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syrena-del-mar · 11 months ago

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Selfish Desires and the Class War: Dead Friend Forever

Ever since @nyxelestia's great additions to my tags about how Phee has been able to process his grief in comparison to Tan, and succinctly stated how class theorists regard poverty as a type of violence, I can't help but take a bit of a socio-economic look at the DFF's group of friends. Particularly, episode 10 really served to solidify my theory on the underlying commentary DFF is making regarding selfishness and the different abilities to skirt punishment dependent on class.

For this one, I'm going to break this down in a couple of categories: first, I'm going to explain Hobbes' theory on human nature and Marx's theory on class wars. Then I will be listing out the 'class types' each one of the DFF boys are in (sans White). Finally I will be analyzing the THC gang with Non, then Phee and New.

Keep in mind that here I will be defining 'selfish desires' as to the innate human inclination to prioritize one's own needs, wants, and interests over that of others. Meanwhile class war/conflict will be in reference to the societal divide into different classes dependant on their relationship to their means of production and value.

Human Nature According to Hobbes

In Hobbes' 'Leviathan', he delves into understanding human nature. His conclusion is probably best summarized by his most known phrase, "'the state of nature." In this state of nature, where Hobbes hypothesized about a life where there is no government, no laws, or state of order, just simply individuals that are able to live without constraints. Hobbes found that life would be "solitary, poor, nasty, short, and brutish."

Hobbes' comes to the conclusion, that absence of societal constraints, humans are driven by desire to secure their own survival and fulfill their desires. Hobbes states that there is an universal, fundamental drive for self-preservation that leads to a state of equality among humans. Yey, instead of being able to live in harmony, the equality, particularly in vulnerability to harm and death, breeds competition since it is human nature to scrounge, secure, and vie for resources— even when it means taking advantage of one another.

Central to Hobbes' theory of human nature is fear—fear of others, fear of harm and fear of uncertainty. Without structure, humans are trapped in a perpetual state of insecurity, creating a 'war of all against all'. Hobbes acknowledges that individuals have natural rights, particularly the right to self-preservation but with a lack of governing authority, the enforcement to this right is essentially meaningless.

Tldr; there are four main components to human nature: self-preservation, fear and insecurity, equality and competition, and natural rights.

Theory of Class Wars

Now, enter Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels and we have the theory that a society is divided into two classes: the bourgeoisie and the proletariats. The bourgeoisie, own the means of production and are able to explore the labor of the proletariat for profit, which ends up leading to human alienation and inequality.

When it comes to the relationship of selfish desires and class war, at its core, the idea instills that a capitalist system incentivizes and rewards the selfish pursuits among the bourgeoisie. The accumulation of wealth and exploitation of labor and the quest for profit are the driving forces between constructing and maintaining class inequalities.

Dead Friends Forever: The Intersection of Social Class Divide and Selfish Desires

The thing about Dead Friend Forever is that there is a visible class division between Por and Non, which drowns out the undercurrent class differences between the rest of the DFF gang.

Por: He is born into power and higher class. His mother ever states "Do you think I'll be in trouble for kind of thing?" He is born into awareness of his status and the privilege.

Jin: Just from the house that he lives, you can tell that he is relatively well off. The finishes in the house both interior and the exterior show that his family, while not as rich as Por, are likely more than financially stable.

Phee: His dad is a police inspector, which likely provides decent money, as he is able to send his son to a private school on a single household income.

Fluke: We're given enough information that we know he wants to be a doctor and make his mom proud, he's attending tutoring classes and there's no mention of money issues.

Top: No mention of struggling for money, can safely assume that he lives comfortably.

Tee: Struggling, has a lot of debts to Uncle Joe in order to keep his dad alive.

New/Non: Their whole family is struggling even before Non went missing. What little money they had was sent over to New, even taking on debts to be able to provide for him abroad. They were one paycheck away from losing everything, which they eventually did.

Non and the THC Gang

Aside from Tee, the main group are all born into various levels of wealth and privilege, whether it be purely monetary or with the jobs of their parents, so they're able to navigate their life with an air of entitlement. Their desires are all shaped by the comforts and opportunities that their status affords them. Por's family alone was able to get their high school film reported on and with a viewing, merely with the mother's flippant mention of the project. Not to mention that Por's mother explicitly sets the tone of how she would be treated compared to Non's mom. It's a stark contrast, Non stands out as the outsider, not only due to his lack of friends in the school, but also marginalized by his lack of wealth and social standing in comparison to the rest of the gang. And in an odd way, it's likely why he felt a certain degree of kinship with Tee, who is the only other individual visibly struggling to survive, even if he mostly keeps his money troubles away from his group of friends.

The whole reason Non even gets involved with the group is because the group, particularly Por and Fluke, are driven by their hunger for success and recognition. Por likely wanted his parents to find some pride in him and Fluke needs it to round out his resume when applying to medical school. They desperately want to win the sponsorship, so they need and use Non— not as an equal but as a means to an end. They exploit his talent in scriptwriting and they use him as a pawn, not even inviting him to the presentation when its Non's script their using. Hell, they barely could stand being close enough to take a picture with Non. They quite literally use him as a pawn, an easy exploit, reminiscent of Hobbes' notion of self-interest as a driving force.

As the show continues on, the exploitation of Non takes on darker shades, echoing Hobbes bleak depiction of the state of nature. The initial bullying, that is rooted in class-based prejudices, transforms into a calculated campaign of cruelty. While Tee might be struggling financially, he's actually the true leader of the group. Sure, Por may have the money, but the guys only follow what Tee wants. Top and Tee use Non's marginalization against him, almost as if vultures feeding on the weaker. Top doesn't have to pay for the camera and Tee is able to find Uncle Joe's next victim for the horse accounts, a complete parallel of Hobbes' description of the strong dominating the weak in the absence of a social contract. In doing so Non, the 'marginalized' becomes fodder for the selfish desires of Tee and Top, initiating a chain-reaction event to Non's detriment.

While Por, Tee, and Top have the more obvious benefits with how Non is treated, so does Fluke. Fluke, in the hierarchy of status within the group, is at the bottom rung. With Non there he's able to be treated better and he no longer is the scapegoat. He admits it in this episode. He needed Non to be mistreated, because he feared being targeted by the rest of the THC gang, and having Non around kept everyone else's attention off of him. He was no longer the one being harrassed. He's able to sacrifice Non for his own benefit.

The thing about Fluke is that he doesn't overtly try to harm Non, not in the same way that the others do. No, his covert damage that he causes Non is in his silence. He sees Top destroy the camera, Tee come up with the idea to target Non, he sees Jin film Non and Kru Keng, he even questions Jin's intentions to film, but he's spineless. He cares more for himself, he prioritizes his self-preservation. He maintains the status quo and utilizes Non's weakness so that he isn't the next target.

Initially, Jin's treatment of Non seems to defy the expected narrative of class exploitation, since out of the group he's the one that is the most compassionate and understanding. From a Marxist perspective, this initial compassion could be understood as an acknowledgment of the inherent inequalities that exist between the affluent and the marginalized. Jin's actions might suggest a fleeting moment of solidarity, recognizing and acknowledging Non's humanity beyond his status. However, his demeanor shifts dramatically when he realizes that Non doesn't reciprocate his romantic feelings and worsens when he sees him with Kru Keng.

Hobbesian human nature, which is driven by the pursuit of power and self-interest, comes to the forefront as Jin's wounded pride and sense of rejection fuel his actions. In Hobbes' state of nature, individuals are driven by their desires and fears leading to betrayal and conflict. His change in behavior to Non reflects this as he seeks to assert dominance and control in the face of perceived rejection by punishing Non. Jin's betrayal of Non's trust and kindness underscores the harsh realities of class divides, where compassion can quickly give way to exploitation. Hobbes argued that individuals in the state of nature are in constant competition for power and self-preservation, here Jin's realization that Non does not reciprocate his feelings leaves him feeling vulnerable and exposed.

Non's role as a commodity within the framework becomes clear as filming continues. His talent is valued solely for its ability to bring profit and success to the friends. Yet, despite his contributions, Non remains alienated from the fruits of his labor, he's always the worker and never the leader. Continuing this trend of being a pawn in group's quest for recognition. Marx's concept of false consciousness is evident, since Non remains unaware of the true nature of his exploitation until its too late.

The group needs to get rid of Non, because he's become a lose cannon. Tee needs him delivered to his Uncle, so that he can survive and continue to receive the payments he needs to keep his dad alive. The depths of their depravity are laid bare and echoes both Hobbes' and Marx's grim assessments of human nature intertwined with class conflict. Non becomes a victim to their cruelty, to their selfish desires, and the stark reality of coming from a poor family. He disappears into the abyss of the mafia, while the rest of the group continue to live their lives unperturbed, shielded by their wealth and privilege.

Interestingly enough, every single one of the guys that come from a better socio-economic status have begged for Non's forgiveness while under the influence of New's hallucinogens. The only one who doesn't is Tee. Yes, he is under the distress of confessing his crimes since Fluke is holding White hostage, but he's the only one that is willing to admit fault and ask for forgiveness without having to hallucinate Non's face or his voice. All this leaves me asking, what depths of betrayal and exploitation were the THC gang willing to sink to in their quest for dominance? Did Tee's penance begin when attempted to help Non escape his Uncle Joe? Was Non actually able to escape or had they sent him to his death?

2. Phee and New/Tan

Even through Phee and New, we can see Hobbesian and Marxist themes in their different versions of grief they experience over Non's disappearance.

New embodies the the essence of Hobbesian human nature, bringing around the idea of 'war of all against all'. His relentless pursuit of revenge becomes a primal instinct for survival, since he has lost everything good in his life. His brother, his childhood home, his education, his mother, and finally his father, in that very order, over the span of three years. New's grief over the disappearance of Non becomes a consuming force that propels him into a world of darkness. In Hobbes' state of nature, individuals are typically driven by self-interest and the pursuit of power, which New's quest of revenge reflects this fundamental aspect. His quest against the friends responsible isn't solely about revenge, but it's a desperate attempt to assert agency and justice in a world that has denied his family both.

Marx argues that in a capitalist society, the bourgeoisie will exploit the proletariat for profit, perpetuating class struggles. Non was exploited for his script, but New represents the proletariat, the oppressed working class fighting back against the forces of oppression. His revenge is a revolt against the oppressive structures of class inequality that have marginalized his whole family. In Marxist terms, his journey is a symbol of the proletariat struggle against exploitation and injustice, which echos the revolutionist spirit of Marxism.

On the other hand, Phee, who is financially well-off and still has his father, represents the privilege and the detachment from the struggles of the proletariat. He never fully understood why Non wasn't receptive to his help, similarly he's not completely understanding New's own thirst for revenge. While Phee is initially driven by a desire to uncover the truth about Non's disappearance, and while he still loves Non, it's mostly driven by guilt and grief within the context of privilege. Phee has things, people, in his life that still matter outside of Non. Yes, he loved Non, but he's able to move on from his grief, reflecting the detachment and apathy that can settle in with privilege. Under Marx's critique of the bourgeoisie, who exploit the proletarian, it's because Phee still has his Dad and other things he loves in life that he is able to move on from the type of anger in grief that New finds himself overwhelmed in.

It's going to be interesting where Phee and New's friendships heads in the last two episodes. Will it New and Phee collide in a violent confrontation that mirrors the clash between the oppressed and the privileged? Is DFF trying to make a comment on the class war where New's relentless pursuit of revenge against the THC gang represents the proletariat's revolt against exploitation, while Phee's detachment echoes the bourgeoisie's indifference to the plight of the marginalized? Or it will show that Phee and New are able to put their social status aside in order to find revenge against the true bourgeoisies, in this case the THC gang, that exploited Non for all his worth until ultimately destroying him.

Final Thoughts

While this episode may feel significantly weaker in comparison to the last five, I think it's providing us with the necessary exposition as we head into our final two episodes. We're seeing the destruction of the 'bourgeoisie' by their own hands with just a little nudge from the sole proletariat. As Hobbes would likely agree, it's a dog eat dog world in that cabin. It always had been with Top, Por, Tee, Fluke and Jin. There was an equality between them, but now with an outside force, their bonds are breaking and they are willing to kill each other just to survive.

Dead Friend Forever is going beyond the standard slasher genre, even beyond horror. I truly think it's making social commentary regarding the classes and human nature. It's going to be interesting to see who comes out the survivor of this party from hell, if there is anyone.

Tagging @slayerkitty for DFF's meta round up.

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luimnigh · 3 months ago

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You ever just get the stupidest idea in your head?

So this week a TV documentary about the late Christopher Lee came out. And in it, according to a Yahoo article I saw posted on Reddit, Lee's son-in-law Juan Aneiros claims that Lee watched The Lord of The Rings the night before he died.

And the first thing that popped into my head was:

"That's a claim you could theoretically back up with evidence."

See, all you'd need to do is get British TV listings from the week of June 6th/7th, 2015.

So I did a few searches, tried to buy a digital copy of a decade-old magazine, and in the end the only information I could find was that it didn't air on a BBC channel.

But then I realized that I didn't need a UK TV Guide.

The Irish National Broadcaster, RTÉ, publishes a weekly TV Guide, the RTÉ Guide. And despite the name, it covers a ton of UK channels as well, because most Irish people get them too.

And the National Library of Ireland naturally keeps a copy of every issue of the RTÉ Guide.

So. Theoretically.

I could request the June 2015 issues of the RTÉ Guide, wait five days because issues from after 2003 are stored off-site, and then travel up to Dublin to look at them.

All to fact-check an anecdote by a dead man's son-in-law.

...I feel that's just a dumb idea.

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kitkabam · 5 months ago

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The One With the Wyvern Toy - Part One.

[Summary: Comet, also known as our beloved Rook to the The Veilguard, decides that out of appreciation for his recent work on the field that she would make Lucanis a gift. There's just one small issue— how do you make a Wyvern plush?]

Written before the official release of Dragon Age: The Veilguard.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

The Fade worked differently than the real world, this fact known to just about all citizens of Thedas who dabbled in the depths of magic and the workings of the veil that stirred in every corner of this world, and perhaps many others. One instance of the Fade not following the natural laws of reality was in regards to time— night and day did not simply exist. Perhaps the scenery could change according to the memories reflected in dreams, painting over the walls of the veil like vivid murals created from practiced and precise hands. But in the end it was all part of ones imagination if the dream captured a bright sunny day, or a muggy moonless night.

The Lighthouse itself was something still of a mystery to the those that currently occupied its vast space; the place was tucked into a corner of the Fade that could only be touched by its previous owner, who had used this as his hideout for all nine years before the present day. Before it was a clear reflection of the loneliness of the ancient god; a dining table that could fit well over eight seated only for one, a single plate and pair of cutlery at the ready. It lacked much for decorations, as if this place wasn't originally meant to really be a 'home' much less a refuge to more than a single being. Yet the Veilguard made due with what they could, adding what personal touches they wished, making this place livelier, filling it's quiet halls with unseen warmth.

Comet was proud to see what her companions have done with the place, on top of what they've accomplished so far with their mission. It made her heart swell with hope that things will be okay, that the consequences of her actions at the ritual sight would be properly cleaned up and Thedas can one day breathe a sigh of relief knowing it's people were closer once more to true peace. Maybe that was a little too optimistic, but as she passed the giggling pair of Harding and Neve that lounged on one of the sofas...well, perhaps their energy was contagious.

The elf did her best to remain as quiet as she could, her foot falls light upon the Fade woven floor, not wishing to disturb the moment between her two friends. Comet just wanted to grab a quick cup of something— water, maybe, or something warm like tea. Emmerich had gifted her a blend from Nevarra that he said promoted better sleep. 'You'll be so deep in your slumber that we might think you're dead! Er, that is to say of course, it won't kill you—' He had to reassure her almost immediately, since her features morphed into one of genuine fear at the idea that such a harmless brew might bring her end closer than she would like. And after ten minutes of breathing exercises lead by the old gentleman and another round of assurance, Comet believed he spoke the truth and promised to try it as soon as she found the opportunity.

It just wasn't on her agenda to have it be a month later. Oops.

Once she entered the threshold of the kitchen she was greeted with the smell of something covered in a perfect blend of spices and different to the young warden— especially since she had mostly lived off rations and the occasional tavern meal. The sounds of a busy kitchen filled her ears, making their pointed tips twitch in response; a sizzling pan, something being cut across the cutting board, and the low murmur of a flame kissing the edges of tools used solely for cooking great dishes. It was...comforting, making the ambience of the hideout even more homey. Comet could get lost in the atmosphere...if it weren't for the cook who had caught wind of her approach before she even had a chance to make her presence known.

After all, Lucanis Dellamorte had been trained to sharpen all five of his senses for his work— it was inevitable he would learn the exact way his newfound allies stepped around him, how to know when someone was nearby and who it was. He had heard her footsteps earlier, even when she tried to be more silent as she tread, and knew that she had the intent to be here. What she wanted....well, he could figure that out too.

Hence the kettle on the stovetop that was close to a boil.

"It'll be done in three minutes." He moved the chopped carrots into the pan where he surveyed the meat being cooked- just another minute before it needed to be flipped- before he placed celery onto the cutting board,"Do you need my assistance in pouring it again or can I trust you won't burn yourself?"

Comet jumped at his voice, her heart nearly leaping out of her chest to run back into the other room. A yelp left her, loud and pathetic, followed by a cringe as soon as she realized such a sound could be heard throughout the entire lighthouse. Her cheeks burned with immediate embarrassment; her bright teal eyes darted to her feet as her hands called into fists at her sides, her composure tense like a frightened cat.

"S..Sorry! I..I didn't meant to-" She gulped,"...I can pour it myself, I just need to remember where the rag is so- wait! H..How did you know I was gonna be here f..for tea?!"

"...Every night you drink it before going back to your room."

"O..Oh. Yeah, that does make sense then.."

The silence was much louder to the elf than it was to the crow who moved with quick precision as he placed the cut pieces of celery into the pan, smoothly flipping the juicy cut of meat over to cook the other side to his liking.

But...it wasn't anything uncomfortable. No, in truth, Comet found that Lucanis didn't really try to make things awkward— it just happened, mainly because that's how she was. Awkward, and terrible at keeping conversations with possibly good looking people.

"...What are you making?" Her voice came out a bit strained, but that was mostly due to nerves. Her hands shook a little as she fiddled with her fingers, making her way further into the kitchen,"...It...smells good."

"Antivan dish. If I want a good meal around these parts from home, have to make it myself." Lucanis looked at her from the corner of his eye— her hair was out of its usual messy updo; strawberry blonde curls pouring over her shoulders and backside like unruly springs. She drowned in her navy dyed tunic- she swore when he questioned it was more for comfort than appearance- half of it tucked into the leggings that left little to the imagination of the shapes and curves of her...- ahem, moving on.

Comet nodded, her attention glued to the tea kettle as she waited for it to whistle. Her palms started to sweat, the young woman quick to wipe them on the sides of her leggings.

"I hope you enjoy it..I know you're a great cook, so...! A..As I'm sure everyone else would agree!" The last bit was rushed out, a quick attempt to cover up any chance it might've been mistaken for something...more.

"Thanks."

Food sizzling, flames flickering...did Neve and Harding leave the next room, or were they suddenly just speaking quieter than before?

The kettle whistled. Before Comet could begin her search for the rag she used to protect her hands from the hot handle, it appeared right in front of her, dangled by the assassin's fingers like it were a treat meant to tantalize her. She took it with a quiet 'thank you' before wrapping it around the kettle handle, bringing it over to the counter.

"What kind of tea are you making yourself tonight? Chamomile? Jasmine?" Lucanis swooped in and turned off the flame that once boiled the tea kettles water, knowing she'd forget, she always did,"...I doubt you'd want black tea this late. Unless you are writing another report for the Wardens?"

"No, I plan on writing one tomorrow night. I want to try these tea leaves that Emmerich brought me from his home. He says they should help me sleep better at night." The tip of Comet's nose twitched,"I don't remember the flavor notes...he described them to me, but I..I might've zoned out a little."

"Emmerich...brought you tea?" Lucanis asked before he could bite his own tongue,"Careful. It might have 'hints of grinded bone from some undead Nevarran noble for richness' ,or just something dead related."

A giggle, like the gentle clinking of wind chimes in the spring breeze, left her. The corners of her eyes crinkled sweetly too— it quelled the pinch of something bitter that threatened to sour the Crow's mood.

"I doubt that detail would slip past me, even if I was lost in thought. He reassured me...several times in a row actually...that the tea is good and won't harm me. So I'm sure the leaves are a combination of your usual with, perhaps, a hint of some plant known only in Nevarra. Kinda like that one tea that Neve bought a few weeks ago. Said it was a Tevinter specialty, but the only difference that I remember was one ingredient." Comet rambled as she got herself a mug, poured the hot water (carefully, with as steady of a hand as she could) before she placed the kettle back on the stovetop (when did the flame get turned off?) and opened a cupboard to find the bag of tea leaves as well as a steeper,"Although the tea Neve got was definitely spiced...good for clearing up a clogged nose, not as a sleep aid."

Her eyes searched long and hard, eyebrows knitted together when she couldn't find exactly what she was looking for— especially because she remembered Emmerich precisely saying where he placed the bag of tea.

‘Oh, don't worry about putting that away! You look dreadfully exhausted and I'd hate to add to it further with such a small task. Allow me to do so- I'll place it in the cupboard to the right of the stove, on the top shelf!’

Ah…yes…the…top shelf. That would explain why she wasn't able to spot it so clearly from first glance. Comet strained her neck back to get a better view of at least the front of the highest shelf in the cupboard. Low and behold there it was; a velvet pouch, the fabric a beautiful verdant green, sitting peacefully besides some other herbs and spices. She had definitely forgotten that little detail in regards to the conversation between her and their neighborhood Mourn Watcher. Her eyebrows furrowed further, a frown on her lips. How was she going to reach all the way up there on her own…? She was almost as tall as a dwarf! Hells, only just a few mere inches taller than their own dearest scout! There was no way she would be able to reach it!

…But she wouldn't be a proper Grey Warden if she didn't give it her best shot, she supposed.

A short, mental, pep talk later Comet went to the very tips of her toes, her dominant arm- her left- stretching the furthest it was capable, strain visible on her face…only to brush against the exterior of the bag with the edges of her nails. She let out a defeat puff of air as she lowered herself back to standing flat on the ground, shoulders slumped downward in a pathetic display of what she considered immediate surrender. She can't believe that out of all the enemies she's faced so far this is what brings her down! Maybe she should suggest they find a durable step ladder or perhaps she could look into a spell that'd conjure one with the flick of her wrist.

Now that would be useful…why hadn't she thought to look into that one sooner…?

“Ahem, if I may?”

Oh, right, she wasn't alone in the kitchen.

“Last I checked, you weren't doing any better with reaching that shelf either.” Her eyes fully met Lucanis' own this time, fueled by the brief spark of adrenaline that pumped through her veins to voice such a playful remark aloud,”...Or are you calling Neve a liar?”

Lucanis feigned offense, though dropping it in favor of turning off the flame that fanned beneath his cooking pan so that he could step to stand closer to the elf without worrying he might accidentally overcook his homemade meal.

“Even a detective, who works to expose the truth about her cases, might fib now and again. But I digress, while at times I may struggle…I have a technique to help.” He flourished one of his daggers— always sharpened like new, hidden across his figure in places none may suspect—”Watch me.”

He didn't need to tell her twice.

With the quickness and precision of someone who has done this plenty of times to get it just right, Lucanis used what reach he had to get as close as he could before using the knife as an extension to his person, the tip of the blade catching to the rope that held the top of the velvet bag closed, careful as to not cut it clean in the process, and lowered the knife with the bag dangling helplessly. The corner of the antivans mouth twitched upward as he held the knife pierced bag to the speechless warden.

If anyone saw this, it looked as if Comet was truly starstruck by the assassin who accomplished such a great feat in her honor. The truth? He reached the top shelf without having pulled a single muscle whereas she would've given up after one single try.

“Unless you want me to steep the tea for you, I'd suggest taking the bag.”

“A-Ah! R..Right!”

She held out the palms of her hands, cupped with not a single finger leaving room for the slightest crack, and Lucanis pulled his blade out from the rope holding the bag closed, letting it fall gently into the young woman's waiting grasp. Comet gave him a small smile of thanks before she looked down to the bag; there was evidence of tampering from the knife, but she didn't mind. If the rope did end up eventually giving up before she could finish the bag full of leaves, well, she'd find a replacement.

“Do you also use that technique of yours to get jars…?” She asked as she prepared the tea leaves for steeping.

“...No. In truth, I have multiple methods. You have to, when you come to accept you won't be growing any taller.”

A chuckle filled the spice scented air before the kitchen fell silent, much to the dismay of the two eavesdroppers in the next room.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

It wasn't long after she finished preparing her tea that Comet made her way back to her own personal quarters. It was a space that was only now slightly decorated; her bed was a messy pile of blankets of various different fabrics, pillows of all sizes that looked to have only a bit of worn to their appearance, and a single handmade crow plush that sat in the center, as if the little fella was the proud owner of what a real bird may consider the coziest best to ever be created by feathery…wings. Not hands, because birds don't have hands…right? Right!

She placed the cup of tea on the wooden table beside her bed, allowing it to take a moment to cool down some more as her body melted into the mattress that welcomed her with open arms. Her nose was immediately buried into the biggest of all the pillows that encircled her, arms tucked beneath it to pull it closer as she inhaled the scent of ticklish lavender, refreshing pine, and a hint of cherry- most likely because of her favored perfume oil that she loved to apply after a much needed cleaning. A heavy exhale was let out into the pillow before Comet rolled to lay on her back, eyes facing up to the ceiling as her hands and legs remained outstretched to make her seem more like a harmless starfish in a sea of mix matched fabric.

In her mind swam the memories of several minutes prior— especially the times where she'd catch a peak of Lucanis’ tiny smile, the way his laughter filled the air, the hint of a twinkle in what she'd describe to be the most beautiful pair of eyes that she's ever seen…

Comet’s face burned, her heart swelled up at the mere thoughts that would best be compared to the writings in that one series Varric wrote— Swords and Shields. She never read it herself, really, she only heard some comments floating about in Weishaupt. Some of her comrades were romantics, always having their attention enraptured by the sappy words printed upon some page held together by thread and binded to a cover with greatly exaggerated art of the lovers. It was inevitable she'd end up hearing tidbits of some romance novels, and from what she gathered they were always over the top with the descriptions. Much like her own imagination, especially when she got too deep into her racing thoughts in moments where she needed a clear head.

Except…right now she didn't really mind the images her brain conjured for her since they were going to be memories she would never get tired of seeing played out behind her eyelids.

This silly crush was going to be the death of her.

Not that she thought it was horrible of such a thing to have developed; no, no, surely it was something that couldn't have been helped given that Lucanis had done so much- not just for her, but for the Veilguard as a whole. He was the one that brought darkness to the light, getting his hands messy where everyone else wouldn't have the heart to do the same. An Antivan Crow, whose death was falsified and identity kept hidden the best it could, decided to help their cause, even if by all means he didn't need to do so. Sure what they faced threatened the very state of the entire world, however Lucanis could've very well have passed up the offer to join to continue on his own way.

And the fact he didn't…was enough to draw forth feelings of appreciation alone. Comet had no idea what she would've even done had he rejected the invitation— crawl up in a hole and die in embarrassment maybe, mourn the loss of what could've no doubt been a great asset to the team. Of course she didn't really need to think about that coming to fruition , but it was still enough to make her wonder if, well…Lucanis knows how much his efforts were welcomed and appreciated.

Comet was aware that he viewed his work with the Crows to be…more like a job that paid well more than his life's passion. He was good at what he did- killing, obviously - but here he treated being a part of their ragtag group as more than just some duty he needed to uphold. Well maybe he didn't see it that way, but the mage did at least! So with that in mind…perhaps there was a way to show how much his time spent towards their goal meant to her- to everyone.

But what could that be? Think, Comet, think! What's something that Lucanis would like that he'd be a little touched to receive for his contributions thus far? Would he like flowers? No, no, with her luck he could be allergic. Or maybe she could cook something for him for a change! No…no wait she didn't know a thing about cooking…

A frown fell upon her lips— whatever could she possibly do? The idea of asking the others for their ideas embarrassed her, flushing her face an even deeper shade of red as the images of them poking fun at her flashed into her head. She shook them away, determined to not let herself get deterred!

That was when it hit her.

Wyverns…Lucanis likes them, right? Or he had a fascination with them at some point? What if…

Comet's eyes trailed down to her little crow- Caw. She's not as crafty as the Senior Warden who practically raised her, however if it was for him…for the opportunity to make him smile…it was worth a try!

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

[Writers Note: Hello! Thank you so much for reading part one of a one shot that was meant to be one huge part but ended up being so long I decided to separate it into two! I hope you all enjoyed reading! 🩵 I can't wait to continue writing more. Feel free to like, reblog & share! I appreciate the support.]

Link to my ko-fi if you want to tip, or even commission me 👇

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #lucanis x rook #lucanis dellamorte #warden rook #neve gallus #lace harding #emmerich volkarin #datv #dragon age veilguard

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silkieswift · 5 months ago

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Post-canon Luffy/(temp) fem!Law AU

I thought of this about a week or so ago and been expanding on it ever since privately; also, I wanted something more feel-good/wholesome (a lot of fem!Law stuff I've glanced over involves dubcon/rape, which I don't like). Maybe a bit OOC, but whatever. Quite long, so behind the cut.

(Can also be “other-setting AU with powers” if you want.)

Luffy/Law have been married for a few years; sometimes they talk about raising children

Luffy's happy with adopting (in whatever way) but Law decides no, he wants biological children as the ultimate expression of their (romantic) love for each other; he knows Luffy's friendly with Ivankov and that the latter's powers can cause sex changes

So they and their crews travel to Kamabakka; after some discussion and debating, Iva agrees to turn Law into a woman, but (s)he must live as a woman for several years to fully appreciate the experience (for Luffy's sake, Iva makes sure the change doesn't affect Law negatively)

Reactions across the world are varied (some well-wishing, others mocking/insulting, still others jealous; no-one dares try to attack, preferring to be alive, not (as good as) dead), but almost all surprised; the couple doesn't really pay much heed, since what matters is that they both want this, no coercion involved

They eventually have three children (two daughters and a son), with the other Straw Hats and Hearts being their aunts and uncles and their friends being their extended family (Luffy greatly dotes on them and perhaps spoils them a bit, but teaches them how to fight and to survive in hostile environments; Law also dotes on them, but also makes sure they know proper manners and self-discipline); they're all taught to fight and be able to defend themselves according to their personal preferences and interests; each of them is taught about the sex-change situation when they're deemed able to understand (not in a lewd manner, though)

(Elder daughter is much like Luffy, but with above-average intelligence/common sense; younger daughter is more like Law - reserved and a bit standoffish, medical prodigy, polearm fighter, eventual snake-Zoan user; son is more even-tempered and is a natural at underwater activity)

Law spends (between 7-10) years as a woman, and changes back after talking with Iva about the experience; it was challenging and sometimes very difficult, but (s)he didn't regret it for a second

#one piece #trafalgar law #monkey d. luffy #lawlu #lulaw #luffy x law #fem!law #au #fanfiction #female law #fem law #this is very self indulgent

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out-of-the-forest-i-come · 1 month ago

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The Gentleman and His Vowsmith

4,5⭐

The Gentleman and His Vowsmith is a gripping murder mystery mixing romance and historical fantasy, and I had so much fun reading it!

Nic and Leaf, heirs to two noble English families, are set to be married. According to custom, they are to be locked in with their party inside Nic’s mansion while the marriage contract is being negotiated. Nic doesn’t want to get married to a stranger and continue living under the weight of his father’s expectations, at the cost of his own freedom. He doesn’t want to have to face his old lover and negotiator for his fiancee’s family, Dashiell, whom he hasn’t spoken to in seven years. But the marriage is decided, the lock-in in effect, and he can escape neither Dashiell nor his marriage. That is, until a dead body turns up on the first evening of the lock-in. It looks like a tragic accident at first. Then, someone else dies. Convinced the deaths are no mere accident, Nic and Leaf, his fiancee, set out to uncover the murderer and their motive as the atmosphere in the house grows tenser and tenser with each day that passes.

Engaging from the beginning to the end, The Gentleman and His Vowsmith is a great book to read if one is looking for a fun murder mystery. The intrigue was delightful, foreshadowed well-enough that I was able to guess several of the answers and plot twists without losing interest in the book, and that the plot twists I hadn’t discovered kept me on my toes while still making sense in hindsight. I was gasping and talking to myself all throughout, and I really did not expect to enjoy myself so much while reading this book. I also have to give my credits to Rebecca Ide for having created such amazing subplots, which I followed with the same avidity as I did the main intrigue and which I loved just as much, if not more.

The only downside to the plot is that the build-up to the ending could have been in my opinion, stronger. I am not going to spoil the ending, but I thought that revealing the truth about the murders in two different scenes, even if they weren’t far apart, rather than in one single scene cut up the tension that should have built up and grown until the final, grand reveal. As it was, after the first reveal scene, the tension went down instead of going forever up, and the second scene was less grand because of that. The ending was still good, but it could have been more effective had the build-up been better.

Though the plot is very good, the characters are the novel’s real strength. All three of the most important characters, Nic, Leaf, and Dashiell, are well-developed and instantly likeable. They all felt very natural, flawed without being annoying, and I had no trouble getting attached to them. I admired all throughout the chemistry between them and how natural the relationships—platonic or romantic—felt. The wholesome friendship between Leaf and Nic was set up really quickly, and yet it made sense that it took so little time because the author made sure that the relationship itself made sense. The romance was equally well-paced, and the author balanced pining and romantic action perfectly. In truth, the characters and their relationships were so well-developed that I found myself quite fond of some of the minor characters and their relationships (I would be delighted to read about Val and Charles, if anyone involved in making this book sees this!).

When it comes to the worldbuilding, I have no doubt that Rebecca Ide spent a lot of time working on the magic and laws surrounding vowsmithing, as their knowledge of it could be felt through the writing. However, I found it wasn’t sufficiently explained in the novel, and now that I have finished the book, I am still absolutely incapable of explaining how the magic system works or what exactly vowsmithing entails. It didn’t hinder my overall comprehension because the book featured magic but wasn’t about magic, but since magic was a constant in the background, it did bother me not to understand it, and I think I might have missed some of the stakes of the plot because of that.

Despite this, The Gentleman and His Vowsmith is a very good book and I had a great time reading it. I would happily recommend it to anyone who is looking for a fun, queer murder mystery and I do think that fans of Freya Marske will enjoy it.

#book review #queer books #the gentleman and his vowsmith #books #book recs #queer book recs #queer book releases #mlm books #bookblr #out of the forest out of the brain #out of the queue i come

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ai-the-broccoli · 10 months ago

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if I had a nickel every time an episode in Ace Attorney involves a murder orchestrated by a pair of partners-in-crime where:

the one who wanted the victim dead and who's calling the shots is the yang-esque partner, an orange/red-coloured and explicitly cat-coded villain antagonist man with a misleadingly nice title/nickname/slogan ("tender"; "refreshing" etc) that doesn't suit his real nature + a bright conspicuous motorbike that is currently out of use, whose main thing is acting i.e. playing different characters & roles, and is able to fool many around him with his act, who is the primary antagonist or "real" bad guy in the episode narratively and,

the one who was enlisted by the cat-coded biker to help with the murder is the yin-esque partner, a black/white-coloured character with an ostentatious visible sign of past injury on their head and an eerie aura designated to invoke fear & creepiness from the moment they appear on screen, who consistently makes it sound as if they might kill you or someone else any second when they speak, but is ultimately treated as less antagonistic/more sympathetic than cat biker by the narrative.

and

cat biker stars as the leading role of their murderous two-man act, while the scary accomplice plays a supporting role in the background costumed in the uniform of the service job (e.g. maid, butler, waitress, bellboy) they're disguising themselves in.

despite serving the cat biker, scary accomplice is actually far more powerful in reality and both of them know it. scary accomplice's last name is infamously powerful in the criminal underworld and strikes terror into people's hearts; when brought up to the law enforcement for the first time, the player is told that other outlaws fear them and the police can't reach them.

cat biker acts tough and intimidating with the rogue face he puts on but he's actually a coward absolutely terrified of scary accomplice's actual power, because he knows the only reason they hasn't got him dead yet is that he is still on the accomplice's good side and they trust him.

and

the duo carries out the murder according to cat biker's wish but they're unsatisfied without making sure biker never gets convicted, so they decide to take a step further and mess with the lawyering as well. so they target phoenix wright personally, which eventually becomes their undoing because it just pushes him to find out the truth even more.

moreover, phoenix hates betrayal personally, and during his search he finds out that cat biker has been deceiving scary accomplice all along, despite scary accomplice's strong devotion to and forceful dedication to trusting cat biker. cat biker also even expresses his contempt toward them for this foolish trust behind them

phoenix breaks the truth about this betrayal to scary accomplice but couldn't get through until he provides evidence with the correct explanation, because accomplice has wanted to trust cat biker. after phoenix gets the truth through, scary accomplice completely turns against cat biker and wants him punished, which eventually helps phoenix gets him convicted and jailed with the help of unconventional methods

...I would have two nickels, which isn't a lot, but,

did you know that AA2: Justice for All was originally going to have 5 episodes, and Recipe for Turnabout was supposed to be 2-4 while Farewell, My Turnabout was originally meant to be 2-5, before they ran out of space and switched Recipe for Turnabout out for AA3 instead?

which means if it went as planned, Recipe for Turnabout would've been right before Farewell, My Turnabout. I wonder if that means this parallel could actually have been not completely unintentional?

anyway it's hilarious to me to think that Farewell, My Turnabout (the Engarde & De Killer case) would've been exactly one case after Recipe for Turnabout (the Tigre & Viola case) and exactly one case before the Dahlia & Phoenix case (Dahlia is a villain tied to the theme of deceit + comparable to Matt, while Phoenix is all about trust and trusting your clients + foils Shelly). fellas is it gay to strongly parallel not one, but multiple doomed godawful dysfunctional canonical m/f romances thematically

#ace attorney #farewell my turnabout #recipe for turnabout #matt engarde #shelly de killer #furio tigre #viola cadaverini #i (ai)#sazatoro #phoenix wright

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aliciavance4228 · 9 days ago

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Wake up, babe! It's time for more Cadmus Lore!

According to Diodorus Siculus, Cadmus was the ruler of the Egyptian Thebes. His daughter, Semele, was raped and gave birth to a dead child that resembled the god Osiris seven months later (which is terrifying only when you think about it). When Cadmus found out he claimed that a) the existence of the child is an "epiphany of Osiris among men" and b) Zeus is in fact the father of the child in order to protect the dignity of his raped daughter. Because of this people used to say that Osiris was the son of Semele and Zeus. Years later Orpheus heard about this story and changed it, replacing Osiris with Dionysus.

"Cadmus, who was a citizen of Egyptian Thebes, begat several children, of whom one was Semele; she was violated by an unknown person, became pregnant, and after seven months gave birth to a child whose appearance was such as the Egyptians hold had been that of Osiris. Now such a child is not usually brought into the world alive, either because it is contrary to the will of the gods or because the law of nature does not admit of it. 5 But when Cadmus found out what had taken place, having at the same time a reply from an oracle commanding him to observe the laws of his fathers, he both gilded the infant and paid it the appropriate sacrifices, on the ground that there had been a sort of epiphany of Osiris among men. 6 The fatherhood of the child he attributed to Zeus, in this way magnifying Osiris and averting slander from his violated daughter; and this is the reason why the tale was given out among the Greeks to the effect that Semele, the daughter of Cadmus, was the mother of Osiris by Zeus. Now at a later time Orpheus, who was held in high regard among the Greeks for his singing, initiatory rites, and instructions on things divine, was entertained as a guest by the descendants of Cadmus and accorded unusual honours in Thebes. 7 And since he had become conversant with the teachings of the Egyptians about the gods, he transferred the birth of the ancient Osiris to more recent times, and, out of regard for the descendants of Cadmus, instituted a new initiation, in the ritual of which the initiates were given the account that Dionysus had been born of Semele and Zeus. And the people observed these initiatory rites, partly because they were deceived through their ignorance, partly because they were attracted to them by the trustworthiness of Orpheus and his reputation in such matters, and most of all because they were glad to receive the god as a Greek, which, as has been said, is what he was considered to be. 8 Later, after the writers of myths and poets had taken over this account of his ancestry, the theatres became filled with it and among following generations faith in the story grew stubborn and immutable. In general, they say, the Greeks appropriate to themselves the most renowned of both Egyptian heroes and gods, and so also the colonies sent out by them."

#greek mythology #greek gods #cadmus #semele #zeus #orpheus #dionysus #osiris #ramblings

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 7 months ago

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Charles P. Pierce: Hard after Thursday night’s television debacle, the Supreme Court leaped in to destroy the separation of powers and, as Elie Mystal pointed out on Xwitter, to engage in the biggest power grab since Marbury v. Madison. Through the now-customary 6–3 vote delivered by the carefully manufactured conservative majority, the precedent of Chevron v. Natural Resources Defense Council, aka the Chevron deference, is now as dead as Julius Caesar. And thus forty years of administrative law comes to a rude and abrupt end. The decision further illustrates that the dedication of the carefully manufactured conservative majority to corporate oligarchy is utterly unshakable, expertise—scientific and otherwise—be damned. Don’t believe me? Ask Chief Justice John Roberts, who wrote the majority opinion.

“Perhaps most fundamentally, Chevron’s presumption is misguided because agencies have no special competence in resolving statutory ambiguities. Courts do.”

So instead of career scientists deciding that the E. coli convention in your pork loin makes it inadvisable to eat, some twenty-two-year old law clerk fresh out of Regent University School of Law will. Bon appétit!

Getting rid of Chevron was one of the golden dreams of the country’s oligarchs and the judges and lawyers in their pay. Along with Roe v. Wade, it was number one on the conservative hit parade. But Justice Neil Gorsuch, whose concurrence is chock-full of the kind of tinhorn erudition so beloved by the carefully manufactured conservative majority, has perhaps a special reason to dance on Chevron’s grave. His mother, Anne Gorsuch, was hired by the Reagan administration to run the EPA—into the ground, apparently. From The Washington Post:

Anne Gorsuch—like Reagan then and President Trump today—was a firm believer that the federal government was too big, too powerful and too eager to issue regulations that restricted businesses. As a result, she slashed the EPA’s budget by nearly a quarter and, according to a Washington Post story at the time, boasted that she had reduced the thickness of the book of clean water regulations from six inches to a half inch. She filled various departments at EPA with subordinates recruited from the very industries the agency was supposed to be regulating.

By the end of her stint at EPA, Anne Gorsuch was under siege. A half dozen congressional committees were looking into allegations of mismanagement of the Superfund program, which was designed to clean up abandoned toxic waste sites around the country. The House voted to cite Gorsuch for contempt of Congress for failing to turn over subpoenaed records.

In addition to its dollar-store history, Gorsuch’s concurrence pretty much turns the concept of stare decisis into Silly Putty. Return with us now to those thrilling days of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, Justice Neil Gorsuch, your host.

"Other consequences followed for the role precedent played in future judicial proceedings. Because past decisions represented something “less than a Law,” they did not bind future judges....At the same time, as Matthew Hale put it, a future judge could give a past decision “Weight” as “evidence” of the law....Expressing the same idea, William Blackstone conceived of judicial precedents as “evidence” of “the common law.” And much like other forms of evidence, precedents at common law were thought to vary in the weight due them."

Matthew Hale died in 1676. He was a notorious witch hunter and once argued that the existence of laws against witchcraft proved that witches existed. What the hell he has to do with PFAS pollution or workplace safety in a chicken plant is beyond me. But we live in his universe now, and Neil Gorsuch got his own back for his mom.

https://www.esquire.com/.../supreme-court-chevron.../...

#Esquire magazine #corrupt SCOTUS #Radical SCOTUS #power grab #Chevron v. Natural Resources Defense Council #Chevron deference

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leohtttbriar · 1 year ago

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"if I hadn't realized what he had done"-- there are two very separate people in this sentence. the verb tenses are insane, too, because, like, kira is dead. but here jadzia is trying to blame yedrin for the second death-yet-to-come. making this the first time that jadzia has not claimed the shared-person of the symbiont as some form of self. maybe it's because yedrin is a future Self? but it doesn't ring true to how jadzia has acted about her various Persons before. in an almost mirror to the fake-doubling/separation that yedrin has "proposed" as a way for the crew to leave the planet while also staying, jadzia is not claiming yedrin's actions, even if he is technically jadzia (and curzon and joran and...) as well as himself. his decision to lie to them belongs, in some part, to her--it has to, since joined trill have never been shown to be able to truly distinguish their complex actions and decisions from one person to the other.

which means that jadzia is in this scene not just realizing she's responsible for kira's death (i mean, she's not) from the first time through the barrier but also responsible for kira's death again for this maneuver from yedrin (which, like, yes. she is within yedrin the whole episode. there are in fact two jadzias present).

with all time-traveling stories, there's a circular nature, since it's not like any of us are capable of imagining going faster than the speed of causality and escaping the single-direction-move along the temporal dimension of all 3D beings; which inevitably turns our time-travelling-stories into closed-circuit-deterministic-circular narratives or makes us lose our minds about butterfly theory. which is probably why the character who seems most comfortable with this whole situation is kira who's used to considering a future-already-written as just a law of reality. she references the prophets to odo and the others several times and you can't really argue that much with her because so far everything her gods have spoken has come true.

but jadzia i think is running up against determinism here not just from the situation itself (her future being told to her by her ancestors and the future dax host--her obvious discomfort with the idea of marrying worf according to their relationship in the present moment with the sort of flip side that is miles's discomfort with marrying someone who is not his wife in the present moment). in addition, i think she's struggling with the determinism associated with being joined. there's a weight to the fact that her person is not wholly controlled by her but cannot be separated from her. would jadzia choose to let kira die? no, not at first. but then she does because that's what kira wants--and everyone else sort of agrees. would jadzia lie in this way yedrin does to get her way? would jadzia "save" the lives of 8000 at the sacrifice of one? would jadzia betray her own self? would jadzia take a very difficult decision out of the hands of a past life, another self? she can't answer that question now, but also she can--because a future self does all of that, a future self that cannot be separated from her.

before this episode, obligations to the past-lives of the symbiont seemed to come easy to jadzia. well, not easy, but she doesn't spend a lot of time struggling with accepting them and carrying their burdens. here, she realizes she will be a burden for yedrin. so, on top of everything she thinks she's to blame for, she also now has to confront yedrin's existence, who carries kira's death as jadzia would. all of this seems exactly the kind of thing that jadzia, who will happily deal with the consequences of her past lives' crimes or the personal heartbreak of her own decisions, is not prepared for. she has not yet been in a situation where someone else has to carry her.

#jesus louiseus this episode!#jadzia dax #ds9 #star trek #still got a lot of kiradax thoughts yet to be written because of course i do

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havocdream · 3 months ago

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Unheard and Unseen - Eleven

Summary: Two months after their departure from Coruscant as bodyguards, Clone Force 99 is tasked with an urgent rescue mission. Vintra meets alone with a Separatist Senator.

Word count: 8.3k

Notes at the end of chapter

Chapter ten -> A world alive

Masterlist

A tyrant's victory

Two months later

The lush planet of Taerra wasn’t only home to one of the most amazing ecosystems in the historical records of the Republic, it was also the main supplier of life to the most important star in the galaxy: Coruscant, the galactic capital. A world whose surface was ruled by an impressive urban and technological development that had ended the growth of any natural habitat, and that for a time meant an extreme survival crisis for its citizens.

It was the price that the most powerful of the planets had to pay, because thanks to it, no other system in the galaxy would reach the economic or cultural capital to dare to challenge in authority the Great World of Coruscant. It was an unrepeatable case for history, for it wasn’t easy for an entire world to sacrifice all its natural resources in the name of industrialization; and, even if they did, nothing assured them to get the capital of Coruscant to be able to invest billions of credits in the manipulation of technologies and methods to produce the gases, chemicals and elements necessary to sustain the life of millions of living beings.

That was why Taerra, with its tall, sturdy and healthy trees, was one of the vital planets for Coruscant. The oxygen emissions provided by its forests were enough to feed hundreds of worlds in the galaxy, it was a paradise of life that served as a lifeline for species on countless occasions, but had never developed intelligent life. Coruscant was the sole owner of this forested star, though bounded by ancient and severe laws that restrained it from encroaching or extracting more than necessary from the planet, so that its resources would always be sufficient. It could be said that without Taerra, millions of years of history and billions of species on Coruscant would perish for lack of pure oxygen.

So, when the army's intelligence network relayed a distressing report that the Taerra barrier, which blocked any outsiders from entering the planet, had been compromised by droid armies, and that a team of Separatist warlords laid siege to the Republic's main oxygen extraction point, it came as no surprise to Clone Force 99 to be immediately dispatched to the planet to counter the threat. And since there were no specifics about the type of neutralization to be employed, the unit's sergeant understood that he was allowed to act at discretion.

The expedition was estimated to take about fifteen days, as the enemy had set up an impenetrable defense from every angle according to the maps drawn by allied scouting forces. At the Operations Center, the outcome of the mission had hundreds of agents, generals and officers so on edge that many didn’t know if they’d survive the restlessness for so long. Nor was success assured, and there was a chance that the most important planet for the Republic would be deprived of oxygen.

However, on the third day of the expedition they received a transmission from the leader of the defective clone squadron, with news that stunned all personnel.

“We’ve regained control of the planet. The enemy's posts have been destabilized or destroyed, we took care of eliminating all their troops, and the five overlords were captured and prepared on a reinforced transport bound for Coruscant for prosecution.... However, all five of them were hiding an electro capsule in their mouths, which they activated shortly after being apprehended. They’re all dead.”

On the other side of the hologram transmission, Jedi Generals Obi-Wan Kenobi, Kit Fisto and Plo Koon were monitoring the unfolding of the mission from their current posts on different fronts of the war, alert to the need for their services in case it went wrong and the clones needed reinforcements. Though it would be the first time such a thing had happened.

“Splendid work, Sergeant, as usual from your squad,” the Nautolan complimented, a welcome expression gracing his face despite the grim news, able to take it as a tragedy, but also as a relief that the most sinister danger to the Republic was put behind. “Emergency teams have already been dispatched to Taerra to reinforce its deflector barrier,” confirmed the tall master, in charge of Taerra's protection committee for that situation.

“Very well, I’ll brief the Senate on the results of this operation. Although this crisis is likely to spark intense discussion; Senator Burtoni will finally have the perfect argument for approval of the production of her additional five million clones,” General Plo Koon mused as he brought one of his hands to his jaw. His posture evidenced concern. “It is a shame that the criminals took their own lives, we had so many doubts about the nature of this attack...its mysterious purpose will now remain in the shadows, along with the many unusual tactics that have been raised of late in sporadic locations throughout the galaxy,” he added as a warning to those present. Hunter agreed with him, their last few missions had been strange, trails of suicide teams at key points for the Republic as desperate measures to bring it down once and for all, but each with the noisy question mark of how they’d managed to break through both the ranks and barriers of an impenetrable military formation of the Grand Army of the Republic.

The wise jedi master was right, and something murky was stirring among the threads of those machinations. Hunter could see how they left a sickening trail, but it disappeared behind curtains of dense fog that hid them from his smell and touch.

“We’ll have to leave these disputes in the hands of the galactic senators, from here the only thing we can do is to continue protecting the citizens from the droid forces,” suggested General Kenobi, whose gaze was abstracted from the present. Perhaps the situation at his post was crucial and had him worried.

“Certainly,” General Fisto replied, and turned to look at the clone present. “The Republic remains in immense gratitude to your squadron, sergeant, are you sure you're still not interested in the numerous decorations we wish to recognize your efforts with?” the distinguished Nautolan offered Hunter, intrigued as to what answer he was going to give him that time, as if it was going to be any different. Hunter shrugged.

“It's not the reason we do our job, general,” he assured him, firm and confident of his and his brothers' resolve. General Fisto observed the clone with gentleness and pride, so he didn’t press his proposal any further.

Both General Fisto and General Koon bid farewell to the rest and returned to their respective battlefields. But General Kenobi didn’t dispatch Hunter, but stayed a while longer beside him in the transmission, pensive or waiting for the two of them to be alone.

“Is there a problem, general?” he prompted the general to speak, and the jedi master's brown eyes shadowed as they rested on the clone's. Even through a hologram, Hunter could make out the general's awkward posture.

“Yes, I'm afraid so, sergeant,” Obi-Wan straightened and shed any wavering composure he let on. It was now only evident in his gaze. “Assemble your squad and contact me through the confidential channel,” was the last thing he said to him before disappearing and leaving him alone in the middle of a dense and silent ancestral forest.

Hunter walked in the direction of the Havoc Marauder, a couple of steps behind him, in an area wide enough to land and hide the ship. Around it, Wrecker was piling up the remains of droids and amusing himself with them by smashing them into misshapen balls of metal with his fists. Crosshair was just walking inside, probably in search of rest, and Tech was checking the wires under the cockpit, to make sure they didn't have any mechanical problems on their way to the next destination.

“General Kenobi wants a confidential meeting,” Hunter informed Tech once he stopped beside him. Wrecker caught up to his words and responded with an excited chuckle.

“Maybe they're finally sending us to capture some Separatist Admiral,” the big guy celebrated after clenching his huge fists and crunching the bones in his fingers. Hunter ignored him, he had just seen Tech's jaw tense with concern.

“You know something, don't you?” Hunter could now worry, it wasn't usual for Tech to know something and not share it with him. The one with goggles looked over his shoulder at him as he finished adjusting one of the power generators.

“The information I have is inconclusive, better listen to the general directly,” he suggested, uneasy even with the few pieces he possessed from the military intelligence network. Hunter frowned, what was going on? “We'd better not keep him waiting,” Tech told the older of the lot, as he closed the hatch and hurried inside.

When Hunter and Wrecker entered the ship, Tech was already in front of the communications panel, ready to link up with the general's confidential channel. Crosshair arrived just as Obi-Wan's image was finishing adjusting on the hologram. He greeted them and congratulated them on their exploits on Taerra.

“I regret having to come to you with immediacy after this latest mission, gentlemen, but I'm afraid this is a matter of high intergalactic risk,” the clones turned to look at each other, as if looking to each other for just enough encouragement to be ready when they heard the news, ”Senator Selana is missing.”

A hologram was displayed on a control table in one of the army's secret stations, where Clone Force 99 awaited directions to proceed on that critical mission. The virtual figures of Generals Obi-Wan Kenobi and Mace Windu, along with Jedi Grandmaster Yoda and another team of admirals and commanders, glowed in the middle of the property as they discussed the recent events that had put Ederon's Intelligence Network and that of the Grand Army of the Republic on high alert.

“Those of us present here are the only ones to know about this situation, and we intend to keep it that way,” General Windu spoke to those assembled, his gaze cold and concerned, whatever it was he knew must be a serious matter. “Senator Selana has made many enemies in the last few months since the introduction of her ceasefire bill in Druad, we don’t know what this information might provoke among her most dangerous opponents or among the public,” he explained to the clones in charge of the operation. He looked at one of the clone intelligence commanders and with a nod instructed him to give the report.

“Our reasons for assuming the Ederon Senator's life’s in danger is because of a transmission we intercepted from Separatist channels in the Bryx Sector,” the clone commander unfolded the transmission file to the center of the navigation table, an encrypted audio from the enemy.

The sound of labored breathing greeted the assembled officers, accompanied by indecipherable mumblings drowned out behind some facial device, such as a helmet or mask. “...Evadelar in ten hours—” more thumping sounds with clipped or muffled phrases, “...intercept and capture her...” more indecipherable noise, “...Vintra Selana dead or alive—” Hunter frowned as he listened to the recording, his mind assaulted with endless doubts.

“The senator receives threats on a daily basis,” the clone mentioned to those gathered, as he recalled that part of his job when he was her bodyguard was to monitor the type of unknown correspondence and calls she received. The threats were constant, but almost none posed any real danger after investigating them. The clone in charge of filing the report looked at him with disdain.

“Naturally, but that's not why we take them lightly,” the agent replied, and displayed on the hologram a report evidencing authorization to monitor the Evadelar area and vicinity, as well as to contact the senator about possible travel outside of Coruscant. “When we got no response from the senator's guard captain, a team went to make sure everything was in order at her apartment. But they found no one, neither her guard nor her... and neither was her ship,” the clone showed two more images in the center of the hologram, one displayed the senator as she boarded her ship followed by her guard, fifteen hours ago. The other was the report of the last twenty hours of departures from Coruscant from the Office of Space Regulation, which didn’t show Vintra Selana's ship. Hunter spotted the unusual trail instantly. “Then we got the report from our team on Evadelar...” and the next image caused the blood of Jedi masters, admirals and commanders, and elite clones, to turn to corpse breath.

Hunter stared at the fragments that made up the image without understanding how that had been possible. Who had allowed it? Why hadn't they foreseen it? And a thought that had been haunting him for two months finally burst into shades of red and orange that blurred his vision and quickened his pulse. If he hadn’t left her alone, this wouldn’t have happened.

The image showed the wreckage of a ship that had suffered a terrible explosion. Weightless limbs were scattered everywhere, not knowing if any of them belonged to Senator Selana of Ederon.

“We’ve been trying to contact Ederon's Chief of Intelligence, Mavan Stent, to get information about the Senator, but he’s been in a meeting with the Chancellor since last night in the war room along with some Admirals and Vice Admirals,” Hunter raised his gaze to the clone, curious about that information. He remembered perfectly well the person behind Senator Selana's attacks two months ago: Vice Admiral Stass. “And we still don't want to alert the rest of the authorities, the least we need is a leak of information at this point,” the clone explained and turned to Grandmaster Yoda, awaiting his opinion and judgment of the situation.

The highly respected Jedi pondered for a few seconds, with severe regret and anguish in his eyes over what he had just heard. All eyes were on the oldest and wisest in the room, intent on what the little greenish-skinned, long-eared being had to say.

“Deceptive, the sight can be. Learn this, early, a Jedi must,” he began, with tender eyes and compassionate tone, as if to remind the hearts of the rest that their haste was only an instinct to rush to action, but that it lacked the calm of planning. “To give her up for dead, we cannot; investigate, we must,” Master Yoda turned to the clones of Clone Force 99. “Placed in you our hope is.”

As Hunter bowed his head to assure the Grandmaster that they could count on them with finding the senator, General Kenobi's commander approached the jedi in stealth to inform him of the recent events reported on Coruscant. The Obi-Wan's face was covered by a shadow of confusion and horror.

“At the moment, gentlemen, the information we have on Senator Selana is that she boarded her ship about fifteen hours ago, but there’s no record of her leaving Coruscant,” General Windu began, as he helped the rest of them understand the order of events. The clone in charge of the report nodded and displayed all the images in the center so everyone could see the evidence.

“We still have no confirmation that this is the senator's ship, or that she was aboard this one. Also, no one on her team or in the Ederon network knew she was leaving Coruscant, we only have yet to consult with the Chief of Intelligence, but we don't know how much longer his meeting with the Chancellor will take...” the clone was interrupted by General Kenobi, who asked for the floor to share important news.

“Gentlemen, I’m informed by my commander that the Senate Building has been overrun by bounty hunters holding a group of senators hostage, and the Republic Executive Building has suffered a power failure, the Chancellor and all other personnel inside are locked in and without communications with the outside,” the jedi master announced with distress, and planted a question mark in the minds of the rest that made the whole situation an even more sinister case. What was behind all these attacks on senators?

“Is it not possible to invade the buildings?” asked General Windu to his colleague, Kenobi shook his head.

“We don't know what the situation is inside these, we need information from there to make sure an invasion won't provoke a more lethal attack,” the brown-bearded jedi explained. General Windu let out an irritated sigh.

“I'll go to Coruscant to take care of that, you gentlemen,” he turned to the Clone Force 99 clones, “focus on Senator Selana.”

The rocky planets were not short of fame in the repertoire of the known galaxy. On the contrary, they were quite coveted by big businessmen, for they were worlds rich in useful materials with which they could make more wealth. Metals, salts, jewels... a planet full of mountains and rocks was a gold mine, available only to those with the capital to set up machinery or send miners to get them.

That wasn’t the case with planet Rodova, whose soil, despite appearing firm and dense, had deceived explorers and miners on several occasions. Their textures were fragile, they broke and turned to mush anyone who dared to enter the hills and volcanoes in search of something valuable. The landslides, which buried hundreds of workers in their time, could never be controlled, and after finding nothing in the interior of the planet's mountains, interest waned until it was no longer an attractive place for trade.

Over the decades, it gained a reputation as a planet in constant collapse. It had fallen, along with the neighboring stars, into a forgotten zone unvisited by the rest of the galaxy. No one noticed it when looking at a map, and in many it was no longer even known by name, but as the pile of uninhabited planets in the Jalor Sector. Irrelevant to billions, but essential to Arvin Haradan, a senator in the Separatist Parliament, who drew on his experience as a native of a world with hostile terrain to understand the personality of the lands of Rodova, and to operate clandestinely in them.

Perhaps it was a terrible idea to follow Senator Haradan into a place so familiar to him, it was like following the bear straight into his cave. It could become his meal at any second.

But Vintra Selana had no intention of becoming anyone's prey. She walked behind Arvin Haradan with her chin high and footfall firm, as if daring the stone walls around her to bury her, to show that the threat of the place didn’t terrify her.

But it wasn't anything like that. In fact, she trusted the corridors through which the enemy senator led her, for, even if they were political opposites, there was more in the lives of both that bound them together as two individuals interested in the welfare of the galaxy's populace and the people they represented. A bond that the war had distanced, but not broken.

Or so they were both about to put to the test, as soon as they reached a room deep in the mountains, which for so many years had been dug to create caves and passageways through which to transport and hide goods. Vintra had been unable to see such exploits, for it was until she heard a door close behind her that the blindfold was finally removed from her eyes, and the muscular, square face of her old friend at last was drawn before her in a dim yellow light, in which his green eyes glowed almost brown.

The first thing Vintra noticed as she turned her mesmerizing purple gaze upon him was the absence of something. She didn't quite know what, but something about the man she remembered was gone. Whether that was good or bad for her, she couldn't know.

“You have big balls to come here without your guard, Vintra,” a deep voice echoed in the stone-walled room, and Senator Haradan lay a few feet away from her, leaning on the edge of a stone table under the only light bulb in the place. He wore an elegant black full-dress uniform, adorned with a silver belt. He was wrapped in a long coat of thick, matte fabric, also black, with silver engravings on the edge of the opening and the lower sleeves.

The Ederon Senator's relaxed shoulders shook slightly, a sign that something had annoyed her.

“I find it offensive that you suggest that the only explanation for my spunk is because I have somehow, however metaphorically, grown balls, Arvin,” she gave him an irritated smile. “I've worked hard and long to have this courage, the credit is mine, not some biological part of you that you swear gives you superpowers,” Vintra attacked immediately, and the reaction of the only other present was exactly as she expected: rolling of eyes and wrinkling of nose, as if that complaint was the most idiotic thing he'd heard all day, as if trying to tell her it was just a figure of speech.

But Vintra wasn’t in a good mood.

“I don't want to involve them in this, so let's get it over with at once, before they notice my absence,” she explained, and pointed to the table Arvin was leaning over. He gestured with his hand to the seat next to him to invite her to take it, as he rounded the table and looked for the opposite one.

“Well, you were the one who wanted to see me before the official meeting with the two representatives of each Court present, why are you here?” the inquisitive gaze of Arvin, accentuated thanks to his thick brown eyebrows, tried to unsettle the ederian's assurance, but it didn't seem to even scratch her firm posture. With one leg crossed and her back leaning against the backrest, Vintra didn't seem worried about finding herself alone deep in a mountain with an enemy. Arvin knew her, there was something that made her feel safe despite her surroundings. If it wasn't her guard, it had to be information.

Vintra noticed in her old colleague's eyes that he had finally realized the reason for the meeting. It wasn’t nervousness or concern what was painted on his pale face, but awe. As if he admired witnessing how impressive her intelligence network was in coming up with such data.

“Twenty-four hours ago, I was summoned to the Supreme Court for a private hearing with the department assigned to investigate my proposal about Druad,” she began, as she settled further into her chair and deposited one hand in her lap, while the other danced near her chin and used it to complement the tone of her eloquent speech. “The agents had two pieces of news for me...the first was accompanied by a warning, it was about a press image in Druad about a young druadan carrying a 'whistling' rifle,” Vintra watched as Arvin arched an eyebrow and opened his mouth, but held up her hand to stop him in his interruption. “I had to clarify that I wasn't the one supplying them; after all, I was the one who vetoed the use of that rifle in the entire galaxy, I had no idea how it had gotten to the druadan... especially since my intention is the peace of the planet,” she emphasized her last sentence by raising her tone as she said it, “not to incite more violence,” Vintra narrowed her eyes before continuing, her eyes fixed on the face in front of her, who was looking at her without hesitation. “The second was about you, that you had agreed to a negotiation for a ceasefire between our armies on Druad,” she reported on the main reason for her departure from Coruscant. “It was no surprise, you were always close to me before your decision to join the Separatist Parliament, we shared visions of what the Republic should be as an institution, so I was looking forward to have the opportunity to find a peaceful solution to the war in Druad with you...” her words might have sounded hopeful, were it not for the bitter tone with which she blurted them out and the way she leaned forward, narrow-eyed, to look at Senator Haradan accusingly and angrily. “So you can imagine my outrage when my chief of intelligence discovered early this morning that the supplier of the rifles to the druadan is you—”

“Vintra,” Arvin interrupted an annoyed Senator Selana, who didn't hold back in expressing her irritation at such a rude gesture with her face.

“So I wondered! Why would someone who profits from the war in Druad be interested at all in negotiating for peace?” she enunciated the question with mock interest, for Arvin knew she already had her answer. “Unless, of course, the intention was never to negotiate, but to meet with me without risking breaking the law.”

Vintra Selana had beaten him to it, though he already knew that. When he received the unexpected message that she was outside the location where the meeting would take place in a couple of hours, intending to talk privately, he thought it was a stroke of luck. He could make his proposal to her without having to get rid of the judicial representatives, whose presence was required to monitor that this enemy meeting was not a violation of the laws of both governments. But he didn’t expect Vintra to already know the reason he had agreed to the negotiations.

“I don’t profit from the war in Druad, Vintra. I don’t receive a penny for providing them with weapons,” the Magastea representative defended himself, an irritated and offended tone in his voice. “I do this to give them a chance to defend themselves,” with hearing those words, Vintra tensed her shoulders. “I understand that your fight on Coruscant requires certain measures and conditions, but druadan die every day from deliberate attacks from both sides, and they attack them because you know they can't defend themselves!” exclaimed Arvin, his hands shook with frustration, and his saddened look reflected helplessness.

“You're making them look like terrorists!” she complained as she clenched her hands into hard, shaking fists. “I don't know how the scenario’s painted on your side, but on Coruscant I know many who’d be happy to accuse the druadan as a hostile and violent species,” Arvin slammed his fists down hard on the table, causing Vintra to recoil in surprise. She saw him deny with his head down, defeated.

“We are invaders, Vintra,” he began to mutter under his breath. “It's been years that the druadan have been invaded by us, don't you think it's time they let us know we're not welcome?” but as soon as he returned his gaze to her, an icy current that traveled down his back made him fall silent. Vintra's eyes glowed almost red, like two blinkers announcing the soon-to-be explosion of the place. It was useless, Vintra Selana wasn’t going to be part of that game.

“Tell me,” a change could be heard in her tone of voice, like caution and fragility, “how do you get past those weapons undetected?” the question took him by surprise, and when he looked at her again, that warning in her eyes had disappeared, they were now an indecipherable riddle, though she looked sad.

“I'm afraid I can't tell you,” he replied as he leaned against the back of the chair and crossed his arms. An amused “hmm” was heard, coming from Vintra. It was the response she had expected.

“It's not that I dislike the fact that the druadan can respond and defend against military oppression, Arvin, it's just that you're playing a very risky game... if the druadan open fire they’ll officially become an armed party to the war, enemies of both droids and clones,” Vintra's elbows landed on the surface of the table, her hands clasped and her chin sharpened, like a spear in Arvin's direction, oblivious to doubt and fear. “It's hard enough to convince the entire Senate to side with an oppressed populace, rest assured that it’ll be impossible to rally support for a party that reveals itself as an enemy,” she retorted angrily, but it only elicited a shrug from Arvin.

“Well, Vintra, it's not my problem that you're not good enough to handle that scenario,” he insulted her without hesitation, as he held her gaze in pure anger. Vintra was sure that Arvin had hoped to get her support with that project, and that she had disappointed him terribly. He saw that solution as something that actually helped the druadan, that saved and protected them, but for how long? If they became enemies of the Republic and the Separatists, they’d have to face both armies at the same time...

Although... wasn't that what they were already doing?

“No, it's you who’s not good enough to think and create alternate paths to peace that don't involve more violence,” she challenged dismissively, clearly disgusted with the insult. “Didn't they teach you that in the academy? War is symbolic of government failure,” she smiled, “or a tyrant’s victory.”

He looked at her with one side of his nose wrinkled, an expression Vintra knew well on him, it appeared when he felt humiliated, but he was too proud to admit it. Arvin gave in easily to anger, and his ego prevented him from acknowledging his screw-up or correcting his mistakes. But Vintra knew he had good intentions in his heart. That was where she could start.

“Why did you want to see me? Did you want to ask me something?” she asked, in a calmer tone of voice, as if to let Arvin know he could trust her. But he remained motionless in his chair, his gaze fixed on Vintra's purple one. She sighed. “Perhaps I’m open to a proposal, if yours interests me,” the ederian tempted, and watched the muscles in his chin relax little by little until said calmness reached his eye sockets, which released all pent-up misgivings and gave way to a premature, almost innocent desire. The illusion that perhaps not everything had been thrown overboard.

“Your ships,” Arvin leaned forward and took the same position as Vintra, his elbows resting on the surface of the table and his gaze wrapped in intrigue and hope. “Ederon has a license to ship solidarity goods to those affected by the war, and I'm getting more and more at stake with the illegal trade,” he didn't need to say more, and Vintra let him know it with a nod.

“My ships are registered, Arvin,” she said, about to start shaking her head, but he raised his hand to ask her to speak.

“My problem isn't hiding weapons, Vintra, it's getting my ships to make it to land on Druad,” he explained and waved his hands, as if he wanted Vintra to get things straight at once. “If I used yours, the only thing my people would have to worry about is hiding them, an art they’ve mastered to perfection,” Vintra let out a wry chuckle.

“And if they find your merchandise on my ships, how do I know I won't be the one to pay the price? Is there anything on them that they can involve you in the situation with?” she questioned with false intrigue, for she was sure the answer was no. Arvin lowered his gaze and sighed. “Uh-huh, I thought so,” she widened her incredulous smile and rose from her seat to pace back and forth in the small stone room.

As she rose, Arvin noticed for the first time the elegant wardrobe in which she had decided to attend their meeting. An ankle-length dress, of fine fabric and dull gold, fitted to her slim, accentuated figure. It covered down to her chest and below her shoulders, and a solid pattern of light bronze trim surrounded her figure to her hips, a plain chocolate skirt descended to her feet, and long loose sleeves held at the back an even thinner and longer fabric that fell to the floor, which she dragged as she walked in her golden high shoes. Her hair was tied up to her neck in a voluminous coiffure that gave her a sovereign air, when he saw her standing while he remained seated. He didn't know how to explain it, but it was as if Vintra Selana had dressed to win that negotiation.

Vintra stopped in her anxious steps and folded her arms, her back waved for a long time to the senator of Magastea, who looked at the ederian up and down again and again for some sign that would tell him how much she was meditating. He could almost see her mind tugging and untwisting the threads of the political scenario she found herself in, attentive to care what she might or might not say.

“The truth is, Arvin, I need your help with something,” she said after a long moment in silence. Arvin's eyebrows instantly rose, his pulse beginning to pound in his chest in urgency, as if insisting him to make Vintra speak at once. She turned to face him, but not before taking a deep breath, hoping that this wasn’t going to cost the end of her Senate career. “But first, I want you to sign this.”

She held out a tiny device that she’d probably hidden in her hair, as she’d been searched by Senator Haradan's security. Arvin took it and activated, it was a hologram of a peace agreement, stating the Separatist government's interest in opening channels of discussion and negotiations in search of a definitive ceasefire, and an irrevocable cessation to the appropriation of the thusten.

Arvin chuckled under his breath and shook his head. “I can't sign this... the Parliament isn’t interested in forgetting about the thusten,” he explained pleadingly, as if that would convince Vintra to forget the issue. She shrugged her shoulders and looked at him with disinterest.

“Your choices come down to accepting that deal or dismissing yourself from your position as a Separatist Senator... You see, Arvin, my information network and I have a duty to the Republic,” Vintra took two steps toward him, her tone of voice soft and drawling, her threat striking Arvin's ears with subtlety, but chilling. “It was my chief of intelligence that hit with you and the rifles, my duty is to report this to the Senate and the press,” Arvin didn't take long to follow the thread she was beginning to pull. He couldn't help but remain still and immovable, he sinned as he swallowed saliva and demonstrated his unease. “Your actions cause Druad to be considered a planet under Separatist control, the Republic could allow laws that threaten the entire planet and justify total colonization,” Vintra raised and quickened her tone further, frustrated of the scenario that was painted if she reported this to her superiors. “Which would be a terrible problem for you Confederates, and you’d be charged with high treason for supplying weapons to an enemy and hindering the extraction of the thusten, not to mention the number of druadan lives you would sacrifice wh—”

“Vintra, if I sign this I become the only Separatist to lead a ceasefire... you want me to be in the Separatist Parliament,” Arvin pressed his longest fingertips to the center of his chest, “what you are in the Galactic Senate,” and then pointed them at her, his agitated, jerky gestures emulating those of a cornered prey, claustrophobia at a prospect so threatening it was becoming increasingly cramped, no air to think straight. From one moment to the next, Arvin believed Vintra had transformed into a giant, for he could have sworn it loomed huge before him and blocked all escape from her grasp.

“I could use it, yes,” she said, her posture shifting to bear her weight on her right leg, and her hips stood out more on that side. Arvin interpreted that he wasn't going to have a say in that situation.

He tried to think it through. It wasn’t in his best interest to send Vintra down the drain, he knew she’d keep her word, especially since it didn’t suit her and her bill for the druadan to be seen as military threats.

Arvin straightened up in the seat and took in enough air, as if the gesture was a plea to the universe to inhale some correct answer that was nearby. His hands, still clasped and resting on the table, showed unease as they were unable to stop the thumbs from colliding with each other.

He was very intrigued as to why Vintra was willing to commit treason against the Republic by letting him continue his arms dealing, or why she was willing to complicate her own fight in the Senate. He doubted it was just to have an equivalent in the Separatist Parliament, for the agreement didn’t even obligate him to be as successful as she was.

He stared at the hologram for a long time, but it was no use. No matter how much he wanted to put it off, Vintra would still be there, standing with her hands on her hips, demanding his decision.

There was always the possibility of refusing and then eliminating her, but that didn't suit him either. The representative of the Supreme Court of the Republic and her guard knew she was there, Mavan Stent and the Supreme Chancellor as well. If anything happened to her, the Republic would have full authority to arrest him. And besides not wanting to take that risk, he didn't really want to hurt her either.

After all, they both intended to help the druadan.

Vintra was beginning to grow impatient with every second, she fought with all her might the urge to stamp her foot on the ground and reveal her desperation. She needed that signature, her short-term political outlook depended on it and the direct liaison with an enemy party, one she trusted and with whom she shared victory or misfortune, that way she was assured of not being betrayed.

With Arvin on her side, the ederian could convince hundreds of senators to support her bill, as many were still reluctant to vote for it because they believed it was in the Republic's self-interest, that the Separatists would never agree to withdraw from Druad or negotiate a ceasefire.

So, Senator Haradan's involvement was crucial, and she knew she had to handle the situation with caution and a lot of patience. It wasn’t easy to sign what she was asking for, just as it wasn’t easy to decide to commit high treason by hiding the rifle information from Republic authorities, or to break the law by meeting with a Separatist Senator without a bailiff present. And, worst of all, tarnishing the image of the druadan and complicating her struggle on Coruscant to defend them. Neither senator was safe, but for Vintra it was a risk worth taking.

And that was what she tried to convey with her purple gaze to her old colleague and friend. Arvin had had his eyes fixed on hers for some time now, looking for a last resort of succor to help him make the decision.

Now she knew what Arvin's gaze had lost: hope. The ridiculous wheel of the cycle of violence, the political reasons for promoting war, the countless hours of discussion in Parliament to never resolve anything and only make the galaxy more expensive. What was his office for? Was there anything worth his vote? Was the Confederation of Independent Systems just an excuse for war?

It was as if Vintra could read everything in his opaque eyes. The characteristic emerald glow that made him rise as one of the most attractive politicians was gone. He seemed now to have aged thirty years, and to have given in to the pessimism that characterized most politicians after three years in office.

What Arvin Haradan found in Vintra, however, was a last star in a dull firmament, clinging to its dim glow amid utter darkness. She’d been in the Senate and on Coruscant for months with her relentless fight, she had received attack after attack, criticism after criticism; but she kept going, somehow managed to turn the tide in every tribulation that came her way and returned to the next Senate plenary with more votes in her favor.

Perhaps Vintra Selana owned one of the last glimmers of the fading glory of a solid, united democracy, fractured now by wars, divisions, and corruptions of what high government office meant. If no one was going to help Druad by hook or by crook, at least there was Vintra.

“You know...” began Arvin after several seconds in which neither took their eyes off the other, unsure if anyone's next move would be a kill shot or an outstretched hand, “the one thing that stopped me for a long time from joining Count Dooku...” Vintra watched her old friend move closer to the hologram and set it up to be edited in the specific area of the signature, which she looked at with glowing, excited eyes, “was your Ederon Network,” he said with a chuckle, as she signed what had become the most important piece to Vintra in that instant with some trepidation.

Arvin wasn't sure he had what it took to be Vintra Selana's equivalent in the Separatist Parliament, nor did he know what kind of danger he was in; but this was the only opportunity he’d been presented with to do something for Druad outside of his own means. Vintra had an outrageous network in terms of information, with high profile contacts, a wealthy planet and, above all, public approval. Having her as his ally and negotiating partner, despite her demands, had its benefits, ones he didn’t want to lose when he spent months with uncertainty about leaving the Republic and joining the Separatists.

As Arvin's hand traced over the image the curves and lines of his name, Vintra's heart rate began to accelerate in excitement and delight. She was unable to keep her eyes neutral and impassive, they grew wider and wider, and her desperation to finish it all and scream victory grew in her chest and spread throughout her body, as if her blood was the conductor of the feeling.

She felt that a terrible burden had been lifted from her shoulders, as if after long months she was finally allowed to take a deep breath that would completely fill her lungs. Returning to Coruscant no longer seemed such a terrifying idea, and she had gained a powerful letter to present to the Senate at its next assembly.

And Vintra knew she needed it. She wouldn’t have ventured to the far reaches of the galaxy at the mercy of her enemies, or dared to commit treason and break the law, were it not for the fact that she was in quite a predicament.

The agreement Arvin was signing not only got her a voice on the enemy side, but forced him to sign the official negotiations pact that both Courts would present in a couple of hours, at the official meeting for which he had supposedly agreed to participate. When Vintra learned that Arvin had only agreed to this one to ask her to join his “project”, and not to actually discuss ways of peace, she acted quickly to see how the situation would turn in her favor and to get confirmation that the enemy was willing to negotiate for Druad.

And though she had been quite nervous the whole time since leaving Coruscant, unsure of how it would all turn out as this was the riskiest move she’d ever made, she nodded to herself for comfort that she had succeeded. She already got the first thing she needed from Arvin.

Now she could ask for the most important, and the most dangerous.

A slight shaking in the room, which seemed to have whipped the entire mountain, caused Arvin's hand to become unsteady and ruined his almost-to-be-finished signature. Vintra had to reach over to the wall to brace herself so she wouldn't lose her balance, and she looked in frustration at Arvin and his mangled signature.

“Don't worry, it happens all the time,” he assured her in a nonchalant tone, and shook his hand a little, as if downplaying the situation. He pressed the button on the device to rewrite his signature.

But a second later, the only light in the room suddenly vanished. The cool blue tones of the hologram image were the only thing that gave them both a point of reference, as the darkness around them gave the feeling of an endless passage into the unknown.

“Oh... this is weird...” commented Arvin with a nervous tone. Vintra felt the quickness of her pulse abandon the warm, victorious feeling for a murky, heavy one. A chill suddenly began to creep over her, unable to identify whether it was from fear or some current that had crept into the room.

It was then that the shuddering creak of the door being thrown against its opposite wall elicited a scream of horror from Vintra, who perceived in the air how the room filled with an unknown gas and shadows approached Arvin and pushed him against the wall and the floor, while the hologram was annihilated by a gunshot, whose screeching sound merged with the screams of pain of her colleague.

“What the fuck is this, Vintra?! You lying traitor!”

“Shut up, you separatist piece of shit!” shouted a voice with urgency and authority, Vintra tried, with trembling arms, to reach under her dress and her ankle the handle of a blaster that was tied and hidden there, forgetting it had been confiscated before by Arvin’s guards. The black darkness that surrounded her, mixed with the slight thickness of the gas that crashed hot against her skin, made her feel sick and disoriented. She hurriedly crawled in the blackness of the place in search of an escape or something to help her defend herself, but was prevented from it when she felt how a hand approached her and tried to grab her arm and lift her up. “For the serious crime of the forcible abduction of a Galactic Senator, you are hereby arrested without pardon in the name of the Republic,” that frightening voice repeated, above Senator Haradan's curses and wails towards Vintra. The ederian was struggling with all her strength and tears to shake off the grip of someone dragging her away from Arvin and the best chance she’d ever had for peace in Druad. She listened in her head to the racing pounding of her heart, so loud that she was barely aware of the person holding her repeating over and over “Senator Selana” in the hope that she’d react and be able to be examined.

Arvin's voice faded from her hearing range, and it seemed as if someone was pushing or pulling her across a path, as her legs moved backwards without finding a wall to stop her. Vintra knew she was moving away from Arvin; someone was taking her.

She wanted to hit him, to break free of his grip and run somewhere safe, but the other person's strength was greater than hers. Vintra's panic became evident as her breathing became so rapid that she could barely catch her breath properly. Her tears were running rampant in her eyes, and she could have sworn her heart was going to explode. Someone had discovered them, and they were there to kill them both. The darkness around her made everything even more terrifying, she wouldn't even see her killer's face, and no one was going to find her in the most secluded place in the galaxy. At any moment hands would land on her neck and end it all, and if it weren't for her own gasps of terror, she could have sworn that everything was already over, in that place where not even a ray of light, of hope, could reach her.

“...panic...she...ech!” she heard a voice in the distance, drowned out by her own shock. She wondered where Arvin was. Would he be dead by now? Where was she? Thousands of feet away from him?

Lights suddenly flashed on in what appeared to be an enclosed corridor with no beginning or end in sight. The impact of the brightness startled Vintra even more, who reacted defensively from hands trying to touch her arms.

“Senator! Senator!” heard Vintra better ahead, and a figure in black began to make sense in front of her eyes as they adjusted to the light of the place. Her strength began to fail her from exhaustion, and she was unable to pull away from the gloved palms that clung to her cheeks and held her face tightly. “No, I sense no wounds,” Vintra closed her eyes, certain that was what she needed to finally regain her senses. “Senator, it's me.”

Vintra thought she was going to need to open her eyes to recognize the person in front of her, but once her ears heard the voice speaking to her perfectly, she didn't have to waste much time figuring out who it was.

And although the last few seconds had been an absolute nightmare of horror for her, and the hands on her face did their best to reassure her, none compared to the intensity of what Vintra's eyes reflected as she finally opened them and met the attentive, tattooed face of Clone Force 99 sergeant, who gradually reduced the depth of his breaths as he paid more attention to how bloodshot and angry the ederian's eyes were glaring at him.

Chapter twelve -> Jawa-brained animal

hello!! I'm back! :)

I'm actually surprised on how fast these two months passed, or I don't know if it was only me since I've been really busy. But I have a lot more time now that I finished my commitments. I hope that you're still interested in reading further, there's so much to come yet and I can't wait to bring to life everything I have planned.

This is oficially part 2, which will be longer (around 10-15 more chapters, I think), with so much drama and, of course, more tension between Hunter and Vintra. I must remind this is a slow-burn, one that takes very seriously the word "slow". We're still in very low heat concerning romance. But concerning drama, we're adding more fuel! I'm very excited with this part and the next!! Hope you like it!! :)

So… welcome back! I've missed Vintra so much and this story, so I'm glad to be back.

thank you for reading, thank you so much for also waiting this long. See you very soon! Let's see what Vintra does to Hunter next ;p

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