Private To Stand Between

[Alexi di Garthos]

The air on Azbrian always carried a stillness that felt deliberate. It wasn't just peaceful, nor quite. It was balanced.

Alexi stood at the edge of the appointed terrace; her hands loosely clasped behind her back as her gaze drifted across the horizon. The city below shimmered in muted tones, with architecture that neither imposed nor yielded, as though even the stone here had agreed to neutrality. It was a world that refused to take sides.

For now.

The formalities with Azbrian’s leadership had concluded hours ago. Agreements reached between the two worlds. Trade routes were outlined. Courtesies were exchanged with practiced precision. That had been the easy part.

This was something else entirely. She had chosen this location carefully. It was open, but not exposed. Private, but not hidden. A place where neither party could claim advantage without appearing to do so. Optics mattered. They always did. Especially when one invited the Sith.

Alexi exhaled slowly, steadying her thoughts; not out of nerves, but discipline. Ralltiir stood at a crossroads, whether the galaxy acknowledged it or not. Independence had preserved them, but isolation was a slower kind of vulnerability. One that did not announce itself until it was too late. Allies were not always chosen. Sometimes, they were understood.

Her chin lifted slightly as she sensed it; the subtle shift in presence before any sound of approach. Whether it was instinct, experience, or something more difficult to define, she could never quite say. Alexi did not turn immediately. Instead she let them arrive and observe.

Only after a measured pause did she speak with her voice calm and even, carrying just enough to reach them without effort.
“Azbrian has a way of reminding it's guests that neutrality is not the absence of power, but the restraint of it.” Now she turned. Her gaze settled upon the representative of the Sith Covenant; not with challenge, and not with deference. But with intent. “I trust that your journey was uneventful.”

Tag: Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Alexi di Garthos​

He’d been on the move for weeks. Hyperspace jumps strung together, negotiations held in chambers and spaceports. At times, it felt like he were barely still long enough to refill his canteen before pressing on. In other words, three systems in five days had taught him to partition all weariness away from his voice, his eyes, and his hands. This was Lysander’s first time on Azbrian soil, the Covenant’s influenced stretching this far.. but thinly. Their attention was pulled elsewhere as of late, near the borders of another faction where friction was increasing.

The young Sith allowed himself a moment longer to absorb the panorama before responding. Their introduction at last month’s summit had been nothing but formality. A few formal nods across a chamber of competing interest. Imperials, Jedi. It was interesting to say the least. Here, without another of the Covenant’s shadow directly at his back, perhaps could better gauge the frequencies beneath the woman’s words. Nuance could easily be obscured, which was why he preferred solitude, for he often found clarity; in this relative privacy, perhaps he would find insight. The Force couldn’t solve everything, that much he was certain.

“Uneventful journeys are luxuries rarely afforded these days.”

Lysander didn’t step toward her, but to the edge of the terrace, so that he might maintain careful choreography. “You speak of restraint,” he observed, his tone calm. “An interesting choice of virtue to highlight, no? Especially when most of the galaxy scrambles for one advantage or another.”

It always helped to know who he was speaking with, not just the mask worn in council chambers.. but the mind behind it.

“Ralltiir’s independence has been watched with interest.” A pause hung between them. “As has your appointment as its voice.”

An open palm hovered, leaving space for candor.

“I’m curious how you see that responsibility shaping the path ahead.”

 

[Alexi di Garthos]

Alexi did not immediately answer him. Silence; in her experience, was not a void to be filled, but a tool to be used. She let it settle between them. Not as defiance, but as consideration. His words were measured and intentional. He was not here to posture. That, in itself, was worth noting.

She stepped forward at last, though not to close the distance entirely. Just enough to shift from observation to participation. The horizon remained in her peripheral, as though she refused to let the wider galaxy fall out of mind, even for a single conversation. “Responsibility rarely shapes the path,” she said quietly. “It clarifies it.” Her gaze moved back to him, steady and unhurried. “Ralltiir does not have the luxury of indulgence. Not in ambition. Nor in ideology.” A slight pause was given; not for effect, but for precision. “Every decision we make must answer a single question: does it preserve our people, or does it place them at risk?” There was no apology in it. No attempt to soften the edge of pragmatism. Only truth, plainly offered.

She turned slightly, one hand coming to rest lightly along the terrace railing. It was an unconscious gesture that was moreso grounding than defensive. “Independence is often mistaken for distance,” Alexi continued. “It is not. We are… aware of the galaxy. It's movements. It's fractures.” Her eyes flickered briefly, not away from him, but through the space between them; as if acknowledging the unseen currents that Force-Users are known to utilize. “The Sith Covenant among them.” It was not accusation. Not an invitation. But a recognition.

Alexi's attention returned fully to him then, with her intent sharpening. It was not confrontational, but unmistakably deliberate. “You ask how that responsibility shapes the path ahead.” A faint breath, almost thoughtful. “It demands that I understand not only those who would stand beside us…” She studied him with a slight tilt of her head. “…but those who would test the cost of that decision.” Now, she allowed the faintest shift in tone. It was not warmer, not colder, but more direct. “Which places you, Lysander, in a rather unique position.” A pause followed that was not empty, but offered. “Tell me,” she said, her voice lowering just enough to invite honesty without requiring it, “does the Covenant see Ralltiir as something to be respected or something to be resolved?”

Tag: Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Alexi di Garthos​

"Clarification through limitation then," Lysander observed, the Sith's voice carrying no judgment. Emerald irises tracked her advance in a manner similar to how one reads a battlefield. But not as prey.. an equation. And those required solutions. "That's a rather interesting perspective from a world that stands at the nexus of so many possible futures, is it not?" He was present without any further movement. "Though, I often wonder if clarity and truth are always the same thing."

"The question isn't whether Ralltiir should protect its people," his gaze would then meet hers, "but whether isolation truly achieves that protection." He allowed a thoughtful silence before continuing. "The galaxy doesn't grant exemptions from its conflicts. It only delays collecting its due. I find it.. interesting.. that you recognize this, and still maintain your distance."

Her question arrived, and he considered it in silence, softening what came next at first, then decided against it.

"The Covenant sees Ralltiir as inevitable," he continued, opening his palms once more. "But, not as another conquest. The galaxy is changing, faster than ever." Memory of the Tapani Sector being butchered flashed behind his eyes. "We do intend to bring your world into our storm, yes. That is a truth I must give you without any decoration." He allowed those words to settle between them. "I want you to consider the alternative. Neutrality is not always protection. Sometimes, it is postponement."

His head tilted slightly to one side. "I am, perhaps, a more accommodating Sith than most you'll encounter in the Core, and far easier to work with." The corner of his mouth quirked in what wasn't quite a smile. "There are terms we could reach that might satisfy us both."

One step was taken back, gesturing toward the terrace railing, as an another exhale escaped him. "I'm at your disposal. We can take this discussion wherever you feel it belongs."

 

[Alexi di Garthos]

Alexi did not answer him immediately. Not because there was nothing to say; but because he had offered more than a statement. He had offered a framework. One that carried it's own assumptions beneath the surface of it. Her gaze did not leave him as the silence settled.

“You speak of inevitability,” she said at last; her voice even, though quieter now. “As though it is a quality inherent to the galaxy, rather than a conclusion drawn by those who intend to shape it.” There was no sharpness in her tone. Only precision.

Then she made a slight shift of her hand along the railing, a movement that was grounding more than gesturing. “Storms are rarely inevitable,” Alexi continued. “They are the result of converging conditions. Pressure. Direction. Choice.” A brief pause followed. “They feel unavoidable only to those standing directly beneath them.” Her attention held his, both steady and unyielding in a way that did not need to announce itself. “You are correct in one respect,” she allowed. “Neutrality is not protection. It is a decision.” Her head tilted, just slightly. “One that must be revisited constantly, not assumed to hold.” Then she added more directly: “But do not mistake that for passivity.”

The words were not raised. If anything, they softened; but the meaning beneath them did not. “Ralltiir is not waiting for the galaxy to collect its due,” she said. “We are deciding, moment by moment, what we are willing to allow....and what we are not.”

A pause was taken. This one deliberate. His offer had not been ignored. It had simply not been accepted as presented. “You say there are terms we could reach,” Alexi continued, her tone shifting. It was not warmer, nor colder; but more exact. “And perhaps there are.” Her gaze flickered briefly. Not away, but through again, acknowledging the currents he represented without yielding to them. “But terms require a mutual understanding. And understanding begins with clarity,” she said, returning - not coincidentally - to where he had started. “Not the kind shaped by intention….but the kind that remains when intention is removed.” Now, just ever so slightly, she narrowed the focus. “You have told me what the Covenant intends,” Alexi said. “What you have not told me… is what it is willing to relinquish.” She paused then, her gaze never leaving his, as though his eyes alone could convey what his words would not. “Those are not the same thing.”

Tag: Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Alexi di Garthos​

"You have faith in such choice. But can one individual truly alter currents that have shaped entire civilizations? As if we can simply decide to overturn what has been in motion for thousands of years. What if the decision you believe you're making is only you finally aligning with a current that was already there?"

He let the thought settle before continuing, watching her face for any sign of understanding. "The Covenant surrenders almost nothing," Lysander continued. "It reveres momentum as a fundamental law. Once you commit to a path, it assumes the galaxy will reshape itself around that trajectory." And well, history had yet to disprove the assumption.

The blonde exhaled slowly. "But you ask what I would give up. I may abandon the comfort of inevitability. I've seen the ruin that follows when people cling to such delusions. And I've witnessed entire civilizations crumble when leaders begin mistaking destruction for strength."

His posture settled once more. "But my autonomy remains non-negotiable. As does my duty to those under my protection. I've felt the hollow aftermath when leaders abandon either. I cannot walk that path."

After a few seconds of silence followed as he tilted his head slightly. "You wanted clarity. Then here it is: the Covenant may demand whatever it pleases. But what I surrender is mine to determine. And I choose with exceptional care. If we're speaking of terms, tell me, what does Ralltiir deem an acceptable price."

 

[Alexi di Garthos]

Alexi did not answer him immediately. Not out of uncertainty of her reply, but because his words required separation. Not all of it was one thing. Not all of it deserved the same weight. “The current that you describe,” she said at last, her voice quiet but steady, “is only as absolute as the perspective of the one standing within it.” Her gaze held his, though there was a subtle shift now. It was not resistance, but distance from the inevitability he proposed. “Civilizations are shaped over thousands of years, yes,” she continued. “But they are also altered - irreversibly - by moments. Decisions made by individuals who understood precisely when to move with the current….and when to step out of it.” A small pause followed as she considered which of her thoughts to relay to him.

“I do not assume that I can overturn it,” Alexi said. “Only that I am responsible for recognizing which direction it is moving, and what it will carry with it when it passes.” Her hand rested lightly against the railing once more, grounding her, and keeping her measured. “And whether my world is meant to be part of that movement….or the ground beneath it.” The words settled, not as defiance but as clarity. Internally Alexi was studying the board and moving her pieces into the strategic directions that she wanted.

When she spoke again, her tone shifted. Not softer but more precise. “You are correct,” she said. “The Covenant relinquishes very little. That is not a flaw. It is structure.” A faint breath was taken. “But structures reveal themselves most clearly at their edges.” Her gaze did not waver from his own. “You speak of autonomy. Of duty. Of choosing what you will surrender, rather than allowing it to be taken.” A slight inclination of her head towards his stance. It was an acknowledgment to it, not an agreement.
“That is something that I understand.”

The silence that followed was brief, but intentional. “And it is also where our terms begin.” Now, she answered him. “Ralltiir does not offer itself,” Alexi said, her voice even, unembellished. “Not to the Republic. Not to the Covenant. Not to any power that would seek to absorb it into something larger than it was meant to be.” No edge. No escalation. Just fact. “What we do offer,” she continued, “is continuity.” Her gaze drifted briefly; not away from him, but outward, as though encompassing more than just the two of them. “A stable corridor. Financial systems that remain intact regardless of which borders shift around them. Resources that are not extracted in excess, and a population that is not displaced to satisfy expansion.” A slight pause was given. “In return, we require the same.” Her attention then returned fully to him now. “Non-interference in internal governance. Preservation of our cultural and economic structures. And the understanding that any cooperation given - military or otherwise - is offered by choice, not expectation.” Her voice lowered slightly then; not in volume, but in weight. “We will not become a foothold. Nor a prize.” A small silence followed before she spoke even more quietly: “If conflict reaches our borders, we will act in a manner that preserves our people first. That is not negotiable.” And there it was. Not stated as preference. But as a priority.

Her gaze held his, both steady and searching; not for reaction, but for truth. “You ask what price is acceptable,” Alexi said at last. A faint, almost imperceptible shift appeared in her expression; something more human beneath the diplomacy. “There are only two.” A brief pause. “What we can give….and remain ourselves. And what we would lose….if we chose incorrectly.”

Tag: Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Alexi di Garthos​

Lysander dipped his head slowly. "You present continuity as a gift," he said, scratchy on that last word. His eyes locked on hers, as if trying to find the margin she'd drawn between independence and alliance. "A corridor that survives shifting borders.. that is value is beyond question. Your refusal to serve as a stepping stone or trophy, that is who you are. I respect that strength."

The Sith's expression softened, enough to seem real. "But stable things break easily," he continued, softer now. "When conflict spills over, be it pirates, insurgents, the tides of war.. you pledge self-preservation first. I hear that promise. But at what cost? Will you grant our fleets safe passage while others are taken away? Alliances demand reciprocity. If we're protecting your continuity, we need more than just space between us. We need you committed. Going with the flow when it works for us... and standing your ground when we need backup."

A brief pause ensued. "I believe this is not an abstract doctrine for you. So really, how would we handle the rough patches ahead? What are you willing to give up to stay who you are?" After a heartbeat, he shifted. Not forward, but aside. His posture eased just enough to signal a different kind of conversation.

"Walk with me," Lysander said quietly, stripped of the envoy's typical formal architecture. "We've been talking about borders and continuity. I want to know what you see past the next emergency. Not what Ralltiir wants or what anyone expects... what you want."

With a pivot, he angled toward the direction he intended to move, hoping she would join him. "Set aside our titles for a minute. Talk like we're the ones who'll actually live with whatever we decide here. Tell me the future you really want to build. Not the one you're defending, but the one you believe in."

 

[Alexi di Garthos]

Alexi did not move immediately when he stepped away. Not in refusal, but in consideration. Then, after a brief pause, she turned and followed. Her pace matched his without adjustment, as though the decision had already been made before the invitation was given.

“You’re right about one thing,” she said as they walked, her tone quiet, but no less precise. “Continuity only has value if it survives pressure.” Her gaze remained forward now, no longer fixed on him, but aware of him in the space beside her. “And pressure reveals whether something was stable or simply untested.” A small pause followed. “You’re asking for commitment,” Alexi continued. “Not proximity. Not tolerance.” Now, she answered him directly. “You will have passage,” she said. “Defined, consistent, and honored.” Her voice did not rise. It didn’t need to. “Ralltiir’s corridors will remain open to Covenant fleets under agreed conditions. In times of conflict, those same corridors will close to opposing military forces.”

A slight shift of her gaze was made; not to him, but toward the horizon ahead. “Trade will not be interrupted. Civilian movement will not be weaponized. What sustains the system remains untouched.” Then, more quietly she added: “That is not flexibility. It is structure.” Alexi let that settle before continuing. “And if conflict reaches beyond the borders - if it threatens the stability that we’ve agreed to preserve - Ralltiir will not remain passive.” There it was. Measured and Intentional. “We will commit forces where it serves the preservation of that stability,” Alexi said. “Not as an extension of another power’s will, but as a defense of the conditions that allow us to exist at all.” A brief pause as she let those words settle for a moment. “You will have support,” she clarified. “But not ownership.” The words were not sharp. But they did not yield.

Silence followed for a few steps. Not strained and not empty. Then he shifted the conversation. And so did she.

Alexi’s expression changed, though only subtly. Something quieter. More inward. “You ask what I want,” she said at last. She was not being evasive. She was being careful. “For Ralltiir….or for myself?” A slight tilt of her head was made, though her gaze remained forward. “Because for most of my life, those have not been separate questions.” A breath, soft and measured. “I was not raised to want things in isolation,” Alexi continued. “I was raised to understand the cost of them.” Another small pause. “And to decide whether they were worth what they would require of others.”

Her hand shifted lightly at her side; not guarded, not open. Simply present. “When I look ahead,” she said, more quietly now, “I don’t see expansion. Or dominance.” A faint shake of her head. “I see a world that remains....intact.” Her gaze lifted slightly, as though tracing something beyond the immediate path. “Where it's people are not asked to become something else in order to survive. Where it's value is not measured by how much of it can be taken, but by how well it endures without losing itself.”

Now, just slightly; she turned her head toward him. “That is the future I believe in.” A brief pause. It would have been easy to stop there. But she didn’t. “And for myself…” Alexi added, her voice softer - not weaker, but more difficult to read. A flicker of something unspoken passed through her expression. Gone almost as soon as it appeared. “I intend to ensure that I am not the one who failed to see the cost of a decision until it was already paid.” Her gaze held his for a moment longer than before. Not guarded. Not open. But something in between. “Everything else,” she said quietly, “is secondary to that.” Her private life is hers alone, and no one ever sees her but the title that she carries; and so she presents nothing less in public.

Tag: Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Alexi di Garthos​

They walked the terrace together, falling into step. Night was coming. Below them, the city waited, its transparisteel windows lit up one by one. Lysander studied the woman’s profile against the dimming light. From there, he weighed her words the way a jeweler might examine an unfamiliar stone. “An interesting choice of metaphor from someone whose world has endured so much of it.” Her pace was matched, hands clasping behind his back.

“The Covenant doesn’t seek to test Ralltiir’s stability.. rather to ensure it remains uncompromised by forces that would exploit any.. flexibility.” His eyes, green as Naboo’s forest in, calculated the space between them. “Your terms are reasonable. Defined passages. Conditional access. Yes.” A smile touched the corner of his mouth. “You offer structure where others might see only further constraint. That, I find refreshing.” He paused, then added, “From experience, I find that the galaxy rewards those who understand that true power lies not in dominance, but in selective application of strength. Your Ralltiir may yet prove this truth to others. Time will tell.”

“Structure creates its own kind of freedom. When boundaries are clear, movement within them becomes easier, no?” He stepped closer, testing that boundary himself. “It’s why I came to you directly, rather than through official channels. From what I witnessed at the summit, I wouldn’t expect passivity from you. Nor would I ever desire it. Power observed but unused becomes.. Theoretical. Personally, I’ve learned to appreciate practical demonstrations. Your independence is precisely what gives your alliance value. Puppets make terrible partners.” He gestured toward the path ahead. “I’m not looking to collect territories, Alexi. I’m building something that lasts beyond individual ambitions.. mine included.” A topic he wasn’t opposed to discussing, for the sake of building rapport, if nothing more.

“Ownership is overrated,” murmured softly. “Influence must flow both ways, or it becomes brittle.” He held her gaze a moment longer. “And I think we understand each other better than either of us expected to.”

Steps remained unhurried. “That’s a diplomatic way of saying you’ve been carrying the weight of an entire system on your shoulders.” His voice carried warmth that hadn’t been there earlier. “But I wonder if you’ve ever considered that desire can be a strength, not just a burden. It is worth considering.” The blonde gestured vaguely toward the horizon. “Sometimes, the greatest protection comes from reaching beyond what seems possible. I learned this after my time on Korriban, at the Kor’ethyr Academy.” Regardless of Light or Dark, or any doctrine, growth required transformation. “I’m trying to be straight with you here. If you’ll allow me. Not as an Envoy, but as one who sees potential being.. constrained. What if the choice isn’t between changing or remaining the same, but between changing on your own terms or having change forced upon you?”

The young Sith studied her visage. “I’ll start with an admission of my own. I find that there's something fascinating about watching someone calculate every word so carefully.” His tone was conversational. “From the Core to the Outer Rim, most hide their ambitions behind a sense of false modesty. You hide yours behind duty."

Finally, he turned to face her directly, blocking the path. “But I wonder what you’d do if you allowed yourself to want something purely for yourself. Just once.” Tilting his head, the line of his jaw was exposed in the light. “The most disciplined minds often harbor the most.. interesting desires.” One finger traced along the seam of his peacoat. “Don’t they, Alexi?”

“What if I told you first what I want first?” Pupils dilated to another shade. “If it were to help you, of course. No diplomatic codes. No fancy phrasing.”

 

[Alexi di Garthos]

Alexi did not stop when he stepped into her path. Not immediately. But her pace slowed; just enough that the moment did not become confrontation, but choice. Her gaze lifted to meet his, steady….though something in it had shifted. Not softened. Not yielded. But aware. “You’re very practiced,” she said quietly. There was no accusation in her words. No edge. Only observation. “In knowing when to change the shape of a conversation.” A small pause followed. Not to resist him, but to separate what she was feeling from what he intended her to feel.

When she spoke again, her voice was no less calm; but more deliberate now. “You speak of desire as though it is something that I’ve denied myself,” Alexi continued. “As though restraint and absence are the same thing.” A faint tilt of her head was made as she observed him. “They are not.” Her gaze held his, unbroken. “I do want things.” Her admission was simple and carefully given. “But I choose which of them are allowed to matter.”

A quiet breath passed that was both measured and grounding. “You’re not wrong,” she added. “There are….expectations. Responsibilities. A weight that does not leave much room for indulgence without consequence.” Her expression shifted slightly then. It was not open; but no longer entirely distant. “But that does not mean that there is nothing beneath it.”

A brief silence followed. And then she moved again, not away from him, but past; continuing the walk he had interrupted, reclaiming the motion without breaking the moment. “I am glad we’ve come to an understanding,” Alexi said, her tone returning slightly to it's diplomatic clarity. “Though whether your Covenant shares your perspective….remains to be seen.” A subtle glance toward him. It was not dismissive, but measured. “I would prefer that it does.” Now, more quietly: “It would make what comes next….considerably less complicated.”

Another few steps passed before she spoke again. This time her tone was slightly different. “You offered to speak plainly,” she said. “And without structure.” A slight turn of her head was made; just enough to acknowledge him without fully yielding the space. “Then I will listen.”

A pause. And then, just enough of herself to answer without surrendering: “For what it is worth…” Alexi added, her voice softer; not for effect, but because the words required it. “I do not find desire to be a burden.” A faint flicker of something passed through her expression. Gone quickly; but not before it existed. “I find it to be….something that must be chosen carefully.” Her gaze met his again. Steady. Intent. “And lived with….fully.”

A beat was taken as she shifted the conversation back to him. “Tell me what you want, Lysander.”

Tag: Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Alexi di Garthos​

“What I seek is not some grandiose vision, but an architectural solution to a structural problem.” Once more, he surveyed the metropolis below. Lysander imagined even those had fractures at street level. Or maybe that was just residue left after years spent in the Outer Rim. “The Core’s fundamental error lies in conflating longevity with resilience, tradition with efficacy. Those of us who’ve navigated its internal mechanisms understand such fallacies.” Both hands behind his back, spine aligning. “I’ve witnessed entire governance structures collapse under the weight of their own institutional narcissism. Sectors have decayed while maintaining masks. The Core exhibits identical pathologies even now. Rigid and self-serving. My objective is authentic stability. I don’t care for theater. I never have.”

A measured breath was drawn. "This necessitates insulating the Core from Jedi ideological.. hegemony. They’ve spent centuries selling everyone this story that they’re the galaxy’s only real peacekeepers.. that falling in line equals keeping the peace. But you know what happens when everyone just falls in line? Nothing. Absolutely nothing happens. And the Core will never stand on its own two feet if it keeps buying what they’re selling.”

Lysander’s gaze sharpened analytically. “The Sith have persisted through systematic eradication attempts for far too long. Which is why I envision a unified structure. Call it an empire, a foundation, a network of influence.. I don’t believe it is easy, but I do believe it possible. In practical terms, I require leverage to prevent the Core’s self destruction.”

The Sith’s eyes narrowed in consideration. Her framing was intriguing. An interesting deflection, really. “Desire as choice,” echoed lightly, a fingertip pressing lightly against his lower lip. Was this her truth, or simply what she needed to believe? “How diplomatic. Most beings are slaves to it,” noted with clinical detachment. The observation was nearly anthropological. “But passion doesn’t submit to parliamentary procedure, does it?” The question hummed between them. “Tell me what happens when those careful choices of yours collide with the unexpected? When was the last time you were truly surprised by what you wanted?”

Most creatures he’d known were bound by their hungers.. not their philosophies.

“I allowed you to see me as a messenger because it was convenient. People grasp simple roles easily. A role people actually understand.” Stepping forward, he would move beyond her reache, a few paces ahead on the path they’d only recently begun to walk. “But the truth is, I am more than that.”

 

[Alexi di Garthos]

Alexi listened to him without interruption. Not to the rhetoric; though it was there. Not to the structure; though it was deliberate. But to the intent beneath it.

When he moved ahead of her, she did not quicken her pace. She allowed the distance to exist for a few steps before closing it again at her own choosing. “You’re not wrong about the Core,” she said at last; her voice even, though quieter now. “It has a tendency to preserve it's image long after it's foundations begin to fracture.” Her gaze drifted briefly across the city below, where light gathered in clean lines that revealed nothing of what lay beneath them. “And the Jedi…” a small pause followed that was more deliberate than the last, “have not been as impartial as they believe themselves to be.” There was no heat in it. Nor accusation. Only recognition. “I have seen decisions made in the name of balance that carried consequences no different than those they claimed to oppose.” Her attention returned to him, steady. “So no,” Alexi said quietly. “I do not mistake alignment for righteousness.”

A brief silence followed as she considered him; not as an envoy now, but as something more defined by his own admission. “You speak of structure,” she continued. “Of insulating instability. Of building something that does not collapse under the weight of its own illusion.” A slight inclination of her head. “That is not the language of a messenger. And not the ambition of one.” She let that settle; giving him the recognition that he had been quietly asserting. Then she continued with “You asked what happens when my choices are....disrupted,” Alexi said, her tone shifting towards something not defensive, but more precise. “When something unexpected forces a reassessment.” Her gaze held his, unflinching. “I adapt.” It was simple. Unadorned. “I was not raised to mistake control for certainty,” she continued. “Only to understand that when it is lost….the next decision matters more than the last.” A faint breath was then softly released. “Surprise is not the danger.” Now, more quietly: “Misjudging what it costs you to respond to it is.”

A small silence followed. Then, just slightly; she allowed something more personal to surface. Not fully. But enough. “You assume that careful choice limits desire,” Alexi said. “That it constrains it.” A faint tilt of her head. “It does not.” Her gaze did not waver. “It refines it. And makes it….harder to ignore when it does arise.” There was something quieter in her expression now. Not open. But no longer entirely guarded. “When I choose something,” she added, her voice softening; not in strength, but in intimacy of meaning, “it is not because it was convenient….or expected.” She paused for just a beat. “It is because I have already considered what it will cost me to keep it.”

Silence settled again, but it was different now. Then, gently, she shifted the focus; not away from him, but toward him in a different way. “You want to build something that outlasts the failures you’ve seen,” Alexi said. “Something that does not rely on illusion or inherited authority.” A slight step brought her into alignment beside him once more. “That requires more than leverage.” Her gaze turned to him; both not challenging, nor yielding. “It requires people who can see the fractures… and choose not to become them.” A brief pause. “And if what you’re building truly allows for that...” she added, quieter now, but no less certain, “then it is something worth understanding.”

Then, she relayed just enough of herself to answer what he had been circling: “You asked what I want.” A faint breath. “I want my world to endure,” she said first, steady as ever before a pause. “My House to remain… worthy of what it was entrusted with.” And then; just slightly softer: “And, eventually….someone to share the weight of that with.” The words were simple. But not casual. Her gaze met his again; calm, composed, and entirely her own. “But not at the expense of becoming something that I would not recognize in the process.”

Tag: Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Alexi di Garthos​

The words reached a place that could touch something deeper than only reaction. “The Core survived on illusion when all else failed,” he began, “just as the Jedi began with it.” His voice dropped to a whisper that filled the space. “Your distinction between alignment and righteousness shows clarity, just as I expected. Most institutions find such nuance threatening.” A pause. “Unfortunately, as do most beings, when confronted with truths that might free them.”

His youthful visage was forged into a mask of attentiveness, but it revealed nothing. “Adaptation requires resources. And resources require foresight. Leaning forward, the movement would be barely perceptible. “You speak of costs. But I speak of investments.” A thin smile graced his lips. “So, perhaps we are discussing the same ledger, but from opposite sides of the page.” And that was ok, as he found himself enjoying a rather intriguing conversation.

One foot forward, weight angled as if he might continue.. but doesn’t. The Sith turned his head just slightly, not enough to face her, but enough to show he’s no longer addressing the skyline. “There is power in wanting. Most people fear their desires. They run from them, or they surrender completely.” After all, at his own core, he was follower of the Dark. A slow breath was drawn. “That is the difference between being ruled by passion and ruling through it. I think this may be where we understand each other.”

Lysander nodded slowly as she continued. “There is wisdom in that approach. We often speak of compromise as if it’s the," a thoughtful hum climbed his throat, "..highest virtue, and taking whatever seems attainable in the moment.” His eyes met hers once more. “But.. perhaps that’s why so many policies fail. We grab at convenience rather than what we can truly sustain. The strongest coalitions, like the most meaningful commitments, aren’t formed because they were easy to assemble, but because everyone involved understands what maintaining requires.” Commitment few could truly fathom; easy in speech, less so in practice.

A small silence followed. Lysander watched her, orbs darkening with something like calculation. “Your House would not only remain in order under the Covenant’s influence, but flourise, free from ambitious warlords. As will your world.” The cost was considered of keeping things, but not denying. A peculiar observation, if one really sought meaning. “Until our formal agreements are sealed, you should consider me at your disposal, in whatever capacity you require.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, fingers weaving together. “Then tell me, Alexi, what do you require of me first? If the terrace has served its purpose, we can go elsewhere."

 

[Alexi di Garthos]

Alexi did not answer him immediately. Not because she lacked one; but because she considered the offer for what it was. Not obligation. Not deference. But an opening. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than before; not searching, but measuring. Not at what he had said, but how easily he offered it. “At my disposal,” she repeated softly. There was no skepticism in her tone. But neither was there acceptance. “Most who make that offer expect to define the terms shortly after.” A faint pause followed; just enough to let the observation settle without sharpening it. “But I don’t think you would make that mistake.” It was not a compliment, but a conclusion.

Her attention shifted then; not away from him, but outward toward the terrace as it began to give way to the deeper hum of the city beyond. “The terrace has served it's purpose,” Alexi said at last, her tone easing to something not less precise, but less contained. A subtle turn, indicating direction rather than asking for agreement. “Walk with me,” she said as she began to move; not waiting to see if he followed, but not moving quickly enough to lose him either. “There is a place not far from here,” she continued as they walked. “Quiet enough for conversation, but not so isolated that it becomes something else.”

A slight glance in his direction that was not guarded, but aware. “I find it….clarifying.” A few steps passed before she answered him properly. “That you asked what I require.” Her voice remained calm, but something in it had shifted that was less formal now, though no less controlled. “For now…” a small pause that was more thoughtful than deliberate, “I require perspective.” Her gaze returned to him, steady. “You’ve told me what you intend to build. How you think. What you believe the galaxy lacks.” A faint tilt of her head. “But intent is easy to articulate. Application is not.”

A brief silence followed. “So tell me,” Alexi said, her tone quieter now. It was not softer, but more focused, “how you navigate when theory fails you.” Her eyes held his; not challenging him, though not yielding either. “Not in principle. But in practice.”

Then, just slightly - there it was again, that subtle shift into something more personal, more human: “And while you do…” she added, almost lightly, though not without intent, “you can tell me whether you prefer something stronger than whatever passes for hospitality on a diplomatic terrace.” A faint hint of that near-smile returned. Not quite warmth. But no longer entirely distant.

Tag: Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Lysander closed the distance between them in three strides. "Most people mistake ambition for application." A smile touched the corner of his mouth. "They think if they want something badly enough, the galaxy will bend for them. But you and I know better, don't we? The galaxy doesn't bend.. it breaks, or you do." Perhaps it was the candor that caused his shoulders to ease a fraction. "I respect that you're testing me. I'd do the same. I've seen visionaries fail because they couldn't translate theory into experience. Better to have the foundations challenged than watch everything collapse when the first storm hits."

His thumb traced small circles against his opposite palm. "But application requires trust. And trust requires vulnerability. Just that I'm hearing you correctly, you're asking me to show you both?"

He watched a fallen leaf skitter across their path, then nudged it aside with his boot. A moment longer was taken to articulate his words. "When theory fails me? I listen to the dissonance. The gap between what should work and what is working contains many lessons worth learning."

Unclasping his hands, he extended one palm upward in a small gesture. "I've found that most failures aren't intellectual.. but emotional. People resist change not because they don't understand it, but because they don't feel understood within it. So, I adapt and observe. It is required then that I make myself unnecessary to the process. The strongest foundations are built by those who will live within the walls."

Navigating the labyrinthine politics of power aged him in ways time could not. He glanced sideways at her next, one eyebrow lifting slightly; Lysander's expression was a mix of both teasing and masked. "Would you guess me to be inexperienced because of my age?"

Another beat passed while considering the woman's words. "As for something stronger. I'll defer to your recommendation, be it something quiet, or something more adventurous." Both had their uses. Both might crack the veneer they'd maintained thus far.

 

[Alexi di Garthos]

Alexi did not slow when he closed the distance. But she did turn her head; just enough to meet his words directly, rather than allow them to pass beside her. “No,” she said simply, her voice even. There was no pause to soften it. No hesitation to qualify it. “I wouldn’t.” Her gaze held his. It wasn't not challenging, nor indulgent. Merely certain. “Inexperience tends to announce itself,” Alexi continued. “Through certainty without structure. Through ambition that has not yet learned its own limits.” She gave a faint shift of her head. “You don’t strike me as unfamiliar with either.” It was not praise. But it was recognition.

A small silence followed as they walked, the rhythm of their steps settling into something more aligned than before.

“You are the Covenant’s voice here,” she said after a moment, her tone returning slightly to that diplomatic clarity, though it no longer felt distant. “That much is obvious.” Her attention remained forward now, though it did not leave him. “But if this agreement moves beyond conversation…” a slight pause, more deliberate than the last, “then there will be moments where you will need to carry mine as well...” It was not a request, but a condition. “...Within your Capital. Among those who will not hear me directly.” A brief glance toward him. “Unless, of course, I am given reason to attend in person.” There was something subtle in that; an openness, that was not quite an invitation.

The city had grown closer now. Light, sound, motion that was contained, but alive. Alexi slowed just slightly as they approached the entrance to a quieter establishment set apart from the main thoroughfare. It was not hidden; but intentionally removed. “This is the place,” she said, more softly now.

Inside, the atmosphere shifted. Muted tones. Low conversation. The kind of space where nothing needed to be raised to be heard. She did not hesitate as she stepped in. A table was chosen without consultation; not out of dismissal, but familiarity. A position that allowed a clear view of the room without placing them at its center. Only then did she turn her attention fully back to him.

“You’re right about one thing,” Alexi said as she settled, her tone easing; not losing its precision, but no longer held as tightly. “Application requires trust. But not all of it needs to be given at once.” Her gaze held his. It was not guarded; but measured. “It can be built… in increments.”

Then, just slightly, that near-smile returned. It was quieter now, but more present in the softer light. “So,” she added, a touch lighter than before, though no less intentional, “something stronger....” A brief glance toward him. “Do you have a preference… or should I continue to make decisions for both of us?”

Tag: Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Lysander inclined his head. Admittingly, he found himself curious about what lay beneath the careful facade. "Good," he said, his voice a touch drier than before. "I prefer to be evaluated accurately." The corner of his mouth lifted once more.

The quiet stretched as city lights played across his features. He held her words in his mind a moment longer. When they entered, his Sith instincts activated without thoughts. He cataloged exits, counted the patrons, assessed security. He noted how she selected the table. That position kept their backs protected, which was always a good thing for a Sith. Not that he anticipated trouble.. but years of training had made these calculations automatic. Lysander settled into his seat, satisfied with her choice.. without needing to acknowledge it aloud.

Shifting in his seat, he leaned forward just enough to close the distance between them. Both elbows came to rest on the table's edge with casualness; though, nothing about the movement was truly unplanned.

"I do understand what it means to be translated by another. There is much vulnerability in it. Trust is earned in small moments of fidelity," he began, voice dropping. "With time, I'm certain I'll earn yours, Alexi, one conversation at a time."

He considered how truth had served him where other Sith relied on manipulation and other tactics, and how his honesty had expanded his influence among the Lords of the Outer Rim. Perhaps his greatest weapon as brutality failed others.

Then, the sharper planes of his face softened. "All institutions hear what they wish to. But from where I stand, I can speak their language fluently. However, when possible, of course it'd be best for you to deliver them yourself. Besides, some messages are best delivered by their author. Especially those worth hearing."

The ambient sounds and clinking glasses of the establishment slowly receded. "Oh, I certainly have preferences," spoken with warmth. "After enough diplomatic functions where ambassadors judge your soul by your cocktail choice, I could definitely appreciate someone else taking the wheel." Not to be confused with surrendering control. He traced the edge of the table with one finger. "I'm also curious to see what happens should we collaborate." Lysander caught a server's eye with a quick gesture, then returned his full attention to Alexi, head tilted. "Though, I don't think you'd regret having me as your humble sommelier for the evening."

 

[Alexi di Garthos]

Alexi did not immediately answer his remark. Not because she had missed the intent; but because she allowed it to settle, separating tone from substance as she so often did. There was a faint shift in her expression at his mention of being evaluated accurately. “Most people prefer to be understood,” she said quietly. “Accurately….or otherwise. But preference and outcome are rarely aligned.”

Her gaze held his for a moment longer; studying him, not challenging him. Then it eased. She had noticed the same things he had. The exits. The spacing. The positioning of the room. She simply had no need to name them.

“Fidelity,” Alexi repeated softly, as though testing the weight of the word rather than echoing it. “Small moments,” she added. A faint inclination of her head followed. “Those tend to reveal more than larger ones.”

Her attention shifted briefly as the server approached, then returned to him without losing the thread of the conversation. “You’re right about one thing,” she continued. “There are some messages better delivered by their author. And others….that are more effective when carried by someone who understands how they will be received.” Her gaze remained steady. “That is where your role becomes….more than symbolic.” It was subtle. But it placed him exactly where she intended: not just a voice, but a translator of consequence.

The faintest trace of that near-smile returned at his offer. “A sommelier,” Alexi repeated, the word lighter than most she had spoken. There was something almost curious in it now. “I imagine that comes with a certain confidence in one’s selections.” She did not look at the server. She didn’t need to. “Very well,” she said at last, her tone composed, but no longer distant. “You may choose.”She paused for a beat. “But not entirely.” There it was. The boundary. Reintroduced without resistance. “Something measured,” Alexi added. “Not designed to impress….and not entirely predictable.” Her gaze met his again, both calm and intentional. “I’d prefer to understand the reasoning behind it.”

A brief silence followed. Then, just slightly she added; “If we’re going to collaborate,” she said, quieter now, though no less deliberate, “it should begin with something we can both assess.” The near-smile lingered a fraction longer this time. It was not quite warmth. But no longer untouched by it.

Tag: Lysander von Ascania

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

One corner of his mouth curved upward. His gaze flicked to the hovering server. "Two glasses of Alderaanian Trianth Red," spoken calmly. "If you have the older vintage, we will take that. If not, the current one will do." The server inclined his head and withdrew.

"What makes the Alderaanian red special is their contradictions. Their vintners cultivate their vines in soil that retained heat from the day well into the night. So, it's created a peculiar balance in the trilan berries that you won't.." He paused, searching for words that wouldn't sound.. pretentious. "Well, you won't find it in anything from Corellia or Naboo." At least, that was the story as most knew it. "Different from most showier varieties. You have to sit with it, let it open up gradually."

A low, thoughtful hum escaped the Sith. "Its scarcity makes it precious to collectors across the galaxy, but I chose it because it carries complexity. The notes reveal themselves only when you've committed to experiencing them fully."

Of course, Lysander hadn't forgotten her words from earlier. "More than symbolic," he finally repeated. His gaze settled on the woman across the table. "I find it natural that anyone would care about that. I carry messages because I understand how they will be received. But there are times when I am not carrying anything at all. There are times when I am speaking for myself." His tone remained soft. "There are only a few who can do that."

The server returned, setting two ruby filled glasses between. First, he let the light catch the wine before reaching for his glass. "I do not offer that truth lightly." Fingers curled around the stem, thumb brushing against the bowl, but he did not lift it. "And now I am curious. If I asked for a truth of yours, one you do not give freely, would you offer it to me?"