Private Stellar Exchanges

[Astra Sadow]

Lysander could make roses work on a ship? So who was the gardener now? "A bed. So I can see them clearly." And not need to look up. Her neck was fine, but her ego might not like something being above her. Especially the giant species in the galaxy. Bothersome in more ways than one. Why Lysander felt like asking her such a question was briefly among her thoughts, but a harmless question. Even if it might be an attempt to profile her psyche.

A smile graced her lips with Lysander's comfort in her presence. So familiar now. Well that was fine too. They were alone and it did encourage dialogue.

"Really? You have different sets of shoes too?" Golden rings shifted in his direction. "Not many men do." Then again, the man did come from a noble lineage originally. Ukatis was hardly the wealthiest planet in the galaxy, but perhaps they still indulged for their royalty?

Then he tried to say his interest in literature was unremarkable. It was anything but that. A personal hobby, of sorts, exploring matters contained in histories autobiographies, and memoirs. When she wasn't lounging at a club, anyway. Loud music, stiff drinks, and beautiful creatures were certainly a vice. "Now, Lysander," she purred, "what ever do you mean?" He bet she didn't remember everything she'd read, did he?

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

Lysander's mouth began to curve before he could stop it. Of course. Practical even when she was being indulgent. So she hadn't been exaggerating back in the hangar after all. There was comfort in knowing she was exactly who she said she was. He let his shoulders loosen and sank deeper into the chair. "Done." As for helping her cultivate something with thorns sharp enough to bite.. well, that was a question better left alone for the moment.

His attention followed the golden rings. "Caught. Different sets for different occasions. This one for walking, that one for pretending I know how to be formal." There was nothing wrong with appreciating nicer things.

“Oh, no. I know that tone.” He tapped his forefinger once against his lower lip. "I guess you could say they have a happy ending. Without fail, really. If someone suffers, it's only until page two hundred or so, but they're thoroughly rewarded for it. Some would call that predictable, Astra."

A thoughtful hum marked the pause. "Fairy tales with less sword fighting and a lot more.. lingering glances. Tons of tension that could absolutely be resolved if people would simply be honest for five minutes or so.. but then we wouldn't have three hundred pages, would we? And the dialogue.. well, the dialogue is quite terrible, in the best way.”

The smile returned. “Alright, I’ve totally incriminated myself enough. Your turn. What sort of story keeps Miss Sadow awake after the last page?”

 

[Astra Sadow]

"Easily resolved tension." Astra chuckled to herself. "Careful, Lysander, you'll fall into all too familiar traps for a user of the Dark. Readers have the advantage of seeing the whole picture, and the existence of narrative frameworks. Characters refusing to open up is very real." Embarrassment often stilled a healthy tongue.

At last she shifted in the seat to look over at Lysander. In hyperspace there wasn't a great deal to do except wait, after all. "Tragedies," she replied. "Not stories where heroes fail or everyone dies. Classical Tragedies. They only exist on a few worlds. Places where they've never heard of the Force, the Nether, or whatever other term one wishes to ascribe to the Hereafter. Where when a person dies they die. All the potential. All the promise," Astra snapped her fingers, "gone. Where a stiff tongue, deaf ears, and bleeding hearts lead to ruin."

"One shot. One life. I like to reflect on where things could have gone differently." Perhaps to remind herself not to grow too conceited or comfortable in her own standing in the galaxy.

"Ever been to Had Abbadon before, Lysander? I find it's a pleasant system to visit. Its lack of development means there aren't lights and vessels to mar an otherwise splendid view of the stars." No one to intrude.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

Maybe she had him there. Poor communication might've been overshadowed by lightning and all that forbidden knowledge when one begins dabbling in the Dark; nobody ever thought to mention how much ruin could begin with something left unsaid. Convenient excuse, perhaps, for a rather painful lesson slowly beginning to unfold.

The crease at the corner of his mouth deepened; concession of another point was an easier thing to bear tonight. Lysander's words, however, weren't looking to give it so easily. "You should be careful yourself, Astra. Almost sounds like you're defending the romantic protagonist now." Seems the galaxy was short on those these days. Protagonists, that was.

"That's a lens I hadn't really considered. That makes the misunderstanding itself the fatal flaw.. not fate or the gods.” Naturally, another idea had caught him; Lysander was already following its threads, wishing to see where she would take it next. There was no shortage of those tonight, either. And he was glad whatever time hyperspace afforded them to do just that. "It makes me wonder how many of our own stories would even function there. Like, how much of what we call tragedy relies on someone not listening when they had the chance. So, which do you think is more tragic? The part where they could have spoken but didn't, or.. the one where they did and were never heard?” It was a lonely idea, too.

"No, it's surprisingly a planet I'm not too deeply familiar with. I've only skimmed bits on it here and there. Never really had a reason to look closer. Until now, I suppose." The blonde's gaze was both warm and a little amused. "I would've never guessed you for someone bothered by city lights."

 

[Astra Sadow]

Astra smiled. Fate. The Will of the Force. She spat in the face of such concepts. Gods though? There were those. Not the sort that kept armies of souls on hand because they cared. Just overwhelming entities of unimaginable power best left to slumber. So, the misunderstanding was the fatal flaw. One domino tipped to set so many others in motion until the run simply stopped; and all you were left with were fallen dominoes. Tragic. Beautiful. Not something she personally wished to experience, however.

"The latter. To not speak is a choice with consequences to be shouldered. To have spoken but others refuse to hear? That is something that should have been avoided rather than could have been. They did everything they could do and it still wasn't enough." Astra shrugged slightly. "Did they fail? I don't believe so, which is why it is so tragic." One could argue they should have been stronger, faster, or smarter, but that ignored a very important, very real flaw in life: an individual could do everything perfectly and still lose.

A hand idly slid a strand of hair back over her ear as her burnt, golden eyes regarded Lysander. "Artificial lighting can pollute the night sky, Lysander, and hide the splendor of the stars, drowning the dreams of the lost." Both hands lifted over head until they interlocked behind the chair. Tensing her muscles, Astra arched her back and chest forward with a most moan. "But I am an adaptable creature. The dazzling lights of a club remind me of fleeting, burning souls that wander the darkness. Difficult to capture, but mesmerizing."

She settled back into her seat with her hands folded in her lap. "How romantic is that, Lysander? To lurk in the shadows. Watching the bodies writhe in ecstasy. Uninhibited by demands of society. To see the way they tease others -- come, taste -- only to refuse to indulge. So selective are they. Like the stars that burn so brightly and can never be held."

Lysander von Ascania​