite. The stretches of isolation probably made that obvious to those who knew him better, especially beside pursuits he was content to chase for months without any return. So long as the object was worth the wait.

"You'd make for an excellent training partner, Astra." Because that kind of discipline carried far beyond sparring mats. He'd already challenged her to a duel earlier; evidently, the desire survived a change in venue.

Lysander took his time studying her. "Wouldn't that spoil all this anticipation we were just discussing? I'd much rather learn exactly how long you can hold it back."

 

[Astra Sadow]

"Was I?" Astra replied with quiet amusement. Lysander would never go fishing for answers to sate his curiosity, naturally.

"Everything eats. Some more than others. Big or small, all life seeks to claw itself to the top of the pile to ensure its own survival. Because all other life is trying to do the same." Was that not the crux of the Sith position? Strength. Victory. The Code was an overly distilled premise, but more digestible one for the masses. Astra wouldn't complain about it being taught in the Academy. Every Lord or Lady once started ignorant.

She turned ninety-degrees to face Lysander once more with a smile. "Kind of you to say. No need to schedule an appointment." That too was part of surviving -- dealing with the unexpected. Long as Lysander contributed financially in some manner to her humble Enterprise, Astra didn't mind spending time with him. In fact, depending on the nature of their continued interactions she might not even expect a financial contribution at all. Not everything could be distilled down into a pile of credits.

"A lifetime." Red lips peeled back to reveal the pearly whites. "Well that's reassuring. But let me reassure you, as well: even when you find out -- or if you already suspect -- you still won't have the full truth. Though, I would enjoy showing you something more personal when the time came. Perhaps something to do concerning that matter we spoke of earlier. I'll let you ruminate which."

"Now, what is it -- if you had all the power and time in the 'verse -- you would do first, Lysander? And, please, no platitudes. Ending galactic hunger's a noble goal, but let's put aside the universal constants. They weigh heavily on my purse."

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

Lysander didn't quarrel with her reasoning, only with where it led her. Sometimes life rooted itself beside another life, sharing light, water, warmth. A soldier could walk into fire for a stranger whose name he'd never know. If survival really was the truest law, then sacrifice made very little sense. Sentients kept doing it anyway. He wondered if she'd mistaken the struggle to live for a mandate to rule.

"Survival takes many forms." Lysander left the thought there, a window left open instead of a door pushed shut.

He angled himself until Astra filled his view; one elbow found the counter between them. "That's quite the ambitious interval. Very well. I suppose that gives us sufficient time to misplace the truth, rediscover it, and disagree about where we left it." The corner of his mouth made a small decision. "I've already formed a few suspicions. But, I'd rather leave them alone and see which one eventually bothers you enough to correct."

Protect. Rebuild. Prevent. The list went on. Naturally, they all arrived before he'd properly asked himself the question, some answers more noble than others. Given infinite time and power, one instinct might even be to locate the nearest catastrophe and take it personally. Either way, they all gave him somewhere familiar to hide.

"I'd build something that could outlast me." The smile slowly resettled. "Worthwhile enough to justify the effort, of course. I'd probably even interfere with it longer than anyone sensible would tolerate. Outstay my welcome by a considerable margin. Otherwise, I haven't made anything stable." Lysander's gaze climbed until it sank into the gold of hers. This time, he didn't consider looking for shelter elsewhere. "Dependence on one person is only a hostage situation with prettier walls."

 

[Astra Sadow]

Astra regarded Lysander levelly and with a faint smile. Survival did take many forms, but much like hunger there were qualifiers as to the manner in which one should survive. Hiding under a rock, for example, was tantamount to mindlessly devouring everything around you -- pointless, and a pitiful existence. But he'd chosen not to delve deeper into the matter, so she wouldn't harp on it. Perhaps they'd speak of it another time.

"By all means. I'll enjoy listening to the inaccuracies designed to ferret out the truth, Lysander. Especially if you expect to both find and misplace it in the same conversation." Astra laughed pleasantly over the 'plan' he proposed they put in motion. He had a good attitude about the whole thing at least. Plenty of Lords didn't take well to 'word games' -- a consequence when all one had was a hammer.

A soft hum accompanied Lysander's answer to her hypothetical. Build something to outlast him?

"Perhaps, but so much in this galaxy relies on the want of a lightning rod, Lysander. An individual with vision and charisma to gather people about them. A 'hard act to follow' as people put it. Without something to galvanize support people have a tendency to wander. To become distracted by petty desires or selfish ambitions. So," Astra's smile grew, "I suggest whatever you build be the lightning rod itself if you hope to avoid reliance on any one person. Something with... a reputation." If people heard of something and knew it had a positive reputation -- and were in need of it, of course -- then they would gravitate toward it of their own volition long after its founding.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

"Provisional truths," Lysander amended, tilting his head to keep her in focus. "Inaccuracies makes it sound as if I'm planning to slander you for sport." A soft laugh slipped free; not at her, but with her. Perhaps even at the pleasant friction of it all.

He'd half expected Astra to reject the premise wholesale. Find the weak joint and lever from there. "I'll steal that eventually. Design something worth the loyalty, and the person who designed it becomes.." he turned a hand over, "..commemorative."

Still, he considered the answer. The lightning rod. An apt metaphor. A little too perfect, a little too smug. He'd read enough histories to recognize the pattern.. movements hoisted aloft by a singular personality, holding form only so long as that gravitational center remained. Then, the inevitable scattering. Warlords. Chancellors. Kings. So many had mistaken dazzle for design and only grasped the distinction once the applause died and the stage was empty.

"Even the faithful ones drift. " Something about admitting it amused him. "That brings me to a more interesting question. If we remove ourselves from the equation entirely. Not just physically, but reputationally.. like, what does the thing argue on its own behalf? What is its character when there's nobody left in the room to charm people for it?" The Sith were generous teachers on that particular subject. Unity unraveled when left abstract. Petty desires, old rivalries, they filled the vacuum if nothing else did.

"The odds of me actually attempting something so ambitious are comfortably low, just so you know, Astra." Worth noting, if only because there was nothing more annoying than an interesting conversation mistaken for a proposal.