#aric takes a hit

[mariacallous]

Yesterday evening around 7 pm local time, an explosion rocked the Al-Ahli Baptist Hospital in Gaza City. Within minutes, information about what had happened was distorted by partisan narratives, disinformation, and a rush to be first to post about the blast. Add in mainstream media outlets parroting official statements without verifying their veracity, and the result was a chaotic information environment in which no one was sure what had happened or how.

“There’s just been this massive sort of pressure to get videos out there, get your take, get your analysis, and it’s like a perfect storm for chaos,” Kolina Koltai, a senior researcher at open source intelligence (OSINT) news outlet Bellingcat, tells WIRED.

Moments after the explosion was reported, Gaza’s health ministry claimed the blast was caused by an Israeli rocket attack and that hundreds of people had died, marking what would be among the deadliest attacks of the current conflict between Israel and Hamas, which controls the Palestinian territory of Gaza. News organizations such as The New York Times and Reuters ran with the claim, pushing notification alerts to people’s phones with the news that Israeli rockets had killed Palestinians sheltering in a hospital in Gaza. “Breaking news: Israeli strike on hospitals kill hundreds, Palestinian officials say,” The New York Times alert read.

Soon after those push notifications went out, the Israeli military said its intelligence officers had tracked rockets fired by the Palestinian Islamic Jihad, an armed militant group in Gaza that is aligned with Hamas against Israel but often acts independently. Israeli military officials said they observed Islamic Jihad rockets passing the hospital at the time of the strike, adding that it was these projectiles—not an Israeli rocket—that hit the facility’s parking lot.

News organizations quickly changed their headlines to reflect the counterclaim from Israel and pushed out more notifications to their audiences. The updated headline from The New York Times read: “At least 500 dead in blast at Gaza hospital, Palestinians say.”

This was only the beginning of the confusion.

In the hours after the attack, @Israel, the official Israeli account on X (formerly Twitter), posted a video it claimed was proof that the explosion was the result of a misguided rocket launched by Islamic Jihad militants. But within minutes, Aric Toler, a former Bellingcat researcher who now works for The New York Times, pointed out that the time stamp on the video showed 8 pm local time, a full hour after the explosion took place.

“When you see people in such a capacity putting out a claim, walking it back, putting out a video, deleting the video, it makes it tough, not just for us to do our job, but even for the public to find out what’s going on,” Koltai says.

The post on Israel’s official account was subsequently edited to remove the video while maintaining its claim that the attack was not the result of an Israeli strike.

Meanwhile, social media was flooded with videos and images that claimed to provide proof of the origin of the attacks, with many accounts making definitive judgments about those they claimed were responsible for the attack, all without any actual proof.

For experts in the OSINT community who have spent years working on incidents just like this, the confusion and misinformation were frustrating. Figuring out what happened takes time, and the deluge of misinformation only made that work more difficult.

“It’s because we are trying to track a rocket, at night, via a couple of livestreams, a security camera, and a phone camera,” an OSINT researcher, who posts anonymously on social media using the handle OSINTtechnical, tells WIRED. “Oh, and there are bad actors purposely trying to muddy the waters. I would say we still have an acceptable number of resources to see into Gaza, but it takes some time to parse everything to a complete degree.”

The researcher adds that their job was made infinitely more difficult by media outlets running with the claim that Israel was responsible. “That blows everything out of the water,” OSINTtechnical says.

Koltai says she began trying to figure out what had happened within hours of the incident, before her colleagues in Europe took over today. Despite being among the first to begin investigating the incident, as of this afternoon Bellingcat had still not confirmed how the attack happened or who was responsible.

Similarly, the BBC Verify team published its analysis of the explosion based on the available information but has been unable to conclude what exactly happened. A number of videos captured with mobile phones and circulated on social media appear to show the moment of the explosion from different angles. A livestream operated by Al Jazeera shows two flashes, one further away from the camera and one much closer, which some claim shows the rocket launching, followed by the explosion. Footage captured this morning shows the hospital’s parking lot, and what appears to be a small impact crater. Footage shows damage to a number of cars, but only minor damage to the exterior of the hospital building.

Today, The New York Times reported that US officials said they have “multiple strands of intelligence,” including infrared satellite imagery, indicating that the deadly blast was caused by the Islamic Jihad group, though that evidence has not been released publicly. US president Joe Biden, who is meeting with officials in Israel today, echoed Israel’s claim that its military did not fire the rocket that hit the hospital. “Based on the information we have seen today, it appears the result of an errant rocket fired by a terrorist group in Gaza,” he said.

In the days since Hamas attacked Israel on October 7, people claiming to be OSINT practitioners have emerged on social media who are much more willing to make conclusive findings almost immediately than people who have a long history of conducting OSINT work.

This new group is “publishing analysis as quickly as possible when events are taking place, in an attempt to compete for public attention,” ​​Francesco Sebregondi, a forensic architect who helps investigate human rights abuses through a technique known as forensic architecture, tells WIRED. “This is of course detrimental to the fundamental goal of citizen-led open source investigations.”

The purpose of OSINT investigations is to independently verify information “and to enable counter-investigations of authoritative arguments and sometimes misleading official accounts,” Sebregondi says.

Sebregondi says OSINT accounts that rush to post analyses prematurely not only mislead their followers but help bolster the narrative of political actors who may be “counting on the eagerness of some OSINT actors to use any image, material, or data to quickly publish new content or ‘analysis’—and thereby more or less directly support its version of the events.”

Aside from the apparent bragging rights of being first, there is also now a financial incentive to post updates before anyone else because if you’re “first and put out a hot take even if you’re maybe not correct you can actually get paid out for it,” Koltai says, referring to X’s revenue-sharing program.

Fact-checking and open source investigations have long been seen as a way to hold platforms accountable by debunking disinformation that spreads unchecked on social media, but the Israel-Hamas war has shown how the language of OSINT investigators has been co-opted by self-interested parties, says Caroline Orr, a behavioral scientist and postdoctoral researcher at the University of Maryland who tracks disinformation online.

“I think one of the most disturbing aspects of studying disinfo is when you realize that even fact-checking has become weaponized,” Orr wrote on X. “Most people don’t care about the truth about the hospital being bombed; they just care about finding a truth to use against the other side.”

[vals-sims-world]

Because I believe in saving the best for last let's start off going through the family with the most oc filled household, the Ealdor family.

This is Merlin's childhood best friend Will's family. Everyone but Will is an original character, though some are loosely based off of his family in a fic called Sunrise in Ealdor, Sunset in Camelot by mobycotton. We have Will's mother Sarah, his grandfather Aric, and his little brother Evan.

They're a peasant family working as swine herders and hunters, they provide the town's meat supply. However, that doesn't stop Aric and Evan from being massive animal lovers and adding 2 dogs, 2 cats, and a horse to the family over time.

Let's have a quick tour of the house they started with!

Pigpen out the front, two bedrooms, and a kitchen/dining area in the middle. Nothing fancy but enough to get by. The Ealdor Farm is a simple peasant home for a simple peasant life.

Their neighbors kept things interesting though. Merlin, Hunith, and Gaius live just across the road. Will and Merlin followed in their show counterpart's footsteps and became best friends very quickly. They frequently hung out at the tavern together and visited each other's houses. Sarah and Hunith also got along very well. In fact, they took quite a shine to one another and started a relationship. There was talk of moving in together after their boys got settled into their own lives, however this was not to be.

As winter started to approach a sickness swept through the town. It hit the Ealdor family hard. Aric, Sarah, and Will all succumbed to it leaving young Evan alone just as he was entering his teen year.

Thankfully he wasn't alone for long. A kind, but down on her own luck, cousin of Sarah's named Heather heard about what happened and came to take care of Evan. There was an adjustment period as the two got to know each other but they found their own rhythm of Evan going out hunting and Heather selling the meat to others in town. They managed to stay afloat and really bonded while cooped up during the winter.

One day Heather visited the Druid camp to try to sell to them.

While there she saw one of the druid girls bullying another druid girl, the two yelling at each other and fighting with the confrontation ending with one of the girls using magic to light the other on fire. Heather helped put the fire out and brought the girl back to her house to help her clean herself up. There she learned her name was Sefa and the girl she had been fighting with was Kara. Sefa got along with most of the druid camp, especially her best friend Daegal, but she and Kara hated each other and Kara made living there difficult for Sefa. Hearing all this Heather asked if Sefa would like to live with her and Evan. Sefa happily accepted.

Evan had been off on a hunt during all this but sparks flew the second he saw Sefa and he was more than happy to welcome her into their home. The two of them started a romance soon after and before long Sefa was pregnant. As soon as he found out Evan proposed and the two were married before their daughter Emry was born.

Sometime during Sefa's pregnancy, Heather met a kind, handsome knight named Sir Gregory Oliver. They fell for each other hard and fast. Not before long Gregory proposed. Heather accepted but was reluctant to leave Evan and Sefa. They were still so young and had a newborn on their hands. Gregory completely understood and moved in with them to help out as well. When Emry aged up to a toddler and Evan and Sefa seemed to have everything under control Heather and Gregory moved out into their own home. And just in time too cause Heather found out she was pregnant just after they moved. Her son Sean came just as news of Sefa's second pregnancy arrived. Heather and Gregory proved to not be able to keep their hands off of each other and their second son Trevor arrived a day after Evan and Sefa's twins Ari and Rena were born.

And now we've caught up to the present

Evan, Sefa, and their children carrying on the Ealdor family name after the tragedy of losing Sarah, Will, and Aric. Heather and Gregory Oliver starting their own family. We'll see how their story continues.

I'll leave you with some tour shots of their current homes The Ealdor Farm:

The Oliver Fisherman Hut:

Tagging those who asked: @tansyuduri @building-camelot

[goommh]

Robin Cardieux

HEY IS THERE A FAN OR ANYTHING IN HERE?

The air in the room was more alike a liquid, warmed and congealed by the harsh gray walls. A sweaty detective choked on his breath and coughed as he made eye contact with the stale, stained woman across from him. A clock ticked steadily above.

"A-hem. Ah, excuse me. Swallowed wrong." The detective wiped a glob of spit from his mouth, opting to move his gaze away from the glossy eyes of the woman and onto the small folder lying on the desk. He tapped a callused forefinger down on the corner of a weathered photo. A small-mouthed potter stared into the camera with hollow cheeks and pained, narrow eyes, poorly feigning a smile. The divorce hit hard, and her own children requesting that she not get custody hit even harder; she spent the last short months of her life alone in a three-bedroom house. Easy pickings. "Do you recognize the woman in this photo? Robin Cardieux?"

"No. Not at all."

SSAHAHA, SERIOUSLY, CHILL OUT BEFORE I BOIL ALIVE.

"Now, are you really sure, she's not familiar at all?" The detective's speech was quick and unbroken, like he was afraid if he stopped to breathe, the world would explode. "Because see the necklace she's wearing here in this photo, this silver locket here, her family said it was made out of her grandmother's wedding ring, custom made, and it went missing after she died. You understand, the family's been looking for that locket, and see, someone'd seen you wearing a locket just like it earlier today, infact we believe you may have it on your person right at this moment..."

But his rambling words went in one ear and out the other, as a much bolder, more obnoxious voice overtook it:

AH, FOOL! HEY, HEY I TOLD YOU, DIDN'T I! I TOLD YOU NOT TO WEAR IT! YOU NEVER EVER LISTEN TO ME!

Be quiet! You're making this difficult!

IT WOULDN'T BE SO DIFFICULT IF YOU'D LISTENED TO ME. AND IF YOU FREAKED THE FUCK IN.

Goddamn it, just shut up!

"Amelia?" The detective held her in place with a cautious stare.

"Oh. Yes. What was the question?" Amelia rubbed her eyes. They itched fiercely; a burning, seeping itch which crept like a vine from her tear ducts into the depths of her eye socket.

He tapped the photograph once more, one brow raised. "Are you at this moment in possession of the locket in the picture here?"

"Uh, no."

STUPID. HAHAHA! STUPID.

You aren't helping, asshole! Just let me– A gag caught Amelia's throat, ripping out an awful grinding noise. A loud voice followed, familiar but not quite right: "WELL – actually yes, yes we are. Yes I am." The speech paused. For suspense, of course. Then suddenly it got quiet, faux secretive. "But... it wasn't mine. I bought it off a man. Yes I did, Aric, his name was, Aric MacCailum, over the Internet -- he met me on a dark, lonely street corner for the purchase!" As she spoke, the detective reached for his clipboard, sighing in relief at the excuse to stop looking into those strange, vitric eyes.

Amelia leaned back, satisfied, as he wrote. It was worth it to lose her next researched victim in order to get out of this. Subtly she moved a hand to her mouth, covering up a deep, shuddering groan which bubbled up through her throat. "Ye-.. Yes siree. That is what happened." 

"Aric MacCailum... Alright, do you have any records of this interaction happening?" He glanced back up with a skeptical crook in his brow, aiming at the bridge of her nose. "Text messages, phone calls, E-Mails?" He circled his hand slowly as he spoke, casting out the words. "Do you have the address where this occurred?" 

But Amelia's gaze in return seemed quieter, out of breath. Her chest spluttered like a faulty engine. "No, no. He told me to delete everything and pay in- in cash. He wou- wouldn't.." She suddenly doubled over, pressing a hand firmly against her mouth as she began to retch. A fowl dark-red liquid burst from her nose, splattering against the table.

HEY SHOVE IT! I'M TRYING TO GET US OUT OF THIS!

No, it's not working! You can't just take over my body whenever you feel like it! Give it back!

NO, NO! YOU'LL RUIN EVERYTHING!

The wavering figure jerked explosively forwards, jamming her tensed lips into her elbow to hold back the barrage of vomit. Rotten blood filled her sinuses and streamed down her arm onto the white concrete floor, soon joined by a steady flow seeping from her eyes. The detective startled and leapt out of his chair, pulling a radio from his belt. "Shit -- Hey, we need medical!"

AGH, FINE, FINE! IF YOU WANNA BE SO IMPOSSIBLE...

A shadow moved behind Amelia's vision, blotting out all but a few blurry spots of light. She suddenly had a feeling like somebody had grabbed her neck and was wringing it like a wet washcloth. She tried to gasp for breath but was only met with an audible wet click as her throat sealed shut. In the distance as her consciousness faltered, she could hear a door opening, men shouting instructions, the thump of her body hitting the floor...

---

The air was thick like a blanket, like a stolen breath, and filled with a soft, constant chirp; gentle as a bird's wing but an alarm nevertheless. Cold, velvet-lined sheets covered a stiff but cozy bed which emitted the scent of sterility, chemicalistic and sharper than a scream--

HEY HEY WAKE UP SLEEPYHEAD. THIS IS OUR CHANCE!

--A metallic conditioned breeze blanketed the room with faux-safety, faux-comfort, like a child's worn quilt, sewn by a neighbor; by the time she realizes the work that went into it, she'll have run out of time to meet its maker. The darkness too was familiar, though less nostalgic and more--

OH CUT THE NARRATION. THEY'LL BE BACK SOON.

Jesus, good morning. Amelia lay frozen, letting her mind catch up with her reality. Something felt wrong. She blinked, then scowled. Six, move your ass over. I can't see.

OH SHIT.

The shadow shifted out of her vision, flooding her already opened eyes with a blaring light. She squinted up and around at the bleach-white walls, blank except for a standard analog clock and a framed picture of a landscape. Her head creaked as it shifted around. Every time she moved her eyes, it felt like something ripped behind them. Breathe in, breathe out. The room was calm. We are in a hospital.

SSSAHAHA, YES!

You sent me to a hospital.

WELL, I SENT US TO A HOSPITAL. BUT YES.

WE ARE ALREADY IN TROUBLE WITH THE COPS.

YES WE ARE! SO GET YOUR LAZY ASS UP SO WE CAN LEAVE.

Amelia dragged herself slowly into a sitting position, head lagging about a foot behind the rest of her. Her vision fluctuated between painfully clear and completely blurred, eventually settling on a sharp, shiny fog. Hearing wasn't much better. Every extremity felt cold and numb. Something tugged at her arm; she yanked it out without looking, and winced as the tape pulled out some hairs. A red bead grew and rolled into the crook of her elbow.

STUPID! YOU'RE GONNA PASS OUT AGAIN IF YOU LET THAT BLEED.

No I'm not. Did I really bleed that much?

YOU WERE LEAKING LIKE AN IDIOT. OH, AND GUESS WHAT: THEY DEFINITELY GOT A BLOOD SAMPLE. FURTHERMORE: IT DEFINITELY MATCHES THE SAMPLE THEY ALREADY HAD. 

I'm sorry, and who's fault was that?

YOURS. IT WAS YOUR FAULT. I HAD IT HANDLED!

She gritted her teeth and pressed her weak, blue fingers against the new hole in her forearm. It stung. Not a feeling she was unfamiliar with. The floor tilted and swayed like stormy waters as she swung her feet over the edge of the bed. Her head launched forwards, threatening to throw her onto the ground; she drove her feet into the tile flooring to keep herself upright. We need to get out of here, she grumbled. Now. As far away as we can.

OOH, FINALLY, FINALLY! IT SUCKS SHIT HERE. TAKE ME TO DUNCAN, I WANNA SEE THE TRAIN.

Amelia hummed, thinking. Not a bad idea. We still need to visit that library anyways. She sucked a deep breath in through her teeth and straightened her spine, bracing her arms back on the sheets. Something cracked in her back, a deep, wet sound that made her cringe. Her elbows faltered as she lifted herself up, sending her back to the bed. She squeezed her eyes shut and sighed. Give me a kick.

SEHEHE, GLADLY!

She relaxed her shoulders and tried to force her mind blank, feeling something fade away inside. A calm immediately returned to her brain, something she hadn't felt since she worked at the library. She rested her arms loosely on her lap and breathed deeply, using only enough energy to keep herself from falling. It never worked if she was tensed for it, or if she--

Suddenly it felt as if somebody had bitten through her brain stem. Razor sharp pain radiated from the core of her head. She surged forwards off the bed and towards the window. Half-running, half-falling, she hit the sill hard. With shaking hands and mosaic vision, she fumbled open the lock on the frame and shoved it open with an exciting pop. Rushing under the adrenaline, she lifted herself trembling into the window, and then through it.

[queen-scribbles]

gut feeling

So of course the first time I write the immediate aftermath of CoU it's a) almost seven years after it dropped and b) not one of my NINE Theronmancers but Keme. :) In Jorgan's POV :) ----

Jorgan was wrapping up an op when Aygo commed.

He frowned a little as he answered, bad feeling in his gut and pace slowing on the way through the spaceport. "I was just about--"

"I wanted to give you a heads up, Major," Aygo cut him off, words clipped with stress. "Things on Umbara went sideways."

Jorgan froze midstride. "Sideways how?" Keme had given him some of the details; crystal recovery, hopefully finding the traitor, Lana and Theron were with her, for something to go wrong with all three of them there--

"It's Shan," Aygo growled. "Turns out he's our traitor; tried to kill Beniko and the Commander."

"Tried?" It was the only word he could get past the strangling disbelief in his throat, past the icy claws digging into his lungs, grip tightening on the holo like he held it personally responsible.

Betrayed, again.

"Crashed a train. They're fine and en route to Odessen," Aygo said, and Jorgan let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "But the news made the base a bit of a mess, as I'm sure you can imagine, and with you being married to the Commander, I didn't want you walking into that unprepared."

"'Preciate that," Jorgan managed, shaking off the haze as he ended the call. He headed for his shuttle double time, the ghosts of the old Havoc(not his, not Keme's, Tavus) rearing their heads in his wake.

He should let Keme knew he'd heard. No matter how hard he pushed the blasted shuttle, it was still almost a whole day's travel home and he couldn't imagine how bad this stung for her. But what could he even say?

One of her best friends... Well, that's what hoping gets you.

---

Dorne was waiting when he landed, which really shouldn't have surprised him.

"Sparring ring," she said, hand out to take his gear.

Jorgan passed it over with a grateful nod. "Figured as much." He barely even slowed his pace, heading for the outdoor sparring and workout area.

"See if you can get her to take a break," Dorne called after him. "She's been at it for hours."

I'll bet she has. He waved a hand in acknowledgement. A susurrus of whispers and furtive looks followed him, and he wondered just how bad a mood Keme was in.

She was the only one using the space, which was something of an answer. Her posture was thick with tension, her hands wrapped and one gripping a practice shiv as she beat the living daylights out of a training dummy.

"I got your message," she said, breathing hard, without turning around.

Jorgan walked closer, taking in her clenched jaw, the damage she'd inflicted on the dummy, looking her over for injuries. Nothing he could see. "I'm glad you're alright."

Keme gave a hollow laugh as she pivoted and launched herself at him for a hug. "I dunno about alright," she mumbled into his chest.

She was hugging him almost fiercely enough to bruise and he returned the favor. "Unhurt work better?"

Keme nodded wordlessly, her grip intensifying before she let go. "I don't think it's sunk in yet," she admitted as she stepped back a pace, her voice even more hollow than the laugh had been. "I got back mad enough to punch somethin' and the knee jerk solution was to see if he wanted to spar before... I remembered." She sighed and raked loose hair back toward the ponytail it had escaped. "I didn't see this coming, Aric..."

He pulled her in for another hug, kissing the top of her head. "Did anyone?"

She shook her head. "Not even Lana." She stood there a minute, not returning the hug, just savoring it, if the way she shuddered when he started rubbing her back was any indication. "I can't believe he'd do this..."

"Me, neither," Jorgan muttered, kissing the top of her head again. She and Theron had hit it off from the first time they worked together, and been thick as thieves by the time they finished on Yavin 4. And it was readily apparent by the time Jorgan arrived on Odessen that working together on the Alliance had only made their friendship stronger. Beniko might be the de facto second in command, but Theron was Keme's go-to. For him to betray her like this had Jorgan a special kind of furious. Ready to join Beniko on her rumored warpath, in fact.

Keme shifted at his tone, pulling back again so she could pace as she talked. "I mean I literally can't believe it, Aric. I can't, he wouldn't."

"But he did, Keme," Jorgan growled. Don't do this to yourself, sweetheart. "You've said yourself the man's a damned good spy, makes sense he'd keep it under wraps--"

"But he wouldn't!!" she burst out, hands curling into fists.

"But he did!" Jorgan repeated, hating the look on her face. I'm gonna kill him for doing this to you. "He betrayed the Alliance, betrayed you, and Aygo said he crashed a train trying to kill you! Can't be much clearer!"

"Shot at me, too," she grumbled, half-heartedly punching the training dummy's shoulder.

He tensed at that additional tidbit. "Keme-!"

"He missed," Keme said dismissively, taking another nothing swing at the dummy. Like it was no big deal her best friend had shot at her.

"And thank the stars for that," Jorgan bit out. "I won't. What?"

She'd frozen mid-swing. "He missed," she repeated, slowly. Something flickered in her eyes. "Aric, he missed."

"And?"

"And you've fought alongside him! You know he's a hell of a shot. Theron wouldn't miss, not from a meter away, not unless it was on purpose--"

"Keme, do you hear yourself?!" he demanded. He understood the desire to rationalize, the difficulty of a hurt like this. It was far deeper and more personal than when Tavus' Havoc went rogue. But she was pushing toward something else.

"I can't think of any other reason!" she retorted, throwing up her hands.

"Didn't account for movement of the train. One last shred of decency shaming him for betraying his best friend. You moved. Just off the top of my head." He crossed his arms.

"Which is why his 'miss' just happened to take out the window Lana and I used to escape," Keme drawled. He knew that look; the gears were turning in her head. "If he hadn't... hadn't done that I dunno if we would've gotten off the train in time."

He could see her coming to wrong conclusions and it broke his heart and infuriated him in equal measure. Damn Theron for doing this to her. "Sweetheart, don't credit to conspiracy what's actually coincidence. Especially if that's all you have."

Her jaw went tight again, and she threw a few more punches at the dummy before whatever she was chewing on was too much and she spun back to him. "There's one thing he said I can't get out of my head. It's just wrong."

Just one? "Don't suppose it involved trying to explain himself."

"For peace." A muscle in her jaw twitched. "He's trying to destroy the Alliance, everything we worked for, together, for peace. Because it's rotten." She gave a stilted laugh as she dropped onto a nearby bench, shoving her discarded jacket aside. "And that's not even the part I'm stuck on."

Jorgan just waited her out, knowing if it bothered her this much she wouldn't need prompting to share.

"He said that if millions died for this, so be it. And that's been buggin' me."

"Hearing a sentiment like that from a friend would bug anyone," he muttered, wondering how the hell they hadn't seen this coming, any of them. Not a single clue. He really is good.

"But Theron?! Theron who almost bit Lana's head off over Master Surro after Ziost? Theron who I had to talk out of a self-flagellating sulk when we couldn't save Ranken? Theron who has always pushed for low to no casualties, who wants to save as many as we can, saying deaths in the millions is okay?" Keme shook her head. "It doesn't add up."

"People change," he growled.

"That much? That fast?" She shot him a skeptical look. " I'd've sworn by Theron almost as strongly as I would you. This feels wrong."

"Maybe we missed it happening; everything's been busy-"

"Jorgan, come on--"

"No, you come on," he cut her off, moving to sit next to her. "You're weighting your gut feeling against the man's own words and the fact he tried to kill you." A thought hit like a kick to the gut. "Does this mean... Iokath was him, too?"

He'd seen that report; Dorne hadn't tried terribly hard to stop him, and it had been a terrifyingly close call.

"....Maybe," Keme said, voice small. "We can't know for sure...."

"Seems pretty damn likely to me, you're just-" He stopped himself before he said something he'd regret and wouldn't be able to take back.

"In denial? Lana gave me that speech already." Keme started unwrapping her hands, gaze on the task rather than him.

Maybe I agree with her for once. "In other words you don't need-"

"Want."

"-to hear it again?"

"Somethin' like that," she muttered. The wraps came off and she dropped them with her jacket. "I just can't reconcile it, Aric," she said softly, cracking her knuckles. "I'm furious at him, too, but... We were joking around three days ago. He threatened to swipe my caf to pull an all-nighter an' I countered I'd make him take a vacation if he tried to pull another all-nighter, he works too damn hard and I just... He worked as hard as I did to build this, maybe more, it doesn't..."

Make sense.

"I know, sweetheart." Jorgan reached over to rub her back. "And I'm sorry for being a hardass about it; the thought of losing you, again, because of someone you trusted scares the hell out of me."

"Which I get." Keme ran a hand down her face. "Believe me. But whatever the evidence says, whatever Theron said, something doesn't sit right."

He really didn't want to fight with her about this. She clearly wasn't going to budge any time soon. "Alright, say I believe you. Can you think of any other reason he would've...done everything he did?"

There was a protracted moment of silence before Keme shook her head. "No. I can't." Her voice shook. "He wouldn't but I can't think..."

Jorgan pulled her close, tucking her in to his shoulder. "Whatever the case, you know I've got your back, right?"

She nodded. "Love you."

He kissed the top of her head. "Love you, too."

He didn't know what was coming, what this meant for her or the Alliance, just that they'd get through it. They always did.

Call it a gut feeling.

[finchmarie]

Another sketch page. I really like figuring out the dynamics between my dudes (maybe one day I’ll roll some men folk even. I think blueberry boys are in my future!)

I think Mass Effect sketches in a similar fashion may be next as I work through my insanity Soldier run.

As last time a bunch of info dumping on my Legacy.

Theron & Charlie just before Nathema. She’s very in love and therefore about to be real pissed. Just so furious because it’s easier than being heartbroken. In my canon run it’s Winter, Charlie, Codex & Lana that ultimately track him down.

Codex and Emer (pronounced ey-mer) passing some time on Odessen. Codex hasn’t found Vector yet at that point, and they enjoy fooling around with Emer. Not just for the physical connection but because it brings them a greater understanding of the inner workings of the Sith and Dark Council.

Codex is the product of their Cipher training, they’re calm, collected and nearly impossible to read. They typically report directly to Lana and actually become very close with Esskelle who shares many of their personality traits. They both also have a bit of a masochistic streak.

Emer didn’t romance Quinn. I’m considering Risha, Elara or even Senya. Emer is fairly typical Sith she’s passionate and full of rage she readily brings to battle. She’s also petty and egotistical. However she’s fiercely loyal to those in her good graces. She loves Vette like a sister and it is to Vette’s credit that Emer is not a complete monster.

Esskelle taking a hit in training. Showing off her tattoo that is a massive pita. I still need to work out a full design for her arm. I also need to work out how she lost it. I want to say as an injury while being trapped in carbonite, or during an encounter with Vaylin. She’s still clunky with it but is quickly learning how to use the weight to her advantage.

Aric doing some training. Mostly cause I love cat man and his VA, but also cause I need to practice drawing masc folks.

Izzy (Isra’fael) doing some exercising. She’s a smuggler who has a decent reputation and joined the Alliance to make money (which she has). She’s hyper competitive with Charlie and it frustrates her to no end that Charlie is better than her in most things despite being (in her mind) dumber and less prepared. In pushing herself constantly she’s become a valuable asset that Hylo is particularly fond of. She also gets on very well with Vette as they share similar backgrounds and a love for a good caper.

Aric and Leyliana’s reunion makes me feel stuff. Him thinking she’s been dead for five years and then she appears out of the blue and he’s skeptical and nervous but she smells and looks and speaks just like he remembers. I’m gonna have to write about it for real here soon.

[alyssalenko]

Find the Word Tag

tagged by @commander-krios <3

my words: hunt, hunger, touch, dire, sparkle

Hunt (oooh from my Superhero AU)

Alyss stopped dead in her tracks as she danced through the kitchen wearing nothing but Kaidan’s shirt, making breakfast for the two of them as he slept; if she had known Ashley was going to burst in, she would not have left her bra and panties on the floor of his bedroom. She froze, mortified. Ashley’s eyes went wide in surprise--the last she knew, Alyss had rebuffed his affections, leaving him in a less than stellar state, but suddenly, the next day she was in Kaidan’s kitchen humming happily. She supposed that made her visit superfluous...seeing as she’d come to check up on him after Alyss had broken her best friend’s heart the day before. They both smiled awkwardly as Alyss tugged the hem of the overly large shirt downwards.

“Um...hey Alyss; I was just seeing if Kaidan was okay after...everything.”

“You mean after I was colossal bitch, and rejected him? It’s okay, you can say it--I was.”

Ashley laughed. “But it looks like everything's fine--I’ll see myself out. I’m glad you two worked it out...but if you hurt him again, I will hunt you down and make your life hell.”

“I’d expect nothing less; I’m glad Kaidan has a friend like you.”

Hunger

“All right, Commander, roll off me...we’re going to take this upstairs.” She giggled.

“You just can't handle not being in control and giving orders for very long can you?”

“You find it fascinating.”

Maker help him, he did. They clambered down from his desk, Phasmi scaling the ladder ahead of him with ease, teasing him as she danced just out of his reach. When they finally stood in his room, she kissed him passionately, backing him up towards the bed. It was his turn, and she intended to make him growl her name, low and husky. The edge of the bed hit the back of Cullen’s knees, and before he had time to react, Phasmi was astride his lap, knees on either side of his hips as she caressed his cheek with her hand, bringing her lips fervently to his again and again. She slowly ran her hands across his chest and stomach muscles, as they pulled back for air, his hungry gaze sweeping over her body and she saw the blush creeping across his cheeks. She smiled down at him, a mischievous glint in her eye at the look of pure hunger on his face, want for her evident.

Touch

"May I?"

"May I, what?"

"I'd like to touch you. May I undress you, sir?" She purred.

Gods, he could get used to that sultry tone when using his title.

"Just the shirt...for now."

Y'vonne pouted as she slipped her fingers underneath the hem of his shirt, Aric sucking in a breath as her claws lightly grazed up his stomach, the fabric bunching as she inched the garment higher, her hands never breaking contact with his body. Just because she was letting him be in charge didn't mean she couldn't have any fun teasing him. When Aric's tee cleared his head, Y'vonne pulled it down behind him, holding the shirt at his shoulder blades and confining his arms, making Aric growl at her before she leaned down and planted her lips against his. She was absolutely going to be punished for this when she gave him back his arms and so she intended to take full advantage of his trapped state for a moment. She pressed her breasts against him as she ground herself over his erection and angled her head to deepen the kiss, their tongues tangling together.

Dire

"I understand they're a sorry lot, but they're also not our problem. They made the wrong deal, but they got themselves into that mess. They can get themselves out." He sneered.

"Don't you wish someone had helped you when you needed it?" She put a gentle hand on his arm and caught the flicker of shock and vulnerability in his red eyes before his walls went up, and he got defensive.

"Don't you dare presume to know what I needed." Astarion growled. "I survived. On my own. If they can't do the same, they deserve everything they get."

He'd been in dire need of assistance when the gur had attacked him, but the aid he'd gotten had enslaved him for two hundred years; Cazador taking advantage of his helpless state. Phryne was still suspicious of how convenient the whole thing was, but let it drop.

Sparkle

Footsteps sounded just beyond the door, Newti not paying them any mind as continued tinting her armor a lovely pale metallic pink under Harritt’s careful guidance. Someone had to make sure the inquisitor didn't make an error and hurt herself–make sure she knew what she was doing. The door to the undercroft flew open, Dorian and Varric sauntering inside like they owned the place, eyes sparkling eagerly--like they knew a secret, Newti cocking her head to one side, as Harritt grumbled something about a crowded workspace and left the three of them alone. She sighed, wondering if she could continue sans instruction without completely messing it up, holding the piece out in front of her, the dwarf and the mage staring at her across the workbench, not saying a thing. If they wanted her to say something, they better have a conversation topic in mind, a reason for interrupting her smithing lesson.

“You and Chuckles...and I had to hear it from Sparkler? Inquisitor, you wound me.”

So that's what this was about.

“I don't see how it's anyone's business who I take to my bed--”

Varric chuckled. “You work fast.”

“Not fast enough for Solas’ tastes.” She giggled, setting the armor down on the worktable.

Dorian snorted with laughter.

I will tag @kittynomsdeplume @swaps55 @charlatron @finchmarie @foofyschmoofer @hunnybadgerv @starsandskies @a-shakespearean-in-paris @illusivesoul @forlornmelody @briarfox13 @pikapeppa

your words: hum, love, stop, cry and power

[mom0ny]

October 8, 1903 / city:????

Ariel is the youngest among her 6 sisters, she has always been very spoiled and loved by her father and sisters.

Ariel could never have known her mother, as when she was still a baby her mother died in a car accident and this devastated the family, as her mother was very loved. So every time they went to visit her mother's grave she sang some song in honor of her mother which her father and sisters loved.

With her mother dead, her aunt (on her father's side) who had the nickname "Úrsula" decided to take care of and educate the girls, obviously the girls didn't like her but they couldn't do anything because "she was family, and family has to love".

Her father was a strong and very intelligent mobster, he always ordered his henchmen to kill and charge anyone who owed money, he was very cold in these matters.... but when he wasn't working, he was a super sweet father with his daughters: kisses, affection, gifts, going out for a walk, telling bedtime stories, dancing with his daughters among other things.

Each of his daughters had a gun that their father gave as a gift and taught how to use, Ariel at the age of 14 got a gold brass knuckles, it was heavy but it was beautiful and Ariel loved her gun, But Ursula repressed her brother because "delicate ladies can't use weapons" but Ariel's father always said "I don't care" and continued to teach his daughters how to use weapons.

On a terrible day, their father died by groups of enemy mobsters and this led the 7 daughters to a great endless sadness for the loss of their dear father. Úrsula had to take care and educate them 100% now, and it was terrible "Laugh right! you look like a crow! " "don't eat too much, you're getting fat" "those clothes look awful on you" "you look ugly with short hair, let it grow" "you'll have to marry and have children" "throw those weapons away, they look wild", Ariel was very rebellious and never obeyed her Aunt

when Ariel turned 19, her aunt forced her to marry a rich man named Eric at the age of 28, Ariel and her sisters tried to protest but her aunt wouldn't listen, with tears in her eyes Ariel married Eric, Aric was a terrible husband.

Eric was thick, he didn't allow Ariel to visit her sisters, rude, he always made it clear that he cheated on Ariel with women, and he didn't like Ariel's voice because anything Ariel said or sang he beat her, Ariel reduced herself mute for 3 years, until one day Ariel caused Eric because she couldn't stand being one of the "other maids" anymore and then Eric beat her that her face turned red and her nose bled, Ariel wanted to see.

One night when Eric was drinking, Ariel started insulting Eric, calling him smelly, ugly, rude, skinny among other things. Eric tried to hit her with the bottle but ariel had his brass knuckles hidden for 3 years punched him so hard it broke his jaw, Ariel climbed on top of him and hit him really, really hard, she was taking all her hate out on him when the floor and her hands filled with blood, Ariel felt free.

Ariel how could she be arrested for murder, stole her money and fled to another city, St. Loiue and that made her very sad, she wanted to see her sisters and take them, but she couldn't.

Upon arriving in the city she went through many difficulties, until she saw that a restaurant had a vacancy for a singer and this was a chance to change her life, but obviously the queue was very long so Ariel had to give everything of herself to get the vacancy, Ariel got all dressed up, put on the best dress, best makeup and as she was late and couldn't find her hairbrush in time, she grabbed a fork from her kitchen and started combing her hair as she ran to the restaurant.

Ariel had a magnificent voice like an angel, so she was hired and her life improved a lot (at least she didn't have to starve anymore).

{🌊trivia🌊} • Ariel was always singing at home, she would make up lyrics about anything and sing.

• Ariel was nicknamed the "little mermaid" because she was very fond of books about sea animals, sea monsters and because she was small

• Ariel is afraid of heights

•His favorite food and fish

•Ariel loves the colors green, blue and pink

• Ariel every time she misses her sisters, she sings a song

•Ariel has a goldfish called "Flounder"

• Likes clothes with shine and lots of details

• Ariel is very affectionate and very curious, in the first days Ariel looked at and touched EVERYTHING in the restaurant

[x-ceirios-x]

run to the things they said could restore me

frustrated with the search for camille, magnus takes a break from the institute's search for her and reconnects with members of the ashfair family he hasn't seen in ages. he is finally able to face aric, who sheds some light on the full story of his wife's death and the children's move to new york.

part two of a series about the ashfair family and their history. prev | next

cw: mention of character death, alcohol consumption (briefly), discussion of grief and anxiety, mention of losing a child. heavy angst with a bit of a resolution

Magnus had a headache. 

Besides his current relationship issues and his constant worry about Alec, he was pulled away from a conversation where he felt like they finally had a breakthrough, only to search for Camille, who’d miraculously broken out of the Sanctuary at the Institute. If he had half a mind, he might have phoned a friend with better knowledge in tracking than he had, but he thought Eleanor would kill him if he tried. Maybe not literally, but she would certainly be angry about helping Shadowhunters, especially Lightwoods. And Desmin couldn’t keep secrets from his sister to save his life, so that ruled out the twins. 

He needed a drink, actually, is what he needed. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Maryse,” he said with a sense of finality. “You can’t Track vampires and I have no other information for you. I don’t know what she’s been involved with, or who, and I know she’s not stupid enough to try the Dumort.”

Maryse let out an exasperated sigh. “I understand. We need to check out her old haunts, though, like that apartment you mentioned—Andromeda—” 

“On it,” she said, already standing and prepared to leave. Before she’d sat down in the library, she’d changed out of her party dress in exchange for Shadowhunter gear; thick black pants, a black tee and a jacket that was covered in little pockets, paired with the several sheathes she had on. She was planning on getting into the field but like this, she looked much more professional and he felt like he could take her seriously. She wasn’t some sorority girl there to get on his nerves and have randomly good advice, but a well-trained Shadowhunter worthy of the Herondale name. Well, the last part was to be determined. She exited the library without another word, leaving him alone with Maryse. 

Not wanting to deal with that, he found a quick excuse to not stay there. Anything but being alone with his boyfriend’s mother, anything but that. “I’m going to stretch my legs,” he said, pushing himself away from the desk and standing up with an exaggerated stretch. “Won’t be long.”

She waved him off without argument, her face buried in one hand. He left quickly, heading into the hallway and deciding he’d wander for five minutes or so—maybe a eureka! moment would hit him and he’d suddenly realize where Camille was hiding, though he doubted it. He meandered down the hall until he saw someone else in the hallway, exiting a room down the hall a short ways. He recognized him immediately—not because he’d seen him recently, but because Jensen Ashfair was the spitting image of his mother, just a bit shorter. 

He stopped in the doorway and gave a small, shy  wave. He didn’t remember Jensen ever being bashful, as he acted like a toddler-sized bull in a china shop any time he visited, causing chaos and loud noises anywhere he went. If they took a walk or went to the park, he said hello to anyone and everyone who would smile at him. Then again, Alec had told him how close he was with the youngest Lightwood boy, Max. Grief changed people, as did time. Magnus smiled at him in return and carefully approached. 

“Hello,” he said, mirroring his awkward little wave. “You’re Jensen, right? Rowan’s brother?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And you’re Alec’s boyfriend.”

He chuckled and nodded, trying his best to remember all the little things anyone had off-handedly mentioned about the boy. “That I am, that I am,” he said. He liked books, just like Rowan, but he didn’t know what kind. Just his luck, behind the boy’s back he saw something—maybe something that would help him. “What do you have there?”

Jensen shrugged and held it out to him, showing him the cover. It was one of those Japanese graphic novels that got popular in the last decade or so. Based on the cover, it looked like it was about pirates. “One Piece,” he said, reading the cover. “You know, I’m always looking for something new to read. Is it any good?”

“I like it. Simon showed me how to read it.” He spoke carefully and quietly, anxiety clear in his shoulders and tense grip on the book. Not fear, just a general sense of nervousness that he saw clearly in Rowan and their father. Family ties, and all that. “It’s backwards from a regular book. You read it back to front and right to left.”

“Is that so?” he asked, sticking one hand behind him in an attempt to summon something for the boy. Behind his back, blue sparks crackled as he found the object he was looking for: a figurine of the main character. Now that he’d seen it, he remembered seeing something similar in a second-hand store, and it was small enough that no one would miss it. “Well, strangely enough, I’ve got this—” he pulled out the figure, offering it to him— “right with me. Would you like it?”

His eyes lit up, just for a fraction of a second, and the green in his eyes shone like emeralds. “For me?”

“For you,” he said, letting the boy take it from him. “I hope you like it.”

Jensen nodded gratefully. “I do. Thank you…uh, what’s your name again?”

His chest contracted and Magnus felt like a piece of his heart broke off. He was so young and everything was no doubt clouded by grief—of course he didn’t remember him. “Magnus,” he said, forcing a smile. “Magnus is fine.”

He nodded. “Well, thanks, Magnus.” Slightly more confident, he waved and walked past him, down the hall and into the elevator. The little boy he watched through his babbling toddler stage, the terrible twos, and even his fourth birthday, had not a clue who he was besides Alec’s boyfriend. Alec’s boyfriend was a perfectly wonderful thing to be, he loved that boy more than life itself. He wished he could convince him of that. But that was all he was to young Jensen Ashfair, now twelve by his calculations. 

Magnus, continuing his search for anything to do other than sit in the library until Andromeda came back, turned the corner into the room Jensen had just come out of. It was the kitchen, where, to his surprise, sat Aric Ashfair at the small table in the corner. He looked up, just for a moment, and gaped at him once he realized who stood in front of him. 

“Magnus,” he said, his voice low. He sounded tired. “Maryse called you for help with the Camille situation?”

“She did.” He spoke carefully, his voice tense. Now wasn’t the best time to begin an argument, but he had very limited patience and that was the path his recent dealings with Aric took.

He nodded silently. Aric stood and began shuffling through some high cabinets, ones that most children would stay out of due to height alone. He pulled out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses from the next cabinet over. Well, there was that drink he was looking for. He didn’t ask, just poured them each one and handed him his. Magnus took it gratefully and took a sip, though his eyes never left Aric. 

He was duller than the last time they’d spoken. All these years as the Clave’s lackey had worn on him, as was evident from the bags under his eyes and the gray in his hair. If he remembered correctly, he wasn’t even forty yet—he was much too young to look as broken as he did. He thought the same thing about Rowan, though he’d never voice such opinions. 

“We have a lot to talk about,” he said carefully. “Do you think Maryse will mind if you stay for a minute?”

“I generally try to appease her, but frankly, I could not care less about what Maryse Lightwood wants with me right now,” he said, gesturing vaguely with his g lass. “What is it you would like to talk about?”

Aric winced at the hostility in his voice. “I meant to get ahold of you after the party in Idris, but I got busy training Clary and you were off on your vacation—a well deserved one, I heard—“

“Skip the flattery, Aric, you were never one for small talk,” he said, becoming irritated and bored with his words. He was silent, so instead, Magnus took the opportunity to push the real reason they were here. “You had eight years,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “eight years to reach out, to say anything. But you didn’t. Why?”

The look that crossed his face saddened him enough to almost make him feel guilty for being so angry; this was too many years of anger held back for him to consider that seriously. “I still can’t talk about her,” he muttered. He looked incredibly small in the moment—broken. Despite his professional, high strung, and sometimes intimidating demeanor, he never looked more destroyed. “I can’t…I never even told Alice and Jensen what actually happened, I had Jia—” 

He cut himself off before his voice cracked worse, quickly wiping his eyes to look like he’d pulled himself together. Magnus just stared at him, that sense of anger and disappointment never fading from his face. “I have made a lot of bad choices in my life, Magnus, and I have reparations to make. I understand that.”

“Start with your children,” he said. “I talked to Rowan. I told them everything I knew—they weren’t just angry, they were hurt.” Magnus took a sip of his drink, gathering his courage to say all the things he’d ever wished he could tell him. This might be his only chance. “Did you know they came to me, wanting to know if there was a memory spell placed on them like what I did for Jocelyn?” he asked. Aric’s mouth opened slightly in surprise but he didn’t give him an opportunity to get a word in. “They wanted to remember me, remember Mollie, remember you before you left them!”

There was a beat of silence. A pause, where his words hung in the air, and where Aric let them sink in. “I wanted them to forget,” he said, choosing his words cautiously. 

Magnus fired back, a sudden anger rising through him. “You deserted your eight and four year old in a city they’d never been before, with people they’d only met a few times, to deal with the fact that their mother was never coming back to them by themselves! Did you think that was fair?”

Aric matched his tone and arguably pushed it further. “I didn’t know what else to do!” 

It was a rare day that quiet, calm-tempered Aric ever raised his voice. He worked in the shadows, never drawing attention to himself, preferring to see Mollie shine when they were together. Knowing this, he took a step back, leaning against the wall, and let him talk. 

“I-I didn’t know what else—“ Aric gasped for a quick breath and set his drink down on the counter behind him. He held his head in his hands; for a moment, Magnus wondered if he’d gone too far but he quickly deserted the thought. This, as uncomfortable as it was, would get him answers of some kind. Answers to why—why he found out about one of his greatest friend’s deaths not from her husband, but from another one of his friends who just happened to hear; why Aric had decided to leave his children in New York with the Lightwoods when, if he would have called, he would have been there in a heartbeat for him; and why it took him eight years to face him for his actions. 

Magnus stared at him, his gaze softening just slightly—not enough that anyone would notice. “What you had with Mollie was something I have seen very few times in my long life, Aric. And I understood how it broke you. I…” He trailed off, his thoughts turning to Alec. Now he understood what that pain would be like because he genuinely believed he found someone that made him feel like Aric loved Mollie, and Will loved Tessa. An indescribable love that was earth-shattering to lose. “She’s not gone, Aric. She’s still here—in Rowan’s stubbornness and their cleverness, their insistence on being exactly who they are and refusing to apologize for it. I’ve seen it, even in the last few months. I see Jensen, who looks so much like her, it’s uncanny. You just have been too stuck in your grief to realize that she’s all around you, and I wonder what that grief is going to do to you.”

Aric stared at him, silent, his eyes shining with tears that he held back with as much strength as he could muster. It was quiet, his words hanging in the air heavily, until he finally found his words to speak up. “It’s ruined me, Magnus,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I lost Jeremy, then Céline, then Mollie—and now one of my children won’t even talk to me, I—” He sucked in a harsh breath and ran his hand through his hair. “I didn’t know what to do when she died. I couldn’t—I couldn’t get out of bed, I wouldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep; Jia and Patrick did their best for us, but they were grieving, too. I sent the kids to live with Maryse because I kept getting worse instead of better. I was angry, I-I was depressed, I started drinking, and I didn’t want either of them to see me like that.”

Magnus’s breath shuddered. He hadn’t known how Aric coped with all this, but part of it made sense. It didn’t excuse everything he did, but he was willing to give him the slightest more grace for it. More than he ever thought he would. There was still something he didn’t understand: “why didn’t you call me?” Magnus asked, his voice unsteady, despite how much he tried. “I would have helped you, Aric. I would do anything for your family, even if Mollie wasn’t here anymore.”

“I know. I know that, and I knew that then, I just…” he took a deep breath, steadying himself. “I wasn’t thinking clearly, and by the time I was in my right mind enough to start working again, the kids were settled in New York, Jensen had Max and Alice had Alec—they found their family. I realized they were better here, with people that could give them a family rather than the fraction of one waiting for them with me.”

He nodded solemnly. As much as he hated to admit he could be right about this, grief did strange things to people, as did any strong emotion. He remembered his years in London, struggling with his own demons, where the simplest thing could turn his world upside down and send him into a spiral. 

Aric continued after a beat. “I—I never told anyone this, not even Jia and Patrick,” he started, speaking like he was struggling with the words. He grabbed his drink off the counter and downed the rest of it—it was a bit impressive, actually—before he continued. “Mollie was pregnant again, when everything happened.” 

His words shook Magnus to his core. “You—she what?” he asked, covering his gaping mouth with his hand. 

“There were some issues with Jensen, so she didn’t want to tell anyone until she had to. We had just found out it was a girl, too, and our bedroom was just covered in baby name books.” He almost laughed, a wry chuckle that sounded like it hurt. “We were thinking about Victoria, but we never…” 

Aric sniffled and rubbed his eyes, very clearly trying to keep himself together in front of him. It had never been like him to show weakness, not to anyone. He always suspected that was why Mollie loved him so much—she was one of the few who he let past the walls he had around himself. From what he knew, he had them before they even met but she managed to crash through them in a way only she could. 

Both heard footsteps coming down the hall, towards the kitchen. They both paused for a moment, waiting to see who was there; Maryse stepped inside the room and looked between the two. “Am I interrupting something?” she asked.

Magnus opened his voice to respond but Aric beat him to it. “Not at all,” he said, sitting up a little straighter. “News on Camille?”

She shook her head. “Andy is on her way back from checking out her apartment uptown. She’s not there.” Maryse sighed, though she focused on Aric for a moment, diverting her attention from the missing vampire situation. She took another few steps forward, and looked at him as if she was inspecting his face. “Are you alright?” she asked, her voice suddenly softer. 

He nodded. “Fine, yeah.” 

She frowned slightly and carefully, more careful than Magnus had seen her do anything, brushed a bit of hair from his face and tucked it behind his ear. “Aric—”

He caught her hand in a loose grip, his gaze flickering from Maryse, to him, and back. “I’ll meet you in the library in a moment,” he said softly. “Just a moment.”

She took his words as they were and nodded, leaving the kitchen without argument. Aric looked at him anxiously, then at the floor like he was avoiding his gaze. 

Magnus smiled softly. “I am the last person that is going to judge you for moving past your loss, Aric,” he said. “Through it all, I silently hoped you would after a few years—because you deserve to be happy. That’s all I will say about that.”

His eyes widened slightly and he stammered, trying to find his words. “There’s nothing going on—”

He held his hand up to stop him—there was no sense in arguing about this, as he wasn’t going to share anything with anyone until he and Maryse were ready to. As far as he was concerned, he hadn’t witnessed anything. It wasn’t important right now, either. “I don’t care what Rowan says,” he said. “I know they want you in their life. They’re just angry right now. You have to be vulnerable enough to show them that you love them because they feel you don’t. Prove them wrong.”

He nodded and pushed himself off the counter. He started to leave, but stopped when he got to Magnus. “I’m sorry. For everything—truly.”

“I see that now,” he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “I’m not the one you have to convince. And…just calling them Rowan will go a long way. They prefer their middle name. Just use it.”

“I haven’t even began to think about that,” he admitted. “But you’re right. I’ll, ah…I’ll work on that.”

Magnus offered him an encouraging smile, and even though it was small, he received one in return. Aric left to the library again to assist Maryse with the hunt for Camille, which he supposed he should be involved with too, but he had too much on his mind to think about that right away. He hadn’t forgiven Aric, not entirely, but he did believe he was lost without the love of his life and made poor choices because of it. He knew many men like that through the course of his life, some of which he still knew now. 

He drank the rest of the whiskey and left his glass on the counter, next to Aric’s, and made his way back into the Sanctuary to look for anything that might help them find Camille. 

[pentacass]

You mentioned your JC in the Aelirra/Kira headcanons. Do any of your other class characters play any roles with the Alliance or ever meet either Aelirra or Ves?

Most of them do join the Alliance and have met Ael/Ves at some point in their lives! Save for my Sith Warrior, who's only met Ves (and hated her ass), and my Bounty Hunter, who's done neither.

thenk for ask <3 now time for brain go BRRRRR (warning cos yall know how long-winded i can get. add: ohmygod it got hella long)

Sedoyin is Aelirra's oldest, closest friend. They met way back on Tython, finding kinship as two talented padawans whose fledgeling fame had formed a degree of social separation between themselves and others of their generation.

They kept in close contact through their class stories, and Sedoyin was devastated to hear that Aelirra was gone after Darth Marr's expedition ended in disaster. When word of the Alliance and its Jedi Commander spread, Sedoyin was one of the first to travel to Odessen with her Jedi students, and offer her aid.

As Barsen'thor, she co-leads the Force Enclave with Sana-Rae, providing guidance to Jedi and Sith alike, and training Force healers for the Alliance. A diplomat as well, she helps ease tensions between their Jedi and Sith residents, and cajoles more Republic contacts into supporting the Alliance.

Roziq met Aelirra years back on Makeb, where they worked together to evacuate the planet's population. They found mutual respect for each other as defenders of the Republic, and Roziq admired Aelirra's steadfast compassion for all - a reminder to herself that mercy is always an option even in the bloodiest war.

When she heard of the Alliance and its Commander, Roziq wanted Havoc Squad to defect on the sly, and deal with the real threat of Zakuul. Most agreed. M1-4X and Elara refused, staying back to serve the Republic as they had sworn. It left a bitter taste on her tongue, but Roziq left her wife behind with a steeled heart, and Aric by her side. (It's alright, the parting was mutual and they'll reunite after :3)

Roziq serves the Alliance as Commander of their Spec-Ops division, under Admiral Aygo. She coordinates precision strikes against key Zakuulan targets, and often takes to the field with Havoc to hit back against the Eternal Empire.

Uyomize had never met Aelirra or Ves - but she is a friend of Hylo Visz, who roped her into the Alliance. Though she balked at the thought of having to give her credits to the Alliance (instead of keeping that sweet dosh for herself), Hylo appealed to where Uyomize is weakest - her family.

Her mother is a renowned doctor on Coruscant. Her older brother is a Republic Commando. Her younger sister is a rising Republic bureaucrat. Her Republic ties are strong (despite her insistence to the contrary), and she is loyal to her family above all.

Working with Hylo, Uyomize pulls on her underworld contacts to scrape up credits, supplies, manpower for their covert operations. Often, she'll send people to...'relieve' pirates of their ill-gotten loot, and redirect it to the Alliance. Some of the 'pirates' maaay have been Imperials. cough.

Zhaste'varu'mir (core name Evarum, or Eva for short) had intimately studied Intelligence's comprehensive profile on Darth Avriss. She knows how to manipulate Ves in myriad ways, but chose the most straightforward method into the Alliance - poison.

She contacted Ves under a pseudonym, met in a busy Nar Shaddaa cantina for the 'entrance interview', and slid to Ves a poisoned drink - "I will work for the Alliance - if you have the answers I want to hear. If not, you will return to Beniko in a body bag." Ves raised Eva's brow by downing the rest of the drink, and winning over one of the galaxy's best spies.

Eva has a deep distrust for hierarchy after her time as Cipher Nine. She works for the Alliance as an independent agent, with Ves as her sole handler. She feeds the Alliance intel stolen from deep within Zakuul, and performs solo espionage missions. When the Alliance aligns with the Republic, she stays and volunteers as an agent for Task Force Nova, finally working on her secret goal all along - to find her lost Force-sensitive sister.

Chukaem knew of Aelirra, the Jedi who murdered her Emperor, and disdained the Alliance and its Commander. She served as Wrath until Acina threw in with the Alliance - which turned her away from the Empire, and led her to work alone in the shadows, executing anyone she deems a threat to the Sith.

When she learned that Aelirra had killed Vitiate again, she swore to end the Commander's life. But when the Alliance turned to the Republic - with Darth Avriss and Lana Beniko still within its ranks - her priorities shifted. Traitors first. Jedi filth next.

Ves is at the top of her shit list. They'd worked together on Makeb, and came away with bad impressions of each other. Chukaem sensed, accurately, that Avriss did not share her (zealous) loyalty to the Sith Empire and its Emperor. She tolerated it because Avriss served the Empire well as Councilor. Now that Avriss has turned... Chukaem looks forward to destroying her. Personally.

Djixas has met neither Aelirra nor Ves, and has no desire to. She is loyal only to the Mandalorians, and follows where Shae Vizla leads. When Shae pledged Mandalorian support to the Alliance, Djixas followed.

But where Torian was assigned as a representative on Odessen, Djixas led her brothers and sisters on offensives against Zakuul - be it on ground or in space, she planted the fear of Mandalorians in Zakuulan hearts with every battle. She is one of Shae's best lieutenants, and is almost always on the field.

As of Ruhnuk, she remains loyal to Shae, but operates semi-independently to gather intel for Mandalore (with Mako's help).

[tiredassmage]

What about Tyr and Aric Jorgan in the Alliance

[Send me an OC + an NPC and I'll ramble about their dynamic]

The Alliance was really the best place Tyr and Jorgan could've met. They make a perhaps surprisingly effective team when no one's worried about faction lines. Tyr's never exactly been a soldier - not completely, but him and Aric share a very no-nonsense professional attitude that launches both of them easily into the fray and lets them find out rather easily that their goals for this Alliance align rather well - and they share a similar distaste for needless political interference getting in the way of doing the job right. xD

Tyr does pause just long enough to inquire if working with a former Imperial is going to be a problem for Havoc, but it becomes quite clear rather quickly that they're of the same mind: they have a job to do, their goals align, it's better for all of them to collaborate. Other than that, they practically hit the ground running.

Jorgan looks after his people. He's got very clear values that he's not willing to compromise on. These are all qualities that Tyr respects greatly. When Jorgan says Havoc is his, regardless of the Alliance, Tyr has no questions nor qualms. It's something he admires - the drive to look after his own.

Their first experiences together over the wiretap go rather well, all things considered. I'm sure Jorgan is perhaps still keeping an eye on the former Cipher Nine, but thus far, the Commander hasn't given him a reason to not put Havoc with the Alliance. They play off of each other's orders rather well and Tyr doesn't hesitate to commit himself and the Alliance to Havoc's cause. They both get in, get the job done. They're here to fight for what matters, something that Tyr manages to continue delivering on as the Alliance transitions into recovery assistance once Vaylin is off of the throne.

He does send Kaliyo on the GEMINI frequency mission, having well-experienced the effectiveness of a small force infiltrating quietly himself, and he does ask Jorgan to hold Havoc back - not because he doesn't trust them, but because he's trying to reduce the amount of potential casualties. Success will mean little if there's no one left in the end.

If the roles were reversed, Tyr might have made the same choice to ignore that order. Aric's mission-driven and he doesn't give up on his people. Again, these are traits they share.

That Havoc ultimately sacrifices so much in the mission doesn't exactly settle well with him; Tyr will try to take most of the blame for being absent to better command the operation despite matters being out of his control. Jorgan doesn't have to like Kaliyo nor her involvement, but the intention to best aid the mission and the squad are there and felt. Havoc lost enough that day. Dressing down their superior for a choice Tyr can't exactly fault isn't going to benefit anyone. And Tyr doesn't feel they can afford to bench a soldier like Aric and the rest of Havoc. He asks them both to try to learn from the experience and otherwise asks them to not lose sight of what they're fighting for before he dismisses them both back to base.

All in all, Jorgan's an officer he can and would trust without question to watch his six and Havoc's involvement in the Alliance is invaluable. Whatever early reservations may have existed, they work well together. Tyr's adaptable combat specialization paired with Jorgan's sniper range makes them quite a force to be reckoned with when they do pair off for operations. In another life, they might've been one hell of a pair if they were on the same squad.

That all said, I haven't done a lot of figuring out exactly what the saboteur line Ossus and onward does to the Alliance composition outside of what is presented in the game, so all I can really say on the matter is that Jorgan would be an officer he'd hate to lose, though he'd understand if Havoc returned to the Republic, given everything. Should they chose to stay, Jorgan would be among the number Tyr would entrust with the orders to make sure their forces that do wish to depart do so safely without retaliation from Alliance forces. They've undoubtedly been able to spend hours talking tactics and unit deployments and compositions over the years in the Alliance and Tyr will always value his and Havoc's service for whatever time they're willing to give.

[anchanted-one]

Legend of Vajra, Chapter 19

Chapter 19: Scramble on Coruscant

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43208574/chapters/109571698

Dina had always dreamed of a daring mission into gang-held territories, even dreamed of being backup for one of the Jedi. Alas, the galaxy had a sense of irony. Not only was her new assignment to a kid Jedi, it wasn’t some spectacular firebrand like Satele Shan. She’d even have settled for that old Jedi the General had walked out with!

She had tried harder to pay attention to the Jedi’s briefing, determined to not be hit with a second curveball in a single day, but all she got was that they were raiding Guild territory.

“Guild territory isn’t very far,” Ila piped up. “But it is underground. Almost underneath the Senate, actually. It was once called the Galactic Markets Sector, and was a centre of trade and commerce. Since the Sack, it’s become home to many refugees. We can access it via elevators and landing platforms. But movement inside is… difficult. A lot of chokepoints. Traffic can get bad.”

“And then there’s the possibility of a fight,” Timmins said. “If a firefight breaks out in one of those chokepoints, it could take hours to clear out!”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t happen,” the kid said.

I hope it does, Dina thought with a suppressed grin. Kid or not, she wanted her dream of fighting beside a Jedi to come true.

The first five minutes went by without incident; they arrived at the speeder landing, entered the Sector, and walked past the initial layer of houses. The boy chuckled when he saw the Dealer’s Den Cantina, but didn’t break his stride.

But they soon hit a snag.

The sounds of blasterfire and explosions became audible. Dina felt her spirits rise; she was spoiling for a fight! Three years in the service, and she hadn’t discharged her blaster even once! She only ever got assigned to guarding hallways in the Senate, and escorting bigwigs. This, this right here, this was what she was born for!

As they approached a checkpoint, they saw a small team of Coruscant Guards, along with a few soldiers, and armed civilians.

The boy Knight stepped up to a guard. “What’s the situation here—why, Captain Stede! Jerre and Corso too! I see you wasted no time finding trouble!"

"Well, howdy there, little Knight!” the woman cried. She seemed to have sobered up nicely. “And this one’s a special exemption; you get to call me Juun!”

“The honor every Jedi needs,” Vajra smiled.

“Lieutenant, we met this one earlier,” the man with pink hair said to a large Zabrak in heavy armor. “Despite his age, he’s a full Jedi Knight. Can’t vouch for his skill yet, but his droid says he killed seven Rancors.”

For the second time that day, Dina’s head snapped in the brat’s direction.

“That’s a nice feat,” the Zabrak said evenly. His face was no-nonsense, like most veteran guards. “A Jedi might be useful here. I’m Lieutenant Roban Queens. The one leading the Guards is Captain Winborn. This is Sergeant Aric Jorgan. I was about to take command here.”

“Not that Coruscant Guard is bad,” Jorgan said. “But this feels like I’m back fighting Seppies on Ord Mantell. Full out war down here.”

“Do you have any experience stopping a full-scale assault, Master Jedi?”

The Astromech piped up, and the pink-haired Captain gasped dramatically. “He did what, now?”

“Don’t keep us in suspense,” Lieutenant Queens said.

A wild eyed Kraot turned to answer. “He says a bunch of primitives on Tython got their hands on a shipload of blasters and attacked the Jedi training grounds. And Vajra wiped out the attack all on his kriffing own! Is this all true?”

The boy was covering his face. “I didn’t get an early promotion for my singing voice.” He uttered a few deliberately off-key notes for emphasis, and the three civilians roared with laughter. Queens’ chuckle was polite, but obviously forced. “That said, those were primitives. These shooters are bound to be more strategic. And I heard explosions in there too, right? I don’t know what else they have. I’d rather defer to your command.”

“Got it,” Queens nodded. “So here’s the situation; those scum have set up twelve barricades in a narrow corridor on the other side. I don’t know where they got em, but they have high-grade munitions, heavy pavises, and shield generators.”

Vajra sighed. “A military storehouse got robbed. Maybe Vistis gave them some of his spoils in exchange for their protection.”

“Got it. Moving on… normally, we need armor to get past such well-defended strong points.”

“How tight are the corridors?”

“About three metres high, five wide,” one of the guards answered. “Oh, and it’s a kilometer long, if that was a question.”

“Plenty of space. I can deflect the blaster fire. I can probably repel munitions too, with the Force. It may not be fast, but I can get you to each barricade. Alternatively, I can just blast them when I get close enough. It’ll be like a light artillery strike.”

“How close is close enough?”

The boy hesitated. “Fifty meters, I think?”

“Maybe we should just sit back, let the kid handle this,” Stede grinned.

“Sending me in alone might not be such a bad idea,” the Knight smiled.

Queens ignored them. “So, this is our new plan of attack. The Jedi takes point, and protects us while we clear the barricades. Once we break through, we can see what they’ve been plotting out there.”

“What plot?”

“They’ve gone and levelled a threat against Senator Vanara Kayl. They threatened to set off several bombs in the Galactic Market sector if she didn’t pay them off.”

“But there’s thousands of refugees down here!”

“Hundreds of thousands,” Queens corrected. “Yeah, I was shocked too. Coruscant… it’s huge. Packed. Really messes with your sense of scale.”

“Can we afford a slow approach then? I really can clear these thugs out by myself.”

“Can you guarantee it?”

“Yes.”

Queens’ eyes flashed. “That sounds like overconfidence to me. I can’t risk it. Stick to the plan. Defend us, and we’ll break these filth.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Questions? Sorry, we’re out of time. Move out!”

The Jedi nodded, and took up position right at the front door. The Captain took a deep breath and hit the release button… a grenade flew in a few seconds later, but the boy repelled it; so kriffing nonchalantly! His Lightsaber came alive, only one of the four, and he marched ahead, deflecting all incoming blaster fire.

Lieutenant Queens growled “For Coruscant!” and entered after him, and all the rest followed.

The kid hadn’t been exaggerating; he didn’t let a single bolt get past him, but somehow didn’t impede his allies’ counter fire. The sound of Lightsaber deflecting blaster bolts was so satisfying to hear, and the Lightsaber’s glow inspired and drove her.

The criminal scum, meanwhile, shouted in dismay; things like “Why can’t we hit anyone?” “Is that a real Jedi?” “There aren’t supposed to be many Jedi on Coruscant!” “Shit, shit! Shit!”

Some tried to flee, but were shot down by the crossfire. Others got hit by their own bolts getting reflected back at them; the Jedi managed to aim into the small murder holes in the barricades.

It was everything Dina had dreamed it would be! It was glorious! A hundred guns or more levelled at them, but she and her group were untouchable!

“Forward!” Queens ordered. “Pick up the pace! Not a full-out sprint!”

The Jedi complied, and the ad hoc squad started jogging after him, firing all the while.

When they reached around fifty meters of the first barricade, the Jedi thrust a palm, and a blast shot out like a cannonball. It struck the barricade dead center, knocking off the walls and tossing the remaining thugs into the air.

Captain Stede shouted a fierce warcry and fired at all seven goons, and they were dead before they crashed into the floor. She and her boys were good; Stede’s blasters almost always forced her targets to take cover. She even scored a few bull’s eyes, clipping these criminals despite their shields. The pink-haired man was also good; every one of his shots was well-aimed.

Queens used a blaster rifle, which he used to spray the enemies with so much ammo that they hid behind their cover, and Jorgan’s sniper rifle always hit someone in the eye… even if he didn’t fire all that often.

Pretty soon, more and more gunmen broke off and tried to run.

“BREAK OFF!” Queens ordered. “Jedi! Stop those thugs from escaping!”

The boy chased after them so fast, it was like he’d jumped into hyperspace. A blur of motion, and the men screamed in horror. Some fell; angry, burning slices on their bodies, others were flung out of the way by the momentum of his charge.

He thrust out with his palm again, and the closest line of barricades he’d traipsed across collapsed and fell like a deck of pazaak cards. The enemy closest to Dina looked disheartened.

“I SURRENDER!” one of the thugs screamed, and others hastened to follow. They threw aside their weapons like they had suddenly gotten scorching hot, and threw themselves on the floor. The Astromech gave a pleased whistle and rolled after the Jedi. It fired upon some of the thugs as it passed, albeit with blasters set to stun. It really knew what to do!

“Captain Winborn! Slap some cuffs on em!” Queens ordered. “And call the garbage collectors. I want them interrogated for any info they might have.”

“Yes… uh, Sir.”

“The rest of you, move, move, move!”

The Jedi was at the next door, waiting for his T7 to unlock the next door.

He looked troubled. “I don’t like this,” he told Queens. “I can Sense great danger.”

“That’s just nerves talking. Just do the same thing again, and we’ll have them beaten within the hour.”

The door popped open, and the Jedi began warding off a barrage of fire at once. The first ten steps were the same as before, but then he stopped in his tracks.

“What happened?” Queens demanded.

“A bomb has been armed!” he cried. “We have minutes. I’m sorry everyone, take cover! I’m going ahead! T7, use your jets to keep up.”

The Astromech whistled.

“WAIT!” Queens hollered, but it was too late. The boy had vanished again.

Everyone darted for cover, but they weren’t quick enough; several of Winborn’s squad took a few nonlethal hits before they got behind statues and crates.

“MEDIC!” Winborn called, but there was none near him and the wounded.

“JERRE! GO!” Stede rose from her hiding spot and fired a barrage at the enemy, and Queens joined in a second later. The pink-haired man rolled across the aisle and pulled a field medic’s kit from his bag.

Dina was frightened. This had suddenly got a lot harder. They had cheesed their way past the previous line of defense, but she hadn’t realized just how much work the Jedi had been doing. Without him, it was all the team could do to stay under cover.

*

Vajra did not like abandoning the team, but he had no choice. He could See it. The bombs were set; and their Shatterpoints were massive. When they ruptured, it would be a lot more than hundreds of thousands dead.

Vajra did not know how, but all of Coruscant would fall if he let those go off.

It was no choice at all; he leapt into action, hoping T7 would be able to follow him safely. With luck, those jets would help him keep up with Vajra’s speed long enough.

Vajra’s blade struck any enemy in his path, but the timer forced him to avoid going out of his way. In less than a minute, they’d arrived at the first bomb. It was strapped to a support beam which held up Force-only-knew what.

He cursed. There was no off switch on this one.

“Disarm!” He ordered T7, and took up a position to defend. The barricades were pointed in the opposite direction, so he was able to reflect most incoming shots right back at their points of origin. Dozens of thugs cried out and fell, taking hits to the face, chest, neck, stomach, and in a few painful instances, groins.

Twenty seconds later, his buddy whistled. “Bomb = neutralized, explosive material = collected. Jedi: Vajra = can destroy the device with Lightsaber.”

Vajra cut the device in two and said “Come on! Two more!”

The second one was harder to get to, on account of the thugs being ready for him this time. They also had the sense to spread out and aim for T7 instead of him.

Vajra changed tactics, picking up nearby crates with the Force and Hurling them at the scattered gunmen. They screamed, but many were crushed. Vajra repeated the tactic and chased off or killed another group of thugs, which left the remaining path clear.

T7 hurried up and began to disarm the bomb, but Vajra began to panic.

“We have just a minute and a half left!”

“T7 = has shields. Can take shots = 50. Jedi: Vajra = go ahead.”

“Stay safe!”

Vajra dreaded leaving his little buddy behind; but again, he had no choice. He ran for the final bomb at high speed, far beyond what he had demonstrated until now. The startled goons cursed and ran, their nerve breaking.

Vajra used the Force to knock them down—they had tried to kill too many to be allowed to escape—but kept his focus on the final bomb. When he reached it, he felt panic course through him again. He didn’t know what to do.

But T7 was watching. He sent an urgent transmission. “Cut wires in order: Black, red, purple, blue. Remove explosive from device.”

Vajra knelt down to comply, grateful that he always carried his toolkit with him. A gunman approached, but Vajra paid him no mind. He didn’t care if he got hit, or even killed. The bomb was the only thing.

He felt one of the bolts hit him in the shoulder, and one of his right arms went numb... but he managed it. He cut the last wire before standing up to give his attackers his full attention. All shooters he had knocked down were on their feet now, guns in hand.

He was targeted with a barrage of fire, and he was a little slowed down by his injury.

But he took a deep breath and listened for the Song of his Lightsaber. The blade came alive, and he knocked all bolts aside, guided by the music. These thugs, just like the Khrayii, had almost managed to kill him, and he was deeply embarrassed. He had to show them who he was. He had to show them all.

There was a microsecond where he saw his chance, and he took it; he raised his hand, and all gunners were Picked up by the unseen Force. He pulled inwards, and they all came hurtling towards him. One swing of his Lightsaber, and fifteen criminals fell to the ground without their heads.

Vajra gritted his teeth, fighting off the pain for a second. This is nothing. Not compared to that poison.

He still had a duty to fulfil; he had to extricate his comrades. Getting back to his feet, he retrieved the explosive material. Then he went to T7, and together they made their way back to their friends. The second the Guild members saw them; they began to surrender.

The team left their cover, some hundred and fifty feet from their starting point, and made their way to him. The guards stunned the enemy, with one of them calling for support.

Juun reached him first, and clapped him real hard on the wrong shoulder. Vajra winced, but didn’t cry out.

“What? Ohmigosh! You’re wounded?! I’m so sorry! Jerre! Get over here!” Her friend ran up to him and applied a kolto spray, and the pain began to subside at once. It began to itch as the wound healed at many times the speed, but Vajra ignored it best he could.

“How did you get hit?” Lieutenant Queens’ voice was filled with scorn. “I thought you were untouchable.”

“I had five seconds on that last bomb,” Vajra said. “It was this, or let it blow.”

T7 agreed mournfully. The ElTee’s eyebrows rose. “Wow. You did good then.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve had worse.”

“Like I said, good job. But… well. I feel a little uncomfortable when a soldier breaks ranks without a direct order.”

“Come this way please.”

Vajra led Queens, Jorgan, Juun, Jerre, Corso, and Captain Winborn to the nearest bomb.

“What am I looking at?”

“I want someone to scan this support. I have a horrible suspicion…”

Winborn gasped. “This… this is directly beneath the Senate!”

Queens roared “WHAT!?”

“It’s true!”

Queens bit back his shock. “And this bomb… do you have the explosive material?”

Vajra handed him the cannister he’d pulled out, and T7 gave him the two he’d kept.

“This… this is nasty stuff,” Queens whispered. “It would definitely crumple the supports, no matter how well reinforced they are. The damages… they’d have been immense. Catastrophic.”

“I Sensed the possibility of Coruscant’s end. I got the last bombs with seconds to spare. I’m sorry for running ahead, but I truly had no choice.”

Queens glared at the closest thug, clearly wanting to start smashing in faces.

“I believe him,” Juun said. “He’s got an honest face. I’ve seen my share of glory hounds. Heck, I see one in the mirror every ten seconds! And this kid ain’t one of them.”

Queens looked back at the Jedi. “Listen, kid. You stopped the bombs, it all worked out this time. Next time, it might make things worse. Several guards were injured when you suddenly disappeared. Next time, wait for the command to go.”

I follow the Will of the Force, first and foremost. Vajra bit back the words and simply nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Good. I feel scummy for saying it, but my last command…” he trailed off. “People get killed no matter what we do. And we can never predict everything. This is the sad nature of war. I feel… naked, when fighting beside a soldier who has left his post without orders before, no matter the reason. I need to be able to trust the guys next to me to always have my back.”

“I see.”

His escort finally made it back to him. The older, dark man looked unmoved, the younger a impressed. The cadet actually applauded, and Sarge had a fierce grin on her face. “What a fight, eh kid?”

“The thief who raided the storehouse also stole some important datafiles. Please tell the Council if you want me punished. Or General Var Suthra, I suppose. I really need to get going.”

Queens sighed. “I don’t. Like I said, you were right today. Best of luck to you.”

“Lieutenant! Come see this! It’s—it’s…!”

Vajra didn’t wait to hear the rest. “We’ve fallen behind,” he said tensely. “We need to double-time it.”

“No problemo!” Sarge grinned. “That scrap really got my blood a-pumping!”

*

Dina had reassessed her charge. He really was a great warrior, despite his age! And he had finally made one of her dreams come true! If he’d been a few years older, she’d have offered him a lengthy tumble in the sack.

Only grizzled Amon kept his level expression; everyone else was pumped. Finally, they were doing something glorious!

The kid led them to one of the survivors who looked like a high-ranked member and asked “Do you know anything about a Rodian thief? The one who gave you all your hardware.”

The hardened criminal wilted under the child’s gaze. “Y-y-y-y-yes, Sir! H-h-h-he’s in the base. Guest accommodations. Those are n-n-n-n-normally well-defended, but… but we sent out ev-ev-ev-every last one of our elites today. I c-c-c-c-can give you the c-c-c-c-coordinates.”

“Thank you.” He straightened up, and tossed one last glance at the civilians, who had come to see him off. “You going the same way?” He pointed at the door they had to take.

“That way, I’m afraid,” Juun said regretfully, pointing at a different door.

“Shame. You guys are fun to hang around!”

“You too, kid!” the dark male said, affectionately patting his head. “You too.”

The Jedi and Dina’s team took off at a brisk jog, tensed and ready for trouble. But there was little. A few times, they heard the sound of hurried feet and closing doors. They’d made an impression.

The resistance began to pick up again near the Migrant Merchants’ HQ, but the Jedi used the same tactic as before, and allowed his guards to kill the enemy. Dina found herself awed all over again. He hadn’t needed them at all. He might have gotten through faster without them. But he had given them a chance for real glory, and for that she would always be grateful.

The T7 unit whistled, and the boy led them to the building on their datapad. A few seconds later, the Astromech had unlocked the door.

The Rodian thug was inside, squirming and whining. He said something in Rodese, and the Jedi said “I’m not looking to make a quick buck. You took something that—” he frowned as his comm rang. “Agent Galen? I’ve found our thief.”

“That… that was quick. I owe you more than just an apology. Now hurry back with the stolen files. We’ve had a major security breach.”

Vajra’s heart skipped a beat. “Another one?! This is just…! Tarnis and Kira, how are they?”

“This channel isn’t secure enough. Head back. Pronto!”

The Rodian whined again.

“Do you always ignore your instincts?”

The Rodian sighed and mumbled.

“Is money all that important to you?” Timmins burst out. “Do you have any idea the shitstorm that’s coming? The shitstorm that already almost hit us, thanks to those munitions you gave the Guild? If those plans fall into the wrong hands, Coruscant itself might fall! Do you think the Sith will be better overlords?”

The Rodian held up his hands defensively and replied.

“So, you had the guild slicer decrypt those files, then transmitted them… to the Black Sun?”

“You are out of your mind,” Timmins hissed. “Give us one reason why we shouldn’t kill you!”

The Rodian’s answer was laced with terror.

“Yes. Give us your partners, and we’ll take you in alive.”

The Rodian’s relief was evident in his response.

“Cuff him,” the Jedi ordered. “We’re heading back to the Senate Tower.”

But Timmins squeezed his trigger finger, and the Rodian died with barely a sound of surprise or pain.

The Jedi was stunned. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”

“My job,” Timmins hissed. “This thief is willing to put trillions in danger if it means a little more wealth. He deserved to die!”

“He was unarmed, and defeated!”

“We’re in the middle of enemy territory, and he was a dangerous, slippery schutta! There’s no way we were going to evacuate him—”

The Jedi swung his Lightsaber, and Timmins fell down with a squeak. The top of his hat fell to the floor.

“I want to arrest you for killing a prisoner… but we’re in the middle of enemy territory, and there’s no way we can evacuate you…”

Timmins squealed again. “Okay, okay! I get your point! I’ll go quietly! I’m sorry!”

“Let’s head back now.” The Jedi pointed the way, and poor Timmins went first. Dina followed with Ila and Amon, feeling stunned.

*

They returned to the Senate tower an hour later, and the moment the Jedi disappeared around a corner, Dina burst out “That was so unfair!”

Amon sighed. “Maybe I should have warned you. The Jedi take this code thing very seriously. It’s all that separates them from the Sith.”

“Who cares about that?” Dina raged. “How dare he equate that filthy thief’s life with Timmins’? Timmins is a guard!”

“Was he, really?” Ila looked conflicted. “He killed that Rodian without hesitation! This is not what we’re supposed to stand for! This is why we have the courts!”

“And for a crime this big, the Rodian would have been locked away in some box. But I get what you’re saying. Jedi are a bunch’a dogmatic pisspots.”

“Shouldn’t they be? I don’t want them turning into Sith!” Ila looked terrified. “Imagine if that kid just lost it one day… we’d never be able to stop him. If outdated dogma is all that keeps them from—”

“It’s all they think keeps them from the other side,” Dina retorted. She was thinking all the worst things about them right now. Were they really heroes? Were they really on the same side? “Have you ever seen someone go bad from just playing a little fast and loose?”

“Well, no… but how do we know how the Force works! Maybe all it takes is a crack, and they let the bad stuff in? Don’t forget. What Timmins did was technically murder. It’s not like letting a petty cutpurse go.”

Dina and Amon stared at her like she’d turned into a slug.

“I guess you’re a kid too after all,” Amon said. “Just like that Jedi. And you…” he stared at Dina. “Are an idiot for getting carried away.”

“Yes,” Dina said fervently. “Yes, I was.”

“Don’t get me wrong. Next time Malgus comes knocking, it’s Jedi like him who will beat him back. And any threat that’s too much for the likes of us. Without him, the Senate would be a crater today. Doesn’t mean he’s some god. Jedi are as different from us common folk as the snobby nobles of Alderaan. We don’t mix with em. Their kind of justice doesn’t work in the real world, and they will never accept that.”

“I disagree,” Ila said stubbornly. “You said there’s nothing wrong in turning the other way, but you’re wrong about that. I’ve heard you complain about how the higher ups are always turning a blind eye on Sorigar’s activities. How they’ve gotten used to it after all these years. But now he’s out of control, and they’re still not saying anything. Even if it’s unrealistic, I prefer it if they held on to that archaic, pure set of morals. Someone has to.”

“You just like him coz he’s cute!” Dina snarled. She was feeling like crying; she felt like someone dear had betrayed her faith in them. She had been raised on tales of Jedi being the greatest people in the galaxy, for crying out loud!

“Ewww, no! What is he, fifteen, sixteen?! I’m twenty-two! That may sound like a kid to you two ancient fossils, but he’s underage and I know it! Besides, I only like women!”

“Then why are you in his corner?”

“I’m not. He’s in mine. I joined the Guard to serve and protect. To follow the law. Like it or not, what Timmins did, violates our mission.”

Dina sighed heavily. She didn’t know what to think anymore. She didn’t like seeing her fellow Guardsman arrested just for shooting a man who deserved it. Arrested by a snot-nosed little Jedi.

“She’ll grow out of it,” Amon sighed. “They all do.”

“What can we do about Timmins?”

“What’s to do? The superiors will let him off with a slap on the wrist, and he’d have learned a valuable lesson: don’t do anything stupid around people you can’t trust.”

“I know I’m not to be trusted,” Ila groaned.

“Right you are. Run along now, little wannabe angel.”

*

Twenty minutes earlier

Kira groaned as she woke up; chunks of plaster and debris fell off her body as she stood. She had to dust off a fucking metric ton of dirt.

What happened? It felt like a Wampa had charged past her.

It started coming back to her. A sudden Red Alert. She'd barely had time to blink before several heavily armed intruders had charged into the room. She hastily activated her Lightsaber, deflecting a volley of blaster bolts. Luckily, the assailants weren't aiming at anyone in particular.

She tried to shield herself from the Merr-Sonn Concussion Detonator but hadn't made it in time.

As she stood up, she saw a dozen other security personnel fallen around her, most stunned by the blast, but no one looked mortally wounded. The attack had been so sudden, that none of the intruders had even been shot at, much less shot down.

Agent Galen stormed into the room. He took one glance at the mess, then immediately looked inside one of the offices behind them and groaned loudly. The Lead Researcher's office.

Tarnis' office.

Kira winced as she remembered her earlier promise. Famous last words!

"Black Sun," Galen informed her as she stepped near him. His words were slightly muted; her ears had been affected by the blast. Thankfully not too bad. Her shield had been of some use. “Coming in, they sent in three different teams on different objectives, each looking like a diversion to the next. This must have been their real objective.”

"Do we know where they went?" she asked.

"Their exit was much less subtle than their entry. We're tracking them.”

"Give me some backup and call the Masters!" Kira said, staggering towards the door. “I’m going after them with anyone you can give me!”

"You look like you can barely walk straight!" Galen observed.

"I've no choice, we must save Tarnis," Kira said. "We can't let anyone have him! Not with what he knows!"

As she walked out, real fear took root in her gut. If Tarnis was taken, then they—whoever "They" were—would have access to many Republic secret weapons projects! And Vajra had said that he was even more important than that! He had claimed that he infamous ‘growing darkness’ was centered around the lead scientist!

Kira fought off her building panic. No. No there had to be time to save him still. She had to move. Maybe she couldn't do it herself, but maybe she could keep them busy until Master Kiwiiks got here. Or Master Orgus. Or Vajra. Yes, there had to be time. She couldn't let it end like this!

*

Kira hopped onto one of the speeders, and the captain of this team, Edna Phelps, took the wheel. It took off from the landing pad with seven more in tow; a total of thirty-two personnel. The smash-and-grab had been chaotic, but she thought there had to be more than that. She needed reinforcements.

“Please hurry up,” she whispered, half to the help, but mostly to the speeder. It was far too slow. Though, to be fair, anything seemed slow that didn’t solve this problem right now.

She had difficulty holding in her nervous energy. She held her Lightsaber tightly in hand, unable to put it away. Her foot tapped an angry rhythm on the floor, and she chewed the nails of her right hand.

“How are you feeling?” Phelps asked.

“Dizzy,” Kira admitted. “That emergency kolto infusion is working… but a bit slow. My hearing is… better. Not a hundred percent. A few bruises too, but I can move.”

“Good. We need a Jedi out there today. Those thugs managed to break into the most secure building in the galaxy. They had numbers and coordination. We… most of my division are green. Too many of us were killed during the Sacking, so the most experienced of us are out in the hottest zones.”

“Just like the Jedi,” Kira sighed. “I wish we could go faster. Master Vajra said that Eli Tarnis is the most important person on the planet right now.” Damn, it was so hard to remember to say ‘Master’ Vajra.

“The pipsqueak?”

“He’s a Knight. And a very good guy.”

“I’m talking about Tarnis.”

Kira chuckled. “He’s not that small, is he? He just wears clothes three sizes too big.”

“Yeah… wonder why? Strange to think, that of all the Senators and Generals, the visiting kings and queens, the most important guy on the planet is a scientist.”

“One in charge of weapons development.”

“I guess. I don’t know what he was designing, but—”

“His own design aside, he’s the overall leader of the scientists. He knows a lot about other projects. I don’t want to think about it.”

“We can’t lose, then.”

Kira looked at her. More to occupy her mind than anything else, she asked, “You said most of your people weren’t guards during the Sacking of Coruscant…”

“I was. But I was posted in the Garnet zone. Nothing happened there. And, of course, with their ships in orbit, we couldn’t attempt to fly to the hot zones. I have often cursed my cowardice. I lost some friends that day.”

“I’m sorry. But that sounds like the only thing you could have done.”

“It’s the lot of the survivors to feel guilty for not doing more.”

Kira thought about Bengel Morr, and fell silent.

*

They ran into trouble almost at once. These Black Sunners weren’t very lucky during their escape. Sirens had sounded the second someone breached the Senate, and the citizenry evacuated. Many clearly still remembered the Sacking. The Spaceport had been closed too.

So, not only had they been unable to pick up any hostages, they’d had to lose valuable time cutting open a hangar entrance with a plasma torch. No doubt unlocking the hangar doors would be an even bigger task.

Kira had been given training in leading troops, but this was her maiden voyage. And, as Phelps had said, the same was true for most of her guards.

Kira tried to take comfort in the fact that Vajra had done quite well in his first solo command, but there had been a few critical differences. Having trained the militia himself, he knew how to use them. They also knew the enemy was coming. In addition, the enemy were not very bright, so they just charged right in, where a more sophisticated opposition would study the defenses first. Map out a strategy.

Much like these goons had.

Kira was also aware that her Lightsaber skills weren’t up to scratch. She’d only been a Padawan for three years, and Master Kiwiiks had been busy teaching her the softer skills involved with being a Jedi.

The situation was hopeless, if her intent was to defeat the Black Suns. No, her mission was to harass them until Master Orgus arrived. Surely, he heard the siren? He was in the same building, for crying out loud!

Unless… “Hey, Captain. Are there any special protocols in place for the Chancellor’s office when those sirens go off?”

“Yes. Everyone gets sealed inside. I hope the Masters we’re waiting for aren’t inside.”

“Two of them are. That leaves Master Vajra.”

“I don’t like our odds. Didn’t he leave for the Galactic Markets two hours ago? He’d have to be very lucky indeed to get here in the next hour.”

“I wouldn’t count him out. Battles are his specialty.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Kira emerged from her speeder first, her spinning Saberstaff deflecting some of the shots, and her footwork letting her evade the others. There was a lot more space here in the Port, which allowed her some breathing space.

The guards opened fire, and there was a full firefight in the mouth of the Spaceport.

Kira ducked behind a sculpture to catch a breather. She huffed out a breath and tried to calm her nerves. Her heart was beating way too fast, here.

She counted to three then broke cover, running at full speed towards the closest goon. The enemy were mostly distracted and failed to respond in time. Kira extinguished her lower blade, holding her Lightsaber like a standard one for a moment. Taking the hilt in both hands, she leapt forward, blade thrust out in front of her. She stabbed the first bastard, and her momentum allowed her to spear three more. She extinguished her primary blade so that it didn’t get dragged down with the bodies, then reignited both in time to parry a few shots.

One shot singed her elbow.

Hissing in pain, she ducked and rolled to find more cover. Her backup did their thing, taking advantage of their enemies’ distraction to attack them.

Some of the thugs kept her pinned down, but she couldn’t just cower here. She counted to three again, then emerged from the right side of her chosen statue. She used the wall behind her to kick off into another dash, but this time the thugs were readier. She only nailed one of the bastards, and a spinning attack clipped another one.

The Force warned her of an incoming attack from behind, which she dodged hastily. A heavy cudgel smashed into the ground, but she was untouched. She slashed the offending woman with a sweeping cut to the head, and watched her go down.

Seconds later, the last of the Suns went down, and her guards ran towards her.

Kira’s eyes burned as perspiration entered her eyes. Kira was sweating hard, and had to rub off her sweat on her sleeve. The fabric came away soaking wet. “I can’t be that badly out of shape yet, it must be the nerves,” she grumbled. “Stay calm, Kira. Peace. Peace. That’s right. A Jedi enters battle calmly. You must be calm.”

“Good job!” Phelps said warmly.

“Come on. Let’s find their friends. Give them the bad news.”

“I’ll find a way to do it gently. Your arm—”

“Right. Make it quick, medic!”

The medic applied a kolto spray, and the pain reduced immensely. She flexed the elbow experimentally after about a minute, happy that she had full use of it again.

The thugs in the next room greeted them with a hail of fire.

“HEY, THAT’S NO WAY TO GREET A LADY!” Kira cried. “DON’T YOU KNOW GIRLS PREFER FLOWERS TO BEING BURNED ALIVE?”

Amazingly, a man with a very smooth voice answered her. “YOU AIN’T NO GIRL! YOU’S A WITCH!”

“WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME? A BITCH?!?! THAT’S JUST HURTFUL!”

“WHAT? NO! UH CALLED YOU A WITCH! YOU KNOW, FOR YOUR JEDI POWERS.”

“LOOK, CAN YOU STOP SHOOTING FOR A MOMENT? I GOT A MESSAGE FOR YOU CLOWNS.”

“WE DON’T WANNA SURRENDER! YOU’S NO THREAT TO US!”

“THAT’S NOT THE MESSAGE, DICKHEAD!”

“THEN WHAT IS? STOP FIRING, YOU DUMB LOT!”

The blasters stopped for a moment, though they remained pointed at the door. Kira stood up. “I regret to inform you that all your friends are dead. Biff up there made the funniest gurgle when he went down…”

The thugs looked stupefied.

“I think Rosa wanted a ‘Ghirahalm’ to know her eternal love for them…”

They whispered among themselves, then the leader, a Houk, spoke up again. “We don’t got no Biff with us. Nor a Rosa. And we haven’t a clue where ‘Ghirahalm’ is.”

“She’s fucking toying with you, Bregar!” a woman spat. “Kill her!”

“Right you are, Risia. Kill her!” Only Bregar and Risia raised their blasters. The man cursed. “That order was for everyone, not just Risia!”

There was a collective ‘Oh!’ and everyone opened fire.

But the distraction had given Kira the moment to get a sense of the situation. Where all the enemies were. The different places they could take cover.

She felt more confident now. She was calm. Er. And she’d survived one round of thugs.

She charged ahead, darting from cover to cover when possible, hoping to draw away some of the fire from her troops. Unlike most Jedi Knights, she wasn’t yet good enough to defend her squad while they focused on offense. The best she could do was distract them as she approached.

Once she got close enough, she forced another heavy exhale and charged with her maddest battle cry.

She was able to defend herself well enough until she reached the line, but she could smell the fabric of her robes getting singed. She sliced off the first thug’s arms, then felled the next one—a Gamorrean—with a trio of strikes. The next one, a human man, dodged her first strike, then attacked her with a pair of vibroblades. She sliced the first one, but the man kept the second one—and himself—out of her Saberstaff’s reach. Two of his comrades surrounded her in the few seconds; another Gamorrean, this one with an axe, and a Twi’lek with a force pike.

Kira dodged the heavy blow from the axe and cut the Gamorrean’s flank. The Twi’lek charged her with a spinning attack she managed to evade. But then the human struck. Leaping out, he buried his dagger in her thigh.

She screamed, but kept her wits about her enough to end his life with her Lightsaber. The Twi’lek slammed the handle of his pike into her nose, stunning her. Her hilt fell from her fingers. She fell backwards, dazed and weaponless. The Twi’lek roared in victory and tried to spin and stab her… but she was saved.

Someone appeared so fast it was like he’d teleported. In her state, Kira hadn’t even seen him enter the floor, let alone the fray.

Vajra caught and pulled away the pike before its pointy end could skewer Kira.

The Twi’lek lost his balance when his weapon was unexpectedly pulled away. Vajra kicked him with such force that the Twi’lek left a small crater in the wall.

Vajra ran to Kira and began protecting her from the blaster fire. “UP! He roared. “Get behind that pillar!”

“Right!” Kira moaned in pain as she dragged her useless leg to the pillar. She didn’t worry about the enemy at all; she’d seen Vajra doing drills a few times.

Once she was safely ensconced in her new safe place, the boy Knight went on the attack.

He swatted away a torrent of blaster fire with his blade, and Kira watched in awe as almost every deflected bolt hit a target. A Black Sun target.

The last six remaining screamed like children when Vajra holstered his Lightsaber and charged at them. With just his fists, he slapped away their weapons and struck them with disabling blows. Kira could only stare as he worked his magic. He had clearly trained as hard in unarmed combat as he had Lightsabers.

He caught a vibrosword blade as it descended with one pair of hands, and another punched the wielder in the stomach thrice. His foot connected with the woman Risia’s jaw, and she was launched into the air. She fell onto her back, staring up at the wall opposite Kira.

Vajra blocked another flurry of blows, then slapped a Rodian in the ear, and gave the final Gamorrean a savage punch in the belly. Then he smacked Bregar in the solar plexus, and the Houk fell clutching his chest. The last one, a large Mirialan male, screamed “I give! I give!”

Vajra waved the captain over. “Secure them. We need to interrogate them.”

“Yessir!”

Vajra ran to Kira, looking frightened. “Kira! You okay?”

“A little light-headed. I lost some blood.”

“I’m glad you didn’t remove the dagger. Here, get ready to apply pressure. I’ve got a kolto pack on me, and bandages.” He took out the kit and remembered to put on sterilized gloves first.

“They didn’t lie about you Master. You really are a good swordsman. OW!!!”

“Thank you.” With the dagger removed, Vajra worked quickly. He injected the kolto into her bloodstream, along with a painkiller. Then he began stitching up her leg. It was clear he’d done this before. Once he’d finished stitching her up, he used an antiseptic before spraying a thin film of kolto on top of the wound. He then wrapped her leg in a bandage.

He then removed the gloves and tossed them off to the side.

“Sorry for getting blood all over your clothes.”

“Don’t be.” He embraced her, and she returned it. “If I’d gotten here a millisecond later… Thank the Force. Thank. The fucking. Force!”

Kira snorted. “Got you to curse. Jasme owes me five credits.”

She was startled to realize that her friend was shaking. And almost sobbing too. She tightened her hug. “I’m sorry, Master. I was reckless and got carried, wasn’t I?”

“You did your duty, and you did it like a true Jedi. This was just a shitty, shitty situation.”

“Wait a second, can you repeat that? I want a recording. For my Master. Not the ‘shitty, shitty’ part, the ‘Kira is awesome’ bit.”

“I’ll say it however many times you want me to. I’m so glad I got to you in time.”

“Yeah,” Kira shuddered, imagining being impaled through the chest for a second. She’d almost died today.

Vajra stood, wiping his eyes discreetly. “Anyone still left in here?”

“Scans show… no one,” Captain Phelps answered. “You’re damn good. Padawan Kira said combat was your specialty, but clearly, she undersold it.”

“Any casualties on our side?”

“We took some hits, but nothing serious. We’re treating the wounded. We were lucky they were out of grenades. Clearly used them all during their attack.”

“It’s fishy…” Vajra said slowly. “They pull off a clever, well-planned heist, but don’t plan their getaway very well?”

“Shit,” Phelps cursed. “This group was a distraction.”

“You figured it out, did you?” Bregar chuckled. “It’s too late. The boss is long gone by now!”

Vajra sighed. “Like Kira said. I’m a combat expert. But she is good at getting into heads.”

Kira chuckled. “Oh, please let me at im. He called me a bitch after all!”

“I said ‘witch’,” the man looked deeply uncomfortable. “Coz you can use the Force!”

“Oh, that’s even worse!” Kira loomed over him, supported mostly by Vajra’s discreet use of the Force. “Because of how true it is. Tell me, do you know how Jedi interrogate bad terrorists in an emergency? We enter their heads. Imagine someone looking through your head like a book… but with oily, greasy, dirty palms. Leaving dust and grime and stuff every place we touch… it’ll take only a few minutes, but I can find the answer I need in seconds.”

The man screamed. Risia shouted at him “Don’t listen to her! She’s messing with you again!”

“NO, SHE’S NOT!” Bregar screeched. “SHE’S INSIDE ME HEAD RIGHT NOW”!

Kira had Reached into his head and prodded the nodes responsible for fear. Darksiders had an easier way to do it, but Kira neither knew how, nor cared. This was more natural. Simple nudges of the right region in the brain. She Leaned on the Force and established her total domination over his will. “That’s right. I can do it, but it’s much better for you… if you tell me. You want to tell you everything… right?”

“I want to tell you everything!” the man agreed. In seconds, he pulled out a datacard and pressed it into his pad. A few keystrokes later, it was decrypted. “There! All the info you need, and more!”

“Anyone has anything to add?” She put some Force into her words.

Everyone looked terrified. Risia nodded furiously. “This wasn’t our plan. There was someone big involved. I think he was a Sith.”

There was a collective moment of silence. Even her comrades gaped at her. She hid her face. “I just happened to see it, alright? There was a man, and he wore a mask. He had a Lightsaber. But his insignia… I knew that insignia. It was Angral’s burning tower.”

“You knew… and you didn’t tell us?” the Rodian cried. “You know what those bastards did! One in every three of us lost family and loved ones that day! One in twenty lost everything! Like I did!

“Look, I was scared, alright?” Risia ducked her head even further. “It was a Sith! And Saalar’s almost as bad! You know what he’s like!”

Vajra sighed. “We’re out of time. Captain, please finish up here. Search every inch of this place. If there’s so much as a hidden microchip, you need to find it.”

She saluted. “Yessir!”

“Looks like the rest of your backup has already caught up.”

“Good. We can take things from here.” She ordered her Lieutenant to evacuate the wounded.

Pressed for time, Vajra carried Kira in his arms and set off at a jog.

“You know… I never noticed it before, but you’ve really grown since we first met. You almost look like an adult now. Shit, am I mooning over my savior already?”

He chuckled. “It’s probably the anesthetic.”

“Probably. Even an evil gal like me’s got standards. I don’t fall for underaged boys, I mean,” she added hurriedly. “Wasn’t saying you’re ugly.”

“I remember that time I almost got myself killed. I was dazed. Didn’t see things right. Emotions felt… loud and overbearing.”

“Sounds right to me. But I am so grateful you saved my life, Master.”

“None of that now, it’s just us.”

“I know. I’m afraid I’ll break character at some important part if I let it slip every time.”

He chuckled again.

“Where’s T7?”

“I had him stay behind with Agent Galen. He’s verifying all the datafiles we recovered, and checking to see if anything was left with its encryption intact. In addition, there was another incident we needed to file a report on. A bomb. I’ll tell you later.”

“Right.” She squinted a little as they emerged into the brightly lit night. She coughed into her fist as Vajra deposited her into the passenger’s side of a speeder, then allowed her eyes to close. She needed to rest, just for a moment.

Her brush with death had been… a little scary. It was no wonder she felt that sudden, insane attraction to the one who saved her.

*

The Shatterpoint had splintered. Long before Vajra had reached the Senate with the datafiles. Tarnis had been spirited away in the confusion and was now deep in Black Sun territory.

He saw to it Kira was comfortable, then went to join the meeting with Var Suthra and the Masters.

They were already in the middle of a heated discussion when he arrived.

Galen was speaking. “Doctor Tarnis is the least of our worries. The datafiles had details. Not just of the Planet Prison, but of every weapon prototype and research facility under your jurisdiction.”

Var Suthra tossed aside the chair he’d been gripping; it crashed into a table with a vase on it, leaving a mess of broken ceramics and water on the floor. “How did this happen?” he lamented. “How could a gang of common gangsters breach our security twice?! How did they shoot their way in and out of the Senate of all places, and make off with our most important scientist? Now the Black Sun have access to our most powerful experimental weapon designs!”

Silence reigned for a moment. Then Master Kiwiiks spoke up. “We need to secure the sites. Where are they? How well defended?”

“We have over a hundred R&D projects all over the Core systems! Most of them are lightly defended due to the classified nature of their work. Secrecy was their best defense. We can’t move it quickly!”

“Secrecy really is a bad defense,” Vajra noted. “Something we need to tell Master Satele.”

“We know,” Orgus sighed. “We’re working on it, alright? Things are tight right now.”

“Sorry, Master. About the facilities… maybe we can sort them by how deadly they are? How far along in their research cycle? And also deprioritize ones that we can get a large force to watch over too; which ones are in nearly-neutral territories.”

“You’re right. We can secure the facilities on Corellia, Selonia, Chandrila, and many other places. That leaves… Dantooine, Nar Shaddaa, Tatooine… and Alderaan. Dantooine should be a top priority. They have a working prototype of a Lesser Mass Shadow generator. The same kind that was used to crush the Mandalorians at Malachor V, but less destructive.”

“Of all the stupid…” Master Orgus looked angry. “I’ll head there at once.”

“Tatooine is the next most important.”

“Then that’s where I’m headed,” Master Kiwiiks said.

“I can take Nar Shaddaa…” Agent Galen said. “Which leaves the kid… excuse me, Master Vajra to go to Alderaan.”

“No. I need to find Tarnis. Whatever you might think, he’s still the key to the growing darkness the Council has been Sensing.”

His Masters gave him a long, searching look. Vajra sighed and shook his head. Later. He’d tell them later.

“He’s important. I swear it.”

“We have allies on Alderaan anyway,” Var Suthra said. “Unlike the other places. They can keep a lid on things until one of you can make it there. And we do need the copied datafiles.”

“Kira can help in your search,” Master Kiwiiks offered. “She’s a good slicer. You’ll need all the help you can get, with Agent Galen leaving too.”

“Look in on her before you leave, would you? She was wounded in the fighting.”

Kiwiiks jumped and half ran to the door. “I’ll go right now. I hope she’s awake.”

Master Orgus clapped his shoulder. “Find these files quickly, and we may not have to find these facilities at all.”

Vajra hesitated, then whispered. “The best-case scenario is no longer in reach. That Shatterpoint… is gone.”

Orgus gave him a sad look of understanding.

*

[meanbihexual]

Tagged by @starknstarwars (thank you!)

No pressure tags for @firecatwashere, @starwers, @magicallulu7, @sullustangin, and anyone else who wants to share

From an upcoming (and so far unedited) chapter of Unintended:

"My brother takes his black," Asti announced haughtily as they approached the caf station at the back of the waiting room.

"I know," Phila answered, giving her a patient smile and ignoring her tone. She was a teenager, a worried and exhausted one at that, and Phila thought back to her 16 year old self and thought she probably would have had an attitude right now, too.

She reached for the pot of caf, pouring one for herself and one for Jorgan, as Asti did the same for her and her mother. Phila wasn't watching her, but she could practically feel the eyeroll coming from the girl. It was quiet for a moment, before Asti went on the offensive again.

"Why are you here?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Phila could see that Asti had turned toward her, hands planted on her hips and her mouth heavy with a scowl.

Phila continued doctoring her caf as she replied, "At the caf bar or--"

Asti cut her off, her voice irritated, impatient. "At the medcenter."

Finished making her drink, she turned and met Asti's gaze. "Because Aric is my friend," she answered simply. It was the truth, even if wasn't the whole truth, but it was as much as Asti would be getting. Phila wasn't about to spill her guts about her love life to Jorgan's kid sister when even they weren't sure what was between them yet.

"A close enough friend that you spent the night?" The question, pointed and accusing, snapped out as Asti made a show of inspecting Phila's rumpled appearance, that high, sleek tail of hair lashing behind her like a whip.

"Not that it's any of your business," Phila said calmly, not reacting to the younger girl's theatrics, "but I was asked to stay. I wouldn't be here if your brother wasn't okay with it." Her voice softened a touch as she picked up the caf cups and made to start back down the hall. "I know you're worried about him, but we're on the same side."

Phila walked a few steps on her own before she heard Asti grab her set of cups and follow her. They made it down two hallways before Asti caught up and cleared her throat.

"I just...get protective of him, is all," she said in a small voice, one that hardly sounded like her earlier self at all.

"I understand," Phila replied, shooting her an easy smile. "I feel the same way about my brother."

"Is he a soldier, too? Has he ever been in danger?"

"He's not a soldier, no. He's a psychologist. When he was a teenager he..." Phila trailed off, sighed, started again. "Let's just say he made some bad choices, and for a while he was in a really scary situation. He's okay now, but I still remember how it felt when I wasn't sure that's how it would turn out."

Beside her, Asti nodded. "Yeah. I get that." Whatever her issue with Phila, she seemed to have gotten over it. "I'm proud of Aric for what he does, but--but I dont want him to end up like Dad." The last words came out in a rush, as if she were afraid that giving voice to them would make them come true.

"I can't promise you that won't happen," Phila said seriously, coming to a stop outside Jorgan's room and turning to look at her companion. Aric had never given her details, but she remembered he had once said that his father was killed in action. "But I can tell you that every time we're in the field, I and everyone else on my squad do our best to make sure we all make it home safe."

Asti sighed. "I just want him to come home, to do something that isn't so dangerous all the time. I know I can't make him, but..." She trailed off, blinking back a sudden flood of tears.

Phila wanted to hug her, but thought that would be a bad idea with each of their hands full of caf.

"Come on," she said gently, hitting the panel to open the door with her elbow. "Let's get in here and you can talk to him, see for yourself that he's going to be alright. We can talk about this more later if you want to."

[thoughtsamt112]

July 7th 2024

This doesn’t feel real. I don’t even know what to say. To have someone tell you your brother/sister killed them self is a different kind of pain that no one should go through. Is this fucking really happening.

Why couldn’t you have come home! Why couldn’t you have called us. Why couldn’t you have reached out before driving intoxicated and pulling your trigger. Why was that your only choice! We were your family and you pushed us away when we tried to be there.

I’m sorry you moved to a town where they did not accept you. I’m sorry you didn’t feel safe. I’m sorry you didn’t feel like we were there. We wanted to be there but how could we when you got upset when a certain conversation would happen.

This is it. There is nothing else you can do. You won’t be able to have a family or kids or be an aunt/uncle. You won’t get to grow old. You were fucking 28!! I truly hope you are at peace now because we are far from it.

I wish you would have moved home in October. I know it wasn’t what you wanted but trust me I didn’t want to move back home either, but it was safe and secured.

Aric didn’t take it very well. He was told papa died a few weeks ago in the middle of the night by someone in prison and then to get this phone call he thought it was a joke and then broke down when he realized it wasn’t.

I don’t think this is really going to hit mom or dad until we really have to start figuring out your funeral arrangements

But I swear to god. I thought dad was having a heart attack and I just wanted to hit something when he said it.

I never thought you would have gone through with it. I truly thought I would have met uncle Matt before you. Please give my love to our family. I miss them so much. I miss you. I feel like you’re going to just show up.

I need to see your body. I don’t care if it fucks me up more. I need to see it.

Suicide is one of the hardest things to cope with. It doesn’t get easier with time because they took their life. There is no answers to be given as to why or what lead to it. It’s just this open ended hole that doesn’t get filled in.

[afolderfullofstories]

Whumptober 2023: Day 18

Aric’s head reeled back as a fist slammed into his face once more. And again. And again. But Aric did not cry out, didn’t say a word. He would not give them the satisfaction.

“Tell us what the Order is planning.” The Zhentarim punched him again.

Aric just glared at the man, refusing to say a word.

“Hit him harder.” Came a voice from the back of the room, shrouded by shadow.

The fists rained once more. But Aric refused to move, to say anything.

They’ve been at this for days but Aric has held firm. He is confident his Order would rescue him, he just needed to be patient. The Zhentarim weren’t very creative, the torture was always physical: Fists, whips, daggers. There were spells that could inflict more pain. He’s used enough of them on his own captives. The way radiant magic burnt your insides worse than any fire could, or the way necrotic energy destroyed cells inch by inch. But his captors were crude.

Aric waited until his captors got bored. But they were creative this time, still crude, but creative. They took a crude metal device and pulled his fingernails off one by one. This time, Aric had to fight every inch of him not to cry out. He forced his face blank, still. The thing with fingernails was they could only do it once. He just had to ignore the pain. He focused Tyr’s teachings, reciting them in his head. Another blinding pain shot through his hand. Mother-

Just stay silent, they will get bored.

And right as predicted, they got bored after one hand. They left him alone in the cell, fuming. They would plan worse to make him react. He had just had to hold on until he was rescued.

His stomach growled. A human response that he had no physical control over. Thankfully, there was no one in the room. He hasn’t had food or water since he was taken. His captors refused to let him sleep as well, not wanting him to replenish his magic. The intent may not have been there, but that was the smartest thing his captors could do. Sleep deprivation would make the captive delirious and more likely to talk, whether they wanted to or not.

Aric’s eyes began to shut. He had to take whatever sleep he could get. Even if his captors never let him sleep long, he needed to keep his mind sharp. He would not betray the Order. His eyes shut as he pushed away the pain radiating from his face and hand. Just a moment’s re-

Splash!

Aric shot awake as he felt wet and cold. He was soaked. He calmed his breathing as he just glared at the Zhentarim, unresponsive. The Zhentarim just sneered and walked off. Fuck. The lack of sleep was getting to him. He could always hear his captors come in. Not this time. He was too exhausted.

He wounds burned where the water touched them. He tasted the water and realized they had salted it. So he wouldn’t be able to quench his thirst from drinking it. And… it seriously fucking stung. He closed his stinging eyes, forcing the pain back. He could deal with this. This was nothing. He’s felt worse, he’s done worse. This was nothing. He-

His eyes widened as he realized he wasn’t alone. A young man stood at the back of the room, dressed in rich noble clothes and expensive armor. “Julian?” Aric shook his head and the man disappeared. He was losing it. The sleep deprivation was working. Fuck. He had to focus. He had to fight it. He couldn’t let these bastards break him. Not yet.

*

Aric breathed heavily, cursing himself as the Zhentarim left his cell. They finally made him scream. Fuck. He had been so careful. He looked at his right hand, purple and deformed. The Zhentarim had slammed a hammer into it, shattering every bone in it. Fuck. He took a breath. Calm. He had to keep calm. The clerics would be able to heal his hand. He would hold his glaive again. He just needed to get out of here. He-

There was a young woman this time standing at the back of his cell, staring at him. She wore beautiful noble robes, her expression blank and icy.

“Half-breed.”

Elyndria, no, this illusion of Elyndria brought on by his lack of sleep didn’t disappear. Instead she approached him. “There’s no need to be cruel, brother. I’m just your hallucination. There’s no one to hurt.”

Aric shook his head trying to rid himself of the illusion. He couldn’t break now. He couldn’t let the Zhentarim beat him. “Fuck off, half breed.”

Elyndria sighed, and there’s a sadness in her eyes that she always carried with her. What right did she have to be sad? He’s the one who lost everything. She took everything from him. “Tell me, brother. If you hate me so much, why are you imagining me here then? Why not your mother, Julian, Father?”

“Shut up!”

She sighed once more, “These are your words, your thoughts, brother. Even if they were mine, do you think I would ever dare voice them out to you?”

No. Elyndria was always quiet. She never spoke to him, to anyone. She would hide in her room with her fucking Lyre and spent her days playing the stupid thing. “Go away, half-breed.”

Elyndria let out a musical sigh, “‘Go away, half-breed.’ That’s all I ever heard from you wasn’t it? Did you enjoy the way, no matter how cruel you were to me as a child, I would always come running back to try again? Was it some sort of power trip?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Again brother, these are your thoughts, not mine.” Elyndria moved nearer to him, close enough he could reach her if his hands were not bound. “Tell me, did it hurt when I gave up? When I stopped trying?”

“I was glad to be rid of you.”

“Of course, brother. I’m sure I believe that. I’m just not sure if you do.” Elyndria headed towards the door and paused. “You know, brother. All we had was each other and Father. And we should have been able to deal with our grief together, but you chose to be cruel. So now we’re both lonely but the cause of that is still you.”

“That’s enough, half-breed. You talk too much.”

“Do I really, brother? When’s the last time we’ve exchanged words with each other, much less had a proper conversation? You can’t even imagine my words or how I would act because you don’t know. What’s my favourite color? What makes me happy? Who’s the first person I had a crush on?”

“I don’t care about any of that.”

Elyndria sighed again, “Of course not. Then tell me, brother, why are you imagining me here?”

“My mind decided the best way to torture me is with you.”

Elyndria laughed, and it was so fake and cold. It was the laugh she always used at functions and parties they were forced to attend. It was the only laugh he knew. “Well, I left home. I’m out of your life. You don’t have to think about me anymore, brother.”

“Exactly.”

“So why am I here?”

Aric fell silent. He had no answer for her.

Elyndria approached him. “The Great Paladin, Aric, heir of the noble house of Domine; calm and cold, fulfilling both his noble obligations and his Order’s well…orders. Do they know what you’re like at home? How cruel and violent you can be?”

“I’ve never touched you!” Aric snarled.

“Ooooo. Hit a nerve. But you wanted to right? All your anger, all your pain, all the grief you couldn’t bury in your Order, you wanted to take it out on me. Do you think that’s why I became quiet, docile? Because I knew if I fought back, you would have physically hurt me too?”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“Oh I am. I am so dramatic and full of life. But you never saw any of that. You saw quiet, docile little Elyndria, where the most rebellious thing I did was hide in my room during parties. But you didn’t like that either.”

“What do you want? An apology? I have nothing to say to you. You’ve destroyed my life, tore our family apart, you and that bitch you call mother. I had no one except Julian and you took him away from me too.”

“I lost Julian too, you know?”

Aric sneered, “Julian is my brother. You had no right to grieve.”

Elyndria gave him a haughty smile that all the noblewomen had perfected, “Didn’t your mother ever teach you how to share?”

“Don’t talk about my mother!”

Elyndria sighed and once again there’s sadness in her eyes. “You know Aric, you can keep going on about how it’s my fault you ended up alone. But it was all your choices. You’re angry and resentful and you took it out on us: Mother, me, even Father. You were young then, I understand. But now you’re an adult and you have no more excuses.”

“I, Julian and I were both cast aside as soon as you were born.”

“Bullshit. You cast yourself aside. You pushed everyone away. Think about it Aric, but I think deep down you knew all along. Julian volunteered to accompany and protect Mother to Waterdeep. Why would he do that if he didn’t at least care for her?”

“He was just carrying out his duty.”

“Like you should have? Father asked you to protect Mother but you refused.”

“Don’t blame this on me.”

“I’m not.” Elyndria smiled, “Like I said, brother, these are all your words. You blame yourself but you take it out on me.”

“That’s enough!”

“Can you just admit one thing to me, brother? Do you really hate me? Or are you afraid to let me in only to lose me?”

“Of course I hate you.”

Elyndria sighed, “And this is what happens when you don’t process your grief.” She placed a gentle hand on his face. He could almost feel it. “You should rest, brother. They will come to wake you soon.”

“Why are you here?”

“You know why, brother.”

“Why am I imagining you here?”

“You know why.”

“You have the answer. Tell me.”

“Your spies tell you I’m missing, vanished, poof. They’ve searched everywhere. They can’t find me in Slivery Moon or any neighbouring town.”

“So?”

“That’s the question isn’t it brother? Why does that matter?”

“It doesn’t.”

“So it wouldn’t matter at all if your spies come back to you and tell you they found my body right?”

Aric was silent.

“That’s your answer.”

“I’ll do it for Father. He doesn’t deserve to lose another child.”

“Of course, brother. You will have to get out of this place first.”

“The Order is coming.”

“With the Zhentarim’s crude methods? They will kill you before they get answers out of you.”

“What’s your solution?”

Elyndria smiled widely and Aric swore he has never seen that smile on her face before. It was cheeky and promised trouble. “Would you at least try my way, brother?”

“And what way would that be?”

“You know the young Zhentarim soldier, with blonde hair? He hasn’t stopped staring at your bare chest since the first day.”

“No.”

“Stoic paladin. He wouldn’t expect it. It would work and you know it.”

“And then?”

“Improvise. Or take him on a date. Whichever you prefer.”

Aric burst out laughing. “Fuck. I’m more delirious than I thought.”

Elyndria grinned at him. “Then rest, brother.”

Aric shook his head. She was right. He had indulged the illusion for too long.

“Brother,” He looked up to see her looking sadly at him, the same expression she’s always wore, “Find me?”

“I swear on my Oath as a Paladin.”

[x-ceirios-x]

falling even more in love with you

aric has spent most of his life alone and can't fathom the idea that mollie cares about him like he does her. fortunately, mollie is a lot bolder than he is.

cw: some mild cursing. very fluffy

Aric stared at the textbooks in front of him, staring at the letters but not actually reading. These diagrams didn't make sense in the least—he wasn’t a good student before he got to the academy and he surely wouldn’t be now. In his frustration, he fell forward, laying his head on the book. Then he proceeded to hit his head against it several times. 

He heard Jeremy snicker from his bed across the room. “I don’t think information-via-osmosis violence is going to help you remember any of this for this quiz tomorrow.”

He paused and turned his head to glare at his best friend. “Don’t use your fancy biology words at me.”

Jeremy laughed from next to him and stood up—the next thing he knew, he was hitting the mattress with his forehead instead of the textbook. He closed it and placed it next to him, then sat on the bed. “You wanna talk about it? This is obviously not about a quiz.” Aric looked at him funny, so he laughed and continued, “look, I know you don’t do touchy-feely, let’s-talk-about-our-feelings, but I have four younger siblings. Which means I’m a certified therapist.”

He rolled his eyes at him and sighed. “I dunno, man. It’s all stupid.”

“I forget, sometimes, that you don’t know how to communicate your feelings.” He stood and grabbed his sketchbook off of the nightstand next to him. “You work better in pictures anyway. I’m going to get a shower, and when I come back I want to see whatever is bothering you.” 

He glared at him for a second, but he didn’t leave much room for argument. Once he left the room, he finally did as he asked—he opened the sketchbook and started doodling. It started with flowers and little jewels, coming up with little things he’d love to paint on the wall outside Mayhew’s room to piss him off. Then the jewels turned into circles, swirls, strange shapes he wasn’t quite thinking about, when he realized he’d drawn half of the Moral Cup. 

The Ascension was in a few weeks. He was nervous as hell—tensions kept rising between their classmates and he was concerned Valentine and the lightwoods were going to do something stupid. Then again, Valentine Morgenstern was always stupid and deserved the broken nose. 

Moreso, he was worried for himself. If he wasn’t ready—if whatever angels didn’t accept him—he wouldn’t survive. And he was terrified. It was like looking death in the face at seventeen and leaving it up to fate if he’d take him. He didn’t want to leave the shadow world—since he started at the academy, his entire life changed around. He expected to barely graduate high school, maybe drop out, and end up involved with some less-than-respectable things to make money. That was just the area he grew up in, despite his mom doing her best. He’d made great friends, started actually working at school, found things that were fun and not just surviving through life. He didn’t want to leave Jeremy or Céline, and certainly not Mollie. 

Mollie.

She was driving him crazy. They’d all go to lunch outside and he’d spend the entire time watching her, looking at her smile and making sure she laughed first when he told a joke. Recently, she’d been complaining about her hair getting too long and she liked to put up her curls with a few pencils. She took notes for their history class in blue pen and Downworld relations in black. All classes required at least one purple highlighter and a red pen to doodle in the corner. He watched as she desperately practiced for an extra hour after training, simply wanting the best at everything she did. And every day they ate dinner and studied, and his notebook was full of little red doodles as she explained things. She liked to dance in her free time, though she self-admittedly had the grace of an elephant outside of training. She was always trying something new and interesting, setting trends or getting weird looks among classmates without a care in the world. Everything she did, to him, was nothing short of beautiful. 

He didn’t have the time to think about her with everything going on, but that didn’t stop him most days. He was seventeen now and he just needed to survive the Ascension so he could start collecting a salary from the Clave and send money to his mother back home. That was his promise—he’d go off to this “boarding school” over in Europe and spend a few years there, and he was guaranteed a good job afterward, and would be able to send her money to save to get out of the city. He didn’t have the time to worry about anything else, or so he kept telling himself. 

Jeremy walked back in after a while, hair damp and in pajamas. He sat down on the bed next to him and glanced over his shoulder. “How’d I guess,” he said, amusement clear in his voice and on his face in the way he smirked. “You have to talk to her.”

Aric looked at the paper where he’d started a (very rough) sketch of Mollie on the paper. Realism and portraits were never really his thing, but hey, you could tell who it was. Maybe he was getting better at it. He turned his head to glare at Jeremy for a second and tossed the sketchbook to the bottom of the bed. “I’m not talking to anyone.”

He rolled his eyes and elbowed him in the arm. “I watch how you look at her. It’s…it’s ridiculous at this point. You look like a lovesick puppy.”

“I do not—“

He looked at him in a way that indicated there was no argument to be had here. Eyebrows raised, daring him to try to refute. Aric muttered a string of curse words in Spanish that would have gotten a shoe or a wooden spoon thrown at him at home and sighed. “You’re annoying,” he said, giving the only argument he could come up with.

He scoffed and got up, returning to his own bed. “And you’re incredibly stubborn for no reason. For being someone that I’ve known to never be afraid of anything, you’re pretty afraid of rejection, Aric.”

He stared for a second, watching Jeremy get comfortable and open his book for the evening. That was his signal that he was ready to be done people-ing for the day, as he said, and he should shut up. So he did, tossing his books on the floor and deciding he’d clean them up in the morning. He laid down, deciding he could fall asleep and deal with his problems tomorrow. 

***

“You’re fidgeting,” 

Aric looked up and stopped spinning his pencil. He was getting anxious the more he sat reading the stupid book in front of him, understanding nothing about these different kinds of demons. He didn’t care—everything died with a seraph blade eventually. And the names weren’t in languages he recognized, most of them are old, he had no idea how to pronounce half of the words on the page, and he couldn’t think clearly. 

Mollie placed her hand over his, sliding the book away with her other one. “Talk to me,” she said, turning towards him. “I don’t care about coursework. You’re anxious.”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, looking over her hand and trying to continue reading the book. “This stuff just doesn’t make sense. I’ll read it again, it’ll click eventually—“

The glare she gave him cut him off. With a much gentler tone, she said, “what have I told you about pushing yourself? If you can’t do more than twenty minutes of this at once, don’t do it. Let’s take a break.”

He laid his head in his hand, leaving hers still (he wouldn’t admit how much he liked her holding his hand), and sighed. “It’s worthless. I’m never going to understand all this.”

“Hey,” she said, pulling his chair and spinning him towards her. “It’s not worthless. You are not worthless, you’re just not doing what you’re good at. Your brain doesn’t work for…what are you even doing—“ she looked at the book, then his notebook, then back to him— “demonology or whatever. And that’s completely fine. We learned a while ago that you just don’t work like other people, and it’s fine.  You work in pictures, you work in art, Aric, and it’s beautiful.”

He stared at her for a moment, mouth slightly open in shock, too many thoughts for him to process racing through his mind to process everything she just said. She’d always told him it was fine that he didn’t think like everyone else—that he couldn’t think like everyone else. It didn’t bother her and she had the patience to work with him. It turned into an unlikely friendship—the school rebel and the straight-A, perfect princess. He knew she was never shallow like some of the kids he dealt with before the academy, but she was perfect. 

Mollie was smart—not just smart, but clever. He remembered her and Jeremy working on some law class and sitting in the courtyard next to Céline, listening to the two of them debate about whatever their assignment was for practice during class. The two went back and forth for an hour, only stopping when she finally found a loophole in his argument and he conceded. 

She was kind—kinder than anyone he’d seen. He watched as she helped new recruits during training and showed them new techniques she had a handle on. She stopped to help wounded animals in the woods and caught spiders with a cup instead of squishing them. The only true aggression he’d ever seen from her was during training, and even that she did with a smile. 

Mollie was strong in so many ways. At seventeen, she continued to prove to her siblings she could carry one of them under each arm (Patrick hated it, Gunny loved it), and even proved she could pick him up a few weeks prior. When he got there he was a scrawny kid, but he was pretty solid after 3-4 years of training, so it was impressive. She showed her strength in her resilience as well—no matter what came at her, she found a way through it. Fights with Céline, the loss of her mother when she was young—she was a fighter and he admired her for it. 

She insisted he was the beautiful one, but he knew it was just the opposite. 

It was a quick moment—one second he was staring at her, awe-struck, and the next he was kissing her. That was quick, too. He pulled away almost immediately, cursing himself for making such a rash decision without thinking. He didn’t have time to process the mistake he made, though, because she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in again. In an instant, he felt her lips on his and everything felt right. Her chapstick tasted like lemon candy. His heart was beating out of his chest, but her grip slowly loosened on his shirt and he found himself holding her face—gentle, like she was porcelain. 

After what felt like too much but not enough time, she pulled away, a grin wide on her face. Her eyes lit up when she smiled—maybe it was just the fact that he looked at her so much, but her green eyes shined in a way he couldn’t describe. It was his favorite color. 

“I was wondering when you were going to do that,” she said, inching her chair a little closer to his. The sun was beginning to set through the library windows behind her, creating a halo of orangey-red around her. He watched as she fiddled with the ring she kept on her hands—a small, delicate thing decorated with a light blue gem and butterflies. Céline had gifted it to her a long time ago. 

He stared blankly, looking at her with a kind of anxious excitement he hadn’t felt before. “You…you what?”

She chuckled. “I’ve only been flirting with you for…four months? At least that’s been the serious flirting.”

He stared again. Jeremy was right and he was never going to hear the end of it. “I—I guess I didn’t-“

“It’s alright,” she said, brushing her hair through his hair. He felt her nails scratch across his skin and shuddered, though he hoped it wasn’t obvious. Being so close to her was nothing short of intoxicating and breathtaking all in the same way. “I was beginning to wonder if you were giving me the cold shoulder because you weren’t interested.”

He swallowed, trying to find the words to respond. “No, I—no. Definitely not that.”

She rested her hand on the side of his face, thumb brushing over his cheek. “I meant what I said, Aric. I think you’re amazing.”

He could feel his face heating up in embarrassment. “I need you to stop talking,”

They both laughed. It was good to laugh—he’d been so stressed lately that he hadn’t felt really happy about something in a little while. But sitting with Mollie was so easy—she relaxed his nerves, even if he was on edge for other reasons (like trying not to embarrass himself in front of her). 

She dropped her hand and happened to glance at the clock—he watched as she did a double take and rushed to stand up. “I am so sorry—I promised Céline that I’d help her tonight because she’s going to some gala in Idris this weekend. And I’m, like, fifteen minutes late.”

Aric chuckled at her comment and waved it off. “I’ll hang here for a while and try to review. Thanks for the help tonight.”

She gathered her things and shoved them into the messenger bag that was slung over her shoulder. “Anytime,” she said rather breathlessly before running off. Less than a second later she was back; she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, then ran off again. 

He muttered a couple curse words under his breath—an array of Spanish that would have put a sailor to shame. If it didn’t kill him first, he thought things with her—wherever their relationship was going—would be a great thing.

[cinlat]

Blood in the Breeze: Ch 3 (Breaking the Rules)

Parts one and two of this series linked.

Summary: Trials lie ahead, and Aric gains some ground in an old argument. Theron does some thinking about his future, but not too much. Chapter Word Count:  4,674 Chapter Rating: T Characters in Chapter: Fynta Wolfe, Aric Jorgan, Theron Shan, Lana Beniko, Empress Acina.

Voss Shrine of Healing

Theron rubbed both hands down his face in frustration while Lana and Fynta argued over their next steps. The entire mission had been a massive cluster fuck from start to finish. Senya was still unconscious, Voss lay in ruins, and Arcann had escaped. If there was a worse way to end the day, Theron couldn’t imagine it.

At least we managed to turn Vaylin back, Theron thought. Though, not before she torched half the planet. The major cities had been reduced to rubble and the forests cast plumes of smoke into the air high enough to be seen for miles. The once beautiful world would take decades to recover. But the Voss and Gormack are finally working together. Okay, that wasn't bad.

Theron’s back pocket vibrated, and for a moment, he felt a thrill of hope that Zolah or Vector was contacting him. He could use one of Vector’s motivational chats or a dose of Zolah’s biting humor. “What the—” Theron ran the unknown frequency through his encryption program, then blinked in confusion at the readout. “Uh, Fynta?”

“What,” the woman snapped in a way that led Theron to believe that she was losing the argument with Lana.

Theron ignored Fynta’s acerbic tone. “I’ve got an incoming call from the Sith fleet.” When her brow rose, he emphasized the next words so that she would pay attention. “It’s Empress Acina.”

“Osikla,” Fynta spat as Theron forwarded the call to the T-5 unit stationed at the base camp.

Acina had taken charge of the Sith Empire and kept it from tearing itself apart in the vacuum left by Vitiate’s departure. The woman flickered into existence, hands clasped behind her back and garbed full battle gear. Theron moved to Fynta’s side, staring at the image in mute astonishment. Lana smirked and raised one hand to mime pushing Fynta’s jaw shut when the commander didn’t manage a witty greeting either.

“Greetings, Commander.” Acina sounded cheerful, an emotion Theron would never have attributed to a Sith seven years ago. She spoke with the same amusement that often colored Lana’s voice, carrying a warm smile with the words. “It is an honor to finally speak to you.”

“Uh, right.” Fynta shook herself, then glanced at the sky where the Alliance and Imperial fighters were picking off the remnants of Vaylin’s fleet. “Thanks for the assist, your timing couldn’t have been better.”

Acina tipped her head in that regal way Imperials had. “I hope this is the beginning of a mutually beneficial relationship between the Empire and your Alliance.” The empress rolled her shoulders, slipping into negotiations with an ease that Theron admired. “The Sith are tired of being crushed under the Eternal Empire’s boot. We wish to join your cause.”

Theron had to hand it to the Empress; she’d done her homework on the way to gain Fynta’s respect. Acina didn’t waste time with platitudes or compliments. Instead, she admitted a shortfalling, then suggested a remedy like a soldier. Theron made a mental note to research the woman’s previous occupations before she earned the title that made her the most powerful Sith in the Empire.

Fynta stood with her legs shoulder width apart and arms folded, eying Acina. “Are the Sith really up to taking orders from the former commander of Havoc Squad?” Theron felt a strange thrill travel through him at the reminder that Fynta had regained all of her memories. She had become the steadfast leader that he’d known on Rishi, shedding the uncontrollable chaos from before Havoc’s influence.

Acina didn’t hesitate. “We will follow anyone strong enough to defeat Vaylin.” Theron ticked another point in the Empress’s favor. She’d used all the right phrasing when speaking to a Mandalorian. “I am proposing an alliance of two, independent powers against a common foe.” A smirk tried to worm onto Theron’s face, but he beat it down. Vector would be proud of this woman. She tipped her hat to a stronger force without diminishing what her empire could offer. It was beautifully woven.

After that, a few details remained to be ironed out. Fynta, Lana, and Theron would travel to Dromund Kaas at their earliest convenience to brunch with Acina. Plans would be made, resources shared, and treaties signed. It was all very civilized, not at all what Theron had become used to.

Fynta scowled, nodding at the suggestions offered by Lana and Acina. She looked older than Theron remembered, the weight of having the galaxy on her shoulders taking its toll. He realized that this war would finally his friend in the end. Theron decided that he couldn’t let that happen, not after all that Fynta had sacrificed already. Of course, he’d never let her know that he felt that way: he’d never hear the end of it.  

The call ended, and Fynta clapped her hands. “I hear Dromund Kaas is nice this time of year.”

Theron saw the ghost of a smile on Lana’s lips before she managed to press it from existence. He couldn’t fault her at being pleased to have a way back home. Even if that home was a swampy storm of dark fury. “Pack a raincoat.”

Now that the adrenaline from battle and the shock from Acina’s truce were wearing off, Theron wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a private place to update Zolah of the most recent events. He rolled his head to relieve some of the tension that had settled in his shoulders during the encounter and sighed. “Guess it couldn’t hurt to visit.” Lana’s smirk grew into a full smile while Fynta squeezed the bridge of her nose.

An alliance with anyone, even Sith, would be better than how things stood now. Soldiers and civilian resources needed to be fed and housed, and Odessen was quickly reaching the red on both. Maybe Theron could get some decent intel to use as bartering material if he decided to return to the Republic. Of course, that would mean leaving Zolah and Vector behind. He veered from that line of thought before it took him down a path he wasn’t ready to contemplate. He still hadn’t given them an answer about roughing it in Wild Space as a permanent solution.

“I’m curious to see if things have really changed,” Lana added with a wistful note. The woman hadn’t been home for nearly as long as Theron, and she suffered a similar problem. Notiac wasn’t likely to turn Sith, and he didn’t think that Lana was ready to give her Jedi up. Theron entertained himself briefly with the thought of Acina and Notiac reaching an agreement on how best to share Lana, then shuddered when those unchecked thoughts went in a direction that he didn’t want to.

Theron opened his mouth to change the subject, but the sound of approaching boots and an unfamiliar voice cut him off. “Commander.”

Fynta turned towards the soot covered medic jogging in their direction. He looked like he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in weeks, and heavy circles under his eyes proved that sleep was a distant memory. When the man reached normal volume distance, he slowed and waved for Fynta to follow. “I need you to come with me, Commander. Major Jorgan has been injured.”

Find the entire chapter on Ao3 or FFN.