Private The Forge and the Fog

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti ​

Even as the training drew near an end, the air was alive with static. The Togruta’s blade was pointed at him, and he refused to move any further from his current position. He didn’t even blink at first. His own blade just hummed in response, a crimson heartbeat against defiance.

Some of her words landed harder than the swings that’d preceded them. They too echoed longer than they should have. He knew that tone, one of conviction, maybe even desperation. Once, he’d sounded the same. Believed the same. Maybe he still did, sometimes, when the noise of the galaxy quieted long enough, just enough for the ghosts to crawl back in.

And so, that familiar weight stirred again. It wasn’t pity. Just the recognition of something he’d buried years ago when leaving the Mid Rim.

The fire always burned hottest before it ate itself alive. The Galactic Kaggath had taught him that.. the hard way.

“Maybe you’ll survive this place after all,” Lysander finally muttered under his breath.

Whether it was warning or compliment.. even he couldn’t tell.

His thumb brushed over the emitter, and the crimson blade retracted. One of his shoulders rolled, all fatigue and no flourish.

“Well, you fight like you mean it. That’s pretty rare here. From experience, most acolytes just fight to be seen.”

He glanced toward the ground for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before returning back to her.

“I’ll be here again tomorrow. Same time.” The blonde tried not to dress it as an invitation, but as something more practical. Another breath passed before he continued. “I could use a solid training partner. Skill level doesn’t really matter.. as long as you can keep pace, we’re good. ”

A hint of his former self slipped through, the precision of an aristocrat who learned to hide the accent.

“I’m Lysander.”

Then, quieter.

“Try not to die before tomorrow.”

But he didn’t turn to leave right away. The fog drifted between them as it always seemed to do, and his stomach gave a low growl.. a reminder of how long it had been since he last stopped for anything other than a training. The hunger could wait. He figured he could spare another minute or two, depending on how she chose to answer.

 

[Naniti]

Naniti blinked. It wasn't from a desire to close her eyes so they'd stop burning, but from the man suddenly changing from suggesting she was clueless about herself or what she wanted to just being straight with her. All that "you will or you won't" stuff had really been getting on her nerves. There'd been a time she thought of quipping about it being the greatest motivation speech she'd ever heard. Had he been trying to determine if she'd just give up because he cast doubt on, well, everything? Maybe that wasn't a bad idea, but that didn't mean Naniti had to like being the recipient of it.

The violet Togruta snorted. "Most Acolytes think they're Exar Kun reborn." Probably had to do with all the expectations dumped on them by their Masters. Do or die. The Sith Code was really hilarious when you were a mere acolyte. Yeah, their chains would be broken, alright... when they could cut down their Master. Really fostered the community spirit.

Maybe someone one misinterpreted that as needing a community of spirits, and no one had ever bothered to correct it.

At least both of their sabers were inactive now. So, it might not be necessary to try and get as much oxygen into her body as possible as soon as possible after all. In that case, Naniti focused on slowing her rate of breathing again, and focus on controlling her heart rate and blood pressure.

A soft bark of laughter followed the invitation. "Yeah. I know. Don't worry, I'll get stronger." Skill level didn't matter. Smooth. Naniti slowly moved to secure her saber at her hip again with a rueful shake of her head. Well, she already knew there was room for improvement. Lysander wouldn't need to worry about her resting on her laurels.

"Naniti." Her horned head tipped a bit to the side. "You... want to hit the mess? I hear dining on ashes isn't fulfilling." Not that she knew what Lysander's deal was, but there was probably something he hadn't shared. Place like this? Had a way of giving you those things, if you didn't come with them already. To say nothing of the complete lack of mental and emotional support. Come to the Sith Academy to learn how to be powerful, stay because of the crippling depression.

Something to look forward to, Naniti guessed. The mess hall would be better, but what did she know? She just trained there.

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti
​

The cool down after training was often measured, a physical acknowledgement. The tightening of joints began to loosen, the muscles in his forearms finally releasing from hours of tension. Wrists rolled under the curved hilt now secured back on his belt. With a deep inhale, he let the chilly air of Desevro fill his lungs. Part of him was still keyed to that residual adrenaline, heat running through his biceps, thighs, even the back of his neck.

A wry smile touched his lips at her comment. “Exar Kun?” he muttered. “Yeah, I could totally see that. Ambition before sense.. always. Some really think the galaxy’s been waiting for them to arrive as the messiah.”

Recognition that followed came without ceremony. The desire for a training partner wasn’t entirely out of need, but because there was a certain rhythm in sparring that often required more than one mind. Someone who pushed themselves not because they were told to, but because they wanted to, would serve both of them well.

Several damp strands of hair stuck stubbornly to his forehead. Sweat from the sparring still clung to his tunic, but he didn’t fuss with it. Both hands dropped to rest at his sides instead.

Amusement threaded through his voice. “I’m down.” He let the words hang for a moment, letting his gaze drift past the courtyard. “Let’s see if it’s edible today.”

Shifting his weight, he began to walk toward the slight incline that would lead them to the tunnels beneath the training grounds. Stone walls closed around them, and already he could hear the echoes of distant voices.

"It won’t be gourmet, but.. I guess it beats gnawing on the last scraps of your own pride. You ever eat anything halfway decent down here?"

Another glance fell her way, sharper this time, curious as to how she took in the space. "Half the battle," he began, voice low, "is deciding whether you mind the cold, the rations, or the company first." He realized how dumb that sounded the moment it left him. Maybe that was the point. He'd always been good at making a fool of himself. So, he continued anyway. "The academy stew," he added, letting a small grin creep across his visage, "is definitely better company than me. Just so you've been warned."

​

 

[Naniti]

Naniti was a little surprised he accepted, but not unpleasantly surprised. The Togruta nodded even knowing they'd have to walk back. Well, her legs weren't tired. That soreness might show up by the morning, but that was a problem for latter.

The pair started on their way toward the tunnel, and away from the cold that had begun to seep back into them now they weren't darting about the open ground. Should she work harder at staving off extreme temperatures? It was difficult to decide where one's focus should be when 'anything' was possible. What perils would she face most often, and which would she not be able to survive without a very particular skill? Also a problem for another time.

"If its edible and has enough nutrition to keep fighting," Naniti replied with a slight shrug. Still, she agreed, "I wouldn't complain if it were better quality."

She gave Lysander a glance at his three choices of dissatisfaction. He barrelled forwards before she could even think to reply. Naniti had still be processing the question when he called out the stew being better company, and her brow furrowed. "The stew is better company than you? Did you piss off the cooks or something so they feed you live creatures in your stew you can hold conversations with them?" A smirk and shake of her head followed his effort to bury the earlier question.

"Besides, everyone knows everything about this place is designed to kill you. I've heard some Acolytes claim even their beds are full of rocks." Naniti doubted they meant it literally, but she'd heard the complaint. A little hyperbole didn't hurt; she knew Lysander would understand with his whole stew story.

"Honestly, I try not to think about it too much. Work with what's in front of me; figure out how to deal with the challenges as they come. The Academy's just the beginning. Once we leave... Well, knowing how to respond to the unexpected will be more important than the indignity forced on us by the terrible food." The Togruta sounded confident, but not foolishly positive about the whole thing. "That's what I tell myself, anyway. You?" Naniti smiled for a moment as she looked over at Lysander.

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti ​

A half grin appeared, one that never quite committed. "If they're putting live creatures in my bowl, I suppose that would explain why it twitches sometimes." Lysander shrugged with nonchalance, as though the thought didn't really bother him. His boots continued scuffing against the stone floor as they pressed deeper into the tunnels.

The chill finally began to cling to his skin now that he’d cooled down from training, a small shiver running through him. One of her comments drew a low hum from him. “Beds full of rocks sounds about right. Builds character.. or just spinal damage. Hard to tell sometimes.”

Her confidence about the future, though.. he looked at her sidelong. Not judging. Just studying...

“The unexpected,” he echoed. “Yeah. That’s the part they never really teach. They throw you at things and see if you break.. but that’s not really the same as knowing how to move when the ground shifts under you.”

Then he slowed a step, weighing the Togruta’s words. It kind of sounded like the academy was her entire world right now.. walls, rules, almost as if there was an entire galaxy out there she hadn’t touched yet. Lysander had though, more than once. But when he did slip through the academy’s fingers here on Desevro, it came with obligation. Spore Industries on Brosi, or studying under Kaila on Nar Shaddaa. It wasn’t always real freedom.

“It’s a little different for me. I.. get to leave sometimes. For work. For my master. For things that aren’t exactly optional.” A humorless smile tugged at his mouth. ”Leaving isn’t the hard part.. it’s when you have to come back."

The tunnel eventually spat them out into another artery of the academy. The mess hall drew near, following a trail of half broken lights and shouts growing louder. When the doors hissed open, they were greeted by chaos. A few acolytes appeared elbow deep in whatever passed for food. Two were arguing, another one sitting alone seemed to be going on about a stolen tray.

Lysander entered the serving line like he was approaching the unknown; skepticism was painted across his face. The Sith leaned ever so slightly to one side, to better angle himself, and see what horrors were being served. "Stars," he mumbled. "If it blinks at me.. we can always.. just back away slowly and let it win. I don't have the energy to fight my lunch today."

 

[Naniti]

"Must be nice," the Togruta mused half to herself about Lysander leaving on occasion. "Special circumstances. When your Master is overprotective because of a certain talent, you don't get to see a lot of the galaxy." A blue eye strayed to the side to check on Lysander. He'd been trying to get her angry earlier, but did he really think so little of what she'd said earlier? "Now that I'm here, though, they don't have as much control over all that. All the rest of them do." Naniti turned her head to look straight at the man. "Sith politics are weird. You think ego-driven nonsense would be easy to anticipate, but it's a mess."

Hands on her hips, Naniti stared at the door ahead as they walked. She didn't sigh. Wasn't any point wasting energy being disappointed in people taught selfish desire was the greatest attribute ever. If anything, the shadows over her heart-shaped face grew longer, her brow lower, and her lips thinner. It was far from the most menacing warface anyone had ever seen, but montrals (horns) helped. The two of them couldn't let the others think they were too exhausted to fight back; so Naniti put on That face to encourage them to not approach in the first place.

Once they entered the line, Naniti observed Lysander trying to get a look at the food. Arms crossed, she leaned up against the serving unit and closed her eyes for a few seconds. They opened in time for her to hear the worry concern how feisty the food might be. "Don't be rediculous, Lysander. It isn't going to blink at you." A pause as though she were actually admonishing him, and totally not setting up a follow-up. "It'll just remind you of an Eldritch Horror." One hand lifted in the air between them, palm down, fingers drangling and then suddenly wiggling to mime tentacles.

"Some day, soon, I was thinking," Naniti turned her head to stare into the kitchen area, "with some fine motor control in the Force of unscrewing the cap on a bottle of spice and dumping it into what's cooking. What do you think? Possible?"

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti ​

Lysander tilted his head slightly, jaw tightening. The realm of Sith politics was one he knew too well, but hearing her assess it with exasperation and even practicality surprised him a bit. A silent acknowledgement of the insight was given. He’d seen the same chaos, that same annoying self important jockeying. From his own personal experience, Korriban had been the only planet in the Outer Rim where it went unnoticed.

But then his gaze lingered a fraction too long on wiggling fingers. He raised an eyebrow, the tiniest tilt of a smile conjuring, narrowed silently saying Really? You’re doing that now? The gesture.. absurd as it was, it still made him chuckle under his breath, though it would be drowned out by the hum of the line and chatter nearby.

“Right. Classic Togruta approach to dining.”

He honestly had no idea.

Another comment drew a sharper grin. "I'd say it's possible.. as long as the stew doesn't retaliate with Force lightning."

They moved further down the line, leather boots clinking against the floor. The aroma of the food hit him in waves.. strange, sharp, and well, disgusting. Whatever they were serving wasn’t familiar, and he fought to keep his face neutral, surely a comical attempt at calm if nothing elsse. Who knew the mess hall would test his discipline more than any trial involving a blade?

A rusted droid placed a bowl in front of him. Steam curled into the air in wisps that smelled faintly of something he couldn’t identify.

The blonde cast a glance around the mess hall. Sitting near the others didn’t exactly appeal, based on the snatches of conversation he’d overheard on the way in. Petty rivalries, idle gossip, he wasn’t drawn to any of it.

There was one empty table, tucked near a far well. Only on Desevro did claiming a quiet corner seem so luxurious. He gestured toward it with a nod to Naniti.

“Unless you’re dying to make friends, maybe we claim that one. Less..surveillance.”

Once more he peeked at the unfamiliar concoction in his hands. “Maybe the mystery stew will double as a Sith test.”

 

[Naniti]

Naniti shrugged. "Is it our fault Humans can't handle their spice?" She spoke of actual culinary spice, not the street drug. A little kick to the taste buds never hurt. Though their "little" was apparently a good deal to some of them. "Could make this better than gruel," she muttered to herself as they saddled up before the droid.

Blue eyes stared at the rusted droid. "Warriors don't grow off meat alone. Whole vegetables won't kill the quartermaster."

"Carrots for eyes?" the vocabulator synthesized plainly.

Surprisingly unique way of threatening some one even if it wasn't the most menacing. Just enough effort to program in sass, but not enough to build a dictionary of quips. Typical.

The Togruta turned away with the meal in hand. No point arguing with a droid. It had less authority than she did. Might as well argue with the pot this monstrosity had been cooked in. Her eyes found Lysander nearby with a recommendation in mind. "Why not?" Surveillance huh? They close enough yet not to count as such to one another? That was sweet.

Then again, he did say 'less.'

"What mystery? You don't think I'm some kind of puzzle psychopath do--?" The Togruta cutoff and pivoted on the spot. The tray was held by one hand as her left rose back the way they'd come, off to the side into the Acolytes. A wave in the Force had been sent their way; likely an effort to simply topple them to the floor or slip their food. Didn't matter why. Just that they'd tried.

There was a reason Force Push wasn't common place among their kind. Naniti's own countering Force demonstrated why. That wasn't good enough, of course. So her hand twisted about and the Force abruptly surged back, but in the opposite direction now. Enough to drag the offending party half out of their seat and face-first on top of the table. Shouts of annoyance and anger rose from the way their limbs flopped atop the table where their own trays were.

Naniti snorted as she turned to resume following Lysander to the table.

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti ​

Lysander found himself amused as he watched a rather random scene play out, the mess hall almost like surveying a battlefield. He caught the sound of shouts, some muffled groans. It was chaotic in its own right, yes, but.. satisfying.

Not reckless. Just.. properly theatrical.

Stepping forward and grabbing two spoons from the bin along the way, he moved closer to that table tucked in the corner. Sliding into the bench opposite her, Lysander placed his bowl down with a clink and inhaled deeply, smelling the stew.. or gruel masquerading as one. Then, he exhaled slowly, tilting his head toward her. Should I offer a prayer to Bogan if this is my last meal? he wondered, lips twitching at the absurdity.

He picked up his spoon cautiously, eyes flicking between the food and her, weighing the galaxy’s jokes against his appetite. “So,” he began, voice light but edged with that dry quip he so often favored, “do we dive in bravely, or do we pretend we’re starving and politely starve ourselves first?”

The first spoonful hovered. “I mean, honestly, if this kills me, you’ll need to explain this my master.”

Finally.. scooped a tentative bite, eyebrows raising at the foreign kick. “Not.. bad. Well, not good either, but not horrible,” he said. “Would you like to lead the critique, or shall I?”

As he began to chew, Lysander leaned back slightly. The hall’s noise began to fade away. “Are they always this.. Uh, ambitious with their little ‘Force demonstrations,’ or is today a special occasion?”

He didn’t come here as often as the others. Most of his time was spent in his new dorm, and with business quietly generating a few more credits on the side, he could afford options beyond this. Part of him hoped he didn’t make it too obvious. Somewhere buried under the mask, was someone not wanting someone else to feel the difference of his current privileges.

“Oh.. and that puzzle psychopath comment from earlier… do I file that under threats or mysterious titles I probably shouldn’t question..?”

 

[Naniti]

Naniti settled in at the table across from Lysander. He remarked immediately about potentially foregoing the meal. Well, it certainly could smell more appetizing. And look more appetizing. And could probably taste much more appetizing. Still, "It won't kill us." A beat. "But nothing says it won't make us wish it had." The instructors were arrogant asses, but they weren't genuine sociopaths. Even those self-absorbed pricks knew wasting talent was just waste, and an Empire didn't survive if you killed all your young. Some of the young due to training "accidents", but not all of them.

Of course, Naniti didn't take into account the fact they could single out just part of the Academy, or have another Academy, and so killing some students due to a culinary "accident" was possible. Well, she liked to think of herself as reasonable and smart, but she wasn't all knowing. Or all paranoid.

"Why me?" the Togruta asked why telling his Master would be on her. The Academy should take some ownership for once!

She's been calm, but there was a certain extra attention paid as Lysander took the first bite between the two of them. "Huh." Not bad? Nothing for it then. Slowly, and careful not to let any juice splash on her outfit, Naniti lifted a spoonful to take a bite. The twisted, dubious expression lasted a few chews. At last, she stuck out her tongue. "Who left a droid in charge of the seasoning anyway? What's the point of it being tart and gamey?"

As Lysander asked about the room, Naniti poked the stew with her spoon. Her blue eyes lifted after a second. "They try all the time. Especially if you aren't Human. Thing is," her spoon, empty of content, pointed at Lysander, "the more speciesist they are, the stronger people like me become. Newer students are targeted more frequently. Punching down is one of the qualities some Masters look for." The Togruta smirked, but not with amusement.

The spoon dropped back into the stew as Naniti rocked back for a second with a groan. "Look, I see things, alright. And no. Not dead people. Patterns. I told you outside. Try not to let everyone know about all that; otherwise I'll have to start figuring out everyone's secret to shut them up." A bark of a laugh escaped her. "It's more of a pain than it sounds. Only good thing it's brought me is a little extra attention so I'm not completely ignored by our Great Lords of the Sith, Masters of Everything."

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti
​

“Why you? Simple.. you seem dramatic and loud.”

The teen's head tilted fractionally, observing her critique of the stew, the Academy, and the droid. He kept his composure.. mostly. But the faint curl of his lips betrayed that somewhere beneath that little mask of his, he was secretly entertained.

“Targeting the newer students… not surprising,” he said finally. “I’ve seen the same games played elsewhere. It’s totally sloppy and predictable. And yet,” Lysander gave a small, tight lipped smirk, “it’s useful, if you know what to look for. Observation is worth more than obedience in certain situations..”

Leaning back, elbows came to rest lightly upon the table’s surface.

He leaned back, elbows resting lightly on the table, gaze flicking toward her with a measured intensity. “That attention you draw.. it can possibly be a weapon if you wield it right. And keeping certain.. secrets,” he let the next pause hang for just a second, “could even make others underestimate you.”

Another bite, slower this time. “So.. you see what others miss. You could even notice what they try to hide. That’s a form of power in itself, no?”

He met her smirk with another of his own, sharper this time.. but not unkind.

“But yeah, please just keep your tongue in your mouth while eating. The last thing we need is you making enemies over some droid from the Clone War’s era.”

Lysander swallowed another bite of the stew, not letting it linger on his tongue this time. Straight down.. Functional, just fuel for a body that had already taken too many hits today.

Setting the spoon down, he leaned back slightly, tracing the patterns of light on the table. He traced the faint patterns of light on the table. He hadn’t entertained some of these thoughts during sparring earlier.. they were too consuming to allow while the body and mind had to remain in sync. Even with a brief distraction, he’d end up with a stupid, easily preventable injury.

“I won’t tell anyone.” It sounded like more of a confession than a warning. This time, he considered the cost of overreaching.

Another glance fell on the bowl, but he left it resting there.

If surviving lunch counted toward rank, surely both of them would be at the top of the class.

“So.. do you always volunteer for potentially fatal meals.. or are you just trying to make me look bad?"

 

[Naniti]

"Are you trying to get hit?" Dramatic and loud?

They had a little more to exchange afterward until Lysander got around to a few... recommendations. Naniti couldn't say she fully understood everything the young man was trying to say, however. The broadstrokes were obvious, but how to apply them was another matter. What was the best way to ply secrets anyway?

A twist to her lips and droop to her brow called into question Lysander's critique about her tongue use though. Not that he was wrong, but if it were that easy to make enemies wouldn't such thin-skinned people end up opposed inevitably? Or were they only offended if someone questioned their horrific culinary tastes?

With a silent sigh, the Togruta joined Lysander in eating more of the stew. It was important to consume proper nutrition after a good workout. Not everything was about the Force. Their physical bodies needed to develop and there were ways and then there were better ways of doing just that.

When Lysander said he wouldn't tell anyone, Naniti paused in eating and focused her attention back on him.

"Look bad?" How was that, she wondered? "I only receive so many credits... periodically. Dreadful as this place is, it does pass to keep us alive. I can use my credits for other things. Perks that'll make sure my promise earlier isn't just bluster. I will get stronger. And if you get complacent some day I will beat you." The Togruta smiled at that promise. Nothing bad about having a healthy rivalry. Someone to compare herself to in certain facets.

That left a question in her mind, and Naniti decided to ask it, "Why, do you know of a better way?"

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti
​

Her jab earned a brief and tight press of the lips together, the exact kind of expression from trying to suppress a grin he probably shouldn’t let slip. Lysander’s eyes narrowed just a touch, amusement flickering through them.

“Only if you’re offering.”

The exhale through his nose was nearly a chuckle, but he kept it contained, gaze lowering to the abomination of stew like he was choosing diplomacy for once in his life.

"Don't let credits define you. I mean, perks are nice, sure.. but they won't substitute grit, or real technique." His expression eased just a touch. "And you already have both."

Funny thing was, having someone actually push back on him was… kind of satisfying. Being honest, another mind willing to spar with his own? Not bad at all. Plenty of people in his circle, sure.. but real opposition? Scarce.

“Truth is, making you stronger doesn’t just help you. It will help me too. The better you get, the sharper I have to be. Any skill you refine, every observation you catch, it just forces me to do the same. And that's rare.. having someone push me in ways I don’t even push myself.”

Lysander leaned a little forward this time, elbows braced lightly. “Iron sharpens iron. You getting stronger… it might even keep me grounded. It’s good, Naniti. Not just for you, but for me as well.”

He let those words float in the air. Spoon finally abandoned, stew ignored, perhaps the real feast was the exchange, or himself being honest for the first time today. “It’s not just the fighting. It’s the process, the rhythm of it all, every repetition. I live for that.. it’s the only thing I can’t walk away from.”

Head bowed just so, eyes narrowed to suggest curiosity. “I’ve seen plenty of acolytes wasting themselves. They try everything, then fail at most. But one or two strengths done right.. that could everything. Gives you leverage, or influence.. maybe even both.”