Private The Exchange

[Darth Anathemous]

Wearing: Armor
Tag: Lysander von Ascania

"Ah, there it is," she murmured, "Honesty."

A frown creased her features, at herself. This was wrong, but any evil could be justified.

And so she leaned forward, laid her hand over his, if she allowed, the way she might've comforted a little brother.

"It hurts, I know... but the pain will make you stronger."

Whatever humor she'd seen in this little test was long gone, replaced by deep contemplation. He asked what sort of Sith he might become, and the Dark Lord foresaw a hundred futures in the silence. Each was considered, cross referenced, weighed against evidence, until she was sure of the outcome.

In the end, she supposed there wasn't any harm in revealing.

"I am Kaila Starfall." she said proudly, though ended as a question.

"...and I think, in time, you and I will be very similar."

Blackened fingers drummed hesitantly against the table, but then she doubled down, gaze unwavering.

Her voice came softly then, but carried a sense of urgency.

"I think stubbornness will carry you forward, through failure, to victory, perhaps. Though It will cause friction, you may kill many Sith and Jedi both, but there is a part of you, I think, capable of making lasting allies, if you're careful."

"Perhaps lady Revna has preserved some of the humanity in you that my master could not."

Only then did her gaze drift.

"I'll not apologize for testing you, I needed to see."

"...but, for what it's worth, you've passed..."

​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Darth Anathemous ​

Lysander’s brow knitted ever so slightly, some unspoken thread pulling taut between them. He never broke his lean forward, watching as doubt tried to nestle in her features. His forearms settled on the table. Throughout, he remained wordless.

Motionless beneath the touch, his palm splayed across the surface. His chin lifted but a whisper's breadth. A curious contradiction, for duasteel lurked deep within the pools, and beneath that, a restless storm was present. When the contact slipped away, the absence cut deeper than he'd ever admit.

A once neglected glass was gathered up, cradled as if it were a gem. With each sip, the burn threaded its way down his throat.

This time, he savored it.

The line of sight between them fractured, but he did not reach after it. “I wasn’t searching for an apology. Not from you.. nor from whatever ghosts are haunting you. That wasn’t a test I anticipated, but perhaps one I needed.”

He let the name roll once, “Kaila.. Starfall,” breaking it into pieces, testing the syllables like something rare. The sound coaxed a crooked smile, genuine, a spark of warmth breaking through. “It’s a nice name,” he admitted, as if his approval meant anything.

The drink remained in his hand, but instead of raising it, he turned it slowly, the base whispering against the table.

“You say we’ll be alike one day. Maybe that day’s already here. Sith and Jedi have already fallen to me.”

The vessel stilled.

“If you see yourself in me, then there are truths only you can name for me.. to show me how not to drown in them. To tell me which wounds forge strength, and which will only rot.”

He set it aside, one finger tracing the rim in a slow orbit. Lysander’s gaze lifted. “Though I’ve sworn myself to another, I could still walk beside you. For now.”

 

[Darth Anathemous]

Wearing: Armor
Tag: Lysander von Ascania

A nice name? she smiled.

It did have a certain ring to it, she supposed.

Lysander seemed to be taking her games well, though why she played them remained a mystery to them both. Perhaps she felt some duty to shepherd the younger Sith, or save him from making her mistakes.

“Though I’ve sworn myself to another, I could still walk beside you. For now.”

"I think I'd like that." she said with a soft smile.

Then came introspection, an autopsy of her youth to determine from where the rot first spread. In truth though she wondered how much pain was necessary to become what she was now.

"Betrayal." she finally answered.

"Not just your allies, but your own. There will come a time when the urge to betray one close to you feels... optimal."

Her eyes lifted to his, demanding to be heeded.

"Resist it."

In that moment she poured herself another glass, an anchor to banish the thought of Brooklyn Zambrano from her mind, turning cool between her fingers.

Still, she had another lesson to impart.

"Death is the next lesson. For all my research, I've learned more being cornered like an animal than reading. It sharpens instinct until claw and fang become automatic."

"You will break limits you never knew you had, being so close to the end. It brings... clarity."

A sip, a little smirk.

"Perhaps that's my way of justifying my own recklessness."

​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Darth Anathemous ​

Kaila’s words.. ally, acceptance, however framed, landed heavier than expected. It wasn’t a chain, nor was it a leash, but something stranger. Something that felt good. Reaching out, his fingers retrieved the joint. The paper was still warm, the ember alive. It was tapped once against the edges of a tray. Then Lysander drew in a more shallow pull, just enough to keep that fire breathing.. much like their conversation was fanning the flames in his chest..

Her counsel said resist, but it collided with old scars.

The word betrayal was like a vibroscalpel upon tissue, a currency that never lost value, and in the end, everyone always seemed to pay with it. From somewhere in the recesses of his mind, memories of a girl from Naboo surfaced, a reminder of the heart once invested.

“Betrayal doesn’t always come with a blade. Sometimes, it’s just a door closing. Or a voice saying you’re no longer theirs. That cuts deeper than anything.”

His sister’s rejection still burned like a brand. Jedi principles, they called it.

He called that betrayal, too.

Her words said one thing, but the tremors in the Force whenever he was near her spoke volumes, a cruel indication that he was no longer welcome back home.

Strange it was, to feel like an outcast on Ukatis.

The joint crackled as he drew, smoke pulling with a soft hiss. Lysander didn’t gulp it down, just a slow coil, filling him until it burned.

Death and Lysander were intimately familiar.

A smirk echoed the crookedness of the smile that had graced his lips only moments ago.

There was no denying the vast chasm of physical prowess separating them, but gazing upon Darth Anathemous was akin to seeing a reflection. And for the first time in too long, he didn't feel entirely alone in it.

“I chase it,” he began, then stopped, words catching in his throat. “We chase it. Because it makes us feel alive.”

His hand found the near-empty glass, turning it slowly. “It isn’t wisdom that can be passed down from masters. It’s the corner you speak of. When odds say you’re finished, and you bare your teeth. That’s where truth lives. That’s when you find out who you really are.”

The idea of companionship was exciting, though buried beneath many layers, but it would still spur the next inquiry. ““What does loyalty mean to you when it isn’t about power?”

 

[Darth Anathemous]

Wearing: Armor
Tag: Lysander von Ascania

"It does." she breathed.

It was perhaps the quietest she'd murmured all evening.

Even in the force, a strange sorrow seethed from them both. She could taste his, but not hide her own. It had always been hard to keep her off her mind.

When the silence lifted, her lips pursed, and were at a loss for words.

"That's... a good question..." she admitted.

"I've been a traitor so many times, a double agent many more. The lines, they begin to... blur."

What did loyalty mean to her? She and Tamsin Starfall were loyal to one another, but they were family. Then again, perhaps that's what true loyalty meant? Revna, Tamsin, Jacen, they were all the family she never had.

The smile returned.

"Loyalty is... mutual. It's having each other's backs, no matter what."

"I am loyal—truly loyal—to very few, Lysander. But for those few? I would die, yes, but even more so, I live."

​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Darth Anathemous
​

Lysander’s hand drifted back to the bottle almost without thought, digits curling around its neck. The pour came slow. He surprised himself by doing it at all, as he hadn't meant to, but maybe it was a way of saying that he refused to let this moment slip away just yet.

Another act of defiance.

His body felt loose, but his mind still sharpened in strange ways, now navigating the abyss. Every word uttered by Kaila seemed to echo louder. Every pause became heavier.

Eyes were rimmed with red, but his gaze held.

“Mutual,” he said, voice low. “That’s not a word I hear often. Most dress it up as duty, chains as vows, or creed. But mutual.. that’s different.”

He drank as though sealing a ritual. “They’re not comfortable, your words. They cut. But they cut.. clean. Free from illusion.”

Setting the glass down, he found himself staring into the liquid. Its aromas filled his nose. A stray lock of blonde fell across his brow; he brushed it back with a flick. Faces emerged in the surface of the drink. Each one pulled at the corner of his mind. Revna. The Badawans, A’Mia. It was then, he realized, with a bitter acceptance, that there was nothing left for him outside of the Outer Rim except one. His younger sister, Fatine von Ascania .

A pang in his chest, a mix of empathy, regret, and a strong note of something protective.

His thumb traced the rim. “I believe you, for I’ve got a few I live for too. They make the collapse.. not so final.”

 

[Darth Anathemous]

Wearing: Armor
Tag: Lysander von Ascania

"I've been told comforting lies half my life." she sighed.

"I prefer something more direct. Actionable."

"Hmh." Kaila took up her glass, "Maybe it's the Mandalorian in me."

The boy turned introspective again—a theme of this evening—and her head began to tilt slightly, like a curious woodland critter. The young Darth needn't supernatural powers to understand, she'd seen that look before. Often in the mirror. Lover, sibling, friend, she did not know which, but something nagged at him.

“I believe you, for I’ve got a few I live for too. They make the collapse.. not so final.”

"That's good." she raised her glass, and offered him a melancholic smile.

"To the ones who keep us going."

The sip she took was perhaps more than a sip, figuring they could both use the 'pick me up' after such an emotional evening. When the glass was finished at last, she set it aside and dabbed her lips with a cloth, in stark contrast to the impulsive drinking on display. Air shot between her lips, as she reclined wearily in her chair.

"You're welcome to stay the night, if you like. Nurse the impending hangover." a nervous chuckle.

Gods know they had plenty of rooms.

"You and your master are always welcome here."

"And It's... not often I get have these sorts of talks, you know."

​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Darth Anathemous​

He lingered in the glass’ depths until the word Mandalorian broke the surface..a stone in the water. He’d never been fond of them, ever since his first encounter during an invasion on Theed. The storm that’d been simmering within him darkened. Another scar, another memory pressing against him.

Only then did he realize the smile had slipped away.

But her note of it drew him back. Lysander blinked slowly, and the corner of his mouth would tug upward again. This time, it was less crooked, something unguarded.

His head inclined slightly upon her invitation. “It’s rare to find a place.. or a person, where one can lay down the armor.”

Beyond, the sea beckoned, its pull stronger than the city's lights. “Conversations like these don't come often."

Air filled his chest, finding clarity. “They’re a gift.”

Exhaling quietly, a sound of relief, his spine loosened. Turning back to her, the shadows in his eyes softened slightly as he nodded. "Tonight… this.. your company.. it means more than I can say.”

Come tomorrow, it would be Darth Anathemous once more. It would be wiser, safer, lest he forget how treacherous the galaxy could be.

"Thank you, Kaila."

 

[Darth Anathemous]

Wearing: Armor
Tag: Lysander von Ascania

"Rare as Kyber." she agreed.

A quick glance reminded the young lord that they were both armored even now.

It had been such a strange evening, one she could not have predicted. Brought vital cargo, meeting her dear friend's apprentice, sharing such personal stories over drinks, all while entombed in Darksteel.

And a thank you. When was the last time she'd been thanked for anything?

She tilted her head, brows creased in surprise, then smiled.

"You've a good head on your shoulders, Lysander." was her way of saying 'you're welcome'.

"Certainly for a Sith."

Kaila finished her drink then, and stood.

Though she left the bottle with Lysander, a bonus of sorts for a job well done.

"Speak to the droid if you care to stay, SB-13 will find you a room on the VIP floor."

"In the meantime, I owe some very pitiful looking Arkanians an explanation as to why they're here." she stifled a chuckle.

She stretched her arms on the way passed, metal joints popping loudly, then spoke over her broad shoulder.

"Oh, I'm sending up another bottle of Crystaal. Give it to Revna for me, will you?"

"Tell her it's an... apology, of sorts, for not visiting in awhile."

​