Private Stellar Exchanges

[Astra Sadow]

Astra simply stared at the man as he stepped back and turned his back on her. Burnt golden eyes turned into seas of red once more the moment she left his sight. It hadn't been enough. Or had she given him too much? Both. Yes, of course, it was never enough especially when you gave someone more than they'd earned. Everything wanted more. It'd claw and bite its way to laying claim to everything that fell before its eyes.

In the time it took Lysander to take a single step, everything changed.

The transport simply vanished. Not even signs of its landing struts crushing the wild grass and glowers beneath its unyielding mass could be found.

A sharp ping of metal as it struck rock filled the open air. Nightstar now stood upright on its own, a third of it enveloped by solid stone. Some traditions deserved to be brought back. Some hallmarks should never be forgotten.

It, at least, freed Astra's hands as she suddenly appeared upon a throne situated upon a stone floor. It began at a single point and then stretched backwards -- seemingly a tear in reality itself with two places stitched together. The interior of a throne room built out in the open with a red moon glowing through a floor to ceiling window behind the high-back throne; an impossibility in contract to the sun that still rose over head over the field. A sharp crack of leather sounded as she swept her jacket wide with a pivot to settle down on to the seat. One leg crossed atop the other as she reached over to lift a chalice from a nearby pedestal.

She didn't say anything as the contents of the chalice swirled under a lazy, circular motion in the palm of her hand. Astra lifted the vessel to her lips and felt the ravenous thirst slacked but a little as the wet fluid soothed her parched throat. It was not nearly as good as that freshly obtained, but Astra had gone without long enough. The mood to appease a desire to do nothing needless had gone. A layover at some space station along the way no longer was an amusing thought, and so something to take the edge off while she waited.

What would Lysander do now? How long would the stubbornness hold? The pride. If he didn't want to use words, she had other means of conversation.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

Movement was supposed to give the mind somewhere to go; standing still left hardly any room to think, let alone untangle anything.

Another step forward and the ground held, the sky held, but the transport did not. Where solid bulk should have cast its shadow across the field, only grass continued unbroken; for half a second even sight felt unreliable, as if light had tricked the eye or a blink had been missed. Was his vision the thing in need of correcting, or had perception simply failed before impossibility did?

Waiting came next, braced for some familiar sting or for fury to beat its wings. Yet nothing arrived. Once, that reaction would have been instantaneous.

Outrage would've been easier to hold. This, however... most things offered something to work with. An argument could be taken apart, a threat answered, a bargain reworked. Any sort of problem with edges was typically preferable.

The sharp report of metal on stone pulled attention elsewhere. Nightstar stood where decidedly nothing had stood before. Architecture now occupied a place where it had no business being. Beyond that, a red moon burned.

No doubt the scene surprised him, though apparently, after losing a hand to another dimension and finding it again, the reaction took more effort to show. And there the Queen sat, enthroned not in fire as some songs promised, but in something far cooler and more terrible; disillusionment spread through Lysander like frost blooming across a windowpane, leaving the myth paler than before.

Weirdest of all was how clearly everything registered. Colors were almost too crisp to be real. Suppose there was a kind of mercy in the way Astra had stopped hiding how things were truly built, how they fit together underneath. It was easier to know where everything stood, or more accurately, where she had decided everything belonged without bothering to ask him. At least, that was how it felt as he approached the throne.

Right now, Lysander lacked the energy to cross-examine his own heart, and the honesty of that exhaustion felt damning in itself.

His hand drifted up, turning and opening while searching for a way to show what he meant. "Is this how we're speaking now?"

 

[Astra Sadow]

Astra regarded Lysander when he turned back toward her, but she made no effort to stand at his reversal. "You spurn efforts to save you. You grow incensed at the return of your sword. You go to contemplate on your own. And now you question my house." Her hands spread out to either side of the throne.

Echoes of movement or chatter seemed to bounce off the stone walls behind Astra. A row of columns appeared in the fields now to either side of Lysander. Bit by bit it seemed another place was encroaching on the world upon which they -- he -- stood.

The red-eyed woman chuckle. "If my people had been half so ungrateful or suspicious their broken bodies wouldn't even be ash after all this time."

"Mistress," a gravely voice hissed from the ether, "whomst troubles thee?"

A flippant roll of the wrist followed the question. "A man of many questions. So many he now questions me."

A low rumble followed from the void. "Shall I devour it, Mistress, so it troubles thee no more?"

"No, Dear. This one is not for you." Astra stretched out her left hand, fingers interlocking with long, black talons that hung suspended in the air of a yet revealed source. A smile spread across her red lips before their hands parted.

Then her eyes slid back to Lysander. Perhaps he'd have more questions, or perhaps he would turn away from her once again.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

Stone kept trespassing. From nothing at the field's edge, columns unfurled themselves, one after another. Rooted in place, Lysander watched Astra's world claim another inch and felt the ground under his boots become less his own. Outnumbered, outmaneuvered, outmatched... such a pattern had become so familiar it had curdled into tolerance.

Eventually words gathered enough substance to break their silence and leave. "Do you extend an invitation for questions only to turn them away once they stand at your door? Fidelity to myself was the only honest gift I could lay before you. Questioning your house was never meant to wound it."

In answer to her assertion, Lysander's palm turned upward; his fingers unfurled slowly. "Then it's fortunate I'm not one of your people."

The first true break in an otherwise carefully kept impassiveness arrived as his brows furrowed. "Restrain your little pet," came the murmur that was somehow colder for its softness, eyes never leaving the dark where the talons had been. "Courtesy between us will not survive a second invitation to be eaten."

And still no movement followed.

"By what self-serving logic do you alone remain unexamined, while every other element of this wretched affair is laid bare beneath scrutiny? Do grant me illumination, Astra. Speak and enlighten me, for clearly some crucial axiom, some truth, has eluded my grasp entirely."

 

[Astra Sadow]

The chalice was flung aside in the same instant Astra uncrossed her legs. She launched out of the throne and took a step forward without an ounce of mirth gracing her suddenly angular features. "Call my daughter a pet once more, Prince of Ukatis," the thought needn't be completed, it should be evident whatever the ramification was it would not be pleasant.

In the same breath, Had Abaddon was swallowed by the stone Hall that now surrounded them. A second level ran parallel to the wide, open approach to the throne. On both levels and to either side stood numerous figures. Few looked alike, and fewer still could be mistaken for Human by even the most generous of definitions. The daughter or pet that had spoken might very well be a seven foot tall, thin, pale create with black dragon scales down her center and along most of her limbs. Her solid black eyes regarded the fleshy thing suddenly in full view of all assembled.

Silence reigned in the Hall as Astra's crimson gaze seized upon her guest.

With a snort and a shake of her head that broken the tension that ran the length of her body, coiled to strike, Astra's features relaxed once more. "You do not examine me, Lysander. Ever since I saved you from being devoured you've snidely turned my every grace away. Even now you accuse me of refusing to answer a question you haven't asked. The decorum of the gratitude of the 'Modern' Sith."

"Ask it, then. Let us see what festers under the surface together."

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

What a shame the Queen would go on to abandon her throne. It had suited her irritatingly, beautifully well, though Lysander would sooner bite through his own tongue than volunteer that assessment after everything that'd unfolded over the last hour. Or was it longer? There was really no way of knowing. Perhaps the sun's angle might've given some notion, had it not been nearly blotted by a moon the color of blood.

The stone swallowed Had Abaddon whole. A slow breath escaped Lysander, enough to smooth the ripple of irritation beneath his skin. The architecture had changed once more, the audience had multiplied, but the presumption remained tedious in its constancy.

The chin lifted as his spine lengthened, reframing the whole of the Sith's posture from that of a supplicant to something both sovereign and severe. Only then would he correct her, "Prince of the Core."

Was it possible that fury had bleared her vision to the magnitude of whom she now opposed, or that she'd understood it well enough and had simply mistaken his forbearance for permission?

"Careful with your contempt for the Modern Sith. Strange creatures, are we? So ungrateful, questioning, and somehow still the ones responsible for an age every failed empire before us could only promise. A Golden Age they could only dream of."

Anger was returning at last, finding its way back into the blood by degrees, giving the confusion edges once more, drawing a hard line around the haze. At least.. it made the whole miserable thing easier to hold.

"Which part of all this read as ingratitude to you, Astra? That you pulled me out, or that I wouldn't act afterward as if I were fine with how it was done?" Fragments of his own answer to that were already beginning to gather. "What response would have satisfied you?"

 

[Astra Sadow]

Not even a muscle of her features carved in darkness twitched at Lysander's change in demeanor. Oh, yes, he had mighty sharp claws of his own. There was one tactical error, however, in his assessment -- the belief the crowd around him wouldn't tear him to pieces because of how Mercy might react. It was an error because of a fundamental shift in Astra that he may or may not have recognized. One that ran deeper than aesthetics.

"Golden." Her red lips peeled apart into a toothy grin.

The assembled number that had gone silent suddenly chuckled in unison. Fat, opulent Golden Ages were full of the most savory and resistant morsels. A golden buffet.

The smile snapped away just as quickly as it had appeared at his question. "I expected you to be grateful, Lysander. How many Sith do you think it would have taken to retrieve you from the Realm Beyond? A hundred? A thousand? Do you honestly believe what you saw there was just a beast to be put down like a wild rancor run amok? Instead, the first thing you did -- the first -- is to accuse me of turning my back on you. Of not satisfying your desire for a lesson. Of enjoying a fight for existence itself all to spare you the loss of a single hand."

There was a moment's pause before she turned to look up at those loitering in the rafters, her voice increased in volume as though they might not hear it, "Do I ask too much?"

Astra didn't wait for an answer as her chin lowered and she fixed Lysander with her red eyes. "I fought for you, Lysander, and you turned your back on me."

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

How charming to be so unanimous. The laughter rolled through the Hall in waves; Lysander's irritation spiked at the uniformity. Disagreement now required a chorus? His gaze moved from one balcony to another, counting faces. Funny how the absurdity of the odds steadied him; worrying over numbers felt pointless once they tipped into the ridiculous. Audacity always burned brighter when common sense whispered retreat.

He took one step toward her, then another, and somewhere around the third Lysander realized he had no idea why he was moving at all. It was not duty that pulled at his boots, nor pity that softened his stride. "So what did you expect me to do, Astra? Drop to my knees and thank you for being so merciful?" Lysander didn't raise his voice to match hers, but he didn't make any effort to soften it either. "I just watched distance and direction stop working the way they're supposed to, came back from somewhere beyond anything I understand as reality, and spent who knows how long wondering if whatever I saw next would be the thing that nearly broke my mind."

Both hands hung open at his sides, palms empty and fingers slack. Shoulders eased and fell with a breath that might have been mistaken for surrender, but his jaw only tightened, set hard as iron cooling from the forge. "No. Not if all you truly wanted was gratitude. Tell me I'm wrong. You keep speaking as if what I gave was insufficient, as if I withheld something precious, and still I stand here trying to divine what debt you believe remains unpaid."

His eyes locked onto hers; emerald caught against that red. For several long seconds his expression offered nothing. "At least I had the courtesy to make mine visible."

 

[Astra Sadow]

Astra watched Lysander as he spoke, even as he thought to take a few steps forward. When he finished, she effortlessly stepped backwards to sit back down into her throne. Her hand rotated out to the side, and rather than a new chalice appearing or being brought to her, the original one simply flew back. More, the spilled contents flew back into the chalice. A discerning eye might even swear the red liquid flew backwards into the open cup as if time itself had rewound. "You're wrong." With that she brought the vessel back to her lips and took a drink, her red eyes continued to watch him over the rim.

"Lysander," she set the goblet down on a pillar next to the throne, "you haven't given me anything. You claim I want more to excuse the fact you haven't thanked me once. I could give you immortality and you would look at me and ask, 'Do you now own my soul?'" With a gesture of her free hand at those around him, Astra added, "I would, but that question obscures the magnitude of the gift granted, and excuses a lack of gratitude."

"And that," Astra pointed at the sword embedded in the stone, "is yours. When you've reflected on what I said and learn how to Fold." He'd likely take it as an ultimatum, but it was a simple fact -- there was only one way to get the sword free of the stone, which was to retrieve it by Folding.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

A weary and fractured piece of Lysander's consciousness wanted to laugh from the cognitive whiplash of it all. Outrage could only stretch so far before it snapped into something like bewildered awe. After all, consider the itinerary: his consciousness had nearly unspooled; he'd been dragged back to this odd court under a bleeding moon. And now he was watching Astra sip from a goblet whose liquid appeared to have renounced both physics and linear time. At a certain point, indignation felt almost.. performative. If only the woman could rewind their conversation too.

"You don't want gratitude, Astra. You want me to be grateful exactly how you want me to be grateful." Both hands went up. "I already said you saved me. What pissed you off is that I didn't let that be the end of the conversation."

He waved Nightstar away like it was just another nuisance. "I told you, keep it. You keep saying I turn every gift into a chain, but you're the one sitting there telling me what I owe you for taking it. Yeah, you saved me, Astra. And yeah, I still questioned you after. Both things are true. That doesn't make me some ungrateful animal who didn't bow deep enough for you."

His mouth went tight once more. "You know what, I don't need any of this. The sword, the lessons, the miracles, whatever impossible thing you're going to expect me to understand next. I'd rather have nothing than take any of it and spend the whole time waiting for you to remind me how lucky I was to get it."

 

[Astra Sadow]

"It really is beyond you, isn't it?" Astra sighed. "To say 'Thank you,' and mean it. It's too much to admit that even for a second you weren't strong enough to protect yourself. That there might be something more terrifying and more powerful than yourself in all of existence. So, unable to humble yourself, you choose to ignore it happened; you say I saved you, but the words are as hollow as an Empress' mercy."

The trappings of the castle began to fade to black leaving only the floor beneath their feet and the throne upon which she sat. Soon, the ship they'd arrived on appeared and the floor somehow extended all the way out to it and beneath it.

"For all the talk of curiosity and doing more than butchery, the inescapable failings of the Sith endure even to this day don't they?" she asked, but didn't expect an answer. Astra's eyes were golden once more as she sat upon her throne. "It's your choice, Lysander." With that Astra took another drink, from the chalice cradled in the palm of her hand.

Despite the lack of any sun or light source, everything remain perfectly visible. Including the lack of angular shadows cast across Astra's face as she sat there. There was a softness or warmth there that he'd seen before they'd taken the plunge. Burnt golden eyes that didn't bore into Lysander; in fact, she'd take a look at the crimson contents of her goblet as the opportunity to make a choice had been left to him to decide. It was a far more relaxed posture, but still one of clarity and study.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

"No, you don't get to do that." Lysander spread his hands. "Don't put words in my mouth for bein too scared to say them, when I just spent this entire argument telling you exactly how helpless I felt. I needed you to pull me out. What I' m not going to do is let you take everything I already admitted, throw it away because I didn't package it in the two words you were waiting for, and then call me arrogant for it. You don' t get to decide what my fear or my gratitude is supposed to sound like just because it didn't land on your ego the right way."

The world rearranged itself around him, stone folding into starlight and walls dissolving like mist burned from glass. Lysander just stood there unmoved; no glance would be spared for the ship that shivered into being behind him. His attention stayed on Astra the whole time, refusing to let one more impossible transformation swallow the argument still sitting between them.

"Fine. But stop pretending the first distance between us was mine. You walked away from me first. You just never had to turn around to do it."

For the first time since the ship returned, Lysander actually looked at it. One heel lifted from the ground before thought caught up and placed it back down.

He turned the words over twice upon his tongue before slowly letting them go. "I'm grateful it was you, Astra."

 

[Astra Sadow]

"I hope you live long enough some day you look back on this and realize I never walked away from you." With a soft sigh, ripples spread out from where Lysander stood. Where they went the void was replaced with the fields of Had Abaddon once more. Sounds of wild insects, scents of wild flowers, and the caress of an errant gust returned. Even Nightstar and the throne were gone.

Astra stood on her feet now, her golden eyes on the man that stood before her. A gaze that fell to his hand briefly as if she had to verify it was there. "I couldn't leave it to just any Horror," she replied with more levity than had been expressed the past several minutes. "I'm just pleased you returned alive and intact. And that the thing you witnessed wasn't one of Them." A smile finally returned to her lips.

The entire ordeal had likely left him with a great many questions. She hoped he wouldn't ask all of them at once -- they might be there all month.

Lysander von Ascania​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Astra Sadow​

The fields returned. Grass beneath his boots, the insect drone, and the sweetness of something blooming too early or too late for the season. Lysander just stood very still and let the 'ordinary' world reassert itself around him.

His gaze drifted to the grass, where the wind worried at each blade. "That isn't what I meant." Air left him through his nose. "I wasn't speaking of the Fold. Or wherever I was.." The distinction was still important to him; whether it would make a difference, he still had plenty of doubt. "I meant.."

With a small shake of his head, he just withdrew the rest. Words could clarify, but he didn't want them to become instruments of injury. Chances were they'd both learned where to press now.

When he looked back up to Astra, the smile offered was small and careful. "You make it sound like I went for a walk and misplaced my gloves." He gestured at the empty air where the throne had once been, where the red moon once hung against the daylight sky. "I was basically dismantled. There was a moment where I existed in at least four directions simultaneously, and one of them was upside."

He lifted the hand, fingers wiggling as proof. "Yep. All present and accounted for. Though I think my dignity may have taken a casualty you didn't notice." Screaming her name probably didn't help in that regard. "But yes. Thank you. I'll try to remain worthy of your.. um, discerning rescue standards."

 

[Astra Sadow]

Astra seemed distracted a moment with her head turned aside. "Is this how They feel?" She turned back to Lysander with a flutter of her eyelids and a sharp breath. "Dismantled?" She thought to correct him on that, but without pausing added, "Direction, distance, time... all function different There. It would have been better if you'd never seen it, but caught half-way as you were in that moment I had to decide which side of the boundary to push you." And it was usually faster to shove someone away rather than reach forward, grab, and reverse one's momentum.

A shrug followed Lysander's remark. "My rescue standards. An odd way to describe it, Lysander. I could have refused to instruct you at all if I had no desire to take responsibility for what might result. Though, I suppose many Sith Masters might not have reacted at all. That isn't the sort of relationship we have, is it?"

As for his dignity, Astra had avoided responding to the remark. Because, in the moment, she hadn't really paid attention to the manner or method he'd used to call out to her, or that in doing so it meant something in particular. There wasn't time for such considerations in the middle of a fight to survive. All it had meant to her was that too much time had gone by already, and she needed to do something. Which she did. Which led to Astra being in a very... sensitive state that Lysander stabbed at too harshly.

Some things were better not spoken of even if they led to misunderstandings. Not objectively, but subjectively it felt true. Especially in the moment.

What Astra had noticed, however, was that he wasn't asking questions. Perhaps he wasn't ready for any more answers. And here she thought he was just trying to be obstinate earlier with the claim he wanted no more of her 'wisdom.'

Lysander von Ascania​