musing-lego-piece

[musing-lego-piece]

The bride and the ugly ass groom

[musing-lego-piece]

some inquisitor boy. and struggling with your evil twin. why not.

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star wars is so fucking stupid, I love it

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meet cute: it's raining and I see your battered bleeding body lying in the mud and I kick it slightly to see if you're dead

[musing-lego-piece]

Sil strides down the crowded casino hall, her posture and blank expression, well, what little of it could be seen given her visor, made it seem like whatever she was doing was urgent. Patrons seemed to walk across her path, like moths to a flame towards the neon signs. Her ivory skin and glossy visor refracted the flashing lights of the signs. The bouncer uniform she’d been assigned, the thick fabric went from comforting to cloying as she began to sweat. The color of the garment seemed to shift between black and purple with every swish of her cape. Standing still, the uniform covered both her arms and the majority of her neck, but it billowed menacingly behind her as she walked past the holotactics table. 

Silone rubbed her thin fingers over the chip under her skin. She was eager to extract it once the job was done. Maybe she could sell the uniform for some extra credits on another planet. Surely the client couldn’t track that kind of thing. Anything to avoid eating more hot mush seemed like a swell idea to the mercenary. 

The informant was downing their glass, Sil was just about to pass the bar and meet him–Then a guest decided to abruptly shoulder check her. His breath reeked of alcohol, she’d noted that before his appearance or whatever he was saying. Maybe he’d gone to the bar to nurse his losses. 

Oh. Oh maker no. 

The mercenary had never been more thankful for her visor, the way her pupils dilated at the sight in front of her was downright embarrassing. Incriminating.

A black and red emblem on his crisp white jacket told her everything she needed to know. It was unmistakable in origin, Sil had seen the posters. Silent protectors of the Empire. She craned her neck up to meet his gaze. 

Sil had never considered the profile of a Grand Inquisitor, outside of being able to hunt jedi. But, for a person whose job was to hunt and kill those best at hiding…He fit the profile. A league of its own for the mercenary world. The smile was charming, like a well designed mask. Or like he’d taken the skin of a far kinder, trustworthy man. Someone long gone. Sil wondered if they grew these workers–these people–Maybe they were clones of slain Jedi. Wouldn’t be out of bounds of the Empire.

The voice was warm, like the warmth of a fireplace, but the words stung as if she’d stuck her hand inside the pit. 

‘He’s probably just a guest’ Sil reasoned to herself. It wasn’t unheard of for senators or friends of the Galactic Empire to host private rooms. She’d nearly fainted when she saw the entry fees, let alone the membership fees for this establishment. He was probably here to wind down, win some games. Destress. 

Sil’s mind ran through this analysis in the span of a second or two, before stepping back and giving and giving a short bow. Oh, right, what he’d actually said. ‘Seen you before’. Not a good sign, was this informant–No, no. The Grand Inquisitor was probably drunk. Joshing around. It’s uncouth to expect the worth of a situation. At this moment, Sil is just a host for the evening.

She gives a thin, apologetic smile to him. “My deepest apologies, Sir, I didn’t mean to run into you. I was attending to some back of house duties, I wasn’t thinking clearly. Please forgive me for the intrusion.” 

She straightens her posture, “I…I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure–No, the honor, of meeting with you before. Maybe you’ve seen me on one of your earlier visits to Vertica? I’m sure I could get you in contact with another host for the evening, it would be our pleasure to set up the Admiral's Lounge for you."

There was nothing to fear, right? Sil’s just a host. Not a Jedi. Not a target.

An Unfortunate Casino Job

@tapalslegacy

This is just another side gig, Silone told herself as she plucked the assignment chip from the broker. Just a way to get enough scrap to fix her ship. It’s difficult to do intergalactic merc jobs when your ships inertial compensator is cracked. Going past cruising speed sends the damn clunker into low power mode. Sil shouldn’t have gotten the ship anyways, it was a ruddy, cramped republic-era cruiser she’d gotten from a scrapyard. Giving it a name would be giving the thing too much credit. 

The job was local, with minimal danger on her end. The credit reward was arguably higher than it should be, but Sil had met her fair share of clients that would pay extra for discretion. Inserting the chip into her holopad, the details expanded in front of her. Go undercover, meet with an informant, drop the datachip at a drop site across town. Simple enough. Discretion was key, the brief mentioned this fact a total of eight times. 

Two days after accepting the gig, she’d been sent a dropbox with a uniform, and a name badge. Last, an employee chip, with instructions on how to inject it into the muscle of her palm. In most cases, this would be a limit for Sil. Even if it was ‘standard for the company’, and ‘has no combustible materials’, it just didn’t seem right. But the clunker needed its damn part, so she grits her teeth and injects the chip. The uniform was made of finer fabrics than she’d ever graced her frame with, such a shame the instructions called for her to burn it once the gig was complete. 

The day of the exchange, Silone waited three mind-numbing hours by the entrance door of Club Vertica, keeping a mental list of everyone who had entered and exited the exclusive casino. The modest uniform and visor that covered the upper half of her face didn’t keep belligerent patrons from offering their hotel room keys to her. 

“Still no sight of the target.” She mumbles under her breath, scanning the club once more. A Besalisk man bangs his fists against the Emperor’s Grace slot machine as it gives him another monotone ‘Better Luck Next Time!’ screen. The Hutt statue waves like a lucky cat figure, the same cold grin marking its features. Sil was struggling to keep her ears open for important conversations, deep bass notes and fluty vocals from the nearby speakers kept her on alert. 

Tan hood, blue pin on the side of his head. Easy enough, surely? Sil glanced down at her chronometer, she was about to pack up and head home at this rate. Maybe the informant had been intercepted. 

Then, as if appearing out of thin air–Sil spots the informant. They’re nursing a cocktail, eyes shifty, leaning on a slot machine. How did he get in here? She didn’t see him come through the door. 

Another patron slams their fist against a sleek durasteel table, doubling their earnings of the night. Sil signals to the other bodyguard that she’s going on break, then makes her way over to the informant. 

[musing-lego-piece]

An Unfortunate Casino Job

@tapalslegacy

This is just another side gig, Silone told herself as she plucked the assignment chip from the broker. Just a way to get enough scrap to fix her ship. It’s difficult to do intergalactic merc jobs when your ships inertial compensator is cracked. Going past cruising speed sends the damn clunker into low power mode. Sil shouldn’t have gotten the ship anyways, it was a ruddy, cramped republic-era cruiser she’d gotten from a scrapyard. Giving it a name would be giving the thing too much credit. 

The job was local, with minimal danger on her end. The credit reward was arguably higher than it should be, but Sil had met her fair share of clients that would pay extra for discretion. Inserting the chip into her holopad, the details expanded in front of her. Go undercover, meet with an informant, drop the datachip at a drop site across town. Simple enough. Discretion was key, the brief mentioned this fact a total of eight times. 

Two days after accepting the gig, she’d been sent a dropbox with a uniform, and a name badge. Last, an employee chip, with instructions on how to inject it into the muscle of her palm. In most cases, this would be a limit for Sil. Even if it was ‘standard for the company’, and ‘has no combustible materials’, it just didn’t seem right. But the clunker needed its damn part, so she grits her teeth and injects the chip. The uniform was made of finer fabrics than she’d ever graced her frame with, such a shame the instructions called for her to burn it once the gig was complete. 

The day of the exchange, Silone waited three mind-numbing hours by the entrance door of Club Vertica, keeping a mental list of everyone who had entered and exited the exclusive casino. The modest uniform and visor that covered the upper half of her face didn’t keep belligerent patrons from offering their hotel room keys to her. 

“Still no sight of the target.” She mumbles under her breath, scanning the club once more. A Besalisk man bangs his fists against the Emperor’s Grace slot machine as it gives him another monotone ‘Better Luck Next Time!’ screen. The Hutt statue waves like a lucky cat figure, the same cold grin marking its features. Sil was struggling to keep her ears open for important conversations, deep bass notes and fluty vocals from the nearby speakers kept her on alert. 

Tan hood, blue pin on the side of his head. Easy enough, surely? Sil glanced down at her chronometer, she was about to pack up and head home at this rate. Maybe the informant had been intercepted. 

Then, as if appearing out of thin air–Sil spots the informant. They’re nursing a cocktail, eyes shifty, leaning on a slot machine. How did he get in here? She didn’t see him come through the door. 

Another patron slams their fist against a sleek durasteel table, doubling their earnings of the night. Sil signals to the other bodyguard that she’s going on break, then makes her way over to the informant. 

[musing-lego-piece]

Kirby's Character Development 101 Questionnaire

A while back, I mentioned on my rp blog that I have a sort of questionnaire for myself to fill out when adding a new muse to make sure they're really established in my head before actually starting to write them. A few mutuals were interested in seeing what that looks like, so I finally got around to posting a blank copy.

You can treat this as either an ask meme to reblog, or something to copy-paste for your own personal use in muse development. All I ask is you don't claim this as your own.

As always, remember to specify for multimuses!

001. Do they have any scars?

-- Appearance

002. Do they have any tattoos/piercings?

003. What is their natural eye color?

004. Do they wear contacts to change their eye color?

005. What is their natural hair color?

006. Do they dye their hair?

007. Do they keep their hair long, short, or in between?

008. What does their clothing style look like?

009. Do they dress in “the norm” for their gender presentation?

010. Do they wear any kind of make-up?

011. Are they invested in their physical appearance?

-- Identity

012. What is their gender identity and sexual orientation?

013. What is their relation to their gender identity and sexual orientation?

014. What is their relation to their ethnicity/heritage?

015. How do they feel about their nationality, current or of origin?

016. What family members had the most impact on them?

017. What is their relationship with their family?

018. Do they connect with their sense of self or reject it?

019. Is their sense of self tied to another person or thing?

020. What does their morality look like?

021. What other names are they known by? 

022. Do they know any languages besides their birth tongue?

023. What religion were they raised in, if any?

024. Are they religious at present?

025. Do they hold to any superstitions?

-- Health

026. Do they need glasses?

027. What mental conditions do they have?

028. What physical conditions do they have?

029. Do they have any allergies?

030. What notable injuries and/or illnesses have they had?

031. How diligent are they about their personal hygiene?

032. Do they keep up with their medication if they have any?

033. Are they particularly concerned with staying healthy/clean?

-- Symbolism

034. What colors are they related to?

035. What animals symbolize them?

036. What plants symbolize them?

037. What celestial bodies symbolize them?

038. What time of day are they most related to?

039. What is a number or numbers that relate to them?

040. What elements are they most connected to?

041. What type of weather are they?

042. What season of the year are they?

043. What kind of precious material are they?

044. What type of music fits them best?

045. What songs are closely tied to them?

-- Preferences

046. What is their favorite food and drink?

047. Do they like sports?

048. Do they like hot or cold weather?

049. How do they feel about animals?

050. How do they feel about nature?

051. Do they prefer science or the humanities?

052. Are they booksmart or streetsmart?

053. Are they more comfortable in large crowds, small groups, or totally alone?

054. Do they feel more in their element in urban or rural settings?

055. How do they feel about math and language?

056. Do they prefer to travel or stay in one place?

057. Are they good about getting out of their comfort zone?

058. What’s their sense of humor like?

059. Do they have any special interests?

060. What pieces of media are important to them?

061. What are their pet peeves?

-- Sociabilities

062. Are they more introverted or extroverted?

063. Are they paternal in nature?

064. Do they want kids?

065. What level of emotional intelligence do they have?

066. How do they communicate their thoughts and feelings (positive or negative) to others?

067. What are their love languages out of the classic 5?

068. What are their love languages not included in the classic 5?

069. How strong is their sense of empathy?

070. Do they allow themself to be vulnerable or keep all at a distance?

071. Do they struggle relating to others with foreign experiences?

072. How quickly are they to give their trust?

073. Are they more of an optimist or pessimist?

074. Are their emotions easily influenced by others’?

-- Romance & Sexuality

075. Do they fall on the aromantic/asexual spectrum?

076. Do they want to be married?

077. What type of features are they attracted to?

078. What type of personalities are they attracted to?

079. What type of personalities repulse them/are a turn off?

080. Would they be open to a threesome?

081. Would they be open to a foursome or more?

082. Would they be okay with an open relationship?

083. Are they polygamous?

084. Are they open about their sexuality (both orientation and general)?

085. Are they comfortable with casual sex?

086. How comfortable are they with discussing sexuality in general?

087. What are their kinks?

088. If they could choose, on average, would they prefer slow and sensual or fast and rough?

089. Does emotional intimacy play any part in their enjoyment of sex?

090. How tolerant are they of kinks they don’t have?

091. Are they more prone to the dominant or submissive role?

092. Do they prefer the penetrated (bottom) or penetrating (top) position?

093. Are they a sadist, masochist, or both?

094. Do they prefer to give or receive oral sex?

-- Misc.

095. Would they be considered “out of touch” with the present day?

096. What are their feelings about recycling?

097. Do they have any grasp of Internet culture?

098. What’s their average level of energy?

099. What are they proud of?

100. What do they regret?

101. Do they have any secrets?

[musing-lego-piece]

Silone 'Sil' Vestra

[Sil’s backstory takes place in an alternate history where Sith Academies weren’t dissolved and the rule of two’s wasn’t as strongly implemented until after Order 66]

[I intend to go back and edit this with drawings/fancy formatting when irl work lightens up]

Name: Silone ‘Sil’ Vestra Age: 26 Birthdate: 35 BBY Gender: Female Species: Human Sexuality: Unknown/Not Explored Alignment: Lawful Neutral Fluent In: Galactic Standard Basic, Understands Binary, ur-Kittât, relies on a universal translator for her job Height: 175 cm Build: Lean, muscular Hair: Off-white Eyes: Steel Grey Markings: Scar running from forehead to bridge of nose Weapons: Vibroblade, poison claws (retired), competent in using lightsabers but does not own one

Backstory:

Silone thought she was destined for greatness. It’s what she told herself as she tirelessly trained, what she pounded against her head as she perfected her self-made weapons.

As she went into her second round at a sparring competition hosted by the Sith Academy of Korriban, greatness remained her mantra. She wouldn’t fail, not again. See, to gain entry required a Sith Medallion, gained only from the approval or attention of teachers or students. Sil obtained hers after sinking her poison-tipped claws into a childhood friend’s neck. Her friend, Aronusa, suffered a quick yet agonizing death as her blood turned acidic and she crumpled to the ground. Medallion cinched.

Once she had gained entry, she dove head first into reading every scrap of information she could in the Sith Library. Silone saw fellow students die on a regular basis–’Impromptu sparring matches’ were increasingly popular. She maintains a faint scar running down the center of her forehead to her nose from one of these impromptu sessions.

Silone found her home in the stale air and vast chambers of the Academy. She found comfort in crooning her neck for approval, the stern guidance of her teacher. As years passed, she grew reliant on someone to aim her energy.

Which made it all the more soul-breaking when the Academy was dissolved in 20 BBY, some were killed, others were left to just fend for themselves. Sil was left with festering energy, devotion with no outlet. Not taking it well was an understatement, her early adulthood was spent with a series of attempts to find a person–or group–to fill that void. She isn’t eager to share those stories, nor is she proud of them. As of today, Sil resides on Nar Shaddaa as a mercenary for hire. She takes side-jobs to make ends meet, and sleeps in a rickety ship held by space duct tape and hope.

Appearance

Silone is albino, has stark pale skin and off-white hair, with wide steel grey eyes. On missions she’ll wear a visor due to light sensitivity. She keeps her long hair back, usually pinned up. She’s 5’9” (175 cm), with a lean, muscular build. The only notable scar on her body is the faint line on her forehead to nose.

Sil never got a lightsaber before the Academy dissolved, instead training with a vibroblade. It stays as her weapon of choice to this day, favored over the poison-tipped claws of her initiation.

Her armor is cheap, likely pulled and hastily tailored from a fallen target. It’d explain the blaster marks on the back. Everything is…Mismatched. Sil is simply aimlessly living day-to-day, with very little regard to her appearance and happiness beyond normal sustenance. Her current objectives are to simply survive, though when she has a goal or someone/something she can devote herself to she's very ambitious.