#Mid Rim Territories

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

"NABOO IS A PRISTINE WORLD, UNTOUCHED BY TECHNOLOGY..."

PIC INFO: Spotlight on the picturesque planet of Naboo, a small pastoral world in the Mid Rim, located near the border of the Outer Rim Territories.

[Initial shot from "STAR WARS" Saga Edition RPG Omnibus, via Fandom].

Naboo is a peaceful planet that has remained a relatively insignificant, if beautiful, member of galactic society for centuries.

Naboo is a world covered in beautiful oceans, sweeping grasslands, and rich forests. Human settlements tend to incorporate waterfalls, cliffs, and other natural terrain features. Gungans live in beautiful submerged cities hidden beneath great lakes.

Many years ago, the Humans of Naboo came into conflict with the native Gungans, thus beginning a centuries-long animosity between these two peoples.

Naboo, unlike most other habitable worlds, does not have a molten core. Instead, the center of the planet is hollowed out and filled with water.

Naboo is a pristine world, untouched by technology except for what little the Gungans possess. No civilization exists above the water line, and the planet’s rolling plains and beautiful landscapes are untainted by cities or other settlements. Despite its beauty, Naboo is a dangerous world, with a number of large predators both on land and in the seas, and traveling to Naboo can be nearly as dangerous as visiting the jungles of Kashyyyk.

Source: https://swse-omnibus.fandom.com/wiki/Naboo.

[pluralzalpha]

Galactic Gazetteer: Ord Mantell

Type: terrestrial planet

Moons: at least 15, including Quantxi

Primary: Bright Jewel

Location: Bright Jewel Sector, Mid Rim Territories

Capital: Ord Mantell City

Demonym: Mantellian

Native inhabitants: Savrip

Immigrant inhabitants: many species, including humans, Bith, Twi'leks, Aqualish and more

Affiliation: Corellia/Galactic Republic/Galactic Empire

First appearance: Star Wars: The Old Republic (2011)

Notable appearances: Star Wars: The Bad Batch S1&2

Fun fact: a major star port and tourist hub, but also a base for criminal organisations including Black Sun and the Shadow Syndicate.

Another fun fact: colonised c. 12,000 BBY by Corellian scouters

[sw5w]

More and More Star Systems are Joining the Separatists

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:04:30

[padmeamidela]

@prequelsnet prequels appreciation week: day 3 — locations

NABOO was a bountiful planet in the chommell sector of the mid rim, in the trailing sectors and close to the border of the outer rim territories. it was home to the indigenous gungan species and to a population of humans known as the naboo. naboo was pushed to the forefront of galactic politics as the birthplace of the dark lord of the sith sheev palpatine, who served as its representative in the senate of the galactic republic. — x

insp

[gouraminnow]

Birds of a Feather

(Entirely platonic | SFW | Marco & OC) Marco the Phoenix is found by an orphaned harpy child that mistakes him for one of their own kind. It takes less than a day to commit to adoption- he really is taking after his father.

Warnings: Past world government/celestial dragon related incident, drugging/sedation. This is self indulgent fluff catered to me and exactly one other person she knows who she is. Hi <3

Marco had just wanted to stretch his wings. The winter island they’d all stopped at was beautiful- sloping hills, valleys and deep forests blanketed in thick snow, with the soft orange lights of the small town that had only recently sprung up. They weren’t going to be here very long- at least they didn’t plan on it. Apparently, there were some nice hot springs in more remote areas, and some of the others had asked him to see if he spotted them on his flight. Whether or not his brothers actually wished to commit to the hike when there was booze to be had in town was another matter, but he enjoyed the airtime anyway. The clear wintery skies were quiet and refreshing.

Cresting over a hill and peering down into a valley, he spots the stacked hot spring pools overlapping like fish scales.

But he also spotted something else.

When he swooped lower to get a look at the layered pools of the springs, he also noticed a small white shape- scampering through underbrush, between trees, trying to keep up with him despite being grounded. He can’t get a good look from up here- but whatever it is, it’s awfully little and makes no attempts to conceal itself. He dips again, going lower in an attempt to catch a glimpse of this thing- aiming for a clearing between some pools up ahead, he turns in a wide arc, flaring his wings out to catch the frigid air and slow his descent. He kicks up a healthy plume of snow when he lands, and takes a second to shake himself off. He stands still, arms still transformed into wings as he searches for any movement- though he doesn’t have to wait long. Something white and fluffy with bits of gray and black darts right toward him with a loud trill. He steps to the side, the tiny thing skidding right past him with an undignified squawk. 

The fluffy mess shakes itself off, and he’s met with the confused face of… some sort of little bird creature. It can’t be much taller than his mid-thigh. It wears no clothes, but it does have a leather shoulder bag. It’s covered from head to taloned toe in thick, downy feathers. It has wings instead of arms, but longer, more dextrous phalanges form three functional fingers at each wrist. Little black talons poke through a generous amount of unkempt plumage at both the feet and pseudo-hands, and the face- large, black eyes rimmed with orange, with bright blue circular markings on the cheeks, framed by a wild mane of… well, feathers, but it takes the place of hair. Two little tufts stick out on top of its head, not unlike the “ears” of a great-horned owl. They’re covered in gray and black stripes and speckles- impressive camouflage. He’s sure if the little beast had actually tried to be stealthy, he never would have noticed them. 

But it wasn’t. It was dead-set on getting his attention. It didn’t take a genius to be able to guess that it mistook him for its own kind. He furrows his brow, watching it shake itself off and look back up at him, releasing a quizzical chirp. His mouth presses into a firm line. This was… probably a harpy chick. While harpies were typically depicted with bare faces and torsos, this was a cold environment. Probably just a climate-specific adaptation- or maybe they’re completely feathered as babies and they’ll lose coverage as they age. It chirps at him again, taking a tentative step forward, and he sighs. He’s not sure what to do here. He’s unfamiliar with whatever this species is, and he doesn’t want to inadvertently upset some territorial parents. While the little one seems to think he’s one of them, it’s entirely possible the adults would know better. He looks around- scanning the treeline, the clearing, the sky- and finding no hint of any other presence, he turns back to the creature before him, who has been inching closer and closer. He holds their gaze for a moment. “Where’d you come from, little one?”

They blink up at him. One of their little ear tufts twitches.

“... Can you understand me at all?” He tries.

They tilt their head at him, a little chrrr chrrr chrrr sound bubbling out of their throat.

Inconclusive, but probably not.

With a low chuckle, he crouches down- and that’s when they strike. They launch themselves forward, tackling Marco with a shrill cry. “Woah there,” he says as they cling to his coat, little feet scrabbling frantically as they struggle to get themselves up on top of his bent legs, sitting themselves right down on his lap. They’re not shy at all about getting settled, curling up and nuzzling his chest with a sweet trill. Marco huffs. “Well, aren’t you affectionate, yoi?” he muses, shifting his wings back into arms. Gently, he wraps an arm around the creature, supporting their weight by pressing them against his chest as he sits down cross-legged, settling them back into his lap.

They don’t really react, just continuing to nuzzle against the man. They’re awfully happy to be here, aren’t they? His hands run through the downy, speckled feathers on their back and his mouth presses into a firm line. Checking them over, he finally realizes just how dirty and unkempt they are- specifically in spots they wouldn’t be able to reach on their own. There’s an uninterrupted strip of grimy, disheveled feathers interspersed with the waxy sheaths of developing pin feathers down their spine- when he pulls his hand away, there’s a thin layer of grime on his fingertips. 

“... Who’s taking care of you, kiddo?” He murmurs, only met with the happy, idle twittering of the creature in his lap. “You’re real excited to see me huh…” He’s not sure what to do. They very well could be an orphan, or even a case of a hatchling being ejected from the nest by a stronger sibling. Or they could just be very, very lost. Gently, he pushes the creature’s shoulders back, so they can look each other in the face. “Blink three times if you understand me,” he says, voice firm. They just stare, tilting their head a little bit. Marco sighs. The language barrier is a problem. He takes a second to think, letting the kid snuggle up again. How much this creature takes after regular birds was unknown but some things could be inferred. The eagerness with which they latched onto him suggested a social species- the state of their feathers suggesting flock members assisted each other in grooming. At least at this age, anyway. If this creature had parents, he needed to figure out how to locate them- but as of right now, he had no way of telling if that was the case or not.

 He’s pulled out of his thoughts when the creature begins to rummage through their little bag- producing what looks like two small, dried pieces of meat and then holding one up to his face. They chirp, smiling brightly, practically shoving it against his chin. He looks at the creature's wide eyes, then at the shriveled, burnt looking scrap they’re offering. When he doesn’t accept it immediately, their little face scrunches up, mouth settling into a pout. They pull away, maintaining eye contact, and pop one into their mouth. They make a loud, exaggerated display of chewing(with their mouth closed, thankfully) and swallowing with an audible gulp. Marco huffs, a lazy smile spreading across his face. As unappetizing as it looks, he can smell the char on it, so at least it's been thoroughly sterilized at this point. Not that contaminants were something he worried much about with his particular devil fruit, but some things are just a matter of principle. Dubious meat is dubious. But the display was awfully cute, and he’d hate to disappoint them, so when they slowly hold it out to him again, he plucks it from their talons and swallows it whole. He does briefly taste the char he suspected, but the big grin from the hatchling is worth it.

He ruffles their hair, and they eagerly lean into the gesture. But when he tries to pull away, they grab onto his hand, hopping to their feet and gently trying to tug him along with them. “Oh? Got something to show me?” He gets a series of chirps in response, and they keep tugging. Well, he’s got plenty of time. Might as well see where they want to take him- it's probably his best bet at answering some of his questions.

-

Marco casually follows behind the little bird as they lead him through the snow. He’d gotten them to let go of his hand- they were so short he had to awkwardly bend down in order for them to reach it, and walking like that was very uncomfortable. At one point during their little walk, they had turned back to him and twittered with a quizzical tilt to their head, before flaring their wings out. He raised a brow, and they just repeated the gesture. “Sorry, kiddo, not sure I get what you mean…” they huff, stomping their little feet- before pointing to him and flaring their wings out a third time. A light goes off in his head. Ah, that’s what it is, huh? With a dramatic flourish of blue flame, his arms bloom into wings. He flares them just like they had, flapping a couple times for good measure- disturbing the pristine snow around the two of them in a ten-foot radius. He seems to have gotten it right- they cheer loudly, hopping up and down and twirling in a circle. He can’t help but soften at the sight- he wasn’t a conceited man, but appealing to his ego certainly didn’t hurt. After the little display he just followed along, listening to them chirp and warble endlessly. They may not understand each other, but there was no doubt they were a chatterbox. 

It isn’t long before they come upon a sort of crevice between two tall pools, hidden away by some simple foliage. The little one slips right in, but it’s a bit of a tight squeeze for Marco. The first thing he notices is just how warm it is in the little cave. Makes sense to him- perfect place to make a den. The walls are a soft, reddish brown, working with the pleasant warmth to directly contrast the bitter chill outside. There are a few old wooden crates and cracked, scavenged pottery shoved against the walls of the cavern- the former of which store a variety of pilfered knicknacks, most notably packs of crayons and paints along with what looks like a coarsely-bristled brush tied to a long stick. There’s a nest further in, made of loose furs and old rags primarily- but just beyond that, on the far wall, countless drawings have been pinned up, rows of wobbly child-like sketches displayed right next to their bed. Stepping further, eyes gradually adjusting, he notices something else:

Tally marks.

Hundreds of them- tiny, shallow tick marks etched into every wall of the cave, reaching only a little higher than his knee. Something in him twists, as he crouches down to run his fingers against the clumsily scratched lines. These ones are organized in groups of seven, rather than five. 

He hears another trill, the rustling of papers- and he looks back to see the little one bounding toward him, holding a drawing up above their head with a grin. They shove the paper towards him with an excited cry, earning a chuckle from the man, who graciously accepts it, raising the yellowed material up for a closer look. He goes still, a tightness blooming in his chest. In a childish crayon scrawl, the colors bleeding past the wobbly outlines, are three figures. One is the child standing before him, who is currently excitedly hopping from foot to foot in silent anticipation. They draw themselves as little more than a speckled puffball with big eyes, blue cheeks and their distinct ear tufts. The second figure is bigger, standing to the left of the child. The stripes on this figure are darker, with some browns mixed in with the black and gray stripes. The markings are similar to the child’s, with the blue cheeks and orange-rimmed eyes, but with a few key differences- namely the large tail feathers, black tipped wings and feet, with a hint of that same blue on the undersides of the wings.The drawing is actually… really good, for a kid- there’s an impressive amount of detail put into recreating the distinct markings of their family.

The third figure… confirms some of his suspicions. It’s slightly smaller than the second, but still larger than the child. And the plumage of this adult is primarily a bright, brilliant blue, save for white patches on the belly and face. There’s a tightness in his chest as he holds the paper, eyes flitting to the ever-hopeful face of the child. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. If these harpies matched up with the same types of sexual dimorphism as many bird species, the brightly colored ones are probably the males. This is clearly a family portrait, but the little one’s parents are nowhere to be seen. And the tally marks on the wall don’t reach very high, nor do the drawings they’ve hung up- if they had someone older looking after them, more of that wallspace would probably be utilized. Do they think he’s just another harpy, or their dad specifically? Probably not- if they were able to draw out the markings their parents had, then they’re probably able to see the difference.

“Kid…” he starts, taking a step forward and crouching down. They seem to view this as an invitation, because just like last time, they launch forward and flail their way onto his lap. He sighs, circling an arm around their waist and standing back up. They barely weigh anything at all. He wonders if their bones are hollow.

Now carrying the child, he approaches the wall featuring the rest of the drawings. His steps reverberate around the small cavern, the harpy purring against his chest. He steps into their makeshift nest, settling down in the various pelts, blankets and cushions. It smells a little musty, truthfully… reminds him of the few times he’d entered Ace’s room.

He shakes the thought out of his head, instead focusing on the drawings the little one had made. It’s… a lot of drawings of other Harpies, some scribbly mountains and trees… one seems to depict a gathering of twelve, with a bonfire in the middle and the bird people taking turns roasting nondescript lumps on sticks. He’s sure it’s meant to be meat, as two of them do almost look like rabbit silhouettes. Another depicts the child in his lap playing in the springs with other harpy children- all drawn with sweet little smiles and those big, black dot eyes. All the drawings they’ve pinned to the cave wall are happy scenes with a loving flock that is nowhere to be seen. Many figures celebrating, playing together, hunting and cooking game… none depict a Harpy by itself, all of them groups of at least three. Going off of these, he was right in suspecting they’re part of a highly social species, raised as part of a crowded and attentive flock. Abandonment seems out of the question if these idyllic little pictures are to be believed- but regardless of the circumstances behind their isolation, this was clearly some sort of desperate coping mechanism. Hanging pictures of the family they missed dearly, right by where they sleep? Examining another drawing of adult harpies fending off some large, fearsome thing- mostly black scribbles, big sharp teeth and eyes- while the chicks watch from behind them- the idea of abandonment at the talons of these bird-folk feels like nonsense. He doesn’t want to say anything for sure when all he has to go off are these pictures, but some deep, small but sharp sting of instinct within him makes the suggestion of neglect feel utterly wrong. Something worse had happened, the phoenix was all but certain. His mouth presses into a thin line, and he can’t help but hold the poor kid a little tighter. 

They’re completely oblivious to the inner turmoil welling up inside him, interpreting the slight squeeze as deliberate affection. Their eyelids droop and their feathers puff up as they settle against his warmth. It isn’t long at all before they’re snoring softly in his lap… Marco sighs, idly petting the little bird monster as they doze. “You make it real hard not to get attached, huh, yoi…” He mumbles, gently scratching their chin. Hmm. He wants to check something. Thinking back to their little family portrait, he leans them back and gently unfurls one of their arm-wings. Most of the feathers are still soft and downy, but he catches hints of those iridescent blue patches the mother in the drawing had right under her armpits. Checking their wings, gently detangling as he goes, he catches no further glimpses of those vibrant pinfeathers, and concludes that the child is most likely female- though he is unfamiliar with the child’s age and how quickly their species develops, so he wouldn’t know for sure until all the baby feathers were gone. Judging by the little blue sprigs, it wouldn’t be long-

Marco blinks, stopping his train of thought. When had he started thinking as if this kid was going to live with him? He hadn’t even known them for a day. Suspicious circumstances and heartstring-pulling be damned, it’s far too early to be acting this way. The ideal way this all turns out is that their real family is located, and they’re left with their kind. In the best-case scenario, he’d never even see their adult plumage, having sailed on with his family after reuniting the child with their own. If he did take them with him, he would have to figure out their specific needs on the fly, such as diet, exercise, hygiene, sleeping habits… though at least the size of the crew was unlikely to bother them once they’d integrated, if the large social groups in their artwork were anything to go by. 

Marco sighs. It’s simple- he just needs to know more. And now is the perfect time, seeing as the little one is sleeping like… well, a baby. He sits up, hands raising to their shoulders to gently pry them off from where their claws dig in to the fabric of his coat- and god is the little puffball tiny, one splayed hand covering the width of their speckled back- but as soon as he tries to pull them away, he hears a sleepy little whine and their three-fingered hands bunch up the wool. He frowns- taking in the way their eyes move behind their lids, and the drooping of their ear-tufts. Ugh. Damnit, they’re far too cute for their own good.

With an exaggeratedly resigned sigh, he pulls them back in, the little one cooing contentedly as they snuggle back into the warmth of his chest. He takes a second to adjust, moving the sleeping chick up to a more comfortable position before swinging his legs over the nest’s edge and standing up. He'll just... carry them while he has a look around, since they're so attached. So, with the little chick tucked against his chest with one arm, he begins his search. Starting with the wooden crates off to the side, he’s careful- sinking into a crouch and resting the harpy in the gap between his chest and the tops of his thighs. He picks through- this one is primarily art supplies, as he observed before. Packs of wax crayons dumped into a smaller box, paintbrushes- most in poor condition, he observes, the chipped handle of one resting against his palm as his thumb rubs over the frazzled, uneven bristles spiking outward. There’s a ripped canvas with a broken frame slotted into the box- when he goes to lift it, some chalk falls from where it had likely been resting on the wooden struts. The soft clatter makes the hatchling twitch, but nothing else. There are a few paint pots at the bottom as well, but they’re mostly empty or dried out. Curiously, he finds a couple small rectangular boxes with hinged lids as well, no bigger than his palms. They’re made of a thin, light colored wood and they remind him of Izo’s makeup- a thought that proves its merit when he flips the lid up to reveal the brightly colored chalky substance they have packed away inside. This one has three colors- yellow, orange, and red, and there’s a small mirror tucked into the underside of the lid. Snapping it closed, he opens the other- a sky blue, a darker cobalt pigment, and a deep purple. Hmm. He puts the palettes back where he found them, and turns his attention to the sleeping kid again. Leaning back, he rubs a thumb against the bright blue cheek spot, then pulls it away. Nothing. Those markings were natural, then. Well, it was left at the bottom of the box. If it was something they used with any regularity it would’ve been easier to reach. But the idea of birdfolk adding a little extra pigment to their plumage is one that tickles him.

He doesn’t find much else of note. He examines the brush on a stick he had seen earlier, finds some tools such as knives and scissors. One box has netting, rope, and fishing line- a broken rod laying at the bottom in two pieces. There’s a hole in the floor closer to the entrance of the cave, covered with an old pot lid- when he opens it, he finds a rabbit, two wrapped fish, and a handful of berries in a cheesecloth resting in a bed of snow.

But then, looking back to the inside of the cave, his eyes catch something he’d missed, somehow. Peeking out from under the nest, are more scraps of paper- the crinkled, triangular corners overlapping each other. More drawings… moving back toward the nest, he crouches slowly, careful with the child as usual. Reaching out, he tugs the crinkled papers out from under the furs they’ve been hidden under-

His heart leaps into his throat. His hand, tightening its grip, further crumpling the thin material.

The first picture is of a ship bearing the familiar emblem of the world government, scribbled navy blue and white trim topped by the golden figurehead all world noble ships have. He doesn’t need to look at the rest to know this poor child really is alone. The rest of the hidden drawings, pulled out from where they’ve been shoved and unfolded by his deft hand, are devastating- not just because of the contents. All of them less precise, more frantically drawn, indents or even tears where the kid had applied too much pressure while coloring. Tiny pinprick stains of water damage, if he looks close enough. One drawing is just a large fire. In another, adults and children alike trapped under nets. One shows suited men shooting some of the creatures as the ridiculous bubble-headed celestial dragon oversees. And there was yet another, depicting the familiar bright blue-plumed male flying away with the baby in his talons, little dots as tears falling from their eyes.

No wonder they were so happy to see him. No wonder they could overlook the glaring differences between him and their own kind.

The little one shifts, and Marco realizes how hard he’s breathing. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he takes a moment to calm himself, for their sake- but it’s not easy. Well. He’d already wanted to take the little one with him. He didn’t see a world where Oyaji would say no, especially not once Marco told him everything. And if anyone else had an issue (though he doubted anyone would, other than the typical rational concerns when it comes to having a small child on a pirate ship), they would just have to deal with it. Marco was a commander, he did what he wanted.

But of course, he still has questions. In the brief time they’d spent in town, nobody had made any mention of harpies. He knows the small village is a very recent development- four years old, if he remembered right- is it possible that its presence is younger than the tragedy that befell the birdfolk? When visiting a new place with his family, local urban legends were quickly picked up on. Proud, hardworking folk like these often want others to be impressed with the places they call home- that’s why they’d put so much emphasis on the springs. It seemed odd that nobody had mentioned that this island once contained at least one whole flock of mythical creatures.

But looking at all the tally marks on the walls, the small, clustered groups of seven, seven, seven- he hadn’t counted them, but over four years of living alone looked very plausible if he assumed the kid counted accurately. Did… the kid know there was a human settlement? He would assume they did, but then again… the distance is a lot for someone so small. He only spotted the remote cluster of pools from the air, before he swooped down for a closer look. And all of their things look old, held together through improvised fixes- nothing new that would suggest they had stolen from town. Though if they did know of its presence, it was possible they avoided it on purpose. They only wanted Marco’s attention because he was a giant blue bird. They might not differentiate between world nobles and humans in general. With that in mind, he should be cautious with crew introductions.

Well, regardless of the kid’s relations (or lack thereof) with the other locals, they were coming with him. As well as he can using one hand, he gingerly stacks the previously hidden artwork, tapping it against the ground to line them up. He wishes he had some sort of folder… tucking them into his coat will have to do for now, so he slowly leans them back- prying their little fingers out of the grip they hold so he can unbutton the front enough to slide the papers in. Something to show the others- some sympathy for his cause wouldn’t hurt.

And with that, he lets himself partially transform- Wings, feet, tailfeathers. with a flourish of healing fire- that he washes over the child, just in case. She blinks, yawning- and he watches the flickering of his own flames in their dark, glassy eyes as they widen. They smile up at him with a chirp, and he returns it. “Have a nice nap, little one?” He croons. “How would you like to go on a little flight with me, yoi?” They twitter up at him, feathers puffing up. He sets them down on the floor- which they whine about, earning a laugh from him. He shifts from foot to foot before holding one up and making a grabbing motion with his talons. They perk right up- and sprint outside. Marco blinks, moving after them and squeezing himself through the jagged opening to their little hideout. That’s something he wasn’t looking forward to when he came back to pack up their belongings.

Out in the snow, the hatchling calls out to him- they’ve laid down on their belly, sinking into the powdery substance. He’s amused and impressed they got the message so fast. He thought he’d have to take a leaf out of their book and draw a picture of himself carrying them away. He approaches slowly, holding out one foot again- and when she doesn’t move, he slowly, gingerly wraps his talons around their midsection, the first of his three front toes resting just under the armpit. He tests his grip first, lifting them up while balancing on the other foot, which earns a giggle from them. It feels secure enough, and they don't seem uncomfortable. So using his free foot to propel himself upward, he flaps once, twice, and they’re off- Marco smiling widely at the excited trill they let out. While a little awkward to carry, they’re tiny and weigh nothing to him. They soar over the trees, and Marco climbs higher- even through the sound of the air rushing past his ears, he doesn’t miss the little gasp that escapes them once he’s gotten enough air to reveal the pinks and oranges of a horizon at sunset.

It doesn’t take long. His jaw clenches when he can feel their little body growing more and more tense, the closer he gets to the Moby Dick. When he begins his descent towards the deck, Oyaji and a few others in view- they emit a loud, piercing whine, starting to wriggle. He pulls up, wings flaring out to slow himself, and sticks the landing on one foot, balancing himself before gently setting the kid down with the other. They immediately latch onto Marco’s legs, feathers bristling in agitation. Whitebeard raises a brow, leaning forward in his seat. He’s still shirtless, despite the weather. “Marco,” he rumbles out in greeting. “What’s this you’ve brought to us?” He asks, gesturing to the cowering child clinging to Marco’s legs.

Some of the others have started to gather around, wanting to see what this is about. Marco sighs. First, he reaches into his coat for the bundle of artwork. “Tate, would you mind looking over these with Oyaji?” He asks, extending his arm to the nurse, who approaches slowly. He hands them off to the nurse, who is thankfully dressed for the weather unlike his father, and crouches down to try and dislodge the kid. They whine at him when he grips them by the shoulders, peeling them off of him to the amusement of his brothers. He flashes a quick glare to the men and their chuckling quiets down. “Come on kid, you’re fine, yoi” he chides, opting to lift them into his arms. They bury their face in his chest as he sits them on one arm, turning the other into a wing which he carefully folds around their trembling body. Hopefully, hiding them from view gives them a little security.

He looks back up to Tate, and to Oyaji- he’s leaning over her shoulder as the blonde woman examines each childish drawing, her face growing more troubled with each one. Oyaji keeps the same stony expression the entire time, save for the subtle narrowing of his father’s eyes. “This one spotted me flying, Oyaji. Chased after me from the ground.” He says, watching his old man’s eyes raise to meet his own. “... They think I’m one of them. They’ve been alone for a real long time, yoi. What you’ve got right there, that’s what happened to the rest.”

“These… these are awful,” Tate breathes, still fixated on the foreboding artwork. Marco nods, mouth set in a firm line. 

“Hmph. So you’re saying we’re keeping them, I take it?” the old man says, plucking one of the drawings from Tate’s hands and leaning back to examine it closer. 

Marco nods. “My responsibility, of course. The kiddo’s already… attached.” He sighs, feeling them shift against his chest. “They don’t speak any… human languages. I have no way of telling them that I am not what they think I am, yoi.”

An uncomfortable silence settles over the deck, Whitebeard’s stern gaze sinking to the wing concealing the tiny creature. “And you are certain there are no others of their kind left here?” He asks, the unspoken meaning clear. He is not unsympathetic- it’s the same thought Marco had. It would be better to reunite them with their species, if possible.

Marco nods once again. “They’ve been living in a small cave, and they’ve scratched hundreds of tally marks into the walls. I didn’t count, but it’s been years, yoi. I think…” he sighs, pausing for a second. “None of the townsfolk said anything about bird people. I think this event predates the existence of the village, and this child has managed to remain hidden all this time, yoi.”

His father regards him from a moment, a warmth in his eyes few others would have recognized. “Let me get a look at them. Only for a moment.” Marco nods, retracting his wing. The little one sits with their face buried in his chest, trembling. He nudges them. They whine. He sighs, leaning them back, patting their head with his free hand and gesturing to Whitebeard. They hesitantly turn their head, and he feels them tense when they meet eyes with the Yonko. The towering man gives them a small smile, but it doesn’t help much. They recoil into Marco, pitchy squeak leaving their throat. The Phoenix sighs, letting them latch onto him and covering them from view once more. “Well, that’s it, then.” Whitebeard grunts. “What d’you need?”

“Somebody find Thatch- I need him to whip something up for ‘em. Some meat, add a sedative- I’m going back to their little hideaway to pack their things while they sleep.”

-

Thatch is located, and is reportedly happy to assist. Marco had moved the little beast to his own room, since being around so many humans all of a sudden had utterly terrified the poor thing.He swaddles them in blankets, and intends to leave them in bed- but his face softens when a hand shoots out to cling to him once more. He sighs at the little one glaring at him from the bundle of fabric. “I know, I know,” he coos. “I wish you understood me,” he laments, lifting their swaddled form into his arms. “But this is a good thing, yoi. We’re going to take care of you.” He makes his way over to his desk, opting to at least read over some reports while he waits for Thatch. Settling the child in his lap, he picks up some papers and leans back. 

A bit of guilt creeps up the back of his throat- the poor thing is still trembling. They aren’t being deliberately affectionate like they were before- no chirping, no squeaking, no nuzzling. Just laying where he put them. He sighs, using his free hand to rub their back. They don’t do anything, other than shift slightly. 

It doesn’t take long before he hears three knocks at his door- making the kid flinch. “It’s alright,” he murmurs, patting them softly before speaking up louder. “Come in.” Thatch enters, carrying a  covered platter on one hand.

“Hey, Marco!” the chef beams, strutting inside and setting the food down on the little corner table. The child clings to Marco’s chest tighter, at the sound of his voice. “Heard the big news- fatherhood is gonna look great on you, papa bird~” he teases in a sing-song voice. Marco rolls his eyes, adjusting the kid and standing up to face his crewmate. Thatch’s face softens when his eyes fall onto the bundle in Marco’s arms. “Aw. Still upset, huh?” He says, considerably more subdued now.

“Yeah,” he affirms, patting the bundled creature on the top of the head. “Can’t blame the poor kid- they don’t understand a word we say, so it’s not like I can do much to reassure them, yoi.”

Thatch sighs. “Well, I got the message,” he says, one hand on his hip as he removes the lid with a flourish. The child doesn’t move, but Marco can hear them sniffing. Thatch prepared various types of meat, cut into thin strips, arranged almost like a charcuterie board. There’s a peeled orange and some mixed berries as well. “I’ve got some cured meats, fruits, and I grilled a bit of pork- that’s what's got the sedative in it. Thought about doing chicken, too, but y’know…” He gestures vaguely, and Marco snorts with a shake of his head.

“Thanks, Thatch. And don’t leave just yet, alright?” He says, sliding into a chair. Thatch pulls up one of his own right across from them.

“Don’t have to tell me twice. I was hoping to catch a glimpse of ‘em, anyway. Everyone up top is gossiping.” He smiles, leaning back and propping a foot up on the opposing knee.

Marco returns the smile. “It’s your lucky day, then. You’ll be the first crewmate I introduce, yoi.” If he wants the kid to learn that the others won’t hurt them, the chef is a good place to start. He pries their little talons out of his shirt, shushing the undignified whine the action draws from them. He pulls the blanket down so it’s bunched around their waist, and spins them in his lap to face the tray of food. Thatch’s eyes widen, and a soft gasp falls from his lips. 

The kid regards him warily, leaning back against Marco’s chest. Their ear tufts are drooping back, and their talons find their way to the arm around their waist. “Hey there, little one. Oh, aren’t you cute?” Thatch greets, offering a small wave and a reassuring smile. “I heard all those brutes upstairs gave you a scare, huh? Poor thing,” he coos, before pushing the platter closer. They tense, but lean forward, sniffing the air. “Go ahead, kiddo, all yours.”

The hatchling is hesitant. Their little hands rise from Marco’s forearm, and both men watch their fists clench and unclench. When they turn back to look at Marco, their little face is scrunched up in worry- even if he can’t see their eyebrows through their thick, messy hair, he can tell they’re drawn tight. He gives them a relaxed smile, and slowly reaches out to pluck a piece of salami off of the plate. He makes sure they’re looking when he eats it, chewing slowly. He nods to Thatch. “You eat something too, yoi,” he says. The other man nods, opting for an orange slice. The kid’s little ear tufts perk up, just a little, and they lean forward. Some of the apprehension is beginning to melt away, but they still aren’t going for it. They look nervously back and forth between both men, head swiveling on their little neck. So Marco reaches out again- another piece of meat in his hand, holding it to their mouth as they had done to him. Slowly, they lean forward, biting the edge, and Marco lets go. It doesn’t even take a full second for the kid to realize how good it tastes, snapping it up instantly. They chew, swallow, lick their lips, go to reach for another-

And they freeze, just shy of touching the food. Marco could groan, but he doesn’t. Thatch gives the kid a nod, and when they look back to Marco, he does the same. Their dark glassy eyes go wide for a second. They pick up a blackberry, looking at both men for any reaction before eating it. This repeats a couple of times before they finally give in and start eating like the damn place is on fire, much to Thatch’s delight. The cured meats and fruits are snapped up in a flash, the thin prosciutto torn to shreds as they indulge. The pork is a bit chewier, taking them a little longer, but they eat everything before the drug even starts to set in. They’re licking their talons clean when Thatch pulls the platter back, and stands up. “Well, that was impressive,” he muses, smiling down at the child. They don’t cower against Marco anymore, instead leaning forward to chirp quizzically at the tall man. “Yep, I’m talkin’ to you, honey,” he laughs. “You’ll give Ace a run for his money, I know it.”

“Hope so. All of this is fluff, they’re a scrawny little thing underneath, yoi” Marco chuckles, rubbing the top of their head, relaxing when they lean up into his touch again. He was right. Food is a good way to help most creatures feel secure. 

“What do you need hope for? You know I won’t disappoint! They certainly seemed to like it, didn’t they? Oh, just look at them,” Thatch coos, watching as their eyes squint in satisfaction. 

The two speak a little longer, Thatch telling Marco that word had spread quickly. Oyaji had already given them a nickname, referring to them as “Pipsqueak” and sternly instructing his sons to leave them be for now. Marco told Thatch more about his encounter in turn- the way they’d exuberantly tackled him, the cave, the way the happy drawings had been pinned up by their bed- that particular detail had him dramatically slapping a hand over his heart. “Sent off to find some hot springs, and you come back with an orphan. You’re really taking after the old man, Marco.” He says with a sly smile. It doesn’t take too long for the kid to start nodding off- after around five minutes, there’s a big yawn, and they’re snuggling up to Marco again. He wraps an arm around them, gently preening their wings with his fingers. The speckled little creature all but melts against his chest.

“I think that’s your cue to get going, yoi,” he says.

Thatch sighs, dramatically slapping his hand over his heart. “So it is… how cruel.”

“Oh don’t pout about it, yoi. I actually let you see ‘em didn’t I? And you’ll be bringing them plenty more meals, I’m sure.”

“Of course I will! I’m aiming for the title of Favorite Uncle, after all!”

“You’ll have some stiff competition, yoi.”

“I’m a chef, my dear brother,” Thatch beams, spreading his arms. “Kids love food. Everybody loves food. I like my odds.”

Marco wouldn’t say it, but he did, too. Instead he just smiles, lifting the child into his arms. They rub a blue cheek against his chest, eyelids fluttering. “Yeah, yeah. Now go, yoi. Shoo. I’m sure I’ll be up shortly.” Thatch chuckles, gazing tenderly at the child before shaking his head. As his weathered hand grips the brass door handle, he shoots his brother a knowing smirk.

“You sure you’ll be back in time for them to wake up? I’m a busy man, but I’d be happy to keep an eye on-”

“I said shoo, yoi! Get on with it!”

Thatch laughs, the door swinging closed behind him with a creak. Marco sighs, shaking his head, but he’s still smiling. Turning his attention back to the kid, he holds them closer and stands up from his seat. He listens to their soft breathing, trying not to let the patch of drool seeping through his shirt bother him. He sets them down on the bed, carefully unwrapping the blanket to tuck them in properly. He lays them against the pillow, huffing at their drowsy face, their mouth still hanging open. He pulls the blanket up to their chin, patting them on the head. They nuzzle into his pillow, sigh, and quickly slip into slumber.

He stays for a moment, warm hand resting on top of their head as they doze. “Big day for you hmm?” He muses. It didn’t take long at all for him to commit to this, did it? He wishes they understood him. That he didn’t have to do things like this. But at the very least, his intentions were altruistic, and the child suspected nothing. And when they woke up, they’d have all their drawings hung up within view of their new nest.

[thedarlingdearestdead]

Competence:

Summary: Anakin is entranced by you as you lead the council in tactical planning and strategy. He has to get you away.

Warnings: Almost smut, suggestive, storage closet times!

Word count: 1,430

The Jedi Council chamber was filled with the usual air of solemnity as the council members gathered to discuss the latest developments in the Clone Wars. Anakin Skywalker sat among them, his focus divided between the strategic discussions and the presence of the one person who never failed to captivate his attention – you.

Every time he saw you in action, especially during council briefings, he was reminded of just how good a Jedi you were, just how amazing and… Competent. H was extremely powerful and naturally talented himself, but he was in awe of you. 

The council meeting was in full swing, and you were seated at the centre of the long table, your data-pad displaying intricate battle plans and political schematics. Your voice, calm and measured, resonated through the chamber as you outlined your strategic recommendations.

"Based on the latest intelligence reports, it's imperative that we allocate additional forces to the Mid Rim to counter the Separatist advances," you explained, your eyes scanning the faces of the council members. "This will buy us time to bolster defences in other vulnerable sectors."

Your analysis was met with nods of approval from some of the council members, and Anakin couldn't help but feel a surge of pride in your abilities. It wasn't just your beauty that had drawn him to you; it was your intellect, your unwavering commitment to the Jedi Order, and your exceptional understanding in all matters related to the war.

As the meeting continued, Anakin found himself increasingly distracted by your presence. He watched as you deftly navigated the intricacies of galactic politics, your insights into military tactics, and your poised demeanour commanded respect from even the most seasoned Jedi Masters.  Even Yoda had stayed quiet during your explanations.

He longed to reach out and touch you, to convey the overwhelming emotions he felt in that moment, but the sanctity of the council chamber demanded silence. He ached for you though, squirming in his chair and trying to look like he way paying attention. It wasn’t working well. He tried to focus on the discussion at hand, but his mind kept wandering to the thoughts of you. 

Today's council meeting was no different to the hundreds of others that he had to attend these days. But there was something about you today, a new confidence, you truly had the floor and attention of all the others. Your voice, calm and measured, filled the chamber as you laid out your strategic recommendations.

Anakin watched you intently. It was an intoxicating blend of competence and intellect that he found irresistibly attractive.

As the council meeting progressed, Anakin's mind swirled with images of you. He couldn't help but be drawn deeper into his own thoughts. The way your eyes sparkled with determination, the conviction in your voice, and the way you articulated your arguments with precision—all of it only heightened his desire for you.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his Jedi composure wavering as his thoughts strayed from the matters at hand.

While you debated and argued your points with the council members, Anakin's mind wandered to even more forbidden territory. He pictured you in private moments, the two of you sharing stolen kisses and tender embraces. The thought of your passion and your intellect combined made him flush with desire, and he discreetly adjusted his robe to conceal his growing arousal.

Anakin was so engrossed in his fantasies that he didn't notice the meeting coming to a close. Not until you rose from your seat and collected your data-pad, ready to leave as well. As you turned to head for the door, Anakin sprang up from his seat to follow you out.

The council members began to disperse, each returning to their respective duties. Anakin waited for the opportune moment, and when the last council member had left the chamber, he approached you with a determined stride.

You sensed his presence before he even spoke, and turned to face him with a curious expression on your face. "Anakin, is everything alright?" you asked, noting the intensity in his gaze.

Anakin took a step closer to you, his eyes raking over your form. Then he grabbed you by the top of your arm, and looked around the steadily emptying corridor. 

“Come with me.”

You were taken aback by his urgency and thoroughly confused but you went along with him all the same. You trusted him. 

Though you were questioning why as he led you into what looked like a cramped storage closet. 

“Anakin- What-“

But he had already pounced on you, pressing you up against the door and kissing you like his life depended on it. Like he had been thinking about it. 

You were startled but ultimately you gave in and let him and let him have his way. He got like this sometimes, it was exciting. You leaned into the kiss, hands moving up t wrap around his neck.

The two of you were intertwined for quite some minutes, he just kept going and you couldn’t bring yourself to complain or ask for an explanation. You couldn’t even bring yourself to worry over your not-so-hidden and very small location.

Anakin pulled back slightly and grinned hungrily at you, cheeks flushed with pleasure. You raise an amused eyebrow at him. 

Anakin hesitated for a moment, his heart racing in his chest as he struggled to find the right words. "I just wanted to say… that was really impressive in there," he said finally, gesturing through the door towards the now-empty council chamber. 

You felt a deep flush of satisfaction as you saw just how affected he was. You had no idea you would have such an impact on him. His admiration was flattering.

“You held yourself very well, you were so… The council is very lucky to have you.”

“Is that so?” You asked, smirking as you shifted, grinding your hips against his and feeling his erection pressing into your thigh. Feeling his idea meaning instinctively and loving it, loving the power that such a simple display had on him. 

“Mhm…”

“Thank you,” you responded, “I aim to please.”

Anakin’s hands roamed up and down your body, his fingertips softly caressing your arms as he began to become more bold. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.”

“You have? ” you asked, leaning your head back and closing your eyes. You could feel his warm breath against your neck and it sent shivers down your spine. 

“You’re just so good at everything you do, it’s… intoxicating.”

“You really do have to stop flattering me,” you laughed, “I don’t know if I can handle it.”

“Yes you can, you can handle everything.” He kissed down your neck, “You handle me so well.” Anakin was getting more and more eager with every passing second. You let out a very soft moan as you felt the stubble on his chin scrape against your neck and shoulders, teasing you with his lips.You brought your hands up to his shoulder and ran your fingers down the length of his neck, softly tracing the outline of his collarbone.

“I try my best.” 

“You never fail to impress me,” he sighed. Your eyes fluttered closed as Anakin dipped his head down to kiss you again.

Anakin held your face in his hands, gently caressing your skin with his thumb as he pressed his lips firmly against yours. He ran his tongue along your teeth and pushed his body closer to yours, feeling the way your curves fit against him. He couldn’t get enough of you, he wanted to feel you over and over.

Under the intensity of his touch you became bolder, your hands moving down to grip his hips and to pull him closer. Anakin moaned into your kiss as you tugged him down lower against you. He ran his hands up your back, tracing diagonal lines across your shoulders and down your sides. Anakin didn’t want to stop touching you, but he wanted more than just that.

He couldn’t work in this space. He needed somewhere where he could get to you more easily, where he could properly attend you. He pullback, pulling a small whine from your lips. 

“We’re going to my quarters,” he whispered into your neck, “That way we don’t have to worry about anyone interrupting.” 

“Alright,” you replied, eyes still closed trying to keep youself under contol, your head tilted back, “Lead the way.”

Anakin wrapped his arm around your lower back and pulled you towards him, pressing his lips to yours again as he pulled you out of the closet. 

[furious-blueberry0]

Theret

This is a place that was originally in a personal project of mine that I abandoned, but that I decided to bring back to life by putting it into star wars! I don't have the strenght to draw it, so for now I'll just use images to illustrate hoe this planet looks. Enjoy!

Theret is the birth place of Baheera Lee (OC), this is a planet located in the Mid Rim Territories, and is part of the Chommel sector. It's also part of the Republic, and is represented in the Senate by Senator and Princess, Madiha Akel.

It's an incredibly brightly colored planet, whose mountains, grass lands and beaches are composed by a multitude of natural colours.

Because of this biome, the human population of the planet also enjoys to surround themselves of these colors in their clothing and cities.

The cities and villages are, in fact, made of the same rocks as the mountains, and the glass of the windows are made from the colored sand, creating stunning rainbow cities that can effortlessly blend themselves with the landscape.

The people here also wear clothing and veils dyed with the natural colours of the planet, and their Tanneries are the most famous and proficient of the whole Sector.

In fact the most expensives gowns are often dyed here, like the clothing of various senators, politicians, rich merchants and even some of the gowns of the various Queens of Naboo.

Their homes are full of art of any form. From the stained glass of the windows, to the colored bricks of the walls, from the rainbow baskets to the painted vases, from the intricate embroidery of the veils to the jewelry that decorate their hands, necks and heads.

It's a planet full of joy and life, whose people are considered to be some of the happiest of the galaxy.

The planet suffered an huge attack during the Clone Wars, but the people managed to fight back and have a series of victories even before the Republic could intervene to help them.

A Battalion was then stationed there for the remain of the war, and they collaborated with the already existing, but small, military of the planet, to protect the population from the various attacks the CIS made even after their defeat.

The majority of the clones of the Battalion, by being in such close contact with the people of Theret, started to adopt their colorful lifestyle, by painting their armors in far more colors than any other clones in the whole GAR, which also had the advantage of helping them camouflage themselves on the battlefield.

[illuminatedquill]

All Mine

A Sabine Wren & Ezra Bridger Story

Story Summary: A mission for the Ghost crew takes an unexpected turn when Ezra Bridger reunites with a childhood crush, Shana Tavorri. Sabine Wren, his close friend and partner, must deal with newfound feelings of jealousy - and possibly more - over their relationship.

For Sabezra Day 2024, @sabezraweek

Prompt: Confessing

Bright Jewel System, Mid-Rim Territories

"Look lively," called Hera from the Ghost's cockpit. "Just picked up the Phantom II signal."

Sabine was sitting with Ezra in the Ghost's communal area, playing a game of dejarik. At Hera's call, Ezra sighed and turned the game off. "Well," he said regretfully, "looks like duty calls, Sabine."

She smirked at him and replied, "Lucky for you that it's calling. I was about to bulldoze all over your pathetic defense there at the end." Sabine knew that she had him on the ropes at the game's end. Much as she respected her friend's prowess in battle, Ezra never was much of a tactician.

But, then again, his powers as Jedi certainly did give him options that weren't available to an average combatant. His strategies tended to fall outside the usual box of combat thinking, as Captain Rex - a veteran of the Clone Wars and no stranger to Jedi tactics - put it mildly one time.

It's probably why we work so well together as a team, Sabine reflected. She was one of the only people who could keep up with whatever crazy plan Ezra developed on the fly.

Ezra scowled at her. "My defense was solid, thank you. I was actually about to achieve victory. You're the one who is lucky."

That elicited a laugh from her. "Whatever makes you feel better, goober."

He opened his mouth to further argue the point but was interrupted as Hera emerged from the cockpit followed closely by Chopper. Sighing at the sight of them bickering, she planted both hands on her hips, her expression exasperated.

"Come on, you two," she said. "Let's be good hosts and greet the guest."

Ezra threw Sabine a 'we'll settle this later' look and followed Hera towards the Ghost's stern where the Phantom II had docked. Sabine replied by cheerfully sticking her tongue out at him, as she fell in step behind.

This 'guest', as Hera put it, was a Rebel spy part of the Fulcrum agent network. Three days ago, the Ghost crew had received a transmission from an unexpected source: Princess Leia Organa, the daughter to Senator Bail Organa. She had asked them to rendezvous in the Bright Jewel System where this spy had requested backup to make a trade with an Imperial informant for a data disk containing crucial information to the Rebellion on the nearby planet of Ord Mantell.

Being familiar with the Ghost crew and their capabilities, Princess Leia had requested them specifically for this mission. Once they arrived in system, Kanan and Zeb had then piloted the Phantom II to secret coordinates in deep space to transport the Rebel spy onto the Ghost from an undisclosed location.

As they approached the Phantom II docking bay, Zeb was the first one to disembark, the hatch hissing open to make way for the Ghost crew member. The big Lasat stretched as he emerged, wincing at the crackling noise his joints made. He greeted everyone and, upon seeing Sabine and Ezra, asked with a big grin, "Who won the dejarik game?"

"Me," said Sabine at the same time as Ezra. They turned to each other with bemused looks as Zeb guffawed at their expressions.

"I'll take that to mean that Sabine was about to win it then," Zeb chuckled.

Ezra pouted. Sabine grinned but gave her partner an affectionate pat on the back.

Hera sighed again. "Kids, please behave," she said.

Kanan's voice drifted out from the open hatch, speaking softly to someone. "Watch your step here," he advised, his hand outstretched to the guest.

The Rebel spy stepped through. She was young, around Sabine's age. Lustrous black hair that fell slightly past her shoulders and a beautiful, statuesque face that belonged in holo-dramas. Her eyes were a light gray that shone with a cool intelligence, taking in the Ghost crew with a swift look. The white combat suit she wore was Rebellion standard uniform but, somehow, looked perfectly tailored to her slender body. The holster on her belt had a mean looking blaster tucked inside and judging from the marks on the weapon, it had seen use plenty of times.

Beside her, Sabine heard Ezra take a deep breath in surprise. Frowning, she looked to him - and noted the look of dumbstruck recognition flashing in his piercing blue eyes.

Before she could ask him what was up, Kanan introduced the spy to the crew. "Everyone, this is the Fulcrum agent we've been assigned to escort. Her name is Shana Tavorri."

She nodded in greeting. "Hello, everyone. Pleased to meet you all. I'm grateful for the assistance in this mission. Princess Leia has given you the highest of recommendations."

Shana smiled as her gaze fell upon Ezra. "Especially you, Ezra Bridger."

Sabine narrowed her eyes at Shana. There was an intimate familiarity with how she said Ezra's name . . . and, for some reason, it bothered her.

Ezra took a cautious step forward. "It really is you," he said in amazement. "I can't believe it."

Sabine crossed her arms and leaned against the bulkhead. There was an odd, pinched feeling emanating somewhere inside her chest. Grimacing, she watched her friend practically float towards the new arrival.

Shana's smile widened into an easy-going grin. "Been a while, Ezra. You've certainly grown up from the little street thief I remember back on Lothal."

"You know Ezra?" asked Kanan in surprise.

Shana nodded. "We go way back. Our families were close, and we were childhood friends . . ." Her expression turned sad. "That was before the Empire took over. Ezra - did you ever find out about your parents?"

Ezra went still, a pained expression briefly passing over his face before smoothing into a neutral look. "They died some time ago," he said.

Shana's face fell; she reached out and gripped his hand in sympathy. "Oh, Ezra. I'm so sorry. I was always hoping that they met a better fate than my own family."

Ezra looked down at his feet. "No such luck, I'm afraid," he said. "It's okay. They died helping people."

"It's not okay, Ezra. It'll never be okay. Look - come here," she said and suddenly pulled him into a deep hug. Ezra's face went red in surprise, and he glanced at Sabine with an odd look - like he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to.

She just frowned at him and felt another uncomfortable twinge in her chest. Sabine rubbed at the spot, wondering why she felt this way looking at Ezra and his old friend embracing - and became aware of Hera, looking directly at her, with an amused look on her face.

I don't like this, Sabine thought. I've got a bad feeling about this.

She coughed loudly, interrupting the tender moment between Ezra and Shana. Stepping forward, she stuck out a hand at the Rebel spy. "I'm Sabine, by the way," she said. "Sabine Wren. Ezra's partner."

Shana released a flustered Ezra from the hug and turned towards Sabine. The Fulcrum agent's gray eyes glinted with amusement as she took in Sabine's blunt manner and colorful appearance.

Shana replied coolly, "I've heard all about you, Sabine Wren. You have quite the reputation." The spy took Sabine's hand and gave it a tight, yet amiable squeeze in acknowledgement. Her grip was firm and steady, Sabine noted; her hands, while looking delicate, were calloused. It meant that Shana was not unaccustomed to hard work, despite her model appearance and elegant demeanor.

Normally, that would have impressed Sabine. But, for some unknown reason, it made her dislike the spy even more.

"Good or bad?" asked Sabine as they shook hands.

Shana gave a polite smile as she responded. "Depends on who you ask."

Hera clapped her hands together. "Right. Well, seems like our guest and Ezra have some catching up to do. Ezra, you'll have the honor of giving Shana the tour. Kanan and Zeb, you can go rest. I'll punch in the coordinates to Ord Mantell and get us on the way. And Sabine . . ."

"Yes, Hera?" She was staring at Shana who had already sidled away to speak with Ezra.

"Go freshen up your room. Shana will bunk with you for the night."

Sabine felt her stomach drop out from her abdomen. "Seriously?" she asked. "She's in my room?"

Hera arched an eyebrow. "Is there a problem?"

Sabine gritted her teeth. "No," she replied. Shana had slipped her arm through Ezra's and was walking with him towards the Ghost's communal area. Ezra said something to her, and the young woman let out a peal of laughter that rang through the corridor.

Sabine felt her heart twist viciously as she watched Ezra give a shy smile at Shana.

"No problem at all," she said and went to clean her room, doing her best to ignore the turbulent feelings buzzing inside that were saying something else entirely.

Hyperspace, Mid-Rim Territories

It had been a long day, despite the relative lack of activities, and Sabine was ready for bed. Ezra had given Shana an in-depth tour of the Ghost at her insistence; at the end of it, Sabine had the amusing thought that their guest now possibly knew the Ghost's interior better than any of them. Once finished, Ezra and Shana had lounged in the Ghost's communal area, chatting about various things that had happened in their lives while they had been apart.

Sabine had spent that time lurking nearby, working at a nearby computer station - or, at least, pretending to be working. She was trying to get a better read on this mysterious Shana Tavorri; a Fulcrum agent, after all, was a notable position within the Rebellion, especially for someone so young. There were many of them, she knew, scattered throughout the galaxy performing various missions of critical importance to the Rebellion. The only other one she knew personally was a Jedi Knight, much like Kanan and Ezra, named Ahsoka Tano.

Shana was clearly no Jedi, but she definitely had exhibited skills that the Rebellion deemed worthy enough to put her in the same position that a Jedi had previously held. That made her dangerous.

But Shana's conversation with Ezra failed to disclose any of those potential skills, despite Sabine's best efforts to listen in. She was, however, embarrassed by her response whenever she did hear her name mentioned by Ezra, which came up more than a handful of times in their discussion; a warm, fuzzy feeling that left her feeling pleased.

After a while, both Ezra and Shana wrapped up their chat with a hug (Sabine felt her jaw clench so hard that she could hear something creaking) and retired to their respective bedrooms for the night. Sabine finished her work at the computer station half an hour later and followed suit.

Checking a nearby chronometer, she registered the lateness of the hour and stepped inside her room, deciding to spend some time maintaining her weapons before sleeping -

Only to find Shana laying in the top bunk, reading something on a data pad. Sabine winced, having forgotten that she wouldn't be alone for the night.

"Don't mind me," said Shana amiably, almost as if reading Sabine's thoughts. "Just pretend I'm not here."

Gladly, Sabine thought. But she said, "Hope I didn't disturb your reading."

Shana chuckled. "You didn't. I was just finishing up, actually." She rolled over in the bed to get a better look at Sabine. Her gray eyes took in Sabine's casual appearance, glittering with an almost feline interest.

Sabine, uncomfortable with her gaze, settled down at her desk and reached for her blasters and maintenance tools. "Anything interesting?"

"Oh, plenty," replied Shana. "I was reading about this superweapon developed by the Empire called 'The Duchess'."

Sabine froze, her hands twitching on the grip of her blaster. Her heart began to hammer away, a thousand beats per second. Slowly, she turned towards Shana, finding her sitting at the bed's edge, her feet dangling. There was a slight, polite smile on her face, but her gray eyes flashed again with that cool intelligence.

"You have led quite the life, Sabine Wren," remarked Shana. "Tragedy after tragedy. Does anyone in this crew know about any of that?" She cocked her head at Sabine. "Does Ezra? What would the gallant Jedi think of his friend if he really knew her?"

It was a thought that had kept Sabine up through the night on several occasions.

She crossed her arms and stared at Shana. "You've been reading up on me."

Shana shrugged. "On everyone, really. Princess Leia recommended you all so highly, so I couldn't help but take a peek at your files and histories. Quite the achievements you've pulled off for a crew so small."

"I've been reading up on you, too," replied Sabine coolly. Shana arched an eyebrow in surprise, eliciting a rush of satisfaction - clearly the spy had not been expecting that. "You ran with Saw Gerrera's crew for five years before working directly under Princess Leia. Did he kick you out, I wonder? What does it mean if you're too extreme even for someone like him?"

Shana dropped down from the top bunk and leaned against the bulkhead; her arms crossed in a similar fashion to Sabine. She wondered briefly if it was intentional, to mimic her. "Those files are available only to the top brass of Rebel Command," she murmured. "You hacked into the Rebellion's encrypted database at that old computer station? I assumed you were just skulking about, trying to listen to mine and Ezra's conversation."

Sabine shrugged, hiding her humiliation at having been clocked so easily by the other girl. And here I was thinking that was discreet, she thought. "I'm clever like that," Sabine retorted.

Shana grinned. "Your reputation precedes you, Sabine. Gifted prowess in combat, especially for a Mandalorian, and notable demolitions expert - but everyone seems to overlook that you are a child prodigy. I suspect your rough, blunt demeanor disguises that fact well. But you are, without a doubt, an enormous threat against anyone that chooses to go against you."

Sabine rocked back mentally at Shana's high praise of her talents. But all she said was, "Thanks, I guess."

Shana nodded in acknowledgment. "I can't say the same for Ezra, however." Shaking her head, she added, "I'm surprised he's survived this long."

"What do you mean?" asked Sabine.

"He's hopeless," said Shana in an exasperated tone. "I mean, yes, he's a Jedi now - or so he claims. I understand they're in short supply of capable students but to recruit him into the fabled Jedi Order? Desperate times, I suppose. He could barely tie his shoelaces together when I left him last."

"Ezra Bridger," said Sabine hotly, "is more than capable in any situation. Not because of his Jedi training, but because of who he is. He's saved all our lives - and many others - countless times over."

Shana eyed her skeptically. "You don't have to pretend to me, Sabine. I was just like you before. He's a loyal pup to be sure and good for a distraction I admit, but it's a stretch to say that he's capable on his own." She sighed. "I understand that this crew needed a mascot, perhaps, to cheer them up during these dark times but I think it's irresponsible to take someone like him - "

Sabine struck her with an open hand so hard that the other girl's head bounced off the bulkhead. Before Shana could recover, she shoved her against the wall, pinning her with a well-placed forearm. Sabine, through the red haze that obscured her vision, dimly noted the cut lip on the girl's face but found that she didn't care.

"Do not insult Ezra Bridger in front of me ever again," she said in a voice that was barely recognizable. It was a harsh rasp that Sabine didn't know she was capable of. "Do you understand?"

Shana tapped on Sabine's arm, gasping for air. It took a few moments for her to realize that the other girl couldn't reply due to the lack of air. Sabine relented, feeling her heartbeat pulsing rhythmically inside her skull; she looked down at her hands and found them shaking from the rush of adrenaline, now subsiding.

Yet on the inside she felt calm, as though a stream of ice water were flowing through her veins. Many things from Shana had unnerved her tonight, but it was her insults toward Ezra that had pushed Sabine past the edge.

Doubled over, wheezing, Shana gave her an amused look to Sabine's surprise. "So, you do care," she said.

"You didn't answer my question," Sabine said quietly.

Shana nodded. "I understand. You've got this emotional wall up, you know that? Hard to see through - except when it comes to Ezra Bridger." She wiped at her lip, noting the blood. "Nice hit," she observed.

Sabine reached into her desk and took out a first-aid kit. "Patch yourself up," she said, offering it to her.

Shana accepted it with a nod of gratitude. "I hope you don't take what I said about Ezra seriously. I just needed to know where you stand with him."

Sabine sat back down at her desk. "You don't actually think that way about him?"

Shana shook her head and leaned back against the wall, opening the kit. "Not at all. I know Ezra. We used to scavenge together back in the old days on Lothal. Hit up Imperial patrols for food and water. He stuck his neck out for me plenty of times, at risk to his life. I know what he can do. And that was before he became a Jedi."

Sabine watched her apply medicinal gel to her lip, thinking over what she said. "You care about him."

Shana blew out a breath. "Deeply. He was the only bright spot in my life during that time. I think I loved him."

Sabine felt her heart stop at Shana's words, hearing the depth and sincerity of emotion within them. Feeling her stare, Shana looked over at her with a knowing gaze. "You know what I mean, don't you?"

Deflecting the question, Sabine asked, "So why did you leave him? How did you two get separated?"

Shana sighed. "One of our little scavenging operations went sideways. An uppity Imperial lieutenant wanted to make an example of us for humiliating him in front of his troops. The chase was exhausting; Ezra led most of them away but the lieutenant caught up to me. I thought I was dead."

She closed her eyes, reliving the memory. "Saw Gerrera was there. Don't ask me why or how; he never explained. He killed the lieutenant and offered me a choice. He was impressed with my skills, you see. So he said that I could come with him and pay back the Empire for what they had done to me."

"And if you didn't?"

The girl smiled grimly at Sabine. "He would kill me. No witnesses. Apparently, he didn't want the Empire knowing about his whereabouts, should they find and interrogate me afterwards."

Sabine snorted. "Not much of a choice."

"Indeed," Shana agreed. "So, I went with him."

"And left Ezra? You never went back for him?" Sabine didn't mean to, but there was an accusatory tone to her questions.

Shana eyes glazed over with sadness. "I couldn't. He was just a kid. I didn't want to pull him into danger. I could tell Saw was dangerous, even if he was fighting for the Rebellion. The moment I had an opportunity to do so, I jumped ship. Princess Leia found me and offered a new path. I took it."

Sabine was silent for a moment, thinking about Shana's story. Finally, she said quietly, "Ezra would have followed, if you had asked. He would have gone with you anywhere."

"I know. He's silly like that."

"Loyal," she corrected. Shana cocked her head and smiled a little sadly at Sabine.

"Just like you are to him. Is it typical Mandalorian stubbornness? Or something more?"

Sabine did not want to have that conversation with Shana. Or with anyone else, for that matter. She stood up abruptly and said, "Good night, Shana."

Shana's smile became, somehow, even more sad. "A word of advice, Sabine?"

Sabine was already standing at the door, about to step out. But something in Shana's tone made her pause.

"Don't wait to tell him how you feel. You won't get a second chance. Especially in this galaxy."

She considered Shana's words for a long moment before replying, "Whatever you think our relationship is . . . it's none of your business. That stays between us."

Sabine left before the other girl could respond. Her mind still buzzing with what happened, she wandered aimlessly through the corridors of the Ghost before running smack dab into someone.

"Sabine? What are you doing?" Sabine blinked at the person speaking - and almost groaned out loud.

It was Ezra. Dressed in his sleep wear, holding a mug of his favorite beverage, hot chocolate. His eyebrows were raised in an expression of concern. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Sabine very desperately wanted to be anywhere else right now. Her face was flushed in embarrassment; her heart was thudding a steady tattoo into her ribs at Ezra's proximity. She felt exposed, like a raw nerve, her inner turmoil and feelings threatening to spill out the longer she stayed in front of him.

Racking her brain to find some last second excuse to get out of there, something caught her attention: Ezra's fingers were bandaged. Her fears momentarily vanished as she asked, "What happened to your hands?"

Ezra fumbled his mug, trying to hide the evidence but it was too late. Sighing, he said, "I was working on something."

Sabine arched an inquisitive eyebrow at him. "Working on what?"

Blushing, Ezra said, "Promise not to laugh?"

A small smile curled on her lips. "Nope."

Ezra groaned but led her to the communal table where his "project" laid. She noted immediately the disarray of colored paper strewn about on the table, half folded in various attempts into a familiar shape -

It clicked. "You're trying to make a flower out of these?" she asked. Ezra sat down and nodded glumly.

"Ezra Bridger," she said, placing a hand on her hip. "You've been holding out on me in terms of artistic abilities? That come with your Jedi training?"

He gave her a despairing glance. "I wish. Been up most of the night trying to figure this out."

Stifling a laugh out of pity, she surveyed his work. "It's not half-bad. What kind of flower are you trying to make?"

Ezra rubbed the back of his head, not looking at her. "It's supposed to be a - well, a Lenora flower."

Sabine's eyes widened in surprise. "A Lenora flower? From the fairytale?" Princess Lenora and the Starboy was an old fairytale that she was familiar with - in fact, it was one of her most treasured stories. Memories of her father reading it to her when she was younger, were still vivid in her mind. The flowers from that fairytale held deep symbolic meaning that marked them as her favorite.

"Yeah."

"I see." Sabine studied Ezra's work some more, looking to see where he went wrong - and then felt her stomach sink, as a horrid thought came to her.

"It's for Shana, isn't it." The words tasted rancid in her mouth.

Ezra looked at her, surprised. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, then - oddly enough - a small, relieved smile appeared on his face. He answered in an innocent tone, "Sure. It's for Shana."

There was a part of Sabine, operating from a recent frame of memory, that wanted to sweep the contents of the table onto the floor and stomp on them. She struggled to control her wayward feelings, however, and took a deep breath.

"You want some help?"

Ezra's expression turned amused. "You sure?"

Sabine sighed. "Yeah. I'm sure." He needed her help. Like always.

And she could never turn him down.

He patted the seat next to him. "Thanks, Sabine."

Despite the situation, Sabine managed a smile at her friend. "Anytime, goober."

Ord Mantell City, Ord Mantell

Ord Mantell City was a bustling acropolis, teeming with all manner of people far flung from the distant corners of the galaxy. Tall spires loomed over the city center; a sprawling mass of mis-matched architecture that spread far as the eye could see. Rumor had it that the infamous criminal organization, the Black Sun, operated out of here - a rumor that the Empire was desperate to quash, as it clashed with their image of retaining control over the entire known galaxy. Despite being a haven for ill-gotten gains and profit, it was certainly a far cry from the pits of villainy and scum that other planets were, and the citizens enjoyed a relatively peaceful life despite the tense cold war between the Empire and the criminal organizations that inhabited their city.

The Ghost had arrived mid-morning with time to spare before Shana had to make contact with her Imperial informant. After taking the time to do a quick survey of the locals to ensure that they weren't being watched, Shana revealed her plan to the crew: a simple trade made in the market square and then she would be shuttled off in a separate transport nearby with another Fulcrum agent who was waiting on stand-by. The Ghost crew would act as her escort, in case things got hairy.

It was a reasonable enough plan - except for one, glaring flaw that Sabine immediately noticed.

"Why is Ezra the only one going with you for back-up?" she asked, trying to keep the heat out of her voice. "I thought we were all going with you."

Shana shook her head. "My informant would scamper at the sight of a group approaching. Two is more than sufficient to handle him, I assure you. The rest of you will wait back here, in the Ghost, ready to assist should we need it. The market square isn't far from the landing pad."

Sabine looked to Kanan and Hera. "Please tell me you disagree with this," she said.

Kanan stroked his beard, thinking. "Hera?" he asked. "What's your opinion?"

Hera answered, "She knows the area better than we do. And I know Shana and Ezra can handle themselves in a fight." She glanced at Sabine. "It's her plan, Sabine. And we'll be nearby in case something goes wrong."

"Which it won't," Shana said reassuringly. "I know this informant. He won't be a problem."

Sabine glared at her, then turned towards Kanan. "Kanan?"

Kanan let out a deep breath. "I'm with Hera on this one. We'll leave it to those two. This information is important. We don't want to risk spooking her informant."

Zeb grunted in assent. Chopper whomped his agreement, as well.

Sabine gritted her teeth, preparing to launch an argument -

Ezra interjected before she could open her mouth. "Sabine."

She looked at him. He gave her a serious look and said, "It'll be fine. Trust me."

Sabine blew out a frustrated breath. "Fine. Leave your com-links on, though. I want to hear everything being said. The moment something goes wrong, we'll know."

Shana nodded. "Agreed." Turning to Ezra, she said, "Let's be off, Master Jedi."

Ezra bowed gallantly at her and said, "Lead the way, my lady." They began to make their way down the boarding ramp.

Sabine rolled her eyes. Shana paused at the entrance and turned around to face Sabine.

"What?" asked Sabine.

"He'll be safe with me," said Shana. "I promise."

And she left without another word. Sabine watched her catch up to Ezra, turn a corner on the street ahead, and then vanish into the crowd.

An hour later, they returned triumphant with the data disc in hand. Sabine bounded down the ramp, almost colliding into Ezra. She had been pacing inside the Ghost, listening to the tense conversation exchanged between Shana and her Imperial informant, expecting it to go sideways at any given moment - but it never did.

Shana did her job as expected. Ezra checked in a few minutes later to let them know they were on the way back, and that he hadn't spotted - or sensed - anyone following them.

"Huh," said Kanan. "That's a first for us. A job that didn't have any complications."

Hera glanced at Sabine knowingly. "Well, for most of us, anyway," she remarked.

She bit her lip and double-checked her friend for trackers, despite knowing there were none.

Shana said, "I'm fine, too, in case you were wondering."

Sabine threw her a glare and finished her inspection. "No trackers on you, far as I can tell. All clear."

Ezra raised an eyebrow at her. "That was a very . . . thorough inspection on your part, Sabine."

She punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Shut up, goober."

He grinned briefly at her and then turned to Shana. "I guess this is farewell," he said quietly.

The other girl shook her head. "Don't say it like that, Ezra. I'm sure we'll meet again - "

Ezra interrupted her. "Just say it this once. Please. For me."

Shana looked taken aback for a moment and then smiled sadly. "Good-bye, Ezra Bridger."

And then she leaned forward, giving a soft kiss on his cheek. Sabine looked away.

"Good-bye, Shana," he said softly. He turned back towards the Ghost and walked up the ramp without another word. Which left Sabine alone with Shana.

Sabine gazed at her, not sure what to say. Shana, however, merely smiled and offered her hand. Incredulous, Sabine gripped it and gave a firm shake.

"This has been an . . . experience," she said. "I'm still not sure what to make of it."

"Can I tell you something, Sabine? I'm rather jealous of you. Ezra clearly cares for you deeply."

"And what makes you think that?"

"He didn't say good-bye to you when he left with me. He just asked you to trust him; trust that he would come back." Her smile turned melancholy. "I don't think he'll ever say good-bye to you, Sabine Wren."

Shana's com-link sent out a chirping noise. She checked it and said, "That's my ride. I should be going shortly."

"Well, safe travels. And good hunting," replied Sabine. The Fulcrum agent nodded and turned to go - but paused for a split second and turned back towards her.

"Yes?" asked Sabine, cautiously.

"Remember what I said. About not waiting." She looked thoughtful for a moment and then added with a sincere smile, "And take care of him, will you? He's all yours now."

And then she took a few hurried steps and disappeared into the crowded streets of Ord Mantell City.

Hyperspace, The Way Home

Later that night, getting ready for bed, Sabine came across Ezra sitting alone in the Ghost's communal area. He was studying something gripped in his hand, his expression lost in thought.

Sabine took a step closer and felt her eyes widen in recognition: it was the paper Lenora flower that he had made the night prior.

"You still have that?" she asked.

Ezra jolted slightly in his seat. "Oh, hey. Didn't see you there."

"Shana didn't want it?" Sabine asked. She couldn't imagine the girl refusing Ezra's present. Just the thought of it alone made Sabine wish she had hit Shana harder when she had the chance.

Ezra smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. "Well, it wasn't for Shana in the first place."

He abruptly offered it to her. Sabine felt her jaw drop in surprise.

"It's for me?"

He nodded. "Hera told me that you were feeling a little neglected since I was focused on spending time with Shana, so I decided to make this as thanks. I appreciate you giving us the time and space to catch up."

Sabine took the flower gently from Ezra's hand. "How did you know to make this one? It's my favorite."

Ezra smiled at her. "You might have mentioned it a time or two during a conversation. It's from your favorite fairytale."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Try that again."

He winced. "Okay, I snuck into your room one time and saw the book laying on your bed. It wasn't for weird reasons, I promise! Zeb ate all my snacks, and I knew you had some stashed away, so I went looking while you were out."

Sabine snorted. "I believe you now." She rolled the flower between her fingertips, admiring the work Ezra had put into it.

All for her.

"You know what this flower symbolizes, Ezra?" she asked suddenly.

He thought about it. "Unwavering loyalty and dedication, right? I can't quite remember the whole story."

And love, she thought.

"Anyway," Ezra said quietly, "I just wanted you to know that . . . well, you're the only one for me, Sabine. No one will ever replace you."

Sabine's eyes snapped to Ezra; she could hear her heartbeat, pulsing loudly in her ears.

"As a partner," he added hastily. "I mean - well, you know - "

She smiled. "I know what you mean, goober."

Don't wait to tell him how you feel. You won't get a second chance. Especially in this galaxy.

He's all mine now, she thought. All mine.

"We should probably head to bed now. Separately. But you knew that." Ezra's expression became increasingly mortified at what was coming out of his mouth. He looked like he wanted to very badly disappear in that second.

Sabine just laughed. "True. It's been a long day."

He shook his head, his expression flustered. "Good night, Sabine. See you in the morning." He began to walk down the hallway towards his room.

Don't wait.

"Hey, Ezra," she called. He turned around.

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum," she said softly.

Ezra cocked his head in an inquisitive manner. "Is that a Mandalorian saying?"

Sabine nodded.

"What does it mean?"

"A literal translation is 'I will know you forever.'"

Ezra mulled over the significance of what she said. "Nothing's certain in this galaxy, Sabine," he said. "But I hope that's true for us."

"Me, too," Sabine replied. She followed him down the hallway to their rooms.

"Does that phrase have another meaning?" asked Ezra. "I get the feeling it translates to something else."

I love you.

Sabine smiled at him. "It does have another, more famous meaning. I'll tell you about it someday. When this war is over."

"Ah," said Ezra dryly. "Well, that won't be too much of a wait, then. Between you and me, we've got the Empire on the ropes already."

Sabine laughed.

"Promise me you'll really tell me what the other meaning is?" asked Ezra. "You won't leave me hanging, right?"

Sabine looked at him, gazing deeply into his eyes. How blue they looked, she thought. How they shined like sapphire gems under the right lighting.

"I promise, Ezra Bridger," she said. "No matter what. If the galaxy tries to separate us, I'll find you and tell you."

[contentment-of-cats]

Ezra's reckoning

He knew about Thrawn's crew, of course. In general, they did not come planetside and preferred to spend their money at the Imperial depot's commissary and PX. He knew about Thrawn's SWO, possibly the only officer in the Navy who could shoot. Of course, that was a joke, as the Seventh didn't seem to tolerate inefficiency or (Kassius Konstantine exempted) incompetence. Now that he was Back, it seemed that Thrawn's officers had blown through the galaxy and taken root like scatterpuff seeds. Faro, Marinith, Hammerly, Barlin, Agral, Lomar, Yve, and Pyrondi were now everyone's flag-ranked problems.

Pyrondi - the Dragon - in particular.

He couldn't pull off the Purgill again.

The Third Fleet followed Grand Admiral Pyrondi as the Seventh had Thrawn. The Chimaera's etched ventral was matched by Pyrondi's dragon on the Imperial lll classed Audacity. It was her name, her flagship, and her reputation. Even the fleet patch carried the motto, "Firing Solution: The Shortest Distance between Two Points.' It also seemed that nobody much wanted to talk about her. Her entire file including planet of origin was redacted, but there were still clues. He matched images of her in civilian to some of tribal members hundreds of years old - she was more than likely from a place named Jegsziv. A world that was also redacted, and did not appear on any map, anywhere unless you went back to a half-millennia old TaggeCo survey reporting a 'recovered colony' world named Dzeghsziv.

Mothma and others from Before the Empire led with keeping their mouths shut, and a circle of misdirection that made Ezra feel he was a supporting cast member in a clown show. To be fair, the New Republic did not leave him with the sweet taste of victory. If this was what the Old Republic was like, no wonder it fell. The New Republic just seemed to be the Empire in new clothes. The planets with fewer resources and further from Coruscant got the shaft while the richer systems cut the pie for themselves.

The Trident Fleet - the Eleventh, Seventh, and Third - held a huge section of the Outer Rim, Wild Space, and strategic parts of the Mid-Rim, having brought the Seswennas into the fold recently, and offering protection for resources. The Trident Fleet contained more than that from massive numbers of defectors. Two other fleets defected almost intact. The Sixth was primarily an engineering fleet, and the Twelfth an expeditionary and supply fleet. Other disaffected personnel made it to the Trident Fleet from every other fleet as well. Some even made it from the survivors of Death Squadron and the First Fleet - all but obliterated at Endor. From everything he could find, the Tridents ran their territories well, if with military efficiency.

He spoke with Zeb, Hera, and Kallus.

"You can't argue with someone on the other side of a closed blast door, Ezra, and all of the principal actors had their reasons for joining." Kallus would spend the rest of his life under house arrest, despite his defection and work for the Alliance after that. "A lot of them remember the CIS talking points being similar to what the Republic says now. They backed the GAR when it was them and wanted to go back to the old rules after everyone paid in blood to take out Dooku and Grevious."

Hera and the others watched him and Ezra reflected that everyone else had moved on, but he was still who he was when he left.

"Pyrondi... the Intel Committee has limited what I can say."

"Why?"

Kallus looked at his hands, then made a washing motion. "It's okay if we do it."

"Do what?" Ezra looked at his friends, angry. "When we do what? What have 'we' done that nobody talks about?"

He stormed out after evasive answers, went back to his room overlooking the Amnesty Lodging and went to bed. In the middle of his sleeping shift, Ezra woke up with a thought banging him in the frontal lobes.

Why do you have to wash your hands? Because they're dirty.

Kallus and Zeb were not there when he went back the next day.

[fonmythenmetz]

*taps mic* So you’re saying that between ESB and ROTJ Luke was just… somewhere… but not with Yoda, then he returned more powerful than any Jedi? Hear me out.

It’s Maul who trains Luke between ESB and ROTJ.

That’s why Luke always wears black since then, - an outfit identical to Maul’s in his days as the Sith Apprentice.

That’s why his fighting form is Juyo, the seventh, the deadliest form of lightsaber combat, which Maul was a master of, unlike Obi-Wan or Vader, who used forms III and V respectively.

That’s why his cyber crystal is synthetic, like a Sith’s.

That’s why

(The clone wars novel)

Hc that after ESB in Ben’s shack Luke found lightsaber schemes and with them half of Maul’s lightsaber that Obi-Wan had sliced in two many years ago in Theed. Force ghost Ben talks to him and points him to “a new teacher”, somewhere on a far planet (Malachor or Mustafar or Raltiir or even Mandalore). “That’s someone I used to know. He can help you better than I do, in my condition…” and he walks through a wall and back to demonstrate what he means. Luke ignites the lightsaber he’s found and it’s red and he’s like “riiiiight… okay, Ben, whatever you say…” and goes to find the mysterious teacher. His third teacher, after Ben and Yoda.

He does find him, of course. Maul is in his fifties, which is not old. Since he’d found Kenobi on Tatooine, learned that Obi-Wan was protecting the supposed jedi jesus and fled, leaving them be, he concentrated on destroying the empire and swept it from outer and mid rim territories. He, though, fails miserably to find inner peace in kenobiless world and suffers from it greatly. Luke finds him and is immediately rejected, but then shows Maul the half of his old lightsaber, and okay, Maul believes him then. He is all sharp looks and snarls like “Kenobi sent some little human… instead of facing me! How Jedi of him!” Then he looks ready to fight Luke to learn Kenobi’s location, but Luke goes ahead and tells him - how Obi-Wan died and that his wish was for Maul to train Luke now. He speaks and speaks and then stops, noticing that Maul just… shut down. Luke is sent away. That night he can’t meditate, can’t even touch the force - it’s so full of grief everywhere, and there’s a lot he needs to ask Ben but the Force ghost doesn’t appear for him.

In the morning Maul finds him and they begin training.

[pluralzalpha]

Galactic Gazetteer: Wobani

Type: terrestrial planet

Location: Bryx Sector, Mid Rim Territories

Inhabitants: mostly humans

Affiliation: Galactic Empire

Appearance: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)

Fun fact: surrounded by a dust cloud that obscures the surface from space

Another fun fact: site of an imperial prison camp, in which Jyn Erso was held

Fun fact 3: Wobani is an anagram of Obi-Wan

[sw5w]

...Which Started Right Here With the Taxation of Trade Routes...

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 01:27:14

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: What is an Emperor? Part 1

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)  

From the journal of Ambassador Sor’an

“As the highest ranking ambassador of the Tenthal Republic it should not be surprising to know that I was part of many first contact encounters with the species.

The majority of the contacts were often with primitive peoples who were still trapped by the confines of their homeworld due to a lack of spacefaring technology, or a people who were in the early footsteps of exploring the space around their world of origin. While these encounters were never lacking in excitement to learn from new cultures and peoples, I must admit that in the back of my mind I found it rather dull as the years continued.

Each new species, however rich in culture, were often far beneath our own republic technology wise. They would look on with awestruck eyes at our technology like it was magic or proof of their own religious figures of worship made manifest. It was rare for me to have a discussion with any new contact species that did not have them gawking at our technology or kneeling in worship.

Stumbling upon a more civilized society was rare and often a high point for my career. It was a chance to debate the functions of not only our people but the universe itself with minds that were as sharp and keen as our own. That was until one day I was called upon to open negotiations with a newly discovered people somewhere in the mid rim.

A deep space mining ship had intercepted a series of strange transmissions in a language they did not recognize and per standards passed the information along up to the diplomatic core. The initial readings did not confirm the full extent of their domain, but it was quickly discovered that whoever they were they occupied multiple worlds and had deployed an extensive series of communication satellites to maintain constant communication between worlds.

It took the diplomatic cypher branch several days of listening and translating these transmissions before a name could be attached to this interstellar people. A name that at first was delighted to hear, but have since come to dread in the waning hours of the night when my mind comes to ponder the actions I had taken in life the oceans of blood that now bathe my hands in.

They called themselves “Humanity”.

In short order I was assigned the first contact detail and put on a diplomatic shuttle with a minimal security detail and sent to the border regions of the human territory. The initial goal was to establish diplomatic

As we neared the border we slowed our pace and began sending out a repeated energy burst. The energy was harmless and would disperse the further it went, but it was close enough to one of their satellite installations. The energy would either be detected by the scanners, or lacking that would begin causing interference with signals to which would no doubt draw the attention of the humans who would send someone out to investigate it.

By the end of the third cycle we encountered our first human ship. It entered at the edges of the system and our scans showed it making its way to the satellite. Once it was within visual range of our diplomatic delegation did we cease the energy bursts and allow the human vessel to observe us.

The ship was small, no doubt able to carry no more than a handful of humans onboard. I wagered it was a repair ship sent to fix what they assumed was a faulty piece of equipment who upon seeing our ships was now realizing the full scope of the situation.

We detected a frantic series of transmissions from the tiny vessel, one of which we intercepted and was a video feed of our ships. No doubt they were sending the information back up their own version of a command chain to the proper officials.

As the transmissions continued to the satellite we made our own attempts to contact the tiny vessel. No sooner had we sent the first attempt did the human vessel turnabout and speed away as quickly out of system as possible. We tracked it until it got to the edge of the system and activated an advanced engine that shot them away like a laser bolt

The security detail joked that we must have spooked them and wished to leave before they returned with an armada, but I insisted that we stay a little longer to continue our attempts at diplomatic channels.

Another cycle passed before a flotilla of vessels entered in system, all of them baring the design traits seen among human vessels. There were several larger vessels that orbited around a small golden craft that sat at the center of the formation. They kept a continuous orbit around the golden ship at all times as they made their way to our delegation but thankfully had not opened fire on us.

I could hardly blame them for bringing such an armada with them. I would have done in the same in their position if a strange and alien series of ships had appeared on our border and began interrupting communications.

As the human ships came within visual range I once again sent out a communication channel to them to open discussions, but unlike before the humans now answered the call. Due to the differences in technology the video feed itself was of poor quality and would frequently fade to a black screen, but it lasted long enough for opening talks to begin thanks to a crudely made translator unit provided by the cypher branch.

The human identified themselves as a representative of the governing body of the humans and demanded to know why we had been disrupting communications. I apologized and said we wished only to get their attention without causing panic, to which the human replied that by disrupting communications to several worlds only to then receive reports that aliens had been sighted along the borders had indeed caused panic. Several worlds were in the grips of fear mongering preachers promoting the end of days brought about by alien conquerors.

Seeing the harm done I quickly stepped in to defuse the situation and offered my humblest apologies on behalf of myself and the Tenthal Republic. I expressed my people’s intention to establish an open dialogue with humanity so that both peoples could benefit from each other.

There was a long pause before the human delegate responded. In that time our security detail was becoming increasingly worried as the human ships began spreading out further to not only encompass the golden ship but our vessels as well.

After some time the human did respond they said their fleet would escort us to their homeworld where we would present ourselves so that I could offer my apologies directly to their superior along with making a gesture to show our good intentions. I agreed to the terms and soon we were speeding straight for their homeworld.

[valorums]

dashboard game: THINGS YOUR MUSE MIGHT NOTICE ABOUT SHI’AL VALORUM, circa 19 BBY.

WHAT SHE LOOKS LIKE:

Such is to be expected from an individual who grew up amongst CORUSCANTI HIGH SOCIETY, of course — but even then, the ELEGANCE which characterizes Shi’al’s public presence is unprecedented. Even whilst engaging in a sparring match at the dojang with her martial arts instructor, Shi’al radiates a magnetic aura of REGAL AUTHORITY that is difficult for anyone to ignore. This aspect of her demeanor, coupled with her gorgeous visage of golden curls and piercing cerulean blue eyes, turns the heads of many wherever she goes and is one of the reasons that Shi’al gained intergalactic recognition as “THE CROWNING JEWEL OF CORUSCANT”. In the past, numerous individuals have misidentified her as a GODDESS among mortal souls.

Beyond her visage, keenly eyed students of intergalactic culture might also take note of her impeccable wardrobe. No matter the occasion, Shi’al is always dressed to the nines in attire suitable for whatever circumstances are at hand — and in fact, designed much of this attire herself. Shi’al, as the proverbial reigning queen bee of Coruscant’s elite (and one of the only elite individuals who regularly interacts with the public regardless of their class), has the unique ability to set and maintain fashion trends in the Republic as far out as certain Mid Rim territories.

WHAT SHE SMELLS LIKE:

Those frequently in Shi’al’s presence often ascertain that she smells like ROSES. This assertion is entirely accurate, for her favorite perfume allows her to acquire the scent of a rose. Her preference of physical copies of books and manuscripts over their datapad counterparts, she is also prone to smelling like the old leather-bound tomes kept within House Valorum’s extensive private collection after hours of research.

WHAT SHE SOUNDS LIKE:

Shi’al’s speaking voice is best characterized by the rich, velvety drawl common amongst wealthy Coruscanti citizens — an accent comparable to “posh” British accents here on planet Earth. Therefore, her voice is remarkably CLEAR and BRISK, with each syllable carefully uttered so as to ensure its proper pronounciation. These qualities remain true even when Shi’al is singing, since her vocal training ensured that ample time was spent on maintaining suitable spoken and sung diction while on stage. Fitting, perhaps, for a woman who has been mistaken as a goddess, Shi’al’s singing is often described as ANGELIC.

WHAT SHE FEELS LIKE:

For Shi’al, the power of physical touch cannot ever be understated. Unless her companion requests that she cease wielding this power (a boundary which she will always respect), they are bound to eventually feel the touch of her surprisingly calloused hands. Years of training in martial arts — which involved learning to wield a dagger and a katana sword in combat against mightier foes, even those with a lightsaber — have left their mark upon her physical form by ensuring that her hands are almost always calloused, no matter the steps she takes in her daily beautification routine to conceal these signs of her labor. Nevertheless, her touch is always gentle, and as light as a feather. Shi’al favors physical touch as her primary love language, but will refrain from or limit physical touch entirely if her loved ones prefer.

TAGGED BY @tapalslegacy (thank you so much!)

TAGGING @raehs, @nieithryn, @misfittcd, @vendettavalor, @capthcwzer, @pathtopain, @gloomfaithed, @debelltio, @sithdestined, @faithfulmaiden, @cruoren, @hisworkers, @lightfaithed, @mayxthexforce and anyone else who might be interested in doing this since it’s a great exercise for writing about your muses! All tags in dash games are no pressure, so if you’re tagged, feel free to ignore this post if you want. 💕

[clocktowerechos]

Factions of the Necron Eternal Empire

of the Brightest Night AU

"In another life you would have been a worthy addition to the Empire. You will have to serve better as a warning in death." ~ Stormlord Imotekh, Herald of the Silent King

At its height, the Necrontyr Empire was strong enough to challenge the Old Ones with dominion over countless stars and keepers of near-magical technologies. But it could not save them in the end. Robbed of their mortality, sentience, and finally their empire, they were forced to slumber for millions of years. However, they have awoken far earlier than in canon with the Silent King enforcing his will via Command Protocols. While many dynasties have bent the knee as they awake, not all do. The ones who do not are led by leaders whose code has deviated to the point of divergence, where the Command Protocols do not work. Such as in the case of the mad Zahndrekh and the meticulous Tryzan.

The Phaeron Dynasties

The traditional Egyptian-flavored Necrons, masters of the old empire and holding territory in what used to be the core of the empire. They are largely unchanged save for the fact they alone are the masters of teleportation, to the envy of their kin, and they possess the greatest void fleets.

The Huanron Dynasties

Chinese-flavored Necrons who occupied the mid-rim of the empire. They are known for the quality of their Crypteks, their long-lost academies once surpassing even those of the core. Of note are their Alchemists, Harbingers of Transmogrification, who have mastered the material of "Terradermis", a modified version of Necrodermis which while not as strong, can automatically replenish and renew itself from mineral or stone-based material around it.

The Saperon Dynasties

Incan-flavored Necrons who occupied the outermost edge of the empire in life. In death, their tombs became great mountain ranges that touched the sky. Their gilded bodies often seem divine to primitive tribes who now live on their worlds. Of the dynasties, they are the ones most likely to interact with mortals, often ruling over anything from planet-bound tribes, to entire stellar bodies as vassals and client states, often calling them to war while their Saperon leaders are bedecked in shining war gear and wielding terrifying solar powers.

The C'tan Vampires/The Soulstarved

When the Silent King shattered the C'tan, he failed to seal all of the shards away. Some floated through the void of space, others left forgotten on distance worlds, and some discovered by curious mortals. Such people were lured by promises of power, not knowing they held pieces of the Deceiver. Granted great power and superhuman abilities, they are now cursed with a forever-draining life force, a hole in their soul that leaks and from which they cannot stop. They are forced to feed upon the life energy of others to sustain themselves. They form themselves into hierarchical courts, cloaking themselves in finery and opulence, using their long lives to work their way into positions of power. Forever hunted by the Inquisition and the Ordo Hereticus, some are manipulated by the Silent King and Necron Lords to do their bidding. Others are eager to prove themselves or just show off their power and join forces with the soulless willingly.

The Mont'yr'vash

Another tragedy from the Tau Empire's Bloody Teared Years, they were born from a failed colonial expansion using experimental technology. Their fleets were flung into the void, the usual Warp Skimmer engines replaced with untested Warp Dive engines, many crashing upon desolate worlds. Their colonists devolved into a pre-caste society, separated by lightyears from their Sept Worlds, not knowing they landed upon the worlds of the Necron Empire. After being found, those who were not wiped out by sadistic or callous Necron Lords were uplifted to serve the dynasties. Believing the Necrons to be living gods, they serve them alongside Human Pariahs. Most often seen with the Saperon Dynasties, they are utilized by any dynasty that is in contact with them. Often filling the role of living cannon fodder, covert infiltrators, or devout supplicants to boost the standing (and ego) of their ruling Necron Lord.

[alexversenaberrie]

Young Queen Ameé

Ameé was was born on the Mid Rim Territories planet Naboo around 54 BBY. At 40-36 BBY, she served as the Queen of Naboo, which meant that she was 14 years old, when she started her term.

Princess Fanry of the Inner Rim planet Pijal, who was in similar age as the Naboo Queen, considered inviting Ameé and other young galactic leaders to her world for a summit. However, her lord regent Rael Averross rejected the idea.

Unfortunately, that is all what is known about the Queen.

On the painting she was presented in a costume of one of past Queens and has scars of remembrance on her face. Naboo royal crest behind her and on her dress represents her high status.

Queen Amidala | Queen Jamilia | Queen Neeyutnee | Queen Apailana | Sosha Soruna | Queen Réillata | Queen Mairayni | Queen Sanandrassa | Queen Kylantha | Sabé - The Decoy Queen | Queen Yram | Queen Dalné | The Gungan-Naboo War Queen of Naboo | Queen of Naboo from the New Republic | King Jafan I Star Tours Queen of Naboo | King Veruna | The First Queen of Naboo | King Tapalo | Queen Ameé | Queen Ekay | King Jafan III | The Queen of beaded emblems | King Narmlé | Queen of Naboo from High Republic | Queen Elsinoré den Tasia

#star wars paintings  |  SW Paintings