Lysander von Ascania
Unwritten Verse
Lysander’s breath caught one more; it was as if, for once, she wasn’t the mask the rest of the galaxy knew. Instead, there was someone entirely different beneath, radiant and real. And beneath the many layers that so many judged him by, she too, was seeing the real him. Part of him was grateful too, for she met his brief moments of silence not with impatience, but kindness. The tenderness in her face bloomed like a promise where words were unneeded.
He wanted to ask her to say it again, when she agreed to come to Ruusan, as though there to fight alongside him in her own way. And when the hint of warmth stirred at the edge of her lips, a fragile softness, like a sunrise not meant for Naboo, but only for him, something reverent whispered to the acolyte. Far beyond any desires, yearning, he found himself gazing at her with something close to worship, blind that he was falling even harder in this moment, for her. His face softened, lips parted, but he stayed quiet; if one word could shatter the spell placed on him, then he was afraid. But the revelation of her own vulnerability, with that smile, that was the image he would frame and carry to the Kaggath.
Drawing back slightly, twin emeralds roamed the scene beyond her visage, the twin moons hanging, as though they were witnessing what was unfolding between them.
Somewhere in the distant past, he mused, Set and Vere might have whispered their farewells under those lunar guardians.
But Lysander, grounded, had no plans to leave. He’d already endured trials enough just to share this one holocall.
The way her collarbone rose and fell could’ve been a prayer, drawn from trust, and the subtle shift in her shoulders, like shedding armor. Since the first time they crossed paths, the blonde had always pitied her in that regard, even if she wore it well. Her voice, when stripped of the formal airs, carried a cadence that could calm the storms that raged across korriban, for already, it soothed the bruises upon his tired body. What surfaced then was a genuine smile, allowed to linger without worry, always sincere.
After, the boy’s gaze sharpened while adapting to the planet’s shadows, welcoming her deeper into his heart. The darkness behind him paled in comparison to the ache kindled by her lip-bite. His pupils dilated, not because of the late hour, but because of something more electric. A lone thumb traced the exact spot her fingers had just brushed against the datapad’s edge moments prior
There was a soft exhale through the nose, a barely noticeable twitch of the jaw; this type of reverence was only reserved for something sacred.
The next time his voice touched air, it was different. Or, it would be in a way that had noticeably changed. Rather than with a sharp edge that so often delved into quips and banter alike, there was a melodic warmth, forged during the days spent in the Badawan warehouse, pursuing a craft the Junior Representative had yet to learn of. For Lysander, he was singing to her in secret from the rhythm beneath his breath.
“I’m not going anywhere, Sibylla.”
Gaze lifting, the streets were scanned briefly, and steps would follow to bring him closer to the academy's dorms. He then saw the warning flash in the corner, a red flicker pulsing. Still, he held the datapad steady. Luckily, there was still a bit of time to savor.
Another slow breath eased from him, not out of exhaustion, but trying to find space for all the words that needed saying; words that were raw but still learned to be spoken all the same. "I'll keep talking, even when the signal is gone," he promised, tinged with a shade of desperation, a plea to simply preserve this moment, a fragile thread that connected them from the Mid to Outer Rim. "And I'll fill in the missing words.. just so I can stay close."
A ghost of a smile tugged at one corner of his mouth; this time, it was wistful. "Because I don't want to lose this version of you.. of us," he admitted. His throat bobbed, and one hand lifted, before falling to rest over his chest, as if to anchor himself in reality.
Not to be dramatic, but simply to be hers.
"I'll send what I wish I could say now," he whispered, his focus drifting towards the twin moons above once more before returning to the screen. "In fragments.. half thoughts.. all the echoes I put together during the nights I couldn’t sleep.”
If the stars allowed, perhaps they could exist like this for a few more minutes.
