Private The Heart of Noise

[Iandre Athlea]

Her Master had told her she needed to start slowing down and enjoy some of the small things in life. After gaining some leave, she decided to head to Nar Shaddaa. In her time, it had been under the control of the Hutts. Now, it wasn't. Instead, an imperial government held it. It would probably be best if she kept her past Jedi affiliation secret, as well as her current alliance. The former Jedi wasn't dressed in her standard grey robes as she climbed off the transport she had taken.

Stopping to take in a breath, she wrinkled her nose at the stench. Her home of Coruscant didn't smell nearly this bad, but that was over 900 years ago, and she hadn't been back yet. It would take her a little time to adjust to things, but the hurry was something she could get into.

The ecumenopolis never slept, and she got a move on and left the area of the spaceport. It would probably be clear to anybody paying any attention to her that she was a visitor and unfamiliar with the planet. Her lightsaber was hidden, but she wasn't stupid enough not to have it along.

Even though she walked with some confidence, that newbie air hung around her.

Kaelon Virex

 

[Kaelon Virex]

The air on Nar Shaddaa was thick with exhaust and the scent of spice, sharp enough to sting the back of Kael Virex's throat, but he hardly noticed. He'd been here long enough to stop flinching at the smog or the sirens. Still, something tugged at him tonight—a pulse of restlessness. He needed a walk.


He didn't get far.


Kael spotted her the moment she stepped off the transport. Not because she made a scene—quite the opposite. She moved like someone trained, trying not to be noticed, but just unfamiliar enough to catch his eye. She paused at the edge of the disembark ramp, inhaled, and promptly wrinkled her nose.


(Not from around here), he thought with a grin.


She was tall enough to stand out in the crowd, with a way of holding herself that made people subconsciously step aside. Not Corellian military—too refined. Not a smuggler either. Too... measured. The outfit was civilian, practical but stylish, and her eyes? Alert. Calculating. And old—like she'd seen things people twice his age hadn't.


Kael leaned against a lamppost, arms crossed, letting the crowd pass him by as he watched her scan her surroundings. She didn't look lost. Just... misaligned. Like a puzzle piece shoved into the wrong box.


And Maker, she was attractive.

That alone might've pulled him in, but there was something else. A kind of gravity around her. He knew better than to ignore a feeling like that. So he pushed off the post, adjusted his jacket, and slid through the crowd toward her.

Kael fell into step beside her casually, leaving enough distance to not spook her—but just enough charm in his voice to make her look.


"Tell me something," he said, eyes forward, tone light. "Did the ship just hit you with Nar Shaddaa's worst cologne, or do you make that face every time you breathe on a new planet?"

He offered a grin, not the flashy, arrogant one—though he had that in his arsenal—but the slow, easy kind. The kind that disarmed.

"I'm Kael. You looked like you needed a local to help you avoid the tourist traps. Or at least keep you from stepping in a Hutt's leftovers."

Tag: Iandre Athlea

 

[Iandre Athlea]

A voice came from beside her, and she turned her head to look at the speaker. A man a few years older than she was, with hair lighter than hers but almost the same color of eyes. Returning her gaze forward, she considered his question. He kept a slight distance between them, which allowed her to feel a bit more comfortable with his presence.

His tone was charming, and he gave her a friendly smile.

"Nice to meet you, Kael. I'm Iandre. What is the cost of the local help?"

Everything came with a price, and she wondered what his was. She didn't sense he intended her harm, and that was a bonus.

"The cologne is from the planet. How can people get used to it?"

Rubbing at her eye and the itch that came, she hoped that reaction would go away.

Kaelon Virex

 

[Kaelon Virex]

Kael chuckled under his breath at her response, the sound low and easy, like it had been pulled straight from a late-night speakeasy.


"Iandre," he repeated, testing the name on his tongue like a song lyric. "Has a nice cadence to it. Mysterious. Kind of like you."


Her question hung in the air between them for a beat, and Kael dipped his head slightly as if conceding a point.


"Well, the cost of local help usually depends on whether or not I get ditched halfway through the walk." He grinned sidelong. "But for you? Let's call it an investment in good company. Pay me back with conversation. Maybe a drink, if I earn it."

"As for the cologne," he went on, waving a hand around at the smog-thick skyline, "you don't get used to it, you just build up enough internal damage to stop noticing. The secret to surviving Nar Shaddaa is learning which toxins to ignore."

He slowed his pace just enough to study her posture again—rigid, but not hostile. Guarded, but not closed. Her name might be new to him, but that kind of wariness wasn't.

"I'll be straight with you," he added, voice quieter now, no less warm. "I'm not a threat to you, Iandre. Don't know what you've been through, but you walk like someone who's ready to snap a neck if the wind shifts wrong."

He shrugged with casual honesty. "Smart, really. This place does breed the worst of us. But some of us are just... floating. Looking for a reason to breathe deeper than this rot lets us."

His gaze lingered on her a moment longer before he asked gently, "So. What brought you to the moon? Sightseeing? Soul-searching? Or just running from something worse?"

Then he added with a crooked smirk, "I promise not to judge. Unless it's spice tourism. Then I might mock you a little."

Tag: Iandre Athlea

 

[Iandre Athlea]

"I'll accept that price and give you that payment. It can't hurt anything. Thank you. Mysterious huh? What do you want to know?"

Wondering if he was being truthful about the stench, she looked around at the people nearby. Not just him but the other strangers in front of them. Deciding he probably wasn't wrong, she nodded silently. When he made his comment about snapping a neck, she couldn't help but laugh.

"I've been taking lessons from somebody to do just that! Not really, but she has helped teach me some things. I won't hurt you either."

Tilting her head to listen better and to indicate he had her attention, she appreciated the honesty. Giving a shadow of a smile when he finished speaking, she shook her head at the spice statement.

"Nah, I never got into anything illicit. No, spice for me. Living brought me here. It's been suggested I learn how to slow down, smell the flowers, and enjoy the small things. So I figured gaming might be a place to continue that journey."

Growing a little softer, she was telling the truth, but didn't want to broadcast it to everybody around them.

"Do you approach all the new tourists?"

Kaelon Virex

 

[Kaelon Virex]

Kael arched a brow at her offer—genuine conversation in exchange for his time—and gave her a small, approving nod.


"Deal sealed," he said, gesturing like they'd just signed a treaty. "And if you're offering answers, I'm not about to waste the opportunity. So let's start with the obvious—what kind of (mysterious) are we talking? Galactic fugitive? Retired thrill-seeker? Or the classic 'I used to be somebody, now I just want quiet'?"

He grinned as they turned a corner, keeping the pace leisurely, unhurried—like she was already settling in.

At her comment about neck-snapping lessons, Kael let out an actual laugh, tilting his head in playful disbelief.

"Seriously? So you are dangerous. And here I was hoping I was the only person you hadn't tried to strangle today." He gave a mock look of exaggerated relief. "Good to know I'm on the non-snapped list. For now."

Her soft answer about why she'd come caught him slightly off guard. He didn't poke at it, didn't press—just let it land. And when she mentioned gaming, he blinked once, then tilted his head curiously.

"Gaming?" he echoed. "Okay, hold on. Gaming as in sabacc tables and bad decisions? Or gaming like... live-action Holo hunts with stun rifles and emotionally damaged roleplayers?"

There was an exaggerated seriousness to his voice, but his eyes sparkled with good-natured teasing. "Because Nar Shaddaa offers both, and I need to prepare myself accordingly."

She gave that shadow of a smile again—small, guarded, but real—and Kael found himself watching for the next one.

"Still," he said after a beat, "you're not wrong. About slowing down, I mean. Most people think this moon's all grime and crime, and yeah—it is." He smirked, looking up at the sky choked by neon light and smog. "But there's beauty here too. Just not the obvious kind. You've got to find it between the chaos. Like... street sax on Level 42 that only plays after midnight, or the skylight view from the old lift shaft above Torgan's scrapyard. Looks like garbage until the moonlight hits it right."

He turned toward her with a mock-thoughtful expression.

"Also, food. You want small joys? Nar Shaddaa's got food that'll either heal your soul or murder your intestines. Depends on the vendor. If you're feeling brave, there's a woman in the mid-tier district named Kaasha who makes fried gruelcakes that'll ruin all other food forever. Might be 80% oil, but the other 20%? Magic."

Kael gave a playful shudder. "And if you're feeling less brave? There's always Mox's Dumpling Dome. Can't promise what's inside the dumplings, but the place has never exploded. That's a win around here."

He looked back at her with a crooked grin. "So no spice, no violence—unless someone volunteers—and a personal mission to enjoy life a little. I'm into it."

Then he added with a cheeky glint, "And nah. I don't approach all the tourists. Just the ones who look like they might actually be worth the trouble."

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Allowing him to provide a few guesses about her mysteries, she shook her head minutely at each one. Did she want quiet? Not on your life!

"Promise not to laugh? I'm not from this time. I was born somewhere in the range of 42 BBY and somehow survived Order 66."

Then again, he might not be familiar with history from that long ago, but she didn't let that stop her from answering. Lifting a flap of her clothing, she showed him the hilt of her hidden lightsaber. The comforting curve of it nestled against her body, and she let the fabric drop.

"I was a Jedi Padawan, and my master died keeping me alive. Our clones betrayed us, murdered her, and then couldn't find me. So they left."

With that information, he knew more about her than almost anybody else. She could count on her hand the number that did. Smiling at his humor, she liked how he took her answers. There wasn't any plan in her mind to put him on that list either, considering there wasn't one. He didn't need to know that, though.

When he asked what kind of gaming she was interested in, she didn't stop him as she heard the options.

"I had sabacc and bad decisions in mind. But I don't know how to play either."

Their pace slowed, and eventually, she came to a stop. Giving him a chance to tell her about the dangerous beauty to be found on the smuggler's moon.

"You're my guide; where do you suggest learning to live?"

It made her feel welcome when he answered her last question. Not everybody but the ones worth the trouble and effort.

Kaelon Virex

 

[Kaelon Virex]

Kael walked in step with her, expecting a cryptic response or another polite dodge—but what he got had him blinking once, then stopping entirely.

Not from this time?

He let out a short, surprised breath, not quite a laugh, more like someone trying to digest a joke they weren't sure was one. But when she lifted her coat just enough for him to catch the glint of that curved hilt, he knew she wasn't playing.

His brows shot up, and a whistle slipped from his lips.

"Well, damn. You did say not to laugh… good thing I'm stunned into respectful awe instead."

She let the fabric fall again, casual as could be—though he didn't miss the way she held that memory in her voice. Kael rubbed the back of his neck, eyeing her now with something closer to wonder than mischief.

"So… you're telling me you're a walking legend from a bedtime story. A Jedi ghost with perfect cheekbones. I mean—most tourists just bring a datapad and a half-charged translator droid."

He grinned when she smiled at his banter, feeling a slight flush of pride that she hadn't shut him down for his humor. That was progress. He wasn't sure if she'd break his nose or thank him the next time he made a joke, and he liked the tension of it more than he should.

"Order 66... I've heard of it. History lesson wrapped in tragedy. So you survived all that, huh? That means you've already cheated death. Twice, probably. Which makes you exactly the kind of person I'd invite for food, wine, and… well, possibly terrible sabacc."

He let the tease hang, then tapped two fingers to his temple like he'd just remembered something.

"Oh—right. The Gilded Veil." His eyes lit up with mock grandeur. "Best food on the moon. Also happens to have wine that's aged, but not too aged—unlike certain Jedi—and entertainment that doesn't involve blaster wounds. It's a sanctuary for people like you."

He leaned a little closer, his voice dipping with faux seriousness.

"And by people like you, I mean stunning time-travelers with lightsabers and traumatic backstories. We get dozens."

Then, after a short beat, he added with a wink, "Also, I own it."

He said it casually, like it wasn't a big deal, but there was pride in the way he said own. Not inherited, not bought out from someone's debt—his.

"So. First lesson in learning to live? Start where the drinks flow easy, the chairs are comfortable, and no one asks too many questions about ancient galactic wars."

When she said she was here for sabacc and bad decisions but didn't know how to play, Kael let out a soft, delighted laugh.

"Well then, I think we just found our first small joy. I'll teach you sabacc. You can pretend to lose a few hands to lull the sharks, and then we'll destroy their egos together." He gave a mock-villainous smirk. "It'll be bonding. Violent bonding, if you count the glares."

As she came to a stop and turned to him, asking where she should begin this new life of hers, Kael didn't miss a beat.

"You already did," he said with a slow smile. "You stepped off the ship. That's the hard part. The next step?" He extended a hand toward her, not overly formal—just solid and sincere.

"Let me show you where the small things live. You'll like it. I promise—and I've got fried gruelcakes to back that promise up."

 

[Iandre Athlea]

"I wouldn't say I'm some walking legend. Not yet."

Tipping her head just slightly to emphasize the final part, she felt he was being honest about his surprise and awe. Lifting a hand to touch her cheekbone, she wasn't entirely sure how to respond to the compliment. Lowering her hand as he moved past her looks, she nodded when he said, at least twice.

"Yes, Kael. I also escaped a malfunctioning hyperdrive, and that's how I ended up now. I think everybody on board survived. I was alone in my escape pod. I went into a meditation, and it kept me alive. I've spent the last year or so recovering, learning about now and then my current master suggesting I learn how to slow down."

At the mention of a droid, she wrinkled her nose.

"I'm not a big fan of droids."

If he wanted another history lesson, she'd give it to him but left it at that for now. Noticing his pause, she couldn't help but wonder what he was going to say initially before turning it to terrible sabacc. Bringing her brows together, she wasn't sure if he was serious or not. Deciding he likely wasn't, as there weren't many time-traveling people. However, her master had told her about himself and one other person.

"That sounds perfect. Easy drinks, sabacc lessons, and hard glares."

Looking at the extended hand, she accepted his offer and allowed him to guide her steps.

Kaelon Virex

 

[Kaelon Virex]

Kael watched the way she tilted her head on that "not yet," and couldn't help the grin that followed.


"Oh no," he said playfully. "That sounds like the kind of thing a future legend would say. You even paused for dramatic effect. It was subtle—but it was there."


When she touched her cheek in confusion over his compliment, Kael wisely didn't press the point. There was something almost innocent about how she responded—like being flattered still took effort to process. That only made it more real.


He listened as she spoke of the hyperdrive incident, his expression shifting from flirtatious to something more thoughtful. Her story had the bones of a tragedy, but she didn't wear it like a wound—more like armor.


"Meditation kept you alive," he echoed, leading them off the main artery of foot traffic. "Now that's something. Most people panic when the caf machine breaks down."


They passed under a buzzing neon sign in the shape of a dancing Twi'lek—Nar Shaddaa's idea of subtle art—before taking a side street filled with glowing lanterns and a less aggressive tempo. The air still smelled vaguely like fuel, but here it mingled with warm spices and something vaguely sweet.


At her remark about droids, Kael smirked, his voice lowering like they were sharing a criminal secret.


"Well, then we're halfway to soulmates. I had a protocol droid once that corrected my accent every time I said kark." He gave her a faux-serious look. "I've never forgiven it."


He paused briefly by a food cart—no real sign, just a fat Nikto in a stained apron flipping something on a sizzling flatpan. Kael slid a few credits across the counter.


"One gruelcake. Fresh, with extra crunch," he said, then to Iandre, "First rule of the moon: don't ask what it's made of. Second rule: don't ask where it came from."


The vendor handed over a folded bit of fried something wrapped in flimsi-paper. Kael passed it to her with a slight bow of presentation.


"Small joy number one. Try not to die."


As they walked, he glanced at her again, head tilting with curiosity that wasn't just for show.


"So—Coruscant," he began, easing into it. "I'm guessing you were raised in the Temple? Before the fall?"


There was a note of caution in his tone—not prying, just trying to understand her roots. "I've only been once, and the place overwhelmed me. Too shiny, too cold. But I'm guessing for someone like you, it was more… sacred."


He paused again, eyes flicking up to a passing speeder overhead before they rounded another corner.


"What do you remember most about it?" he asked gently. "The Temple? The city? The people?"

"Or was it all just lightsaber drills and moral lectures about attachment?"

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Chuckling a little at his comment, she didn't reply to it. There wasn't a need. She was no longer a Jedi, and she didn't feel very legendary. She was almost a millennia out of time, and even after a year, she still sometimes felt it. Today wasn't one of them, though. Nodding as he restated the information she had given him was correct, she smiled a bit at his caf comment.

"I do know one person that would. She's the one teaching me how to look like I'm willing to snap a person's neck. I can make my caf though. Part of my survival skills."

Glancing around them, she noticed the change in the atmosphere. Something quieter but still active. With the change of air, Iandre slowed down to breathe in through her nose. Giving him a mischievous smile, "What do you need with a protocol droid?"

Accepting the greasy fried and totally questionable food from Kael, she listened to his rule number one. Blinking at it, she hasn't ever tried to die. Taking a bit of the breaded item, she nodded.

"It's all I knew—life in the Temple. The Temple might have been sacred, but the planet was a shining beacon of hope. The center of the Galaxy, a place where people came to find that. When I was around twenty, the Clone Wars started."

Eating another bite, it hadn't killed her yet, and she savored the taste of the heart-clogging, crunchy food.

"The lightsaber drills and lectures were more designed for the Younglings. Yes, I was exposed to them too, probably to the detriment of the Order. I don't call myself a Jedi any longer. I'm a part of the Lilaste Order and the Diarchy."

Kaelon Virex

 

[Kaelon Virex]

Kael watched her take that first cautious bite, half-expecting a dramatic cough or grimace. Instead, she nodded and went in for another. He gave a small, impressed shrug.

"Look at that—brave and alive. You're officially more Nar Shaddaa than half the residents already."

As she spoke of the Temple, his smirk faded just enough to give her space. The reverence in her voice when describing Coruscant made sense—she wasn't romanticizing it, just recalling something lost. A center of gravity that no longer existed.

He glanced over at her, listening without interruption.

"So you were there when it all broke apart," he said softly. "You saw the shift."

Then she said it—I don't call myself a Jedi any longer—and that pulled Kael's gaze. Her tone wasn't bitter, just grounded. A truth she'd long since accepted.

At the mention of the Lilaste Order and Diarchy, he gave a small nod.

"I've heard of the Diarchy," he said. "A little obscure out here, but some traders coming from deeper in the Core whisper about it—like it's a myth, or a religion trying to be more than just belief. Didn't realize they were real. Didn't realize you were one of them."

 

[Iandre Athlea]

"We were blind to the shift. The Jedi of my time were a bloated organization that was doomed to fall. In watching the history of what happened, I could see it. Back then, not at all."

Shaking her head to answer the unspoken question. To give him clarification and understanding. Moving the hand that held the food, she tipped her head at it with a small smile.

"I think it's shortened my life by about a day, and I haven't had more than two bites. It's good, though, in its own way. Thank you for this exposure."

Taking the walk slowly, she listened to what he had to say about her order and the government she followed. Gem and Zinayn had both told her many in the galaxy weren't sure of them. Now, their words were coming back to remind her. Stopping, she glanced up at the starless sky and pointed where she thought they were located.

"If you look at the map, they are far to the north of us here, if those are the proper directions in space. It's not really closer to the Core. That's where I'm from. Remember?"

Finishing with a touch of a smile, there was some sorrow in her eyes. A memory of what she had lost, but there might also be hope hiding in them. Tipping her head up, her chin rose slightly as she looked at him to try and get a reading of the man next to her.

"Is it a bad thing, Kael? They, along with my master, have helped me get settled into this time. Giving me a place to recover and grow. A chance to be more than what I could have been as a Jedi. Do I follow any other creed? No. I have what I believe is the right thing to do and will follow it. No code, creed, or anybody dictating to me what I can or cannot do. My old life is over, and that part of me is dead."

Her tone became slightly passionate as she spoke, and by the time she finished, she was breathing a bit hard. Not out of breath, though, and she quickly regained control of herself.

"Does this change how you will treat me? There will be no change in how I am with you."

Kaelon Virex

 

[Kaelon Virex]

Kael listened.

Not just the surface words—but the weight underneath. The disappointment in her past, the fierce resolve in her present. The way her voice held pain but refused to be broken by it. And when she looked at him—chin tipped, eyes steady, searching for something—he met her gaze and didn't flinch.

"You were there," he said gently, nodding with real understanding now. "In the center of the storm, while the rest of us only grew up with stories. I don't blame you for not seeing it coming. Hell, even hindsight's a luxury most people lie to themselves about."

He gave a small smile when she gestured to the questionable food, and added with a wink, "If that fried heart attack knocks a day off your life, I'll personally buy you two more to make up for it. Consider it a local loyalty reward."

When she pointed to the invisible stars—naming directions, speaking of north in a way only a former spacefaring warrior might—Kael looked up too. He imagined it: distant systems, quiet governments, orders rising like whispers in the dark. So far removed from the noise of Nar Shaddaa.

Then she dropped the question.

"Is it a bad thing, Kael?"

He stopped walking. Not abruptly, but deliberately. Gave her his full attention.

"No," he said simply. "No, it's not a bad thing. I think it's brave. You were handed the end of your world, and instead of crawling into a corner to mourn it, you decided to build something better. For yourself."

He tilted his head, that crooked half-smile returning, softer now.

"Choosing your own path? That's not weakness. That's a strength most people never find. You're not chained to the past, or some code that got twisted by politics and war. You're doing what feels right. That takes guts, Iandre."

As she spoke of not following any creed anymore—of living by her own compass—Kael's gaze lingered with admiration. And when her voice rose, her passion breaking through the quiet composure, he didn't back away. He just waited until her breathing calmed again, until her mask reformed.


Then, quietly, but with a trace of heat in his voice, he said, "That part of you may be dead, but the person standing in front of me? She's very much alive. And if you ask me, she's the more interesting one anyway."

Her final question came like a blade wrapped in vulnerability.

"Does this change how you will treat me?"

Kael stepped forward slightly—just enough to close the space between truth and reaction.

"Only thing that's changed," he said, voice smooth, "is that I'm even more curious now."

Then, slipping right back into his signature grin, he raised his brows and added with a theatrical gesture toward the glowing doors ahead:

"Now, allow me to officially invite you to The Gilded Veil—where the wine flows, the floors shine, and the entertainment includes watching me try to pretend I know what I'm doing as your gracious host."

He leaned closer, as if sharing a classified secret.

"Owner, operator, and self-declared boss of the place. At least until someone throws me off the balcony. But until then?"

He extended his arm in mock chivalry, voice dropping into playful warmth.

"Tonight, it's yours. Food, drink, peace—whatever you need. Let's show Nar Shaddaa what the 'dead' are really capable of."