Private Stellar Exchanges

[Astra Sadow]

"That's the danger of engaging someone like me in conversation, Lysander. We'll talk for hours trying to convey a lifetime in a few sentences." Astra snorted to herself. She gently tapped in a few commands to have the ship lethargically swing about the planet. Who didn't enjoy a sunrise over the horizon of a resplendent world?

"By the way," she leaned over toward him with a smile, "being fearless is just another way of saying you're bored." Hopefully his 'no fear' quip really had been in jest with that deadpan delivery. Hers was as well though she didn't try pretending there wasn't a light ribbing involved. "Maybe that's why I'm out here. Putting myself at risk."

Astra looked forward and pointed for Lysander to take a gander out the window just before the sun would crest over Had Abbadon. Wouldn't want him to miss the show.

Sunlight was not something her kind favored. The dark suited them better. Cold. Very much unlike the rays of the star that shone into the cockpit. It did provide for quite the view, however. Light spread across the void, refracted by the atmosphere of Had Abbadon. An exotic beauty only possible because of the light that shone so brightly from the star beyond.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

Lysander’s laugh escaped in a bright puff of air while following the choreography of her hands over the console, before eventually dropping to the turn of the planet beneath them. He didn't answer right away. The approaching sunrise was just beginning to catch, a thin seam of gold bleeding into the dark.

"Oh, I don't mind at all, truly. I mean, it would be a dreadful nuisance if I happened to be in a rush, and this sort of pleasant meandering has absolutely ruined my sleep schedule. Yet here I am." He made a small gesture with one hand, as if to present himself as evidence. "If you ever needed a redeeming quality to balance out the rest of you, and I'm not saying you do, but theoretically.. I suspect that would be it.”

But he really didn't see any issues in keeping busy for hours and feeling like he'd only read the prologue.

“Philosophers spent centuries trying to dress up recklessness as courage, when really, it's just.. an under stimulated mind looking for a problem to solve. Could even be some sort of existential restlessness. So if nothing scares you, maybe nothing's really caught your attention either."

He glanced over to Astra then, his mouth pulling into a conspiratorial quirk. "Which would neatly explain how you found yourself marooned on Lyrandar Station in the first place."

There was a slow exhale through his nose as he traced the curve of the atmosphere where the void turned to fire, holding there with a quiet wonder. No voice was needed to be understood in that moment.

 

[Astra Sadow]

Lysander wouldn't want to hear about the things that scared her. Not that she could describe the ones that would affect him. Others were too personal in nature to matter. No, too personal to share. Forthright as she was with him, she hadn't even told him what she was let alone what her greatest weakness would be.

"Marooned was I?" Astra asked after a few minutes. "What would that have made you? Man on a desolate island awaiting rescue only for me to wash ashore and trouble you?"

Now there was a frightful circumstance for someone like herself. Being isolated. Her golden eyes turned toward Lysander with a smile on her lips. Not that it was a threat at the moment. Certainly was a tempting thought the longer their time together went on.

"I'm glad you decided to come with me, Lysander. Not often I get to watch the sun rise." Life was always so busy. So many crime bosses to manage. So many wars annihilating worlds. "I hope we'll continue indulging ourselves like this from time to time."

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

The quiet between them stretched longer than any that had come before it that night. One hand rested over his knee, the other against the armrest, following the gradual wash of sunrise as it set the sky alight. To speak would have felt like disturbing something delicate.

When the silence finally broke, Lysander tipped his head and studied the woman with amusement. "I like that. Alright, we'll go with it. If you were marooned, then I suppose I was the fellow on the island. Odds are I was making a terrible job of signaling for help. Probably too busy whittling the rescue wood into something entirely useless."

The toe of his boot gently nudged hers beneath the console. "You didn't trouble me, Astra. You gave me someone to talk to." Far rarer than anyone looking at him from the outside would have guessed.

He lifted a hand to shade his eyes from the brightening light, then let it drop back to rest on his knee. "I wouldn't have taken this time for myself otherwise. I'm glad you suggested it."

There was a strange comfort in having nowhere to be and nothing to prove. No expectations pressing in, not a single role to play, no decision waiting to be made. He could have let the ride go on indefinitely and been content. But Had Abbadon waited beneath them. Curiosity started working at the edges of that calm. Besides, whatever Astra decided was worth bringing him here for, Lysander wanted to see it.

It wasn't very Sith of him, to allow himself a moment simply for its own sake, without scheming for an outcome somewhere down the line. He usually saw sunrises as mile markers on a run, something to move through, not sit within. "I'd like that," he finally said, gaze resting on her. "Strange, really. For something that happens every single day, we act as if a sunrise is rare. Empires rise and collapse while it just keeps on doing this."

 

[Astra Sadow]

"Time marches on," Astra recited quietly.

"Of course, up here, there are no sun rises. The stars and the planet carry on in their own ways, hurtling through the void, without distinction of direction or purpose. We are the creatures that ascribe meaning and derive beauty from such physical mechanisms." Astra took hold of the stick once more and turned the nose of the craft toward the planet below. "None of which diminishes our experiences. If anything, it makes them uniquely our own."

The sun's rays would stretch out over the plains and fields of Had Abbadon beneath them as they dove in a race against time and the sun's climb. She'd pull them up and steer just clear of jagged peaks before racing northward. The sun would light up the world around them in its own time, but be out of sight so it didn't blind either of them from the view ahead.

"Some once claimed this was a lost world, Lysander. A mythical world. Perhaps even the birthplace of what would become Jedi." Astra laughed at that recitation. "But who cares where they came from? Unspoiled ruins may be buried under thousands of feet of dirt and soil. Forgotten stories and lost dreams. But look at it now. You wouldn't know by looking at it." With enough time accomplishments and failures alike were lost. Weathered away by the elements. Buried by glacial flows or earthquakes. A planet's movements were imperceptible to most because they happened over such great stretches of time. Knowing an ancient civilization was there, however, helped observe just how ceaseless change came upon them all.

"Of course," Astra smiled over at Lysander von Ascania , "we don't have to let it." Be forgotten or enveloped in time, she meant. Easier said than done, obviously, but anything worth doing took effort.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

He turned back to the viewport almost at once. Why squander a moment like this? After years of chasing cargo lanes and skirting star systems, he'd thought he'd seen every imaginable sunrise. But this was wholly original.

When Lysander looked to her next, it was with a tilt of his chin. Of course, he wanted to offer space to finish before thinking to chime in. "I follow you. Hm, meaning doesn't just pop into existence. If it isn't already baked into the cosmos, we have to decide what's worth holding onto.. and I find that to be a pretty heavy responsibility." There was something quietly thrilling how the galaxy could still surprise you by making the familiar feel foreign all over again.

The view held him easily. He studied the landscape she was describing. Almost found himself immersed in her logic and drifting. That was, until the word Jedi knitted his brows. Maybe it was his conditioning, but the word registered a little harsher than it should have. A short laugh slipped out anyway and he covered it by clearing his throat. Sure, many knew him to be a little more easy going than his brooding counterparts, but that didn't change where he stand on it. Naturally, he didn't agree with their Code. As a Corpo, he didn't respect their work ethic. He'd seen it time and again on the battlefield. The lack of structure and all those shortcuts eventually caught up with you. Discipline would cave in under fire. Too many last minute heroics.

"If this really was ground zero, there's almost no sign of it left. Which sort of makes your point for you, doesn't it? Soil and years don't care about names. It all just gets buried eventually. I'm sure the Jedi believed they were above that as well. But in the end, everything can corrode." From what time they'd spent together, it was clear she had a talent for expanding on an idea instead of only replying to it. "What do you see here that did last? Lay it on me. I want to hear how you read it."

Lysander's features gradually softened. "No, Astra. We don't. Maybe this whole journey is meant to be about that.. deciding what to haul forward, even when the rest of the galaxy keeps on moving."

 

[Astra Sadow]

Astra looked over at Lysander as the ground raced beneath them. Her eyes lifted as she said, "The sky."

"Everything builds on the past, and towards the future. The only thing that survives is the desire for more." Why shouldn't most lifeforms stretch their hands toward the heavens? "Nothing is desired greater than what is out of reach." Most people hadn't even understood what the sky had been. Or so Astra believed. Given how crowded some worlds were they had a tendency to spread out, so few cultures still existed that hadn't already been among the stars.

She reached over to hand a hand atop Lysander's arm. "That's why I'm surprised at how few want to launch themselves toward another galaxy. How obsessed everyone is over burning this one to the ground and rebuilding from the ashes. Is everyone so content to survive on hyperspace lanes and technology developed thousands of years ago? Or is it a fear of being alone that keeps everyone huddled together?" Perhaps they'd all become so accustomed to the idea that there was always civilization or a port in reach the thought of being out there in the avoid without anything to fallback on was terrifying.

Well, she had her own reasons. And it wasn't fear. Just a simple, practical need for sustenance you couldn't freeze dry for the trip. Then again, they could carbonite freeze it, but would it taste as good? A minor fear then. Bad cuisine was a terrifying thought.

"I prefer to bring good companions along for the journey, myself."

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

Lysander's eyes went up before he could stop himself, despite knowing there was no sky to see there. A small laugh escaped through his nose. Two fingers pressed to his temple as if resetting.

"I think sometimes people continue to want something even after they have it. Understand it. Figure out if it's still what you thought it what." That could've applied to any number of things. An object, an idea. Even someone. "Perhaps it is not only distance that creates the desire. Scarcity is too easy an answer. Habit does it too. Or the way actually having something changes what it's worth to you. I wonder if reaching for the heavens isn't really about chasing what you can't have.. maybe it's just what happens once you know something exists, it starts to feel normal to want it.." His mind was already doing what it always did, sketching out scaffolding around the feeling, trying to build some sort of system that would keep it alive after the initial desire dulled. He almost said it out loud, then decided against it.

His arm shifted slightly inward toward her, so the weight wasn't all on her side.

The subject was a sour one for the young Emissary, even the small smile that formed next tried to argue otherwise. In a lot of ways, the Covenant had been more ruinous than the Order had ever been. Or maybe just less concerned with pretending otherwise. The Order preferred patience. The Covenant preferred fire. Less concerned with appearances. "I've thought about that more than I probably should. We've all gotten so used to knowing there's another outpost just a little way down. That safety net. The idea of going past it.. past the point where anyone could actually come get you.. I think that's a harder thing for most people to sit with than they let on."

By whatever criteria Lysander judged people with, she had passed it. Faster than most did. "Whatever comes next won't stand a chance, Astra." Though near a year had passed since the Covenant drove its claim into the heart of the Core, the land itself lay ripe, its riches unharvested, its vaults swollen with plunder. Only a worthier hand was required to take them.

 

[Astra Sadow]

"What comes next, Lysander, is cementing our hold over The Core. That is part of why I have no desire to claim the throne, after all. Everyone wants to rule the galaxy, and everyone else wants to tear you off the throne. Meanwhile, no matter what happens, people like us lurk in the shadows. And the Jedi that'll come to try and cast us out?" Astra chuckled. "Will find there are places souls consumed by a desire for purity are not meant to tread."

Sanguine Enterprises was a legitimate organization with established subsidiaries. Might they find some nefarious goings on? How dreadful. Astra would of course help the Jedi prosecute such despicable people... if they could prove in a court of law they were guilty, of course. As their employer, Astra had an obligation to ensure they received just counsel and a fair trial. And should they be found guilty then their families would be well cared for. Not to maintain loyalty and silence, of course, but because she was simply that generous of a soul.

Imperials, on the other hand, they would be difficult. Mandalorians too. But then you just had to reach an understanding. Sometimes financial. Other times a mutual acknowledgment that open warfare would result in countless casualties that would make any victory as bitter as defeat. The benefits of having your hands in every pie was how easily they could be discarded on the floor if pushed to desperate measures.

"Presently, I think I will begin by exploring opportunities on Brentaal." Astra smiled over at her companion.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

One eyebrow lifted beneath the easy smile that remained between them since they'd settled into the cockpit earlier. "We? I don't do lurking in the shadows, Astra." He ought to have called her out for making galactic conquest sound like poetry and hiding in the darkness sound romantic. But he didn't. Not out loud, anyway. The look of bemusement that crossed his face afterward would hopefully speak for itself.

Once, a few of the higher-ups labeled him the voice of reason, the glue in the structure trying to hold their chaotic nonsense together. While others chased thrones or prophecies or revenge, his role was to calculate the cost. It was exhausting, sometimes, to be the one who had to see clearly when everyone around him preferred to burn bright and blind. Didn’t help when the direction changed on a whim either.

"I've never seen much point in hiding my intentions.” Not that he judged her preferred style; if anything, the contrast between them struck the Emissary as complementary. Two different edges that could cut together. And shadows, in his opinion, were not safer.. perhaps just a different kind of risk.

There was wisdom in what she had said, though. A throne shone too brightly; it called knives from every corner of the galaxy. Sith bled for it only to be felled by the next hand reaching for the same prize. Given the own dynamic with his former master, Mercy, any hunger once carried for a seat among the Triumvirate faded. His strengths lay on other grounds.

"But we are of the same mind." The Core itself was no modest prize. "The Jedi will come. It is in their nature to do so. Let them. The Dark doesn't always need to hunt. It can wait, until they stretch too far." Purity without purpose only ever paved another graveyard; Nightstar had been forged back on Desevro to help dig them.

Brentaal, in simplest terms, was the Holy Grail to Lysander. “We could discuss cementing our hold on the Core and other pursuits over morning tea," a hand gestured toward the viewport. “If it suits you. I suspect you could use air that hasn't been recycled a dozen times.. and I will admit, I'm not yet ready to give up your company."

 

[Astra Sadow]

Astra looked over at Lysander, her burnt gaze rest upon him without concern for the topography of the planet around them at velocity. A soft hum and a smile before she turned her head away, but still gave him a side-eye. True, he wasn't as deep into the shadows as she was with his traipsing about and participating in bombastic action. Astra hardly thought him someone as... unmistakable as Mercy, however. There was a reason he could manage Corporate interests in addition to his bloodletting and the Empress could not.

A slight roll of the head accompanied his proclamation he needn't hide his intentions. That was a choice in life, of course. In that same vein of thought, however, Astra couldn't see much point at being predictably honest or open.

"Tea?" Her eyes fell to the map briefly to note coordinates for a landing area. "And what sort of tea does a man like you enjoy in the morning? As a matter of fact, I could use a little air. Though I certainly don't mind being cooped up in here with you." Here. There. Won't make much of a difference. Lysander was still well within reach.

She couldn't help it. What did the blood of someone like Lysander taste like? It had to be refined. Elegant. The sort of thing a woman like her could truly appreciate. Someone even the persnickety Lords of home would understand as a choice. Not that it was time. All good things needed to marinade, after all. Lysander himself had said as much when he didn't leap at the chance of immortality at any cost earlier. Well, Astra had time.

The ship would sweep down to a flat area with some mountains to keep the wind from running too rampant. Bubbling stream nearby. Wild grasses. An early morning sun with the musk of dew just beginning to lift.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow
​

Soft creases gathered at the corners as Lysander's grin escaped, caught by her sidelong look. He reached one arm high overhead, letting his shoulders roll, spine lengthening. A little something to lift him would go a long way right now. Quite possibly the longest stretch in recent memory without sleep. No real complaint rested in the thought.

"Not exactly what they pour in Jedi temples," came his voice, frayed around the edges. "Black. Naturally.. something to suit that wicked heart of yours, I expect." Lysander chuckled at himself afterward. That probably came out a touch judgmental, didn't it? Unmeant, if so.. just one of those goofy, unfiltered thoughts that tumbled out when feeling comfortable enough to ramble.

"I find it clears whatever fog is left after training in the morning," his gaze settled on her fully as the ship touched down. "Though I don't strictly require feeling all powerful before I've even had breakfast." And as if on cue, he tipped his head, "Are you hungry, Astra?"

Upright now, hips shifted in a slow circle to shake off the stiffness of sitting too long. "How do you take your tea?" There was no claim of mastery in it, just habit, a small ritual carried with him from his home world. Brows arched in invitation. "Whatever way you like it, I can make it happen." Her answer would decide when he led the way toward the freighter's crew lounge.

The hatch hissed open, and a loamy perfume unfurled into the space. After days aboard Lyrandar, the thought of putting boots on actual ground again sounded rather pleasant indeed.

 

[Astra Sadow]

"Oh, Lysander," Astra purred, "you haven't any black enough for that." Whether intentional or from a lack of proper sleep, Astra's smile wasn't any more buoyant now than before he said anything.

Once the ship was down and the question asked, a sharp breath was drawn in as she twisted in her seat to look at him. "Always. Are you offering?" Not that she expected him to understand what she was asking, of course. Sometimes it was fun to play a game others weren't aware they were even a party of.

She let him lead the way, naturally. She stood from her seat as he made room and casually followed after. "Perfectly made. With milk. After the tea, of course." There was no need to drink like a wayward waif lacking etiquette. Milk before tea, honestly, so uncultured.

Her eyes on Lysander's back, they popped up at the sound of the hatch as it opened. The fresh air was pleasant, but she would enjoy the ability to stretch her legs properly. The confines of a smaller class of vessel were confining. Almost made one think they were in a coffin.

"Shame any large game has been chased off by our arrival," Astra sighed. "I could use the exercise. Is that the sort of training you do, Lysander? Exercise in the morning with your cup of tea?"

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

Lysander guided her into the crew lounge. It was modest, as these things always were on a freighter. Crossing to the galley nook, hands found familiar work without needing to think. Kettle lifted, water measured, heat hissing beneath it. A tin, dented at one corner, opened to reveal loose leaves. Dark and fragrant. Spoonfuls were measured, not poured; patience always mattered here.

“Perfect, I can manage that," Lysander glanced back at her with a soft smile. "I can't have you calling me a barbarian on my own ship now, can I?”

Water poured, steam curling. Letting it steep, attention divided easily. From a compartment came a bowl of sliced meiloorun and starfruit, and beside them a carton of milk. The cap was turned carefully. He poured only once the color had deepened to a rich amber. Only then did milk follow with a splash.

He turned, palm settling open toward the little spread he'd arranged on the counter. “I could whip up a nuna egg scramble, if that sounds good. Toasted flatbread on the side. Nothing too fussy. Or if you're in the mood for something lighter, there's plenty of fruit.” If she were hoping for something sinfully sweet or fried, she'd be out of luck. The pantry was kept boring on purpose.

And at the question of training, there was an exhale that might have passed for a laugh. "Oh, I always start with a run. Gets the blood moving. Then the real work. Swordsmanship, for the most part." He poured in a cup slowly. "Tea's the reward after, one might say. My little return to being civilized." An easy roll of the shoulders followed . "You know how it is, the fundamentals never go out of style." Or maybe she didn’t; something he’d need to test at some point.

This time, it was him giving a sidelong look. "Sounds awfully tragic, Astra," came words warmed with humor. "Is all that disappointment reserved for outside?"

 

[Astra Sadow]

Astra smiled as she joined Lysander in the lounge. A more lavish setting would have been preferable, but plenty of criminal outfits were in less well-off environs. This freighter was hardly the worst she'd been forced to occupy. Certainly had worse company too.

"Loose leaves? Still prefer the finer things even away from home." Certainly no barbarian.

Astra watched on as he readied a few edibles to go with the drink, having taken her reply as someone would ordinarily. "Just the fruit is fine. Thank you, Lysander." Perhaps if he'd been someone else she would have had him go through all the effort of cooking. Food was not customary in her dietary requirements, however. No need to consume anything heavy while she was already lamenting the lack of alternatives on hand.

A soft moan behind closed lips accompanied Lysander describing how a good run got the blood moving. No disagreement there. That's why so many "Vampires" made sure their victim's knew they were being hunted. Though, sometimes, a nice, calm, adrenaline-free drink was a soothing experience.

"Worried I have any deep seated disappointment I haven't shared with you?" she replied. "You shouldn't. I've nothing to complain about concerning our time together. Actually, I worry we'll never talk about business again if we keep discussing every philosophical and metaphysical topic in the galaxy." Astra chuckled.

She'd accept a cup of tea, of course, when Lysander had it prepared. Even list it for a careful sip. No blowing, of course. One mustn't hasten the tea cooling. And the firm grasp of the thumb and index finger upon the handle with the middle for stability. No pinky out. "Heavenly." Her golden eyes sparkled.

"Do you practice swordsmanship with an actual lightsaber?" The question might have been misleading, but she didn't lie. It merely implied Astra had no familiarity with what someone like him would do. And if he had heard of her use of a saber on Humbarine or anywhere else then she'd simply note it was just a question of style.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

A curve of the mouth acknowledged the accuracy of the observation. That particular habit from home followed him everywhere, really. Climbing higher within the Covenant's hierarchy had made returning there increasingly difficult; not only in distance, but the implication. Some part of him suspected a threshold would eventually be crossed where return became impossible.

Another open palmed gesture toward the small arrangement of fruit invited selection without any pressure to his guest. Cooking would not have been an objection, hunger stirring enough to make the idea rather appealing. But devouring an entire breakfast alone in front of company sounded discourteous. That was more than enough to outweigh Lysander’s appetite.

"Well, disappointment is what happens when expectation jumps the gun. First you have to get your hopes up, Astra.. otherwise there's nothing to fall down from." Another short pause followed; then, with a note of wryness, "You're right though. It kinda feels like we keep finding excuses to not talk about business, huh?"

Lingering too long in the lounge might carry its own risk, which was, if honest, one among several reasons not to stick around. As he listened, his hands were already busy making a second cup. Fingers wrapped around the handle as several steps drew him closer to Astra. The rim was lifted near the nose to inhale slowly. He let the aroma rise before any sip was taken.

"Only the sword now," was the answer given regarding lightsaber and Nightstar. "It's a whole different feel. Heavier in the hand, far less forgiving when fighting in the pocket. The balance shifts entirely. Relearning has been necessary, a great deal of it, really. My preferred form cannot be used with it, unfortunately, so adjustment has been.. constant. I'm still perfecting it, challenge and all."

Moving further to step alongside her, Lysander's attention momentarily drifted toward the shuttle's ramp. "And your own preference? What form feels most home when you train?"

 

[Astra Sadow]

"The one where I tell my subordinates to crush my enemies. That is my favorite form." Astra peered over at Lysander from the corner of her eye. "I admit, I trained with a sword. It's a dangerous galaxy, and I'm not one to be helpless without countless guards around me. I've even learned how to shoot a blaster properly, but I find it lacks a certain... feel."

"Actually," she added a moment later, "I spend most of my time using a broad sword. It isn't a vibroblade, but it can withstand clashing with a lightsaber. In case any of Mercy's enemies think to get to her through me. From what I'm told, broadswords do require significantly different techniques, don't they?"

What form did she train with? Was the man trying to be clever in getting her to confess to learning a lightsaber form? Astra would find it quite amusing and appropriate if he were, of course. "Is there a form for broadswords?" Or broadsabers as it were.

A slow stroke of her own face followed before she turned her eyes toward him. "You wouldn't happen to have brought two swords with you, would you have, Lysander? Perhaps you could show a woman just how formidable you must be on the battlefield."

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

Narrowed eyes landed upon the woman. There might've even been a touch of playfulness through the scrutiny, even with death hovering so casually in the conversation. Honestly, the sentiment did not surprise Lysander in the slightest. "Efficient leadership, that." Nodding at her comment on blasters came naturally. "Understandable.. at least I think so. Blasters are just different altogether with distance, balance, tempo, footwork. And if honesty were permitted.. just boring."

One more small smile offered itself before a confession slipped. "I hate vibroblades, never liked anything about them. They've always felt.. dishonest." Despite that distaste, a shrug followed. "Techniques are different, but fairly easy to learn. At least in practice. Different when you have a real foe to fight. Broadswords, lightsabers, vibroblades.. they demand adjustments, but fundamentals translate quickly enough for anyone willing to pay attention."

He hummed softly. "When compared to lightsaber forms, there's some synergy there with Djem So or strong parries, the riposte, center-line pressure." Sizing her up happened intentionally. "And rotational power, if you have it."

"Soresu.. to an extent with a tight guard and blocks. And personally, I favor the backfoot. I enjoy playing with my opponents so that they may tire themselves." Probably not much different than the little debates that'd taken place between the two of them, except no ground had been gained. Not really.

"Just so happens I do." Another sip of tea punctuated Lysander's words. "And just so happens it's impossible for me to turn down a proper challenge. At least, so long as it's issued correctly, anyway."

Wearing a smile behind the rim could not hide his anticipation. "So, let me hear it first. Then I can show you."

 

[Astra Sadow]

Dishonest? A curious way to describe the vibroblade, but Astra wouldn't argue otherwise. Their high-frequency vibration certainly could make up for a lack of proper skill, much like a blaster made killing at a distance far too easy.

"I've heard something like that before," Astra replied to Lysander saying they had fundamentals in common. "And the weight of the blade? I've heard lightsabers described as weightless. I'm curious how much power you can deliver through a weightless weapon. Or is that why you have your own sword, Lysander?"

"Well, from those offerings, I could tell you what my 'favorite' form is, but," she paused to take a sip of tea, "then you would already begin plotting against me." A soft chuckle followed the remarks. Not that it would take him long to figure it out through first hand experience, of course. Admittedly, the thought of a little 'exercise' with Lysander might alleviate the edge from her hunger. Or send it over that edge. The risk was part of the fun.

Fine brows lifted as Lysander said he required a proper challenge. Not a slap across the face, she hoped; that was a bit more than a pleasant morning routine. "Very well, Mister von Ascania. I formally request to settle our dispute regarding the proper form in the field. I should look forward to your swift and assured reply." Then she leaned in a little closer with a broad smile. "Show me what you've got, Lysander, and I'll show you mine."

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

"I see how it is," the words dragged out as he rolled his eyes with flair. Not that it was unfair.. he'd never made a secret about preferring to stay on the back foot.

Mirth gathered across Lysander's face. "Very well then. I accept your challenge, Astra Sadow." Truthfully, any challenge issued in that voice would have been accepted. Curiosity made it less about the duel itself and more about how she would choose to frame it, what words she would use.

Both hands found the cup, cradling it between his palms. Warmth seeped into skin. "It's all in the kinetic chain. Real power starts with driving from the floor." Eyes lifted to meet hers. "All torque comes from your hips. With anything thrown, really. A ball, a punch, a strike with the blade. Your arms are just the guide."

Weight shifted from one foot to the other. "A lightsaber hilt is one to two kilos at most, but if you generate force, I suppose it's enough. A sword carries more momentum. When it moves, it wants to keep moving. A lightsaber can stop instantly. A sword needs an angle, something to follow through." His thoughts were a little scattered. Astra's patience was well known to Lysander by now, but he couldn't help but think this particular lesson would demand even more of it. "Honestly, swords are more challenging. A lightsaber resets instantly. A sword would need redirection." That was barely scratching the surface.. so much more could have been said, layers of mechanics and philosophy.

"Don't worry, I'll show you."

Another incline of the head served to motion toward the corridor that led to the cargo bay. Guiding her to a corner where his training gear waited, he gestured toward a sword rack bolted against the wall. After a final sip, the cup was set down on a nearby crate. His attention turned back fully to Astra.

"I forged Nightstar after I became an apprentice. At the time, I think I wanted something that made the transition feel more.. real." Fingers curled around the grip. "A marker. Something I could point to and say there, that was when one life ended and another began. Funny thing is, I still built home into it. The proportions, some of the design. I was trying to make a weapon for the person I was becoming and somehow ended up carrying the person I'd been along with me."

What remained unspoken lay in the weapon itself; there were clear cortosis veins threading through the phrik edged blade. If cruelty ever lived in Lysander, that was where it showed. A Jedi killer at heart. There was no denying it.

Sliding the weapon free, he presented it toward Astra. “You can use this one, if you’d like.”