#Aeviririn

[ghostymarni]

‘hey my name is Aeviririn (ey-vir-eer-in), I go by Aev (aeve).”

female mandalorian: black hair long mohawk, dark brown eyes (gold orange color in sunlight), pale ivory skin tone + reds easy with emotions.

weapons: long range sniper rifle (not yet pictured), hand pistol for short range + small yellow vibro blade in her right boot. right handed shooter, left hand strength dominant.

story:

last of her clan, a wanderer in odd jobs. More for hire, than a bounty hunter to get by like most of the galaxy. She took the creed as a youngling, but for her own survival she’s broken it to get by. This is the way, but only in half faith as her path is greater than any creed.

On a personal level, Aev is a “tomboy” rough-nut sarcastic warrior, she wears her heart on her sleeve, is stubborn to loss, but has twice as much fight when she’s down, determined to prove you wrong. She likes to feel pretty but finds less use of it for survival, unless it’s for the right high-class job. On a business level, she’s blunt + of few words (she’s keen on listening more than speaking knowing her clients usually slip up with useful information). Aev leans on the intimidating bucket persona for her jobs, never let your guard down + trust no one.

Aev is looking for a new droid + ship. Hers were lost in a bad crossfire with contending bounty hunters on the same hitman job. Hitchhiking + saving her credits, she’s done volunteer work in cities like coruscant for a free sheltered nights sleep. But doesn’t hesitate taking on dangerous gigs as she is keen + precise with her sniper rifle, often called on for high paying debt bounties that the top dogs don’t take.

While Aev isn’t the party type, she does enjoy a good cantina drink + ambiance knowing that’s where the best job offers are-

Find her getting herself in + out of trouble all in one go, she’s quick on her feet, but emotionally weak to an emotional close proximity of trust + space. She’s lost trust in everyone being a survivor, but deep down she’s got a bigger heart than she lets herself believe.

[ghostymarni]

A Job

TW: smoking, drinking, aggressive behavior, nothing harmful.

Aev - Mandalorian OC/reader chapter 1

It’s close to 0100 hours into the new day, and it’s been quite a few long rotations since you’ve had any time to yourself between free stay jobs, one night hotels, and high-end client gigs. you’re sitting in your half civilian clothes, laid out in a cantina booth.

Coruscant is your favorite city, easiest for jobs, and most comforting on the vas array of those that want to disappear in a crowd. You just wanted to blend in tonight, despite your bucket always giving you away.

Bucket on the table close to you, next to a few empty cocktail glasses. Music played a shifting beat, as the half dark ambiance seemed to liven up with another wave of patrons entering the cantina.

Shifting, checking the blaster on your hip was on standby, feet propped up on the stool, on the edge of the booth. You’ve had enough big jobs and savings as of late, you needed a night out for the change of pace.

The atmosphere of the musky colored neons, entertaining music, and mismatched crowd helped you feel a little more at ease knowing no one really cared about anyone else.

Crossing your legs you take a moment to let your head fall back on the seat, arms stretched out in a lazy T, with a drink in your hand. “I hope I don’t get another big job for at least a rotation. I need a whole bacta tank vacation after that last one-“. Your muscles twitching as a reminder of the physcial strain you keep doing to yourself.

Lifting your head up to scan the crowd, your buzz was finally starting to kick in good, and you honestly were contemplating getting trashed. Of course if it weren’t for the thought of a hangover the next morning, stopping you.

You were annoyed the last client lied about the gig, it was more dangerous than what was put out, but the positive is that they paid you triple for doing it anyway.

Kriff, it’s exhausting sometimes. All the time, honestly.

You wave down a server droid for a refill, and throw a few credits towards the sleeze selling death sticks. You grab the pack, hard tapping it on your palm, taking one out before tossing the pack onto the table. Slipping the death stick into the corner of your mouth in a soft hold.

Breaking eye contact with the crowd you shift your gaze down to check your pack, for something to light it with.

Sparks ignite above you, holding a steady flame.

“I didn’t take you for the smoking type” the low half growling voice called at you.

You paused your self patted search, half responding before looking up, “I didn’t think you cared-“, an irritated smirk now on your face, staring back at the silhouette.

“What do I owe the pleasure of your honored presence? I’m surprised one of your men didn’t come in your stead.”

He stands silent, leaning forward to ignite your death stick. Without hesitation you calmly comply.

Retreating your legs from the stool to half stand, meeting him halfway over the table for the light. His bright red bracers and gloved hands quickly fading as the fire closed out. You return your thanks retreating with an exaggerated large hit, slowly exhaling the smoke making a brief barrier.

“How’d you know I was here?” taking a small sharp drag, returning to your laid out pose across the seat in your exhale.

“I always know where you are, Aev.” he rumbles. pocketing the lighter.

“I thought you were mad at me” you half laugh holding the death stick in between your fingers.

The service droid returns with your 5th cocktail, calling out the cost. Breaking the silence you remove your feet from the stool again to simultaneously pay the droid and grab the drink. Droid rolling away right after.

“You’re done for the night.” His tone annoyed and demanding. “Why?” you short reply.

Slightly pausing but not giving him a chance to rebuttal, “I’ve put off nights like this for 87 rotations, I’ve been busy. Mind you- nearly half of those jobs were from you.”

“You’re suited for another off the record job. I don’t need you intoxicated for it.” He briefs you, “it’s confidential, that’s why I’m here myself.”

“Kriff, Fox, I finally have a night off and you’re giving me kark for it” you jest, throwing back your cocktail. Fox instinctively reaches for your wrist mid drink, stopping you from downing the whole cocktail.

“I said- you’re done.” He’s back in your proximity, not letting you go.

His bucket, now “face” to face with you, leaning over the table of smoke, splashed cocktail half dripping down your hand. You can feel his snarl through his auto tuned breathing, his shoulders rising and falling hinting he had no patience to begin with.

You stare back slightly intimated of the sudden loss of space between you, quick shifting to your buzzed sarcasm.

“And here I hoped you’ve missed me as much as I missed you, commander. Nice to know you don’t.” you’re attempting to pull your hand out of his grip. Trying to convince him you don’t care, shifting your gaze to your half empty glass.

His gloved hand tightening around your leather sleeve. You can practically imagine the fury on his face, mentally seeing his eyes narrowing at your defiance.

With his opposite hand, he reaches for your pinned grip on the glass and death stick. Tossing the stick on the floor, crushing it with a quick stomp and twist. Following with the removal of the glass, placing it hard on the table.

The cocktail starts to hit, and your i-don’t-care demeanor begins to faulter, your muscles caving into his unforgiving grip. Shoulders slightly dropping, body leaning towards his over the table.

“Kark, Fox! When did it matter what I do. You don’t care! I’m just a pawn!”

Ignoring you, he grabs your bucket and pulls you from the booth, not breaking the contact on your wrist.

Weaving in and out of the crowd exiting the cantina, you slur a whined shout at the back of him “F-fox your grip- you’re hurting me”.

You’re not really sure if heard you despite the midnight cantina banters, so you’re shifting into a hard buzzed attempt to pry his fingers away. Making it outside and around the corner he whips you against the cold night’s alley wall.

“What is wrong with-“ you’re cut off half bouncing back off the wall from the motion, reaching for your wrist in a self comfort caress. Fox quick shifts in front of you with his hand slammed against your head making sure you don’t run, shoving your bucket into your hands with his other.

Your vision is wobbly and by the time you register what happened, looking up into his bucket visor inches from you, he huffs, “you know that’s not true.”

Your eyes are shifting trying to focus on him behind his visor. Your heart starts to race, not just from the drinks, but also from his terrible way of telling you he cares.

“You didn’t have to throw me” you finally say. “You didn’t need to defy me” he responds coldly.

A hard pout shifts on your face with redness on your cheeks. he hasn’t broken the stiff space between you, until you push him back on his red and white plastoid chest so you can straighten up.

You’re now rubbing the back of your head that hit the wall. “You didn’t even give me time to hit the refresher before we left.”

“Don’t start” he shifts crossing his arms, bucket still staring you down.

“So what’s so important you needed me directly? Outside of your horrible way to tell me you’re not mad at me anymore” you shift your bucket under an arm.

“It’s a classified briefing I need to detail you the day of. I am giving you a warning for two days from now to prepare.”

“Well that’s not telling me anything.” Rolling your eyes at the lack of information. He finally moves from his statuesque pose and turns his bucket facing the crowd outside the alley. “Just rest up and stock up on your rations. I’ll contact you.” He rumbles.

“Fine. thanks for the heads up I guess.” You see him shifting ready to walk off.

Contemplating going back into the cantina right after, you’ve moved your bucket to both your hands in front of you; staring down at the old paint job and scuff marks. he quickly turns on his heel to speak to you.

Your newly hit-drunk response time shifts in a yelped surprise when he’s back in front of you, face to face, “can you stop that???” You yell at him, inches away from you.

He snorts a tuned chuckle, “there’s a delivery of new ships docking today at 0900 off the east side. Some of them seem your style.” He grabs the bucket from your hands, and places it on your head. Hands not moving from the sides.

“Don’t go back into the cantina”. He growls, shifting from formal to irritation again, staring down at you.

If he didn’t put the bucket on you, you’re sure he’d see your flustered red face agape. Not just from him reading your thoughts, but once again cutting off your train of thought being so close.

He lets go of your bucket, taking a few steps into the edge of the alley, scanning before he leaves.

“I’ll do what I want on my time off” you slurr back under your bucket. Crossing your arms and shifting your weight to one side to a drunk sassy stance.

“No you won’t” he plays, stepping into the crowd. The red and white instantly disappearing into the colored tinted night crowd.

“The kriff I wont-“ you mockingly yell back at him.

Instantly your comms go off “-remember I have eyes on you at all times” you practically jolt from the growl in your ears, buzz still holding over you. “go back and find out.” The comms click off

“Kriff’n w-womp rat-“ you studder to your self.

“I heard that” the comms click on and off again.

You yell in frustration throwing your hands to your sides feeling like you’re being babysat.

only to leave the alley and instantly see a set of Coruscant Guard troopers watching your move. One shakes their head knowing what you want to do; It’s not like you have a drinking record, but clearly Fox knows where your head is at tonight. You also can’t help that he’s doing this cause he cares, In his own protocol way.

You drop your head down in defeat for a moment, shaking your head shifting your focus to the direction of where you’re staying for the night. “Fine! You win, SIR” the alcohol shifting your tone to a tantrum tone.

“-good girl” the comms click on and off again.

You stop responding knowing he’s listening but keeping his comms in a one way communication. Your mouth twists in a defeated face of annoyance.

Sauntering your late night walk back to your nights stay taking your time getting there, you fumble some credits in your pocket. Rolling them in between your fingers.

Your thoughts shift quickly considering that you might find a ship you like. You’ve saved enough for a while to find something, and by Fox’s tone there could be one that fits the qualifications.

You miss having your own ship and space to come back to without looking more over your shoulder than usual. you miss your droid companion too. It’s been lonely even with all the gigs.

You take a brief stumble into an armored shoulder, apologizing for the impact. Too drunk to care or even see who it was, you turn into a few corners so no one can follow you to the backside of your stay. Your path changing every night.

You unlock the door and instantly feel your wobbly senses jump as the door slides open. your reflexes drop your antenna scanner fast to see a thermal body sitting in the corner, a leg half crossed the other in the free chair across the room.

Reaching for your blaster, they growl,

“-took you long enough”.

[ghostymarni]

Also for posting a new writing on Aev’s story

Imma share a close up of the civilian outfit from her sheet

Taking a break from grumpy copy paste commanders to work on my OC’s character sheet

[eobe]

She. is. gorgeous 😎✨🫶

‘hey my name is Aeviririn (ey-vir-eer-in), I go by Aev (aeve).”

female mandalorian: black hair long mohawk, dark brown eyes (gold orange color in sunlight), pale ivory skin tone + reds easy with emotions.

weapons: long range sniper rifle (not yet pictured), hand pistol for short range + small yellow vibro blade in her right boot. right handed shooter, left hand strength dominant.

story:

last of her clan, a wanderer in odd jobs. More for hire, than a bounty hunter to get by like most of the galaxy. She took the creed as a youngling, but for her own survival she’s broken it to get by. This is the way, but only in half faith as her path is greater than any creed.

On a personal level, Aev is a “tomboy” rough-nut sarcastic warrior, she wears her heart on her sleeve, is stubborn to loss, but has twice as much fight when she’s down, determined to prove you wrong. She likes to feel pretty but finds less use of it for survival, unless it’s for the right high-class job. On a business level, she’s blunt + of few words (she’s keen on listening more than speaking knowing her clients usually slip up with useful information). Aev leans on the intimidating bucket persona for her jobs, never let your guard down + trust no one.

Aev is looking for a new droid + ship. Hers were lost in a bad crossfire with contending bounty hunters on the same hitman job. Hitchhiking + saving her credits, she’s done volunteer work in cities like coruscant for a free sheltered nights sleep. But doesn’t hesitate taking on dangerous gigs as she is keen + precise with her sniper rifle, often called on for high paying debt bounties that the top dogs don’t take.

While Aev isn’t the party type, she does enjoy a good cantina drink + ambiance knowing that’s where the best job offers are-

Find her getting herself in + out of trouble all in one go, she’s quick on her feet, but emotionally weak to an emotional close proximity of trust + space. She’s lost trust in everyone being a survivor, but deep down she��s got a bigger heart than she lets herself believe.

[thecoffeelorian]

Who is in the room with Reader.

I'm dying to know at this point.

Also, yikes.

A Job

TW: smoking, drinking, aggressive behavior, nothing harmful.

Aev - Mandalorian OC/reader chapter 1

It’s close to 0100 hours into the new day, and it’s been quite a few long rotations since you’ve had any time to yourself between free stay jobs, one night hotels, and high-end client gigs. you’re sitting in your half civilian clothes, laid out in a cantina booth.

Coruscant is your favorite city, easiest for jobs, and most comforting on the vas array of those that want to disappear in a crowd. You just wanted to blend in tonight, despite your bucket always giving you away.

Bucket on the table close to you, next to a few empty cocktail glasses. Music played a shifting beat, as the half dark ambiance seemed to liven up with another wave of patrons entering the cantina.

Shifting, checking the blaster on your hip was on standby, feet propped up on the stool, on the edge of the booth. You’ve had enough big jobs and savings as of late, you needed a night out for the change of pace.

The atmosphere of the musky colored neons, entertaining music, and mismatched crowd helped you feel a little more at ease knowing no one really cared about anyone else.

Crossing your legs you take a moment to let your head fall back on the seat, arms stretched out in a lazy T, with a drink in your hand. “I hope I don’t get another big job for at least a rotation. I need a whole bacta tank vacation after that last one-“. Your muscles twitching as a reminder of the physcial strain you keep doing to yourself.

Lifting your head up to scan the crowd, your buzz was finally starting to kick in good, and you honestly were contemplating getting trashed. Of course if it weren’t for the thought of a hangover the next morning, stopping you.

You were annoyed the last client lied about the gig, it was more dangerous than what was put out, but the positive is that they paid you triple for doing it anyway.

Kriff, it’s exhausting sometimes. All the time, honestly.

You wave down a server droid for a refill, and throw a few credits towards the sleeze selling death sticks. You grab the pack, hard tapping it on your palm, taking one out before tossing the pack onto the table. Slipping the death stick into the corner of your mouth in a soft hold.

Breaking eye contact with the crowd you shift your gaze down to check your pack, for something to light it with.

Sparks ignite above you, holding a steady flame.

“I didn’t take you for the smoking type” the low half growling voice called at you.

You paused your self patted search, half responding before looking up, “I didn’t think you cared-“, an irritated smirk now on your face, staring back at the silhouette.

“What do I owe the pleasure of your honored presence? I’m surprised one of your men didn’t come in your stead.”

He stands silent, leaning forward to ignite your death stick. Without hesitation you calmly comply.

Retreating your legs from the stool to half stand, meeting him halfway over the table for the light. His bright red bracers and gloved hands quickly fading as the fire closed out. You return your thanks retreating with an exaggerated large hit, slowly exhaling the smoke making a brief barrier.

“How’d you know I was here?” taking a small sharp drag, returning to your laid out pose across the seat in your exhale.

“I always know where you are, Aev.” he rumbles. pocketing the lighter.

“I thought you were mad at me” you half laugh holding the death stick in between your fingers.

The service droid returns with your 5th cocktail, calling out the cost. Breaking the silence you remove your feet from the stool again to simultaneously pay the droid and grab the drink. Droid rolling away right after.

“You’re done for the night.” His tone annoyed and demanding. “Why?” you short reply.

Slightly pausing but not giving him a chance to rebuttal, “I’ve put off nights like this for 87 rotations, I’ve been busy. Mind you- nearly half of those jobs were from you.”

“You’re suited for another off the record job. I don’t need you intoxicated for it.” He briefs you, “it’s confidential, that’s why I’m here myself.”

“Kriff, Fox, I finally have a night off and you’re giving me kark for it” you jest, throwing back your cocktail. Fox instinctively reaches for your wrist mid drink, stopping you from downing the whole cocktail.

“I said- you’re done.” He’s back in your proximity, not letting you go.

His bucket, now “face” to face with you, leaning over the table of smoke, splashed cocktail half dripping down your hand. You can feel his snarl through his auto tuned breathing, his shoulders rising and falling hinting he had no patience to begin with.

You stare back slightly intimated of the sudden loss of space between you, quick shifting to your buzzed sarcasm.

“And here I hoped you’ve missed me as much as I missed you, commander. Nice to know you don’t.” you’re attempting to pull your hand out of his grip. Trying to convince him you don’t care, shifting your gaze to your half empty glass.

His gloved hand tightening around your leather sleeve. You can practically imagine the fury on his face, mentally seeing his eyes narrowing at your defiance.

With his opposite hand, he reaches for your pinned grip on the glass and death stick. Tossing the stick on the floor, crushing it with a quick stomp and twist. Following with the removal of the glass, placing it hard on the table.

The cocktail starts to hit, and your i-don’t-care demeanor begins to faulter, your muscles caving into his unforgiving grip. Shoulders slightly dropping, body leaning towards his over the table.

“Kark, Fox! When did it matter what I do. You don’t care! I’m just a pawn!”

Ignoring you, he grabs your bucket and pulls you from the booth, not breaking the contact on your wrist.

Weaving in and out of the crowd exiting the cantina, you slur a whined shout at the back of him “F-fox your grip- you’re hurting me”.

You’re not really sure if heard you despite the midnight cantina banters, so you’re shifting into a hard buzzed attempt to pry his fingers away. Making it outside and around the corner he whips you against the cold night’s alley wall.

“What is wrong with-“ you’re cut off half bouncing back off the wall from the motion, reaching for your wrist in a self comfort caress. Fox quick shifts in front of you with his hand slammed against your head making sure you don’t run, shoving your bucket into your hands with his other.

Your vision is wobbly and by the time you register what happened, looking up into his bucket visor inches from you, he huffs, “you know that’s not true.”

Your eyes are shifting trying to focus on him behind his visor. Your heart starts to race, not just from the drinks, but also from his terrible way of telling you he cares.

“You didn’t have to throw me” you finally say. “You didn’t need to defy me” he responds coldly.

A hard pout shifts on your face with redness on your cheeks. he hasn’t broken the stiff space between you, until you push him back on his red and white plastoid chest so you can straighten up.

You’re now rubbing the back of your head that hit the wall. “You didn’t even give me time to hit the refresher before we left.”

“Don’t start” he shifts crossing his arms, bucket still staring you down.

“So what’s so important you needed me directly? Outside of your horrible way to tell me you’re not mad at me anymore” you shift your bucket under an arm.

“It’s a classified briefing I need to detail you the day of. I am giving you a warning for two days from now to prepare.”

“Well that’s not telling me anything.” Rolling your eyes at the lack of information. He finally moves from his statuesque pose and turns his bucket facing the crowd outside the alley. “Just rest up and stock up on your rations. I’ll contact you.” He rumbles.

“Fine. thanks for the heads up I guess.” You see him shifting ready to walk off.

Contemplating going back into the cantina right after, you’ve moved your bucket to both your hands in front of you; staring down at the old paint job and scuff marks. he quickly turns on his heel to speak to you.

Your newly hit-drunk response time shifts in a yelped surprise when he’s back in front of you, face to face, “can you stop that???” You yell at him, inches away from you.

He snorts a tuned chuckle, “there’s a delivery of new ships docking today at 0900 off the east side. Some of them seem your style.” He grabs the bucket from your hands, and places it on your head. Hands not moving from the sides.

“Don’t go back into the cantina”. He growls, shifting from formal to irritation again, staring down at you.

If he didn’t put the bucket on you, you’re sure he’d see your flustered red face agape. Not just from him reading your thoughts, but once again cutting off your train of thought being so close.

He lets go of your bucket, taking a few steps into the edge of the alley, scanning before he leaves.

“I’ll do what I want on my time off” you slurr back under your bucket. Crossing your arms and shifting your weight to one side to a drunk sassy stance.

“No you won’t” he plays, stepping into the crowd. The red and white instantly disappearing into the colored tinted night crowd.

“The kriff I wont-“ you mockingly yell back at him.

Instantly your comms go off “-remember I have eyes on you at all times” you practically jolt from the growl in your ears, buzz still holding over you. “go back and find out.” The comms click off

“Kriff’n w-womp rat-“ you studder to your self.

“I heard that” the comms click on and off again.

You yell in frustration throwing your hands to your sides feeling like you’re being babysat.

only to leave the alley and instantly see a set of Coruscant Guard troopers watching your move. One shakes their head knowing what you want to do; It’s not like you have a drinking record, but clearly Fox knows where your head is at tonight. You also can’t help that he’s doing this cause he cares, In his own protocol way.

You drop your head down in defeat for a moment, shaking your head shifting your focus to the direction of where you’re staying for the night. “Fine! You win, SIR” the alcohol shifting your tone to a tantrum tone.

“-good girl” the comms click on and off again.

You stop responding knowing he’s listening but keeping his comms in a one way communication. Your mouth twists in a defeated face of annoyance.

Sauntering your late night walk back to your nights stay taking your time getting there, you fumble some credits in your pocket. Rolling them in between your fingers.

Your thoughts shift quickly considering that you might find a ship you like. You’ve saved enough for a while to find something, and by Fox’s tone there could be one that fits the qualifications.

You miss having your own ship and space to come back to without looking more over your shoulder than usual. you miss your droid companion too. It’s been lonely even with all the gigs.

You take a brief stumble into an armored shoulder, apologizing for the impact. Too drunk to care or even see who it was, you turn into a few corners so no one can follow you to the backside of your stay. Your path changing every night.

You unlock the door and instantly feel your wobbly senses jump as the door slides open. your reflexes drop your antenna scanner fast to see a thermal body sitting in the corner, a leg half crossed the other in the free chair across the room.

Reaching for your blaster, they growl,

“-took you long enough”.