#fillik

[cowboylikemorgan]

I’m about to reach unheard-of levels of yapping

[corellianhounds]

The Acolyte Criticisms, with Suggested Changes

Part 1

Word Count: 7.5k. whatever.

(I should mention that these mostly came from episodes 1 and 2, with minor details up to episode 4. Nothing’s been changed despite having seen episodes 5 and 6 since most of this was written)

My complaints so far with The Acolyte are as follows:

The script is weak and boring to listen to

The show tells the audience exposition, character emotions, and backstory instead of showing us characters and history through actions that develop and unfold naturally on screen as they do things to drive the plot

Characters don’t have significant character flaws or depth and are content to go with the flow without taking actions contrary to what others on their side are doing. Any disagreement is solved with a conversation. If it’s supposed to be a mystery, it’s to be expected that people are going to lie, to snoop, to evade the truth, go digging into questions where they’re not supposed to, and not get along with each other: characters (especially and including ones you’re setting up for a redemption arc) don’t have to be nice

The acting itself is boring to watch because most of the scenes are sitting and talking or standing/walking and talking without building the tension or taking action as they speak, which could also be because—

The settings feel like sets, not lived-in environments

Every obstacle is barely an inconvenience and is easily resolved

Issues with pacing in writing, direction, and editing

Missed opportunities for more interesting, dynamic choices

They’ve already answered a lot of the questions they set up. If you’re going to bill your show as a crime drama/murder mystery, you can’t immediately show all your cards in the beginning, meaning—

There’s no rising tension. Events are simply set up and then they immediately happen. There’s no connective tissue or resistance or compounding storytelling taking us from one place to the next, making it feel like a collection of individual scenes that exist just to tell us the exposition we need, instead of showing us how the characters act and interact within the environment with the other people there

There’s not always a logical cause and effect between the characters, actions, and/or actual dialogue/lines of thought

There are inconsistencies with genre and tone, often leading to failed attempts at both humor and drama

The writers attempts at misdirection are sloppy because the dialogue or actions they do or don’t give are either telegraphed too obviously, or they fall into the category of not having a sense of logical cause and effect within that scene itself regardless of if there’s supposed to be a reveal later. Scenes have to be cohesive on their own.

I’ve had similar criticisms of Kenobi and The Book of Boba Fett. I went into The Acolyte in good faith! The story itself at the core of these characters had potential! I was looking forward to seeing a mystery! But if this is what half of the season is, I don’t have high expectations going forward.

Here are some specifics for episodes 1 and 2 with references to episode 3 below (spoilers abound):

They billed the show as a mystery but they’ve already answered a bunch of questions that were set up in the first two episodes, sometimes within the same scene the question is asked. The characters (and by extension the audience) have a pretty wide understanding of who both Osha and Mae are and where they come from, even if we don’t have the exact details of what happened the night of the fire. Osha and Mae both know the other is alive, we already know who the assassin is without there being another possibility or explanation for them, we know who all of the targets are and where they’re located, we have the motive, and each conflict or scenario they introduce is resolved almost immediately. There’s no rising tension in the story or significant interpersonal conflict between the characters on each side, the characters aren’t that complex, and people too readily accept the answers they’re given with little protest or reactions based on a unique perspective that would make them feel more like people.

Even if who the assassin is, what their motive is, who their targets are, and where those targets are located apparently isn’t the main mystery we’re supposed to be following with the show, all of those questions are put forth and then immediately solved, meaning there’s not really a whole lot of mystery in a storytelling sense. If the main mystery is supposed to actually be about Mae and her master, not the crime drama about the assassinations that the marketing team billed the show as, then they should either have had Mae commit all three assassinations in the first episode while Osha is having to contend with the core cast being suspicious of and finding her, or made those the inciting incidents that happen prior to the show that cause the rest of the story, cutting out most of Mae’s appearances in the episodes to keep her character a mystery and focusing on Osha figuring things out. That gets a lot of things out of the way and opens up a lot more time in the show to explore the characters and move forward with Osha discovering and driving the story herself

I have some criticisms of their choice of technical production and design, but most of them come down to uninteresting camerawork on uninteresting and ineffectual set designs and environments. It feels like they plopped cameras onto singular sets they built to represent the entirety of that location without creating the connective tissue used to show characters going from one place to the next. Characters are in one place before we see them already in the next plot relevant location they need to be in with little travel time. We don’t see them arrive or depart or enter anywhere, they’re simply there. The temple had Sol’s one classroom, and later the jail cell. We didn’t get to see Vernestra following Sol to his office where they could talk about the assassin in private, we didn’t see Sol and Jecki walking out into the halls of the Temple during their discussion of Sol’s connection to Osha, we don’t see Osha traversing the ship and climbing up to the hatch to the outer hull of the freighter, we don’t see Yord and his padawan getting to Osha’s quarters, we don’t see much of the trio on Sol’s ship, we don’t see the escaped prisoners being found or taken to Coruscant, we see Torbin’s room from the same angles every time people are there, etc. etc.

The camerawork doesn’t help either. It feels like it’s being shot by people accustomed to doing theater on a proscenium stage, mid shots for conversations and wide shots for walking and rarely any tracking cameras following movement or pulling back to show travel from one location to another or following characters as they walk away, let alone anything more complex than that. Both the sets and cameras feel stationary, not dynamic and interesting, and it doesn’t help that a lot of the script consists of conversations that take place sitting and talking, or standing and talking. People aren’t DOING anything during these scenes and it’s hard to walk and chew gum at the same time when there doesn’t seem like any action is needed to get from one location to the next, or any obstacles (physical or emotional) forcing them to double back or change trajectory or pursue objectives other than get to the location that character needs to go next for the main plot to happen. It’s just not interesting or dynamic, and while you can tell the actors did what they could with the scripts they were given, the writing is weak and there’s only so much you can do with a bad script.

Character and Plot: Mae

I don’t know what a good alternative would be but I would have liked a different means of provoking the Jedi into a fight outside of Mae intentionally causing havoc and killing/maiming a bunch of people first. It was only after she assaulted the bystanders that they started to fight her back, and she was willing to presumably kill a bunch of other bystanders first as a means of distracting or provoking the Jedi when the Jedi already had engaged her in her fight.

I think Mae’s focus needed to stay on the Jedi because otherwise Mae garnered a lot more attention from local authorities and put a price on her head for drawing the wrong kind of attention (senseless killing of innocent people, causing mayhem and collateral damage and picking fights with everybody, not just the specific person she had beef with), making her overall objective more difficult since assassinations are supposed to be done in stealth, which seems to be how the writers intended for her to be interpreted. If anything, sparing bystanders in order to have them witness a fight where the Jedi attacked first seems like it would support her case after a declaration that the Jedi do attack the unarmed. Is she intended to be seen as a ruthless killer, or are her attacks purposeful, calculated, and premeditated?

If all it took was one small blade to kill Indara, I’m not inclined to believe she’s that good of a Jedi Master. We the audience have seen hundreds of examples of Jedi being trained to combat multiple assailants while experiencing numerous distractions, and we’re supposed to believe Indara couldn’t stop two blades she had time to see and knew were both coming? One of which Mae doesn’t even throw until after Indara has already stopped the other one? What it tells me is that Indara isn’t really that aware of her surroundings and isn’t a seasoned Jedi

That moment would have played better if Mae had thrown both at once, and if we’d seen the evidence of the blade going clean through Indara’s chest to the other side. If Mae is angry and if her use of the Force gave her enough physical strength to kick the four-hundred pound table at ground level earlier, there should be enough force and emotion behind the blade that it drives through Indara’s chest into the post behind her and splinters the wood, buckling the support beam. The showrunners made a Jedi assassination show, so show us what level of ability— Force-powered or otherwise— it takes to assassinate a Jedi. Make it bloody, make it vicious, and convince me this assassin is a legitimate danger.

If they didn’t want to show enough bloodshed to warrant the right audience reaction, my alternate suggestion would have been to have Mae level the building. We could still have Mae choosing to allow the barkeep and his kid to escape, with him being able to act as witness later. If she’s been practicing the Force in secret like the opening lines say, show her using the Force more impressively, or using skills we and the people within the show haven’t seen before. I don’t know if bringing the building down would count as not using a weapon to kill the Jedi, but it would have been a better way to show how someone not formally trained by the Jedi was able to take down a master.

Even if Mae isn’t supposed to have mastery of the Force yet, we need to see her do more than small-scale telekinesis and heightened agility, acrobatics, and strength. Her master can (we assume) be withholding even more impressive dark-side Force powers from her until she completes the mission to kill a Jedi without a weapon, but I don’t quite believe she’s strong enough to evade or defeat the numerous trained Jedi in those first two episodes. It felt like the showrunners were dampening the Jedi’s capabilities in order to make her seem like she could be on their level, when what they should’ve done was elevate Mae to theirs.

I want to see proof she’s being trained by a Dark Force user, and right now she reads as a pretty good infiltrator, but not all that impressive of a killer. All of her skills right now are no different than ones the Jedi already use. Giving her some kind of Dark Force powers would make her more impressive and feel more like a threat, something like a Force lightning whip, or blades of pure energy, or puppeteering bystanders to fight her targets/act as human shields against their will, or pyrokinesis (which tbh would be very cool thematically, especially when it’ll probably later be revealed she didn’t intend to set fire to the coven’s headquarters). Redemption arcs will always be stronger when a character has done some legitimately terrible or horrific things before they change.

—

One of the criticisms I mentioned is the script. There’s frequently unnecessary dialogue; in this opening fight when Indara asks “What are you doing here,” Mae doesn’t have to say “I’m here to kill you” because it’s already obvious by Mae’s actions that’s what she’s there to do. Indara’s real question is either “How did you survive?” if she knows it’s Mae despite all odds, or it’s “Why are you trying to kill me?” if her part in Mae’s past truly is innocent and/or she believes Mae to be Osha (forehead tattoo notwithstanding; Osha left the Order and for all Indara knows there could have been other witches like their coven).

Mae could have simply gone on the offensive without saying anything. If Mae does respond, it shouldn’t be to state the obvious when both Indara and the audience can see what’s happening. Her response could simply be “Retribution,” or “Justice.” That gives the audience motive and intent and tells us more succinctly than anything that there is an established history or past connection between the two characters.

Indara extinguishing her saber in response to “A Jedi doesn’t pull her weapon unless she’s prepared to kill,” seems foolish because even if Mae’s bias is confirmed if Indara keeps her blade ignited, the logical response from a seasoned fighter and defender of the people should have been “If that proves the only way to stop you I will do what I must,” because Mae’s the instigator who made it clear she’s there to kill Indara anyway, we know the Jedi will obviously fight in the name of self defense, and Mae made it a point to hurt a bunch of other people unprovoked in the fight leading up to this line first; how is she any better than the person she’s challenged with that accusation?

If Mae does have a genuine reason to believe what she says, then covertly drawing another blade with the audience knowing her intent results in said audience NOT believing she has a genuine reason to say it and is only using it as a means of getting Indara to lower her defenses. That combined with her instigating an assault on bystanders won’t make the audience see her as a sympathetic character, even if/when her motives against the Jedi are later revealed to be justified. She’s already proven to be deceptive so there isn’t really a reason to believe anything she says regarding her justifications/motive after this 🤷‍♂️

(Unrelated: Though I’m sure it’ll probably be revealed later, I’m not exactly sure why Mae left Indara’s lightsaber if she made it a point to go after it in their fight.)

(A note on the technical side of things: If the story hadn’t immediately revealed and confirmed for the audience in the first two episodes that the assassin is an entirely separate person, part of the mystery as to who the assassin really was could have been the clue that the assassin’s hair is longer than Osha’s. That detail is irrelevant since the reveal happens in episode two though, but if they’d wanted to build the mystery for longer and have us looking for clues and wondering if Osha is the assassin or later wondering which of the two it could be, it would have been good if they gave the assassin the short hair and Osha the longer hair. The first episode already made us suspicious (Is Osha an assassin and a very good liar in the face of questioning, or is she actually innocent because everything she says on the freighter is true and it just happens to be suspicious? Or is Osha being possessed or mind-controlled against her will and without her knowledge into being an assassin for a time, blacking out entirely and waking up with her regular life and lack of memories as the perfect cover? Or is Mae’s spirit inhabiting/controlling the same body as Osha with Osha entirely unawares? If that’s the case, does Mae know that she’s also Osha in that scenario or are both twins kept in the dark?) If it was the case of two separate identical people, on rewatching the episode the audience would have been looking for the clues that would lead to the reveal; an assassin can cut her hair upon returning to her regular life in an attempt to blend back in and cast suspicions of her appearance on Ueda elsewhere, but you can’t grow eighteen inches of hair overnight.)

(But like I said, once you’ve already revealed who the assassin is in this mystery, there’s no reason to rewatch the story in an attempt to see how they set that mystery up, so those suggestions are irrelevant anyway)

—

Exposition, Character Building, and Poor Scripts: Osha and the freighter sequence

The dialogue with Fillik sounds kind of boring because it’s too generic. It could have been made more specific to those people to really show her relationships and history on the freighter, building up suspicions and lack of alibi. An example that comes to mind is Cassian’s introduction back on Ferrix as he’s going through the town, making points of contact with a dozen different people. We really get a sense of who those people are and what they want in just a few lines of dialogue, whereas Osha and Fillik sound like surface-level coworkers; “What I do with my time off is none of your business.” “No rest for the wicked, huh?” “Well the wicked rest, but when they do they usually don’t brag about it.” None of that really gives us anything besides the normal water cooler talk you could get at any office, regardless of whether your coworker may secretly be an assassin.

Since Fillik doesn’t come back in the freighter sequence after their work on the hull, it seems like he’s only there to establish that Osha doesn’t have an alibi for the previous night and Indara’s murder, but if you’re just going to reveal with pretty damning evidence that she didn’t do it in the beginning of the next episode, why set her up to be suspicious in the first place with that dialogue? Either swap it out for something more interesting, or if you want to keep the line because you do intend to keep her a suspect for longer, have Fillik come back towards the end when she’s being questioned.

In that scenario we see this: The door to her bunk is open, he hears her getting upset and goes to investigate, he can vouch for her character to Yord and the padawan, and/or Yord asks him specifically if he was with her the previous night. If Fillik is a close friend and can see Osha’s in trouble he can come up with a lie and cover for her. It can complicate things for Yord and possibly give Osha some time/evidence on her side with an alibi, considering she’s being accused of murder, or Fillik could even be angling to give Osha a chance to escape. If Fillik hesitates because he recalls their first conversation of the day, it could be enough evidence for Yord to conclude that Osha needs to be taken in for questioning.

Either way you do it, you’re using more characters who have already been established as a means of organically complicating the plot and interactions in the next few scenes, weaving these people together and opening up more opportunities for organic exposition so we don’t have to hear the same things being said twice

—

Exposition: Telling vs. Showing

I mentioned above that there doesn’t seem to be a logical cause and effect happening within the show. If they suspect someone of killing a Jedi Master, why are they sending a knight and a padawan to apprehend them? It doesn’t matter if Yord knows Osha: the fact a Jedi was killed should have told the council that 1. The assassin obviously has an issue with them, so any prior history between them is negligible and 2. The assassin is powerful enough to kill a Master, therefore two people of lower ranks with less experience and capabilities are not likely to succeed where a Master failed, and the council is putting them in danger by doing so.

Moving on to exposition: Audiences shouldn’t be hearing exposition through one character telling somebody’s entire backstory out loud, especially when the person they’re saying it to is the one they’re talking about. The entire questioning scene with Tasi and Yord is telling the audience who Osha is and how Osha came to the temple and the tragic circumstances under which she got there. It’s boring to listen to and it’s bad, lazy storytelling. It seems like the writers had a bunch of information to get out in order to move to the next plot point, and it won’t be the last time it happens. Osha’s backstory should have been revealed in relevant bits and pieces as circumstances developed.

Within the scene, Osha should have had a much stronger reaction to Yord bringing up the topic of grief (especially if they both know it’s not something she was able to reconcile). He’s the one who showed up out of the blue and brought it up and forced her to talk about something personal in front of a stranger.

In my opinion, I don’t think Yord should’ve known anything prior to Osha’s arrival at the temple. It leaves no questions to be answered for later; mysteries (and stories in general) are supposed to start with a lot of unanswered questions.

A way to change the scene on the freighter is to instead have first had a scene on Yord’s ship before he and the padawan arrive. We see Yord deep in thought, conflicted about having to arrest an old friend especially given the crime that’s been committed, and Tasi Lowa is introduced by listing the mission details on a datapad, going through it again before they dock but realizing Yord’s acting uncharacteristically quiet or somber, and asking Yord why it’s significant that he was sent to apprehend this person in the first place. Yord is reluctant to answer, Tasi presses for more information, Yord eventually reveals that the target is somebody he knows.

“… How do you know an accused murderer?” Tasi says carefully.

Yord’s expression remains conflicted as he docks the ship, not meeting his padawan’s eye. “Because we trained together at the Temple.”

This creates intrigue regarding Osha, tells the audience the council chose Yord specifically, that silence and somberness is out of character for Yord, and that Tasi is forward thinking and inexperienced, hence her need to ask questions.

I think I would have liked for Yord to at least attempt to compel Osha to tell the truth since that’s what he did to the Nemoidian officer on the bridge. Osha resists because he didn’t ask. Her being able to resist further establishes that she had training at the temple, showing rather than telling us more about her character. How she responds to that compulsion would inform Yord (by extension the audience) of her character, and regardless of her emotional response it raises suspicions around her.

On the other side, Yord could ask her if he could search her mind for the truth and if she says no -> suspicious, but if she says yes and he can’t find anything, it gives his character reason to doubt she did it, furthering the mystery, though his padawan could then point out “Unless she really is powerful enough to have killed a Jedi Master, which means she’s powerful enough to hide it from you.” Everything can be used to further the conflict and give it more complexities while still feeling like the natural progression the story would take. Yord will ultimately decide during the span of questioning, given what else they glean from her responses and Fillik’s possible interruption, that even if he could sense she was telling the truth they should still bring her in. Maybe a Jedi Master will be able to tell if she’s lying.

Having Yord be quiet, observing Osha’s responses while Tasi questions her on her whereabouts and opinions on the Order and Indara would have also built up his character as intelligent/capable of deductive reasoning and cautious/prepared in the face of danger, thus being the right choice to send on a mission to apprehend somebody who they believe capable of killing a Jedi Master. He shouldn’t have been revealing all of his cards while he was there in the first place— People will reveal themselves as they talk the longer you stay quiet.

Now the questioning scene is open to them asking specific questions regarding Osha’s recent activity without being bogged down by the past. The padawan goes in understanding why they doubly need to remain on guard, she’s able to ask questions specific to Osha’s whereabouts and see if she has an alibi with witnesses for the night before, Yord is able to ask questions specific to the Temple without having to spell everything out, and Osha can gather from their questioning that a crime has been committed and that she’s considered a suspect. Yord asks Osha questions specific to Osha’s past relationship with Master Indara, tensions rise between them as Osha starts to ask her own questions, piecing things together and asking what happened to Indara, Fillik could come in and the questioning broadens to him like above, and the four of them are interrupted by the witness being escorted in and saying “That’s her, she’s the one that killed the Jedi!”

The scene has its own building tension, we get exposition in the form of forward momentum, characters discovering things as they happen, and it would logically (like it should have in the canon scene) result in Osha having a much stronger response and protestations at being wrongfully accused of a pretty heinous crime against somebody she had no reason to kill. She should have been either verbally or physically fighting back/resisting being dragged away, the revelation as much a surprise to her as it would have been to the Jedi including Yord and Tasi when they heard it at the temple. Her protests can still be followed up with her vehement denial of such a thing, fiercely stating that she knows the council will believe her. Depending on how you want character relationships to develop, Yord can either try and fail to remain neutral as he’s cuffing Osha as she pleads and we can see that it’s a genuine struggle for him, or he manages to control his emotions to the point he can appeal to hers, telling her not to fight, that they’ll take it up with the council

—

Always Be Introducing Your Characters

I have to say I don’t really care about Jecki Lon, and indifference to a character is almost worse than active dislike. There are really no strong opinions to be had one way or another because she’s not really that interesting and there’s nothing that really ties her to the plot other than to be someone to ask Sol questions he can give exposition to. She doesn’t have any flaws, she doesn’t have her own objectives, and she’s kind of dull to listen to like the rest of the side characters.

Considering her introduction is with the “Doomed to repeat the past if we don’t learn from it” conversation with Sol, I thought Jecki, Sol’s current padawan, was going to be a mirror to Osha, Sol’s past padawan, but there hasn’t been enough significant development on her part with (or without) Sol for there to be any strong correlations or parallels.

To establish some sense of objective and character flaw it would have been good for her to go digging into Osha’s past and information the Jedi temple would have on her so that 1. The audience receives exposition in a more natural way than her and Yord just straight up asking Sol a bunch of (potentially painful) questions for the audience’s sake on the ship, and 2. So we see more of her character and she’s given a proactive goal and interest of her own in the story. Right now she still feels like she’s tacked on to be an extra set of hands and act as a mouthpiece for exposition. I don’t really get much of a sense of individuality or character from her outside of “follows rules,” which isn’t enough to interest me.

A way to improve the exposition and tell us more about both her and Yord’s characters is if Jecki started digging through Sol’s personal effects on the ship or was shown to have stolen a temple dossier or files from Sol’s office to look through and get some more background on Osha since Sol should have been more evasive about answering questions about Osha, reserving his thoughts for when he’s able to track her down. Sol has already shown resistance to her questioning his past with Osha, so it would be only natural for her to continue investigating.

Jecki could have been established with the rule-following characterization but then shown starting to bend the rules after Sol evades some (better-written) more pointed questions, going against what her own character would prefer, because she sees her master not abiding by the rules they both should already know to be true (not allowing one’s attachments to interfere with what needs to be done for the greater good). It gives her enough internal justification to satisfy her curiosity, since investigation is part and parcel to how mysteries as a genre work in the first place.

With the change of Yord only knowing about Osha’s past at the temple, he wouldn’t think to go digging into anything prior to her time there since he’d have no reason to think it had a bearing on the current investigation. When Jecki’s curiosity compels her to snoop, the scene on the ship becomes more interesting because Yord could’ve caught her and started to reprimand her (also being a stickler for the rules) before she asks him if he knew anything about Osha’s past. Osha’s homeworld, details about the coven, the fire, how it was started, or the fact Osha had a twin who didn’t survive are all possible pieces of exposition Jecki and by extension Yord could find that feel more natural under these circumstances, and it gives those two characters reason to be suspicious of any leeway Sol grants Osha when they find her. Any or all of it reveals something to Sol’s current padawan about his past one, setting up how Jecki (and Yord) will interact with Osha and Sol down the road.

As the two of them discuss what they’ve found, drawing conclusions and debating in whispers, neither realize their absences were noticed, and ultimately that’s when Sol catches them both

Sol either closes off their line of questioning (their specific questions revealing more of what either character prioritizes, Sol’s responses revealing more of his own character), or he could give a cryptic, heavy answer that tells them enough to realize something bad went down that night, shutting the both of them up. It leaves questions unanswered to come up later, it reveals more of the characters, and it sets up Yord and Jecki to have their own perspectives that develop over the course of the story. They get the same information as in canon in a more interesting way, and it keeps Sol from flat out stating something he then immediately goes back on when he meets Osha again at the end of the episode. Jecki now has to wonder what it is about the past Sol doesn’t want to repeat, and at the end of this episode when Jecki and Yord see Sol save Osha and refuse to handcuff her, the two of them could then share a look of trepidation after Sol and Osha pass, both thinking the same thing: Sol may already be too emotionally compromised to make clear calls regarding the alleged murderer in their midst, and they need to watch/listen to him carefully moving forward. That creates a source of interpersonal conflict that will keep the characters (and by extent the audience) asking the right questions as the mystery unfolds.

The Jedi rule warning against attachments is meant to be a self-imposed accountability measure against caring about any singular person or thing above doing what is best for the greater good. Because the Jedi were a specific order of people dedicated to protecting others, it wasn’t just a belief system but a lifestyle combined with a martial art and specific training in the Force. A Jedi’s relationships with other people, regardless of how good and selfless they are, cannot take precedence above doing what is necessary to save or protect the most amount of people. They knew if they allowed their emotions to cloud their judgment, they were capable of harm (either directly or through negligence) greater than that of the average person because they had been specifically trained with those abilities.

Depending on how you wanted Jecki’s character to evolve throughout the season, her curiosity could either lead to jealousy, if Sol genuinely does start to neglect her in favor of Osha (even if its not purposeful on his part, Osha just happens to be who the story/mission is centered around), or it could lead to a more mature response of seeing Sol more of a peer to be held accountable and less of a mentor to be admired and followed with few questions as she nears the end of her time as a padawan, meaning she’s concerned his own perspective will be compromised because he loves Osha too much to remain objective.

Either of those could result in a more severe fight with Sol later on when he inevitably does make a bad call, and regardless of Jecki’s progress leading to that point, even righteous anger directed towards holding him accountable can be interesting and still done in a way that audiences haven’t seen before. Holding one’s mentor accountable and saying the hard things that need to be done without involving one’s own emotional attachment to the relationship creates plenty of opportunities for drama, hard decisions/discussions, and character development, furthering Jecki’s standing as someone committed to following the rules because the rules are there for a reason. That response from somebody younger and less experienced would be harder for Sol to take as opposed to people higher than him on the council. Jecki wouldn’t even have to take issue with Osha personally for that to develop, which gives her own character inner conflict as well. Any or all of that would have been a unique perspective and character we haven’t seen yet from Star Wars, and it gives the characters actionable objectives to pursue or work around the rest of the story.

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Humor/Tone Falling Flat, Undermining Characterizations and Tension

A lot of the humor doesn’t land for me because the jokes either feel like ones we’ve heard before that are now overdone, or they feel out of place within the progression of the scene, story, or characterizations, as though the writers came up with a bunch of jokes and tried to write the scenes around setting those jokes up. I’m not sure if it’s been done in an attempt to keep the show from being “too dark,” or if the target audience is younger than I initially thought, but to me they really just aren’t working.

The one that immediately comes to mind in these early episodes is Jecki’s attempt at conveying what kind of person Yord is (or what she thinks of him) by her tone, leading into a gratuitous shirtless scene with Yord that… doesn’t really tell us anything about his character. If you’re going to have a shirtless scene it has to mean something, but he’s just. Idk, deodorizing his robe for some reason. Leading right into a scene with him after the padawan’s complaint should convey to the audience something indicative of his character since the padawan’s delivery of “he’s just… Yord,” implies there’s no other explanation needed for whatever annoying thing he does that is supposedly consistent with his personality

I don’t care that it’s a shirtless scene, my complaint is that it’s unfunny, tonally out of sync, and doesn’t tell us anything besides that Jecki finds him annoying for some unspecified reason. Shirtless scenes have to say something about the character and/or the story or they’re just eye candy for the audience, which in this story feels cheap, confusing, and out of place.

Anakin’s shirtless scene while having/waking up after a nightmare in Revenge of the Sith tells us that not only does that character feel vulnerable, but that he’s there in Padme’s bed next to her and there’s a clear reason why he was there in the first place.

Princess Leia being forced into a slave girl outfit tells us a lot about her situation in Jabba’s Palace, and it tells us a lot about Jabba the Hutt and the denizens of the court. While she is also pretty obvious eye candy for the audience, it also highlights that the one person she loves romantically, who also loves her, is blind the entire time and never sees her at all, which is important for Han Solo’s characterization later when he makes his feelings clear to her, showing the audience it was never just a physical thing for them.

Yord’s not not showing off/flirting with anybody in say, a sparring arena where he’s justified in not wearing a shirt, so he’s not showing off either his appearance or skill in an attempt to impress people. He’s not lifting weights or preening in front of a mirror or fixing his hair, something that would tell us he’s concerned about his appearance, which means it’s not a case of vanity either, and nothing up to that point (or past that, seeing Episode 4, therefore half the season) tells us either of those things are part of his character.

That leads me to think the scene was supposed to be a way for the directors to tell the audience the padawan (and possibly by extent other people at the temple?) finds Yord insufferable or vain or shallow in some way, and that that’s supposed to suffice as the source of conflict/disagreement between those characters moving forward. However, that character attribute isn’t consistent with what we’ve seen of Yord so far, and nothing following that scene reinforces those ideas at all. If anything, Yord’s got the most objective eye and all of his suggestions and protests are reasonable. I think his plan in Episode 2 regarding Qimir in the apothecary was better as opposed to just blindly sending Osha in not knowing anything about this guy or the nature of his and Mae’s relationship or even what she’s supposed to say once she’s in there. For all they know these two covert assassins could speak with each other in an entirely different language in order to cover their tracks.

All of that ends up making that scene feel gratuitous and out of sync with the characterizations up to and at the end of the episode. It doesn’t serve any purpose other than to make Yord eye candy for the audience, which feels cheap, distracting, and a little insulting to the actor in my opinion, and if it was an attempt at humor, it falls flat because it wasn’t really anything to begin with. I don’t care if you as the writer/director think it’s a fun moment. If it detracts from or doesn’t add to the story, cut it out or make it better and have it mean something.

—

Environmental Storytelling: Technical Design and Production

Neither Osha or Fillik feel like they’re in the vacuum of space because their tethers float, but they look like they’re moving with regular gravity. If the boots are supposed to give them traction and keep them grounded, it should take more effort to lift them to walk. Their torsos and arms would move differently regardless.

I bring it up because if employed mekneks aren’t supposed to be human because it’s too dangerous of a job, prove to me that the danger is real just by virtue of the fact they ARE outside in space.

This would be a minor thing I’d be willing to overlook if technical and design flaws didn’t keep coming up and taking me out of the story. These environments are supposed to feel lived in and in doing so the action would feel more like it was happening to characters rather than actors. It’s the difference between the practical effects of Jurassic Park still holding up today because there are actual sets and tangible puppets and animatronics to move around and respond to, versus the almost exclusively CGI dinosaurs and parts of the sets used for Jurassic World (or to use a Star Wars example, the difference between the acting in the original trilogy vs the prequels). You can tell when actors don’t have a physical set to work with— Their performances are going to feel more genuine if they’re not just backdropped by blue screens, green screens, or in this case, the computer-generated Volume.

There doesn’t feel like there’s as much of a sense of danger, which keeps the story from building background tension or feeling complicated on an environmental level. Hoth looks and feels and affects the actors as if it’s freezing in Empire Strikes Back because they were shooting on a glacier. They made the Tauntaun feel like a creature because even after the puppet froze, even after the bellows to make it breathe froze, the props master had everyone grab a bunch of cigarettes and blow smoke into a bag specifically so they could get a shot of the Tauntaun’s breath fogging the air.

Conversely, the ice planet in the first episode of The Acolyte doesn’t feel dangerous because we don't see the environment affect the characters. None of the actors act like they’re in sub-zero temperatures, save for the second time we see Osha wake up (though that doesn’t carry through to her going out in the blizzard and being in the cave); even if you argue that the Jedi have some supernatural way of keeping themselves warm without wearing extra layers, that’s still a conscious choice they’d have to make and we need to see it happen or acknowledged, and Osha should still have been affected regardless. There’s never a single moment we see any of the characters’ breath fog the air.

It’s the kind of practical effect you notice because it’s missing. Osha should have had ice stuck to her hair and over her skin, her lips chapped and changing color, we should have been able to see her breath, and she should have been shivering violently at having crash landed on a snow planet and been unconscious long enough for the snow to pile up in drifts. I’d argue there’s even a pretty notable example of what it looks like for a main Star Wars character to wake up after being knocked unconscious and exposed to the ice and snow for hours on end. If you feel that’s an unfair comparison, I direct you to episode 3 of this same show when the coven is out on the mountain and you CAN see their breath in the air. If you have enough money to CGI a starship, you have enough money to add that in post.

Another example of the set not effectively telling the story is the apothecary in the second episode. It looked like a bar, nothing’s labeled or has a sense of organization or specificity the way a lab or pharmacy would have, Qimir is passed out as if he’d been drinking, and the dialogue of “sampling the merchandise” has been used before in a lot of other media to reference drugs or alcohol, so the audience isn’t going to conclude that it’s an apothecary. The scene where Qimir makes the poison feels too convenient and a little odd since they made it look and sound like he’s easily mixing up a cocktail, and he's not even hunting around the shop for specific ingredients, explaining what he’s doing when she asks him to make something on the fly, instead just grabbing a couple unmarked bottles within arm’s length.

(A side note: If Mae grew up using bunta for hunting, how does she not know how to make the poison for master Torbin herself?)

The end scene of episode two is another standout example of both the bad script and ineffective set design. The scrappers trekking through the forest are shot on a well defined path clear of brush with an obvious view of the ship they “stumble upon,” which makes the line “Hey look a ship! I bet we can scrap it for parts!” seem silly since it’s pretty openly and conveniently placed within their path and line of sight. The dialogue is pretty sparse and cliché (“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this!”) before they walk right onto the next set location we need them to get to for plot reasons all “Oh look, I wonder what that could be 🤔.” If these two are lost in the woods, give us a view of them in profile obscured by trees and actively wading through brush at chest height while they bicker, and then make them stumble out into the clearing or notice the ship through the trees and go to investigate. If the showrunners are trying to tell us the Wookiee Jedi is in a hard-to-reach remote location in the middle of nowhere, they failed to do that because it looks pretty easy to just walk right into this guy’s front yard. If he’s in self-exile or hiding on purpose, have him shoot a warning shot from inside or on top of the ship, or have the scrappers fall into some traps or something. Do something more specific to tell us about the world or characters

—

Most of the above complaints stem from a poorly written story, and what results means it’s not interesting to watch even as a layman or passive viewer. They have some really interesting ideas, but without good scripts, you can’t come up with interesting characters or actions for those characters to do because you haven’t written those characters with enough specificity or conflicting goals. Combine that with minimalist sets that don’t create enough of an environment to interact with and you can’t do any interesting camerawork. Having exposition given almost entirely through dialogue leaves no room for visual or environmental storytelling and missed opportunities for places where characters’ past and relationships could be furthered through the expressions they have and the actions we see them take. There’s no building upon the scenes we’ve already seen, there’s no layers or nuance to peel away, and the characters telling each other everything— often including those characters feelings— means the audience doesn’t have to work to piece anything together. At best the story feels like a simple junior high novel with little narrative tension or understanding of how complicated socio-political issues interconnect and the characters have little depth and aren’t strong enough to even compel me to go along for the ride.

The show has some really talented actors who I’ve seen do good work before and I wish they’d gotten the chance to have a better story. I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed 🤷‍♂️

[jewishcissiekj]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Acolyte (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Osha Aniseya & Fillik Characters: Osha Aniseya, Fillik, Pip the droid, Blex - Character Additional Tags: Slice of Life, Pre-Canon, Short & Sweet Summary:

Pip is gone, and it's up to Osha and Fillik to find him.

[septemberlikeastorm]

osha flirting with fillik saying the wicked don't brag about what they get up to? osha getting a sus tattoo on a wild night with the crew?? osha flirting with jecki saying she's more flexible than a droid???

rip verosha aniseya you would have LOVED brat summer

when her life is not Actively Falling Apart, osha is fun & flirty & no one will ever take that away from me

[unhinged-summer-fun]

edāx (oshamir)

edāx (Latin) greedy, gluttonous, voracious, devourer.

Rating: Explicit (22+)

Pairing: Osha Aniseya x The Stranger "Qimir"

Summary: Osha goes out with Fillik after all, and makes the acquaintance of a dangerous man — if he is a man at all.

Warnings: Vampire AU and all that entails, sexual content. 11k word count deserves a warning.

A/N: This is my gift for @tourmaline-dream for the Oshamir Holiday Gift Exchange 2024! I hope you like ittttt~ And many thanks to @starlightafterastorm for betaing this fic <3

“Would you quit looking at him?” Fillik hissed across the table. Their section of the cantina was loud enough that he didn’t have to whisper, but the quieter reprimand got the point across better than if he’d spoken regularly or even if he’d shouted it. None of the other nearby diners seemed to notice them—but that wasn’t unusual in this end of the galaxy.

Osha returned to herself, snapping from her reverie as if Fillik had poured his fussy little mixed drink on her head. The breath Osha took was ragged, like she’d been holding her breath—or forgotten how to breathe entirely. She avoided responding to the remark, this time gazing in the opposite direction of the man who’d caught her attention.

Her restraint lasted for all of three seconds before she peeked back at the shadier side of the dining area, catching a glimpse of dark hair, pale skin, eyes that glinted crimson—

“Osha,” Fillik said at a normal volume, flapping a sticky menu in her periphery to act as blinders. “You have the subtleness of a bantha, my friend. At least get up and talk to him instead of just gawking.”

“What are you talking about?” she said, breathing out in a slow, controlled exhale that did nothing to calm her nerves. Stars, but that man had rattled her from across the room.

“You’re going to have no chance at picking that guy up if you just stare at him like—”

“Like what?”

“Like he’s going to eat you or something.”

She rolled her eyes and sipped her drink, shaking her head at her friend. “I’m not here to pick anybody up, Fil.” Osha slapped at the flimsi he held up as a privacy barrier. Despite her protests, she checked again.

The man was gone.

Disappointment filled her chest, heavy and cold. The feeling sharply shifted to tension, hairs standing on end when—

“Hello.”

A deep voice, smooth as whiskey and dark as night, cut through all her thoughts with exacting precision. Her mouth went dry despite the taste of her drink still on her tongue, and she turned to look up at the person next to her, up and up and—

Dark hair with eyes to match, pale skin with teeth to match, bared in a half-smile that made some primal side of her soul shiver. Up close, the stranger looked even more fascinating, all cheekbones, lips, and jaw that would have looked ridiculous on any other face—but he wore his features comfortably, not an ounce of insecurity hidden on his person. She only caught a glimpse of his teeth before the smile grew closed-lipped, but she swore she saw something predatory around his canine teeth: too long, that primal soul said. Too sharp. Too dangerous.

But Osha had never let that little voice stop her before. She was a meknek, for fuck’s sake. She took strolls through space and risked her life every other day to distract her from the nightmarish silence of space.

“Hello,” Osha said, feeling a little silly. The stranger’s brown eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Hi,” he said, and damn, there was that flash of a tooth again. It caught her breath, but not before she made an even greater fool of herself.

“Hi.”

Silence rolled in like the tide, awkwardness threatening to overtake their meeting.

“Please join us,” Fillik said, breaking the silence. When he caught her eye, he raised his eyebrows and gave her a look that probably meant, don’t be weird and act like a normal person.

The man slid gracefully into the seat beside Osha, and from this close, she caught a glimpse of long, dark eyelashes. It may have been the harsh lighting of the spaceport’s refectory, but he seemed almost sickly pale were it not for the grace of his movements that spoke to his relatively good health. Fillik cleared his throat, pulling her head out of the nebulae and back to solid ground.

“Um.”

This was going great.

“What’s your name?” the stranger murmured, lips moving only as much as necessary to communicate. It made her lean in, as magnetized to him as her boots were to the outer hulls of starships.

“Osha,” she whispered, even softer than he’d spoken. An amused expression crossed his face, one eyebrow raising so naturally she almost didn’t notice it. She said again, louder, “I’m Osha. This is Fillik.”

Her friend didn’t seem too convinced of her normal person act, but he stifled his teasing in favor of taking on the role of a wingman. “We’re mekneks.”

The stranger hadn’t looked away from Osha once. “How daring,” he commented, the other eyebrow joining the first before his expression relaxed.

Osha’s small-talk abilities fizzled like a dying candle when the stranger didn’t offer his name or profession. “You don’t have a drink,” she said bluntly.

Fillik looked like he wanted to run headfirst into the nearest wall as hard as possible.

But the stranger wasn’t repelled by her awkwardness. The corners of his lips inched upward, and his eyes finally strayed from hers, dipping downward but not scandalously so. No, his eyes seemed more focused on her collarbone, tracing the delicate line of it back and forth with so much intensity it was almost a caress.

“I don’t drink all that much,” he said, still smiling softly, secrets galore held behind his lips.

“A cantina’s kind of a weird place to be, then,” Osha said. She heard Fillik suck in a breath, almost wincing at her observation.

“I was looking for a bite,” he shrugged. “Something smelled good over here.”

For the briefest moment, as his mouth wrapped around the word bite, Osha could have sworn she saw that impossible glint of too-sharp, too-long, dangerous teeth again. But at his affable, easygoing shrug, she stifled that instinctual urge to flee. Heart racing, she didn’t know what to do or say besides sit there and breathe.

“Oh, a menu.”

The stranger reached across the table, his hand glancing over Osha’s wrist. She flinched at the sharp, biting cold of his skin when it brushed hers. It reminded her of the frost that collected on her exo-suit after a long shift. After those shifts, when she stepped into the tepid spray of a shower, her body reacted to the warmth as if it were open flames. She wondered what her skin felt like to him, and watched his expression carefully. He must have felt something when he touched her, but his expression gave nothing away.

“Do you recommend anything?” the stranger asked, acknowledging Fillik. A brief thrill of satisfaction raced through Osha as Fillik straightened up beneath the stranger’s piercing, dark stare.

“What’d you see that smelled good?” he managed to stammer.

The stranger’s eyes flicked to Osha briefly—so briefly that she had to write off the red glint that reflected from behind his irises. Stars, but something about that was familiar. Her poleaxed expression gave way to outright curiosity, but on Osha’s face, it looked more like a glare.

Fillik and the stranger exchanged words, agreeing on what to order. Osha observed the stranger with blatant curiosity. She wasn’t used to this whole flirting thing, as much as Fillik tried to convince her otherwise. Yet, without a single word, she’d seemed to snare this gorgeous man’s attention from across a crowded room. To Osha’s surprise, Fillik rose from the table to get the order—“I wanted to get another round anyway. Be right back.”

She’d never seen him walk so fast.

This left her alone with the stranger, who turned to her as he’d done before. Now that she thought about it, he’d never not been facing her. Even when he spoke to Fillik, he’d only turned his head a little. His entire body seemed trained on her, and she didn’t know what to do with that kind of attention.

“Osha,” he said, drawing her name out like a song and ending it on an almost-whisper. The curling smile on his lips made her wonder if he was addressing her or testing out the feel of her name on his tongue. “Do you like being a meknek?”

Startled by the question, she answered honestly. “I like being paid for it.”

This shocked a laugh out of him—throaty, deep, and warm. With his head tilted back, she got a full view of his teeth, and there was no denying it now.

Those were fangs.

But she’d been a meknek for six years now and seen all kinds of species from all sorts of places. Plenty of species have fangs, she reasoned. Carnivorous species, her instincts added. And how many of them look like humans?

Just one, she thought.

She bit back the question that threatened to spill out of her mouth, content with just watching him enjoy himself, even if she was what amused him so. In all honesty, his laugh and the sight of those fangs made a coil of desire tighten in her gut so quickly that it almost stole her breath. “What’s so funny?” she asked once she regained her composure.

“You,” he said, leaning an elbow on the table and resting his head on his fist. He no longer hid his teeth behind a smile; he grinned widely, showing off the lethal points of his canine teeth. She knew, evolutionarily, that a smile was meant to set people at ease, promising good intentions. On him, however, his smile seemed to promise something far more primal and bloody. “Most would lie or, at the very least, give a neutral answer. You, however, seem to have no problem being honest with a stranger.”

“How do you know I’m not lying? That I’m not harboring a deep passion for thrill-seeking and advanced mechanics?”

His head tilted to the side, eyes sliding back to her collarbones and back up again. She gripped her drink to keep herself from shivering. “I’d know if you were lying,” he said.

“How? Are you—” That damn word stuck in her mouth. Jedi. Even now, the memory still pained her. She shoved it away.

The stranger was kind enough not to make her finish her thought. “Your heartbeat,” he explained. “For many people, especially humans, their heart races when they lie.”

Something about how he phrased it struck a nerve, like an old memory was stirring, vying for her attention.

Just one.

His hand reached out, but he didn’t touch her. His hands were so cold, Osha could feel it from where they hovered just over her skin, just above her pulse. He didn’t need to touch her to know her heart had skipped a beat. Osha got the feeling he was more than aware of her heartbeat, even without reaching out to her.

He continued, “Some humans can fool themselves with their lies, making it harder to tell when they aren’t telling the truth.” Those ice-cold fingertips trailed over her neck, still hovering above her skin. Across her collarbone before he returned his hand to where it rested on the table.

“Then how do you tell if they’re lying?”

“It’s in their eyes.”

She looked up at him again, unaware of her wandering gaze. That crimson glint returned, strengthening and blooming behind his brown irises. In just a few heartbeats, the rich color overtook it entirely. At a glance, his eyes wouldn’t have been anything but dark, but up close like this, they were near-luminous in the way a predator’s eyes would be, lit up from the darkness.

That familiar feeling returned, this time with a name.

“You’re a vampire,” she whispered.

His head tilted back to center, and his face gave nothing away. “Does that scare you?” he asked. She caught no hint of threat or menace in his voice, just open curiosity. It was probably a deliberate choice.

“I don’t think it does,” she said with a breathy laugh. She didn’t sit back, but she didn’t rock forward either—as much as she wanted to.

“You aren’t sure if you’re scared of me?” he said, letting a trickle of amusement back into his tone.

“You say that like you want the answer to be yes,” she countered. She had no idea where this bravery and boldness came from.

“Yes or no, it doesn’t matter,” he shrugged, a mask of indifference settling in over his features.

“It does, though,” Osha insisted.

His eyes sharpened on her, flashing as red as the neon sign some twenty feet behind him. “Then answer the question, Osha. Are you scared of me?”

Her mothers had taught her about all manner of things before they died. Her and Mae’s training with the Thread had only been part of it; although they grew up sheltered, they had not grown up ignorant of the ways of the galaxy.

There are others, Mother Aniseya instructed, who are powerful and feared and hunted, like us. Those who seek power from the night, like us. Those whose power is a right by blood.

Should we fear them too? Mae asked then, inquisitive and eager.

You should fear nothing, my girls, their mother had answered with a smile. When the fearsome things that walk the darkness brush against each other, you will know them, and they will know you. You will not be afraid. The monsters who hide within the sunshine are the ones to be wary of.

She hadn’t explained what that meant at the time, nor could she now, but the look she’d given Osha felt full of meaning that only seemed to make sense at this very second.

“I’m not scared of you,” Osha said, realizing almost after the fact that she was telling the whole truth of it. Her heart still raced; would he think she was lying? The look he gave her was still indecipherable.

Objectively, she knew her mother’s guidance was meant to cultivate a child’s curiosity and encourage open-mindedness but not recklessness. After her death, the Jedi had impressed upon her just the opposite: a deep sense of caution and suspicion toward others. They also stifled her inquisitive nature. Questioning the masters at the Jedi Temple always ended in reprimand. Curious adventures into the restricted section of the Archives resulted in punishments. Her attachment and investment in the family she lost ultimately led to her expulsion from the Order. But six years had passed since, and she’d more than shaken off the rust from a decade’s worth of stifled instincts. That old recklessness had returned. 

If playing with fire would burn her, at least she’d die warm.

“Was that not the answer you wanted?” she asked dryly, draining the rest of her drink while she waited for an answer.

His eyes fixated on her throat as she swallowed, giving the gaze a different connotation, but one that didn’t evoke fear—at least not in her. The vampire leaned back, his face still an inscrutable mask. He couldn’t hide his eyes from her, however. The turbulent clouds of red in his irises churned like a maelstrom in a sea of blood.

Maybe she wouldn’t burn. Maybe she’d drown by the end of this.

“I think I like your answer,” he said, allowing half a smirk.

“You only think you like it?” Osha challenged.

He gave her the rest of his smirk. “Well met, Osha.”

They stared at one another for a while, letting silence fall between them even as the crowded cantina chattered away, oblivious to what was happening. She felt a static build-up in those few inches between them—between his hand and hers, where they rested on the table. As a meknek, she was trained to be cautious of electrostatic energy. (As a human, she was taught to be cautious of any creature that wanted her blood.)

“Why did you come over here?” Osha asked.

“Why were you looking at me?” he parried.

“I asked you first.”

“I’m sure they have the same answer,” he said with another sharp grin.

Because you intrigued me. Because I wanted to know more about you. Because I felt like there was no other choice but you.

Osha dropped the matter, running her fingers along the rim of her glass. She wished Fillik would return; she was so damned awkward around strangers—

He spoke so softly that she almost didn’t catch it. “You can call me Qimir.”

A new expression had replaced the intentionally blank face he had before. Now, he looked softer around the edges, more welcoming and trustworthy. Harmless with a touch of the uncanny, but not so much as the wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing smiles he’d given before. How much of this look was real? Was this another ploy to get her guard down? Was he still trying to scare her?

Osha swallowed down her unease, remembering her mother’s advice. You will not be afraid.

So she met his eyes. “It’s nice to meet you, Qimir.”

His eyes crinkled up in the corners as he smiled this time, and a pulse of truth came to her in such a way that she hadn’t felt since... Since…

He wasn’t only a vampire. But the answer of what else he was seemed well out of reach.

This thrilled her even more, but some mysteries were more fun left unsolved—for now. “When you said you were looking for a bite…”

His features took on a boyish tint, teasing and playful. “I wasn’t lying,” he said. “Man’s gotta eat.”

“That he does,” she murmured, allowing herself to look at the rest of him.

His clothes were baggy and misshapen, hanging off of him in a way that hid the powerful, muscular body beneath. From this close (and the brief look she’d gotten of his forearms), he was like a coiled snake, strength radiating off of him in a way that no amount of baggy clothes could hide. Added to how he towered over her just a few minutes ago, he gave off an aura that felt genuinely intimidating. She was confident that if she stood beside him, he would seem even more imposing than before. He’d moved so silently, too; there was no outrunning him.

She pictured him and her in some dark nook of the spaceport, bathed in shadows and intertwined. His mouth at her neck, his hands wherever they wanted to be, her legs around his middle as he drank and fed—

He sucked in a sharp breath, and exhaled in a quiet groan. The noise was so deep that she could feel it in her fingertips. His expression had shifted again, the crimson in his eyes whipping around near-violently. “What?” she asked.

“What are you thinking about right now?” he asked, his voice rough and deep.

“I’m—” Osha’s face flared with heat, and she prepared to lie. But she felt that rush of blood in her ears, her heart rate kicking up—

He smirked, realizing her intent before she did.

“Nothing,” she said, just to cover her ass.

“Liar,” he smirked, one hint of fang flashing from his lips.

The sight, the reminder, brought her imagination to new heights, picturing those fangs sinking into a vein, those lush lips sealing around her skin and sucking, drawing her blood into his mouth—

“Osha,” he rasped, his voice nearly a growl. His hands flexed, and his skin was so pale that even the whites of his knuckles didn’t show. “You don’t want to play this game with me.”

“Why not?” she asked, cursing the breathy quality of her voice.

To anyone else, he would have looked relaxed. To her, she knew his composure was in tatters, that whatever control he had was fraying by the second. A brief flash of concern, of desperation, gusted through his eyes. “I am… perhaps not as well-fed as I should be.” He couldn’t meet her eyes, focusing now on her neck and collarbone.

Her heart did flips in her chest, and her recklessness reached new heights. “Does it… hurt?”

“Does what hurt?” he asked.

The hunger? The restraint? She should have said those things, but they weren’t what she told him. “The bite. Feeding.”

He sucked in a breath, held it. He’d gone so still she almost thought he’d expired right there at the table. Stars, this situation escalated quickly.

“Yes and no.”

“How—”

“In that order.”

“Oh.” Osha blinked. Yes, the bite would hurt. She’d expected so; wounds of any kind were bound to hurt, even ones you were prepared for. But feeding? The act of drinking from another… didn’t hurt? “What do you mean?” she asked, leaning in.

The crimson in his eyes settled into slow, lazy swirls. “I don’t know how it is for others, but I can make it feel like anything you want. Pain. Numbness. Pressure. Pleasure.” He said this last part with his eyes heavily hooded, desire plain on his face. “How would you like it, Osha?”

Osha had no idea what to say to him. She was, of course, curious about exactly what he meant, but some measure of caution still held her back, cold and frowning.

“Would anything happen to me?” she said, avoiding the question.

“You mean, would you turn?” he asked, a husky chuckle following. “No. Vampires are, for the most part, born—or so I know.”

“What do you mean?” she said again, frowning.

“I wasn’t raised around others of my kind. The ones who raised me, they…” A brief flare of some hot emotion gusted through his aura—something like anger. It dissipated as quickly as it came, leaving her confused and a little wary. “They didn’t know what to do with me. I’ve had to learn as I go.”

A pang of sympathy rattled her bones. Osha knew what that was like. The Jedi her age were already well-versed in topics and routines she was unfamiliar with, and it left her feeling more than a little like an outsider to them. And when the Order cast her out? She had to do it all over again, learning to be a meknek to survive.

“So, no,” he said, drawing her attention back. “Nothing would happen to you, bar perhaps symptoms of minor blood loss… among other things.”

“Other things?” she said.

He grinned, fangs out. “Fun things.”

“I don’t know if I should trust your definition of fun, Qimir,” she said, picking up her glass and sighing when she realized it was empty.

He’d frozen in place, and it took her a second to notice. She was about to ask what was wrong when he said, “I like how you say my name. More than is probably appropriate.”

She was going to pass out if her heart kept racing like this. Osha was once again speechless in the face of his brazen want, unfamiliar with the script or steps to follow here. She chewed her lip, and his eyes flicked to the gesture. The heat in her lower half only increased until she felt like she needed to squeeze her thighs together to grab some measure of composure. But that felt like a lifeboat drifting away in a stormy sea. She was going to drown in him, sooner or later.

“I…”

“Yes?”

“How badly do you need to feed?” she asked, the words slipping out almost by accident.

“Very badly,” he said simply. “Why do you ask?”

He was playing with her; he knew exactly why she was asking and was going to make her say it. The rush of embarrassment bloomed right from her cheeks, heating her entire body this time as she fought the shyness stilling her tongue. “Because I…” she swallowed. “I’m curious what it’s like.” There. Safer ground. “And a man’s gotta eat, like you said. Seems we can help each other out.”

He smirked at her but didn’t call her out. His eyes sparkled just the same as they’d done the last time she avoided the truth with him. Liar, his voice echoed in her head. The real answer—that she wanted him as desperately as he seemed to want her—refused to be spoken aloud.

“I don’t think your friend will approve,” he teased.

Oh right. Fillik.

She looked over his shoulder at the bar beyond, where Fillik sat beside someone draped in glowing green fabric. As if sensing her attention, Fillik looked over and made the hand signal for are you okay? They only ever used the code when their communicators shorted out while on jobs, but it worked well here.

Osha signed back, okay. Then, after a moment, she signed, see you later.

Fillik’s grin and double thumbs-up needed no translation.

If only he knew just what Osha was walking away with.

“Fillik’s fine,” Osha said, looking back at Qimir. He seemed oddly… charmed by the exchange. 

But his demeanor changed the moment she gave her answer, eyes darkening and going a little wild. She could have sworn the crimson in his irises had bled into the whites of his eyes, but the moment passed after a beat. “Then I think we should find somewhere more private, don’t you think?”

Her heart thumped heavily in her chest, the thrill of danger sparking her senses in a way no meknek job ever would, in a way the Jedi never could. Qimir stood, offering his hand to her. She took it, marveling at the coolness of his skin touching hers. He did not let go as he led her from the cantina.

They didn’t go far, but the sharp twists and turns down the side passages of the spaceport left Osha feeling a little disoriented. When they stopped, she caught sight of a familiar landmark and a sign that would lead her back to her ship when they were finished. He pulled her into a small micro-hotel, but it didn’t look as seedy as the ones she’d seen on-world.

Apparently, he already had a room because they bypassed the reception droid entirely and went to the back. The lights were down-lit around their ankles, making him seem even more dark and imposing than he already was. When he looked at her over his shoulder, his eyes pulsed with a glow that reminded her of sunsets… and lightsabers. It stole her breath.

Then they were in a room. Alone. With no crowd to drown the silence. Just her slightly uneven breathing—and his notable lack thereof.

“You don’t breathe?” she blurted out, trepidation making the words a little louder than she intended. She winced.

Qimir let go of her hand and sat on the bed, letting his hands hang between his knees. Making himself smaller, she observed. Non-threatening. “If I didn’t breathe, I couldn’t speak,” he said, his voice coming a little higher—another tactic to draw in unsuspecting prey or to calm the suspicious. “And I do have a pulse, despite all evidence to the contrary.” He gestured at himself, most likely referring to his cold, pale skin.

“Oh,” Osha said, laughing a little.

He caught her nervousness like one might catch a butterfly from the air. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. You can back out at any time.”

“No, it’s not—okay, it’s a—I’m a little nervous,” she admitted.

He rose to his feet, closing the distance between them. “I’m not so close to the edge that I can’t control myself, Osha,” he murmured, reaching up to tuck a loc of her hair behind her ear. His eyes were everywhere, dancing their phantom touch everywhere from her face to her chest in just a heartbeat. “I know what I am. You know what I am.”

“I do,” she whispered. “And I want this.”

“I think you just need the tension broken,” he said, a teasing smirk on his features. “May I?”

She had no idea what that meant, but she discovered the answer immediately when she nodded. He descended on her, and she held her breath, expecting pain—

But she got a kiss instead. His lips were soft, and though they were cold, they weren’t unpleasant. Her mind unwound itself from the tangled, anxious knot it’d been trapped in. His hands settled on her—one at the nape of her neck, the other resting on her hip. She realized that oh, she should probably be kissing him back, and moved, reaching for him just as he deepened the kiss.

A soft noise escaped her throat when he squeezed her hip, walking her back until her shoulders met the door. He didn’t pin her, per se, but the intent was clear: he’d trapped her. And she’d let him, gladly.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked, ending his question on a slight nip of her lower lip. It thrilled her, that reminder of why they were there, of what was coming.

She nodded, feeling much more settled in her skin, even though her heart was still racing. “Um, do I—?” She began to tilt her head to the side for him, but his fingers tightened against the back of her head, stilling her.

“That’s a bit… intense for your first go,” he said, sounding almost awkward about it.

“But I want—” She cut herself off, shame flaring through her veins.

He waited for her to finish her thought, but the bravery couldn’t break through to her again. “You want to know what it’s like?” he inferred. She nearly slumped in relief, nodding. Stars, but he knew just what she needed, and Osha had no idea how much she needed that kind of intuition in a partner until now.

Qimir pressed a kiss over her pulse, which ratcheted up the speed considerably until he pulled away. “So responsive,” he murmured, but she could hardly hear it over the pounding in her ears. He pulled back, and Osha almost whined at the loss of his closeness. “Why don’t I tell you what I’m going to do to you? Would that help?”

She considered it, then nodded. He brought her to the bed, sitting them both down side-by-side. “Thank you,” she said quickly. “And I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about and nothing to thank me for,” he said, leaning back in to kiss her and scatter her thoughts to the stars. “I’m a selfish man, Osha. But I’m not so selfish to look past your discomfort just to get what I want.”

She got the feeling he didn’t offer the same consideration to many others, which made her feel all shivery. A wide, cool hand pressed against her shoulder until she leaned back, laying fully on the bed beside him. He loomed over her, face half-cast in warm shadows from the lone lamp in the small room. “Why am I lying down?”

He seemed to ignore her question as he spoke. “I’m going to bite your arm first,” he said simply, but the casualness of his words made her breath hitch. “Riiight… here.” He traced his fingers over the inside of her forearm, near the elbow.

“Not my wrist?”

He shook his head. “Too many delicate little veins, bones, tendons, nerves.” He flicked a fingertip off the tip of one of his fangs. “These might do some serious damage to your hands if I’m not careful. I’m in control of my urges, but might not be as controlled about how gentle the bite would be.” He lifted her arm up, and for a moment, she thought he was going to bite her right then and there—

He pressed a cold, wet kiss over the spot he indicated, and beneath his kiss, heat rose to the surface. An ache bloomed in her belly, pulling at sensitive parts of her.

“And you’re lying down in case you pass out from the bite. As I told you, it will hurt, but not that much. Your anxiety will only make it worse, especially if it’s not what your body is expecting.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling a little silly.

He kissed her arm again, gentle despite his insistence he could not be. “Next, I’ll—”

“Bite my neck?”

“I will check if you want more,” he said firmly. His eyes flashed bright red again, serious.

The care he exhibited over her choice, her consent, and her safety made her insides feel all warm in a way she wasn’t used to. Master Sol had been concerned for her safety, but where Qimir’s care was warm, Sol’s had often been chilly and uncomfortable.

“Okay,” she whispered, squirming a little on her back. He noticed the movement, a teasing glint returning to his eyes. “What will you do after that?”

“Then, if you’ll allow it…” His hand trailed lower, brushing the side of her breast, passing her ribs, almost tickling her waist, then over her hip to rest on her thigh. “I’d like to feed from here.”

Even though his hand was cold and they had a barrier of clothes between them, she could have sworn his touch left a searing brand against her thigh. “Why there?”

“Some major arteries are down here, very active. And I’m hungry, Osha.” He didn’t elaborate, moving his hand back up her body. He brushed over the fly to her pants, fingers snagging over the bulk of her belt. She gasped and flinched, but he paid it no mind. He traced his fingertips up, up, between her breasts before his cool hand rested at the base of her throat. “And I’m selfish.”

“Wh—how is that selfish?” she asked, fighting between her desire to know and her desire to feel. He leaned down, tracing his nose over the shell of her ear. 

“Because when I’m done, you’ll feel the ache in your legs with every,” he kissed her ear, “single,” a nip, “step.”

Osha couldn’t help but moan. It was embarrassingly loud, and he was hardly touching her at all, but she was certain she’d never been more turned on and ready for him.

But Qimir didn’t comment, only looking her over with that heated crimson gaze—like he expected such a reaction.

“Do you want to know what I’m going to do next?”

She nodded, swallowing hard enough to feel the brush of his hand over the base of her throat. “Please.”

At that single whispered word, the energy in the room shifted. Qimir stilled, eyes squeezing shut as a shiver rippled over him. A low groan left his lips, the breath cool against Osha’s temple. “Fuck,” he whispered, taking a ragged breath and shaking his head. His hair fell into his face, out from behind his ears. It gave him a wilder look, eyes half-hidden behind a dark veil. “Fuck,” he repeated, drawing back a little and going still.

Osha didn’t dare move. She already knew Qimir was nearing the last reserves of his control, assurances made or otherwise. But all she’d said was please, and it nearly broke him apart. His arrival at her side in the cantina had made her mouth go dry, but now, it watered—she wanted to taste him, touch him.

“Fuck, Osha,” he said a third time. He got up on his knees and laughed, though there was little humor in it. He sounded doomed from where he sat above her. “You keep thinking whatever you’re thinking right now, and I’m not going to be as gentle or as polite as I would like to be.”

“Why do you keep saying that? Can you—can you read my thoughts or something?”

His face smoothed with forced ease, and he closed his eyes before shaking his head. “A vampire’s sense of smell is very good—and I can taste how aroused you are right now. Without even seeing, without even touching. I can taste how wet you are for me, Osha.”

Her blood oscillated wildly between hot and cold, the realization that his reaction back in the cantina had been because of—? Oh, shit. She was at once mortified by being so laid bare, thrilled by the acknowledgment of his predatory nature, and insanely turned on by his ease in talking about her desire. His were the hands of a dangerous man, but she was in good hands nonetheless.

“Sorry,” she whispered, chewing her lip again.

His hand lifted from her neck for his thumb to press down on her lip, freeing it from her teeth. “That’s my job,” he admonished, surprisingly soft. It made her heart flip in her chest once more. “So—” he took a breath, steadying himself. “Only after I’ve taken from your arm and your thigh, that���s when I’ll take from your neck.”

“Why?”

“The neck is quite the erogenous zone, Osha.” He brushed his fingers over her pulse, which tickled, but more than that, it set her trembling. “The nerves there are much more sensitive than the other places I mentioned. And therefore, the feeling you’d get from me feeding would be… heightened.”

“Heightened?” she asked weakly.

He did not explain. All he did was nod.

Fun things, she remembered him saying. Fun things would happen to her.

“That, and drinking from the neck is one of the most primal things I could do. You baring your neck to me… it both sates and encourages that part of me to give in to those instincts. I could kill you, drain you dry if I drank here first.” He almost sounded saddened by it, which was odd.

Osha brought her hand up to his wrist and wrapped her fingers around it. He watched her, fascinated by her curiosity. Osha traced her thumbs over his hand and pressed his fingers flat and open before she leaned up to kiss the center of his palm.

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay?” He swallowed roughly, eyes flickering over her face again.

“I think I like your plan.”

He smirked. “Oh, you think you—”

“Shut up,” she groaned, reaching up to pull him in by the back of his neck. Their kiss was more heated than before. For all his bloodless skin chilled her, he possessed a fire in his flesh that did not dissipate and did not waver after the initial rush of feeling.

When she was certain her heart wouldn’t beat out of her chest, she said his name. It brought him back up, and she traced how his lips had grown a little darker, the shade of old bruises. He looked obscene like this, truly rumpled and fueled by want. “Yes?” he whispered, breathing quickly.

“Do it.”

His pupils dilated sharply, almost to the point where the crimson in his irises disappeared entirely. A heartbeat passed, then he leaned down and bit her exactly where he said he would.

Instantaneous burning pain slashed at the pleasure his kiss and touch had brought, setting her body rigid on the bed beneath him. He did not stop, even at the tight whimper that escaped her. At the stomach-flipping sensation of him withdrawing his fangs from her, she made another weak noise, wondering if this had all been a mistake—

But then his mouth touched down next, encompassing the bite mark wholly. Both his hands cradled her arm like something precious, something fragile. There was a bit of pressure—then release. She couldn’t help the wild moan at the new sensation, her surprise warring with the wanton waves of pleasure his mouth was giving her. She felt her eyes cross a little until the shock waned. Phew. Don’t pass out.

He remained hunched over her, on all fours across her vulnerable form. Once she steadied her breathing, she could hear the little noises he was trying to hide. Small whimpers and whines, near-animalistic against her skin. His noises rippled through her bones, resonating with her like a tuning fork pressed against her skull. Her hand moved without warning, pushing up through his hair and grabbing hold at the root. He made a small, distressed noise—

But she did not pull him off. She pushed him closer, feeling his lips slip against her arm even as he drank. His whines turned to moans, and his shallow breaths turned to deeper, harsher breaths than before.

Stars, if this was how it felt on her arm, how was it going to feel on her neck?

He seemed to have found himself again after some time—how long, she had no idea. The whole room had gotten a little fuzzy and sparkly, stars dancing against her skin. Qimir dragged his tongue over the bite, which stung a little in the cooler air once he let go.

Because Qimir had grown warmer since drinking from her—or she’d grown cooler. But her first guess was correct. He turned around to face her, and she saw the flush of blood high on his cheekbones, of life in his features.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice wet and raspy. Idly, his thumb brushed over the wound, but she wasn’t focusing on that. She could only see the dark red of her blood staining his teeth, his tongue.

She blinked a few times, processing that he was speaking to her. “Yeah. Holy shit,” she laughed. “I’m okay.”

Something soft and almost distressed fluttered through his features when she laughed, like he didn’t know what to do all of a sudden.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

He seemed just as stunned as she’d been by the question. “Good.”

“Still hungry?” she asked. His eyes traced down her body and rested on the place he’d planned to go next. She went for her belt—

“Let me.” He stilled her hands, and while he wasn’t blazing warm, the difference was notable. “Please.”

Her whole body jerked at that single word, and shit, she understood why he’d been so affected earlier when she said it. The amount of desire that could fit into a single syllable was fucking astounding, and she had no idea why she was so affected. She let her hands fall to the side, wondering what, if anything, she wouldn’t do when he said please like that.

Her belt clinked a little as he undid it, and then the fly of her trousers. She cursed when he tugged them down, only for the blousing straps to get caught in her boots. She leaned up to help and was hit with a wave of dizziness that had the room spinning. “Whoa.”

“Lay back down,” Qimir ordered, planting his hand on her breastbone. She complied, and the dizziness abated. He did the work for her, taking off her boots and pants with shocking gentleness—he’d really meant it when he said he could control himself. That taste he took from her arm had done wonders.

“What does—” she bit off the question she’d been about to ask again. Qimir needed to eat, and she kept delaying that.

“Don’t do that,” he murmured, lips pressing against her knee. His eyes were a much warmer shade now, bright scarlet in the lamplight. She was unable to look away. “You can ask me anything you want, Osha.”

She took a shuddering breath and blamed her courage on the funny feelings his bite had given her.

“What does my blood taste like?”

He traced his nose over her thigh, lost in thought as he considered her answer. “I won’t feed you some bullshit line about it tasting like sunshine and fresh snow,” he said dryly, looking up at her with a half-grin. “Blood tastes like blood.”

“Oh,” she said, about to feel silly again—

“But the warmth of it… it burned at first. Like drinking tea when it’s too hot. Scalding.” His thumb brushed little circles over her thigh, and he sunk down to sit on his heels between her thighs. It felt like an entirely inappropriate place to sit and have a think, but he seemed comfortable, so she didn’t say anything. She leaned up on her elbows as he continued. “And then, the longer I drank, the warmer my body became, and the more I could enjoy it. Enjoy you. And your warmth… it tastes like life. It tastes like the only light in a vast, cold darkness.”

For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say more, but instead, he pressed his face against the inside of her thigh. For a few long minutes, he stayed there, just breathing her in. This close to where he knew she was wet and aching, she could only imagine what was running through his mind—or if her scent and taste stilled those thoughts in their tracks.

She put her hand back on his head, threading her fingers through his hair and tugging him forward. “You promised me another bite, and you’re still hungry,” she said. When had her voice gotten so husky and sensual?

He shuddered, moving where she wanted with no resistance. His throat bobbed as she pulled him back, exposing his own neck to her. His eyes sparkled with intrigue, like she was a wonder. “I did. I am.”

“So do something about it.”

“But you’re hungry, too,” he said, fighting her hold so he could level a look at her. She felt like she was wearing nothing beneath that gaze, like his hot stare had incinerated every bit of clothing left on her. “An appetite for something you can’t eat… but can fill you anyway.”

His fingers danced up her inner thigh, rubbing longingly over the darker veins beneath her skin before moving up and up and—

Osha jolted when his thumb pressed against the soaking-wet material of her underwear. “Can I feed you too, Osha?” he asked, that damned thumb moving in slow, precise little circles exactly where she needed from him.

She was seconds from making a mixing business and pleasure joke, but those words caught in her throat, leaving her only able to nod furiously. Qimir’s eyes flicked down to where his hand was splayed over her hip, just his thumb touching her indecently. He turned his hand and teased his fingers beneath the wet fabric. She held back her moan as his knuckles brushed over her aching core, where she needed him most.

“I don’t want to hear you holding back another fucking breath from me, Osha.” His eyes were suddenly ablaze, locked on hers. “Understand?”

She nodded, but at the increased intensity of his stare, she found her words again. “Yes, I understand,” she squeaked.

“Good.”

With that, he dove in. He pulled her underwear to the side, which made everything seem that much dirtier and taboo as he licked and sucked at her with abandon. True to her word, she didn’t hold back, grasping at his hair and practically shouting his name. The pleasure she’d gotten from him feeding on her was a strange, full-body kind of ache, like she was drowning in it. This pleasure, by comparison, was brutal, a crueler death than the other.

Burning and drowning.

He never stopped moving, not when he slipped one of those long, cool fingers inside her and not when her hips couldn’t help but rock up against his hand. She felt unbridled, chasing after an end she couldn’t see. But he guided her there nonetheless, never restraining her even once. He drew back after some time, sucking his finger into his mouth before returning his touch with another finger inside her. Osha moaned, settling into the rhythm and rolling against his hand.

Fuck, this was the best idea ever.

Qimir pressed his cheek against her thigh, just watching how his fingers moved in and out of her, seeing and feeling the way she grew tighter around him when he touched her just right. He was nearly locked in a trance, like he could spend the rest of his life just watching her fall apart from his touch.

She (barely) had the ability to speak a string of words that made any sense. “Qimir… please… c’mon, you said…”

Okay, maybe sense was stretching it.

Qimir caught her meaning, checking with her to make sure she wasn’t at risk of passing out for one reason or another. The bite on her arm wasn’t bleeding for whatever reason, and she wanted to know what it felt like with his teeth so close to where he had his hands. Wordlessly, he drew her leg up and over his shoulder, pressing his face against her thigh again as his attention caught on the way she seized up around his fingers suddenly. “Nervous?” he asked, his voice all throaty and rough.

“I won’t be if you just—”

He struck, sharp fangs sinking into her once more. The burning had felt all-consuming from the bite on her arm, but this time, it warred with the pleasure he was giving her just inches away. Instead of one drowning out the other, they intertwined in a song, leaving her ears ringing as she gasped for breath.

He pulled his fangs out and repeated the process anew, pulling her blood into his mouth with a helpless moan. He rolled his whole body against her, tongue coaxing out more and more of her blood as his fingers took up their rhythm once more. The waning effects of his first bite surged in, cranked to a higher intensity than before. The leg not around his shoulder shook as ecstasy began encroaching on her senses.

“Fuck, fuck—!” Osha’s voice broke when he pulled her over the edge. It felt like nothing she’d tried by herself in the privacy of her bunk and even less like anything she’d tried with a partner. She was certain she was hurting him, pulling at his hair like she was, but nothing could get her to let go until the pleasure abated.

And still, he drank.

She gave a weak whimper. “Fuck,” she said a third time. “You’re so good,” she whined.

Qimir gave a groan in return, and a deeper, subtler rocking motion joined his hand and his mouth. Fuck, he must have been grinding his hips against the side of the bed. She relinquished her hold on his hair to pet him gently, smoothing the strands out of his eyes and holding them back so she could see him better.

Red eyes lolled over to her in his first graceless move of the night. He seemed drunk, caught between watching her, fingering her, and drinking from her thigh. “So good,” she whispered again, brushing her thumb over his temple. His eyes closed, a furrow forming between his brows. She had no time to be concerned before he licked over the bite with his wet tongue. It left a smear of red behind on her skin, which he lapped at repeatedly until all traces of her blood had been consumed.

He gently slipped his fingers from her. That bone-deep ache had been abated somewhat from her orgasm, but his hand was nowhere near enough for what she truly wanted, what she needed. Qimir rested against her thigh again. His hair fell into his eyes, forcing her to focus on his lips. He licked them almost compulsively, like he had to ensure that every drop of her taste was safe behind his teeth.

“You—you okay?” he asked, his breath catching in the middle of his sentence.

She was. There was no wooziness, only the warm embrace of post-orgasm bliss. “I’m perfect,” she said, giving in and running her fingers through his hair again. It was thicker than it looked, and much softer than it had any right to be. He pressed into her hand like a cat, eyes still closed. “Are you alright? You seem…”

“Drunk?” he asked, cracking an eye open. A languid, bloodstained smile crept across his lips as he looked at her. “Yeah. Feels like it, a little. Might be the F—fucking incredible taste of you.” He brushed his thumb over the bite on her thigh before rising up with a soft groan.

His stumbling words almost concerned her were it not for the clearly straining bulge in his pants. Slowly, she sat up before him, nearly face-to-face with his erection.

While he just… stood there. He watched her with a slightly confused look on his face. There it was again, like he was puzzling her out or something.

“What?” she asked, unable to summon the sharp, defensive bite of her words this time.

“Nothing,” he sighed, reaching down to cup her face. His face followed, but he stopped himself just before he kissed her. The hesitation was clear; he didn’t know if she wanted to try the taste of herself—her pleasure or her blood.

Osha decided for him, pulling him in again as they both fell back against the bed. She moaned at the tangy, sharp taste on his lips and tongue. She didn’t feel the same way he did, about the warmth and the light in the darkness. Instead, she only tasted something wild and powerful. He caged himself around her, still fully dressed while she remained naked from the waist down. He probably did so for her comfort, knowing the chill of his body wouldn’t feel very nice. The consideration made her feel… safe. What a paradox to feel safe for the first time in years in the arms of a deadly apex predator.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked after some time, nosing beneath her jaw but making no attempt to continue his plans—that third bite he promised her.

“Nothing,” she sighed. Normally, such an admission would be met with skepticism, as that kind of answer to that kind of question was most often a lie. But this time, it was the truth. Nothing was on Osha’s mind. Not her worries about making ends meet, not her surviving grief over her family, not her remaining anger and frustration at the hand the Jedi dealt her. All that bitterness and anxiety had been safely swept aside. “Nothing at all.”

Qimir chuckled, the sound warm and soul-deep. “I believe you,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. This, of all the kisses and touches he’d given, felt the most intimate of all.

“Am I still bleeding from the… from the bites?” she asked, curious to look but unable to do so with a huge vampire lying atop her.

He shook his head, his hair tickling her nose. She scowled at the feeling and only received a teasing smile in return. “I have some measure of influence over that. More than just how you’d feel from the act, I can control the wound itself. If I wanted you to keep bleeding, you would. But, no. I wanted you to heal.” I wanted to take care of you, she imagined him saying next, though not a single word of that passed his lips.

“Can all vampires do that?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured. “Maybe some.”

“Thank you,” she said, reaching up to trace over the muscles and tendons in his neck. He was truly a masterpiece, and the more she ran her hands over his torso, the more she found she was right. He was absolutely fit beneath those baggy clothes, all rippling muscles and tight skin.

“Don’t mention it,” he said softly. Some emotion flashed through his eyes, and she didn’t know him well enough to even guess at it.

Qimir pressed his forehead against hers, and Osha was startled by how warm he’d gotten. “Do you… how often do you need to feed?” she asked, curious. How long had it been, for him to get to the desperate point he’d been?

He kept his eyes closed as he answered her question. “Ideally? Every two weeks, and just the amount you gave me from your arm.”

Concern lanced through her. Shit, it must have been a long time. She couldn’t imagine starving like that.

“But you don’t need to worry about me, Osha.” He pressed a kiss to her lips again, then gently tilted her head this way and that. “Have a preference for which side?” he asked, playful once more. He reminded her of a big cat, both prowling predator and playful in spades.

“Whichever one seems tastiest,” she said, letting her hand fall from his hair and trace down his spine.

His body stiffened the moment she touched some irregular bump over the deep groove of his spinal column. She withdrew her hand and left it to rest on his shoulder instead, getting the hint easily enough. He relaxed once her hand moved, but he was still all coiled muscle, the predator beneath his skin rising to meet her again.

“They both seem tasty,” he said, pressing his face into the crook of her left shoulder. She shuddered, latent full-body pleasure still coursing through her. It kicked up a notch at the press of his lips to her pulse point.

She didn’t realize what she was doing until Qimir stopped mouthing at her neck and stilled against her. With his thigh between her legs, it proved the perfect place for her to rock back and forth against him. It was firm, unyielding to her desperate search for pleasure.

“Need more, greedy girl?” he asked, his voice a low rumble in his chest. She pictured dark rainclouds, a flash of lightning, rolling thunder. She shuddered and couldn’t even summon the urge to be embarrassed at how she was acting.

“Ple—” He silenced her with a kiss, moving his thigh away to bring his hand back to her center. “No,” she pouted. “I need more than that.”

He looked delighted to hear that. “More?” he asked again. “You sure you can handle more?”

“Yes, damn it,” she said, squirming again.

Suddenly, his hand jerked away, taking with it the shredded remains of her underwear. “Was getting in the way,” he said with a shrug.

Qimir rose up on his knees between her legs, deftly undoing the clasps at his pants and pushing them down. He was rough with himself compared to how gentle he’d been when he took her boots and pants off earlier.

He was hard and thick, and the head of his cock was a blushed, dark pink. Her mouth watered, arousal spiking once more, even after all he’d done to appease her hunger. One-handed, he stroked himself, watching her watch him. “You sure you can handle more?”

She gave him a scathing glare that silenced him but didn’t stop him from grinning at her. Even now, the sight of his fangs still inspired her heart to flip in her chest. Would she ever tire of it?

After tonight, she’d have to. Their ship was set to leave tomorrow, and she had to be there when it did. He didn’t.

Not letting that thought dissuade her from having a good time, she just nodded. “I want it. I want you to fuck me while you feed from my neck.”

A full-body shiver raced up his body, making his shoulders tense somewhat. What she couldn’t see before was now apparent: deep shadows raced beneath his skin, black veins pulsing with some dark energy as he fought it back for control. “Can’t say things like that,” he bit out, swallowing roughly.

“I wouldn’t have to say it if you’d just do it,” she argued.

Crimson eyes met hers, nearly glowing in the low light. The primal survival instinct in the back of her mind was screaming for her to run as fast as she could, but Osha didn’t give a fuck. She had what she wanted right in front of her.

“I’m fed enough to think straight now, but if I do—that, I might snap.”

Osha wondered briefly at what she’d really be losing if she died fucking a sexy vampire. A few knick-knacks in her bunk. A few friends who don’t understand her. Grief. Anger. Sadness. All in all, not much.

“I might snap if you don’t get inside me right fucking now, Qimir.”

He pounced. His hands were suddenly everywhere, just like she imagined back in the cantina. He grabbed at her, pulling her closer and closer into his body until there was no space left between them. It took just a few inches of adjustment for her to get exactly what she wanted from him.

His mouth hung open some when he sank into her, fangs glinting wetly in the low light. “Fuck, Osha,” he gasped, shuddering. Just like his fingers and mouth, his cock was cooler than she was, sending a shocking contrast of feeling through her veins.

Osha moaned, half her body confused by the sensation and the other half eager for him to sink another part of him inside her. She reached for him as he came down, hips starting to roll against her in smooth, deep strokes that had her practically gasping. He was thick, thought-stealingly thick. The noise she made wasn’t remotely coherent, echoing those twin feelings of confusion and lust as he fucked her.

“If I—if I’m taking too much…” he panted, looking down at her with fevered, scarlet eyes. “You fight me. You punch and bite and pull at me. You use whatever—whatever you need to get me off of you.”

She couldn’t form words but nodded at him.

He struck like a viper, fangs sinking into her neck like they were always meant to be there. Osha screamed, half-ecstasy, half-agony. Even when he pulled his fangs out of her and began to feed from her neck, she couldn’t keep quiet. Her moans were almost panicked from how amazing she felt. He was right; this was nothing like when he fed from her arm or even from her thigh. She couldn’t escape it this time, not when he was fucking her this deep and drawing her blood down his throat like it held the answers to the universe. 

Her second orgasm took her by surprise. The third, hot on its heels, threatened to devastate her. After that, she lost count, lost in a roiling tide of pleasure as he took and took and took—and wasn’t that all she wanted? To be wanted enough to give herself over like this. Tears ran down the sides of her face, the ecstasy and fulfillment coalescing into an incredible crescendo.

Black and white dots burst in her vision, reminding her of meteor showers and lightspeed. Qimir shuddered against her, groaning into her skin, into her veins. With a sob, she felt another orgasm crash over her, overwhelming and ceaseless. She had no control of herself like this, and for half a second, she truly didn’t care if he drained her dry. Having known this pleasure, she could die right now, happier than she’d ever been in her life.

But he seemed to have found control, licking over the wound in her neck. His hand slid behind her neck to angle her head to him, and he paused just to look at the bite mark, marveling at it and brushing his thumb over it like it’d disappear. While her arm throbbed and her thigh ached like he said it would, her neck seemed to pulse with that lasting heat and pain, juxtaposing the pleasure his bite had brought.

Osha was boneless as he pulled out of her, feeling messy but unable to care at the moment. She closed her eyes as he wiped away her tears, sweat, and any evidence of their pleasure. His motions were so gentle, they were almost sweet. When he lay down beside her, arms curled around her, she had no more tears to cry—but he’d cause no more tears tonight.

His chin rested atop her head as they embraced, and for the longest time, neither moved. Her first words came out as a wretched croak. “You’re warm.”

Qimir chuckled, and she felt it against her cheek. His heart still thudded unnaturally slow behind his ribs, but he was warm and solid and real. That’s what mattered. “Thanks to you.”

He didn’t sound drunk, as he’d been after feeding on her thigh. He instead sounded… level. Satisfied. Full.

He spoke after they rested a while longer. “Don’t do anything too strenuous for a day or two while your body replenishes its blood.”

“Yes, doctor,” she grumbled, laying back down with him.

His laugh was softer now, carrying another feeling that tried to press itself into her mind. The Force had been good at telling her what others felt, but she hadn’t been connected to the Force in some time. It was probably just some post-coital haze.

Qimir murmured something to her, stroking his fingers over her shoulder. But Osha was too comfortable to concentrate, and dozed off.

He was packing up a bag when she woke. He’d put her pants back on, sans underwear, and even laced up her boots for her. He looked over when she stirred, taking inventory of her body. “Feeling okay?” he asked.

She supposed this was where he asked her to leave, yet the embarrassment didn’t rise to her cheeks like it normally would. “Yeah,” she said softly.

Then she cursed, the rest of the galaxy coming crashing back into her awareness at once. “Fuuuuck—” she groaned and checked her chrono. “Oh, thank fuck. I have an hour.”

“Don’t wanna miss movement,” he said, teasing. But he felt a little more closed off than he’d been before. He looked completely different than he’d been when they met. Gone was the deathly pale, starving vampire. Like this, he just looked like… well, a man.

His eyes were brown again. She didn’t know why this was the most disappointing part.

“Yeah,” she said, chewing at her lip.

He was in front of her in a heartbeat, moving so fast she didn’t even have time to flinch before he thumbed her lower lip away from her teeth. “That’s my job,” he said, his voice a quiet, fond murmur. When his hand turned, she pressed her cheek against it.

“Still warm,” she smiled up at him, gladdened by his lack of remorse over this whole… thing.

“Thank you, Osha,” he said, sounding slightly grave. “You’ve done me a great service.”

“Yeah, well. Ditto.” Ah, there was the embarrassment and shyness. Right on schedule. “Uh, if you…”

She trailed off, and he raised an eyebrow at her. She remembered the fervent order he’d given her before.

I don’t want to hear you holding back another fucking breath from me.

Her mouth went dry all at once, desire sparking beneath her skin. “If you wanna catch a bite in a few weeks, just look me up. We’re at this port a lot, I mean.” It felt overly familiar, attached in a way Master Sol would have chastised her for. But Master Sol wasn’t here.

Qimir leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss that stole any remaining thoughts from her mind, leaving nothing but…

Peace.

“I’ll find you,” he said, far too soft for what this was. But Osha allowed it, leaning into his touch until it was gone.

When she opened her eyes, she was alone.

Two weeks later

“I hope you guys can hear me,” Osha said to Pip, waiting for the merchant to hand her the long black shawl.

She had to pretend to be Mae, which was lying, thereabouts. For whatever reason, the racing of her heart felt like an omen. Something else pulsed beneath her skin, a feeling she had avoided acknowledging until then. She’d reached out to the Force back on the prison transport, but that had been fruitless. Even so, the closer she drew to the apothecary, the worse that feeling got, pulsing in three places in particular.

Heart pounding, she stepped in. She didn’t even see the man in the open doorway as she said, “Hello?”

But when he looked up, she felt her mouth go as dry as it’d done the first time he spoke to her.

It looked like she had found him.

Qimir grinned, half-smug and half-dangerous. “Hello.”

masterlist

[flythesail]

I've been thinking a lot on characterization for Osha and Qimir and the simplest way I could put it is that Osha's personality is informed by the situation, while Qimir's personality informs the situation.

In other words, how Osha is acting at any point in time is likely because of what's currently happening to her. From the first episode, she's thrown into the plot and being the protagonist, it's her job to stay in it. We do get glimpses of when she can just "be." For example, chatting with Fillik or Jecki, or interacting with Pip. But especially from episode 5 onward, she always has to be on the defensive.

Whereas with Qimir, he spends almost the entirety of the season in control. He's able to conceal his identity from Mae, the Jedi, pretty much determine the outcome of Khofar, etc. Granted, without his backstory, his "situation" is more unclear than Osha's. Yet same as we see Osha go from situation to situation throughout the season, we see Qimir go from personality to personality. First the goofy companion of Mae, to the Stranger, to a more human version of that, to someone softer and supportive with Osha - while still having hints of his previous selves (chattiness and general instigating.) How he acts is a factor in any given outcome.

From there, their characterization speaks to their roles and motivations within the story. For Qimir, he wants loyalty. This is clear in his reaction to Mae breaking their deal. Also in the way he discusses his relationship to the Jedi. He was "thrown away." We know he values deep relationships. So the likely conclusion? He feels he was loyal to the Jedi (loyal being a personality trait) and that they betrayed him. So now he's seeking someone who will be loyal to him, as he's more than ready to offer loyalty in return. Aka the power of two.

As for Osha, it's trickier to pick just one thing she wants, but if I had to it would be security. When she's a child, she wants to become a Jedi. When she fails, she's essentially starting her life over for the second time. Then, *insert season 1*, she's left to start over for a third time after learning the truth about Master Sol as well as finding and losing Mae.

By saying "I want to be trained," she's taking control of her situation and making her own choice. She's had little control over her entire life because of the fact she was a child when everything with the Jedi began. She wants control. And what does control give you? Security.

There's little security to be found in a life where you lose your family, become a Jedi only to lose that too, and then learn your entire life was more or less a lie. It's a lack of stability and will give her trust issues.

Notably, this is where Osha and Qimir can balance each other very well. When Osha chooses to be trained, she's choosing Qimir. That's the loyalty he's looking for. She's not all the way there yet (this is a decision made for herself - not him), but she'll get there as she grows to trust and love him.

Then for Osha, you can't find anything more secure than a man who's ready to shape his entire life around you and what you want. She gets to be trained and gains someone she can trust. And in feeling secure with Qimir, she'll be able to work through everything else she's experienced and feel secure in herself too - opening the possibility to want something new. Perhaps... power so that she can right the wrongs with Mae.

[ceolona]

Fillik: The pressure gauge is spiking. …and now it’s on fire?

Osha: On it!

Fillik: Wait. You need fuel, heat and oxygen for a fire. There’s not enough oxygen and heat in outer…

Osha: *interrupts with a wave of her hand*

Osha: This is not the high school physics you were taught.

Fillik: *stares blankly* This is not the high school physics I was taught.

[tremendouskoalachild]

thinking about this moment

noooooo babygirl you have no idea what's coming! nobody's going to miss you because there's nobody left!!

Jecki's dead, Sol's dead, Yord's dead, all the Jedi on the mission are dead. your bff Pip got reset to factory settings and doesn't know you. same goes for your sister. Bazil remembers you as a stranger he had a slightly uncomfortable professional relationship with for 1 day. did your off the books coworker Fillik ever even find out what happened after you didn't show up to work one day??

[pialews]

kize💖sen🫵🏻hic🙀utanmiyorsun🙈boyle🥰geziyorssun👹😰fildir💅🏻fillik🤪

[themightydragonblog]

Podcast with Anthony J. Abraham #theacolyte

Anthony J. Abraham This week’s guest is actor Anthony J. Abraham. From Tom Clancy’s Jack Ryan to Bad Education and now to the latest offering in the Star Wars Universe, The Acolyte. Anthony’s career is forging ahead and I must say it couldn’t happen to a nicer guy. Anthony is currently starring in The Acolyte, as Fillik, a meknek – which, as Wookieepedia explains  “Mekneks were…

[thevibraniumveterans]

STAR WARS — The Acolyte

EP 1 — Lost / Found

MAIN THOUGHTS:

Very interesting case of a mistaken identity in a murder accusation

The Jedi are at their most powerful and believe they are not in danger, but this is proven false, though they do not know it yet.

It is also curious how three months ago, when SW.com released the official character descriptions, they tell us “Mae gets swept up into a sinister mystery—one that puts her into the center of a conflict in unexpected ways”, but it’s not Mae, because there is a plot twist.

All in all, amazing first episode.

Also, clever marketing gimmick about Mae.

(spoilers in my notes below!)

- Opens with ominous music and summary text in blue, signaling this takes place in the distant past.

- Jedi are at their best; something is stirring.

- The classic pan down… on a location named UEDA (interestingly, that’s also a Japanese surname, pronounced you-ey-dah.)

- A hooded character, Mae, walks into town; does the classic ask-pay-and-search for person of interest.

- Mae finds Master Indara and requests combat. Mae is turned down but that’s not stopping her, so she attacks the patrons at India’s table with impressive unarmed combat skill.

- Indara rises to Mae’s challenge; Mae has a knife, but Indara bests Mae, who lets up the stairs and holds a young woman at knifepoint before disappearing. Mae is mysterious, an “unidentified Force-user”, according to Indara.

- Mae is swift, but Indara is faster at dodging. Mae wants to kill Indara - for as-of-yet unknown reasons, and Indara issues the younger woman a warning. Mae distracts Indara and Force-throws a dagger, which pierces Indara’s chest. She bleeds, and falls.

- Mae collects her other dagger, and leaves.

- TITLE CARD.

- Something beeps, and Mae awakens in a room. (Short sleeves and shorts also exist in SW, who knew.)

- She greets Pip, her droid. An alarm blares. Later, dressed, Mae walks out and is addressed as Osha, a pseudonym. After a short conversation with Fillik, she heads out to make some repairs.

- There is a small explosion, resulting in an equally small fire; it triggers one of Mae’s memories of pleading for her mother’s help.

- A ship flies past, carrying two Jedi - Knight Yord Fandar, and Padawan Tasi Lowa. They seek a former Jedi named “Osha Aniseya”. (Seems like Mae is a pseudonym (no) and Osha is the real name (yes). (Side note, I am half wrong, but at this point, I do not know this.) Yord is given Osha’s bunk number on the bigger vessel.

- Osha returns to her room, and Yord is within. They may have been friends previously. Osha reveals she’s been a “meknek” (mechanic?) since she “left the Order” about 6 years ago, having joined aged 8.

- Tasi notes that age and emotional state was a concerning factor during Osha’s admittance; much like Anakin in the future. She had mourned the loss of her mothers and her sister; Master Sol had brought her to the Order.

- Yord and Tasi have sought Osha because of Indara’s murder on Ueda. Osha tries to bluff, but it does not work; she is brought back to Coruscant.

- In the Temple, Sol is carrying out a lesson to a room half full of younglings when Master Vernestra “Vern” walks in. Sol greets her, and in more words, says that he knows Indara was slain.

- On the prison ship, other convicts cause the ship to exit hyperspace, and jettison into space. The ship careens, the last prisoner escapes in a pod, leaving Osha alone. It’s become dangerous.

- The ship crash lands on an icy and rocky outcrop, on a planet called Carlac.

- Back at the temple, Jecki informs Sol that Vern requests him to be “at the detainment level”.

- Jecki and Sol exchange a version of the old saying that goes, if you don’t learn from history you’re doomed to repeat it.

- Sol tells Vern, “If she is guilty, it is my failure.” The vibe is like a parent taking all responsibility for the child they did not succeed in rearing.

- On Carlac, Osha wakes up. There is a figure at the door; said figure walks away, Osha is intrigued and follows.

- Sol is bringing Jecki to Carlac to find Osha. Sol also wants to bring Yord along too.

- Back on Carlac, Osha follows the figure, only for said figure to turn around and reveal herself as Mae, Osha’s sister. Her twin sister.

- Suddenly the scenery around her changes, Osha is on Brendok. Turns out Osha is going through a memory, an old memory. Mae had stated, “You’re with me. I’m with you. Always one, but born as two.” This is interesting…

- Mae continues, “As above sits the stars, and below lies the sea, I give you you…” and Osha finishes, “…and you give me me.”

- For this part of the memory, Osha “reverts” to being her younger self to communicate with her sister Mae, who admits to killing Indara.

- For the second time, Osha awakes, but this time for real. She must have experienced either a clear memory or a very powerful Force vision.

- On the ship carrying Sol, Yord, and Jecki, Sol recounts how Osha’s twin sister murdered her who family, leaving Osha alive. (This means the conclusion Osha came to, was half the information Sol knows. Osha knows Mae killed Indara, Yord believes Osha killed Indara, Sol does not want to believe this but needs to bring Osha in.)

- Yord admits to not knowing Osha was a twin, or even had a twin. Sol believes Mae is dead, saying “I saw her die”, which may be the case. Just because Osha communicated with Mae in the vision, does not necessarily mean Mae is alive. But Sol is about to be proved wrong.

- The three Jedi arrive at Osha’s downed ship; she has gone off somewhere. They track her to a cliff edge and beckon her. Osha trips and falls off the ledge but Sol saves her from falling.

- Osha tells Sol, “Mae is alive”. Sol says he believes her. For him, it makes sense - he had brought her in, taught her, and therefore, knows her enough to know Osha must not have killed Indara, and that it confirms for him that since Mae is identical to Osha, and Osha wasn’t even in the right place to have killed Indara to begin with, it begs more than enough reason for Sol to believe her. But that will not be enough.

- Elsewhere, a stranger speaks to Mae, who walks across a rocky beach. She reaches a hooded figure standing on a ledge, who ignites a red lightsaber.

[mendivayy]

Bütün arkadaşlarım fillik fillik geziyor Allahım neden ben ağır yaşamlar Lisanın hayatını yaşıyorum.

[jewishcissiekj]

The Acolyte screenshots under the cut

the whimsies!!!! the funnies!!!

can't stop thinking about the Osha and Fillik scenes. they were so silly and it was such a great introduction to Osha's character it's just stuck in my head now

[naishtedikur]

Sergej Esenin - Letër Nënës

Sergej Esenin – Letër Nënës

Gjallë je, nënoke? Edhe unë Gjallë jam. Shëndet më paç, shëndet! Dritë e bëftë krejt kjo mbrëmje e lume Izbën tënde, që me mall më pret.

Thonë se je ligur e je tretur Nga meraku im, po nuk ankon, Se, pështjellë me një shall të vjetër, Fillikate rrugës shpesh kalon.

Dhe kur mugëtirë e kaltër bie, Një vegim i zi të kall ty frikë, sikur në një sherr diku në pije, Vjen dikush e ma këput me thikë.

[unhinged-summer-fun]

common grounds (oshamir) - chapter 2

Pairing: Osha Aniseya x Qimir "The Stranger"

A/N: Dividers by @firefly-graphics

series masterlist

chapter 2: the anti-boyfriend

“You what?”

“Keep your voice down!” Osha hissed at her sister. She didn’t like to come into the cafe on her days off, but she’d slept through the opportunity to talk to Mae this morning before she left. And this was a conversation that couldn’t wait. “Listen, who is he? He said he knew you!” Mae’s face couldn’t hide her thoughts, not from the one person who shared it. Osha knew she was about to lie, so she grabbed her wrist. “Don’t even try to wiggle out of this.”

“What happened to your wrist?!” she gasped, shifting the subject to her sister’s annoyance. 

“It—blame Huyang.” Osha pointed to the espresso machine in question. “Tell Yord to ease up on pulling shots; it’s not as sturdy as he thinks.”

“Yeah, I saw your note this morning.” Mae sighed. “But… he came in while you were working on it?”

Osha nodded but didn’t offer any other information—not about his little rescue, or how he held her arm so tenderly while he patched her up. “I guess I need to be better about locking the front.”

“Did the cameras catch him coming in?”

It was a complete left turn of a question, putting Osha on high alert. “What? I mean, probably. He wasn’t going to hurt me.”

Mae didn’t look like she believed that. “Don’t let him in next time.”

“Give me an actual reason, and maybe I will.”

“Can’t you just trust me?” Her voice came out stressed, not scared but also not at ease. Osha sighed, not wanting to concede.

“I do trust you, you know that. But the whole situation was strange, and I’d feel better if you just told me what you know.”

“Okay. I will. But not right now.” Mae’s voice dropped a little. “Not here.”

“I can’t tell if you’ve just been hiding a boyfriend or if I should be actually concerned.”

Mae laughed, but it sounded hollow and unconvincing. “He is not a boyfriend. He’s possibly the anti-boyfriend.”

Mae had none of the flustered attitude Osha remembered suffering from last night. It made her doubt herself for a moment. Was her spark of attraction to the stranger so outlandish? Best not to mention it.

“Okay, then. I’m off today and I know you’re closing, so you had better have a good story for me by dinner.” Osha adjusted the strap of her gym bag, pushing off the counter and toward the gym proper.

“No promises!” Mae called after her.

Temple Gym seemed rather empty, which wasn’t unusual for this time of day. Perhaps the recent conversation with the mysterious stranger drew Osha’s attention, but the low volume of people in classes and the rings seemed more noticeable today. It wasn’t like the gym was at risk of going out of business or anything, but each day, it looked like more teachers than students were in the training rooms.

“Keep your elbows in! Hands up!” The repeated thwack-thwack of gloves smacking training pads was as familiar to Osha’s ears as her sister’s voice. She recognized the trainer holding up the mats, Indara, and kept her head down as she strode past the ring. “Cutting it close, Osha!”

Damn it.

“Overslept, sorry!” She didn’t jog, as that would imply she wanted to run away from something, but she lengthened her strides a bit more to eat up the distance between this conversation and Training Room A.

Several students were there already, mid-warmup stretch. “Look who showed up,” Fillik teased from the floor. Osha resisted the urge to drop her bag on top of his head and got to work, taping her left ankle up as fast as possible.

“Do not let haste spoil your efforts,” a kind, but authoritative voice chided. Osha smiled sheepishly up at Sol and undid the last few passes of her wrap job. “Oftentimes,” he continued, “patience is the difference between injury and otherwise.”

“Yes, coach,” the room intoned. Osha’s face burned. Was she just unable to escape even a moment of chastisement today?

“Today, we will work on keeping your balance. Round one will be fifteen minutes of the following…” Osha fell into the usual routine of class, appreciating the burning in her lungs and thighs but forcing herself not to feel the pain in her ankle through some of the jump exercises. The injury was nearly six years old, but every time the weather was remotely bad, like clockwork, the usual ache would set in and twinge her gait a little.

I really need to get my car out of the shop.

“Mae—I mean Osha! Focus!”

A flash of irritation hit her like a gust of hot air. Sol was her dad and he couldn’t even tell them apart with any consistency.

How’d you know I wasn’t Mae when you walked in?

I just knew.

This random stranger, who knew Mae enough to recognize that Osha was not her, could tell them apart better than their dad.

She fueled that energy into her hips as she beat the heavy bag with laser-like focus. The impacts reverberated through her wrists, stinging the small burn with every hit. She lost herself in the trance of training, and it wasn’t exactly peace she found, but something more like clarity.

That was the difference between her and Mae; Osha could never find the serenity that came from repetition and effort. Whenever she got deep enough in training, she achieved something like a runner’s high that stayed with her most of the rest of the day. She felt as though she never had to cool down from it, or even stop. She’d never been pushed to the limits of her stamina, full of too much energy and determination to quit. It made her restless. The odd jobs Vernestra had her doing around the building were just enough to keep her from going out of her mind.

But she knew she had an example to set as the daughter of one of the best trainers in the gym. It’s why Indara still called her on her lateness even after six years out of competition, and why Sol was still so quick to offer critique in her footwork. Sol had a reputation to uphold, and Osha wouldn’t be the one to besmirch it.

“Are you alright?” Sol asked as she held a deep hamstring stretch in the cooldown. “Your wrist.”

“Oh, yeah. Old Huyang was giving me trouble last night. It’s nothing.”

“I’m sure it didn’t feel very nice striking the bag as hard as you did. May I see it?”

“Sol, c’mon, I’m fine.”

“Humor me.”

She undid the tape, revealing the angry line of shiny, pink skin across her wrist. “It won’t scar,” she assured Sol. He’d fretted so much after surgery on her Achilles, more concerned with the state of the scar than she was. Osha had let him, because it was something to pass her days in traction.

“Letting a burn breathe is important to prevent infection.” There was hardly a conversation with Sol where he didn’t attempt to impart some knowledge or wisdom.

“I’ll get it washed up before I go to lunch.”

On her way out of the gym, Mae stopped her.

“I can tell you more tonight, but really, steer clear of that guy if you see him again. He’s got anger issues a mile wide, and he’s… he’s a real butthead, Oshie. I don’t think he even knows how to make friends if his life depended on it. So… staying away from him is probably for the best. Please.”

“Well, it’s not like I was setting out to find him in the first place, so I think you can rest assured I won’t see him again. Besides, anybody my sister thinks is a real butthead doesn’t deserve my manners anyway.”

That assertion (and the espresso machine) lasted all of ten hours.

The text felt like a direct attack. Every time Yord did something wrong at the bar that needed Osha’s intervention, Jecki would send the same photo: Yord on his first day working at the shop, one hand in a thumbs-up and the other on a portafilter attached to an espresso machine on fire.

O: You’re joking

O: Please tell me you’re joking

J: I wish I were.

O: It’s been LESS THAN A DAY

J: To be fair, he wasn’t on shift for ten whole hours.

O: Nothing about this seems fair

O: I’ll be there at close

J: I owe you BIG! :)

Which led to here.

“YORD FANDAR!” Osha screamed at the espresso machine. It echoed through the empty cafe and the gym beyond. Not even the trainers stuck around after closing when the central heating was turned off for the night.

Giving in to temptation, Osha smacked her head against the espresso machine a few times. She’d been here a while. The fucking left group head had fused to the portafilter basket. Yord had been so violent with attaching the portafilter that the basket was now lodged in there, rendering half the damn machine inoperable since 4 p.m. when he decided to inform his shift manager of his fuckup. The clock on the register glared 21:33 in little red digits.

“These parts don’t—ngh!—actually—fucking—touch!” Osha squealed when she flew to the side, landing on her ass with the filter basket in her hands. The backflushed water from the machine gushed from the group head, left over from earlier that afternoon. She threw her hands in the air, laughing in victory. “Yeah!”

“That’s quite the technique you’ve got there.”

“Shit!” Osha flinched back, slapping her hand against one of the fridges below the counter. “You—?!”

Sure enough, the stranger stood on the other side of the counter. Looking up at him from the floor, he looked even more imposing than he’d been in her memory—that lasting image of the stranger silhouetted in the snow had grown into a certain kind of dark fantasy that she’d been unable to shake.

“Surprise?” he said, lips wrapping into a cocky sort of smirk that incensed her as much as it thrilled her. “Saw the lights were on again!”

She got to her feet, a determined scowl on her face. “Okay, I know for sure that I locked the door tonight, so how did you get in here?”

His hands went up. “Okay, I’ll admit, I heard you scream, saw you fall, and I freaked out a little. The lock isn’t broken, if that’s your concern. Are you alright, Osha?”

Shit, she must have hit her head or something, because her name never sounded better than when he said it.

Wait, no no no. Don’t be polite, remember he’s a butthead. 

“I’m fine. Do you want a coffee?”

NO!! That’s worse!

The stranger looked confused for half a moment but shrugged. “If you’re offering. I’ll even pay this time.”

Okay, this she could work with. “Yeah, okay. I just gotta—ugh, Yord.” She looked down and realized the puck of espresso had broken into a million gross wet pieces… all over her. “I will be right back, I need to change.”

“I’ll be here!”

Her bag was right near the door, and the locker room was clear across the gym… It couldn’t hurt. Osha stepped around a dividing wall between the gym and the cafe, stripping off her gross coffee-shirt the moment she could.

She heard rustling around the corner and poked her head back, new shirt clutched to her chest. “What are you doing?”

The stranger was in the cleaning supplies closet. “Paying ahead. I’ll clean up the mess.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“Please.” His smile was so genuine and patient. “I don’t want you to stay late on my account. It’s a Friday.”

“I’m not missing much,” she said. Mae had sent a text saying she was going to dinner with some school friends across the bay, so her interrogation would have to wait another day.

Osha ducked back behind the wall to keep changing. But when she pressed her shoulders to the cold brick, she found she didn’t want to end this moment too quickly. “Have you worked in a cafe before?”

“Not exactly. I had a lot of part-time jobs in school. Food service was never something I committed to for long, though. Couldn’t stand coming home sticky. I prefer teaching and training.”

“So you’re a teacher?” Maybe Mae met him at one of her night classes…

“Oh, I’d like to be.”

“What do you want to teach?”

“I mean, teach what you know, right? For me that’s mostly fighting, but also sports science. Injury prevention and treatment.”

Osha’s heart plummeted. Once, she toyed with the idea of studying the same—in the blur of devastated angry months following her injury. To learn the why and the what if of her daily pain out of spite. But then her grief had spiraled into numb days of sorrow and half-assed physical therapy until she could force herself back into class workouts.

“That’s a great field for a fighter to be in.”

“I’m glad you agree, Osha.”

No words passed for a while, both of them just still and listening to one another with a wall between them. “Do you still fight?”

He laughs. “Sometimes.”

“Boxing?”

“Absolutely not.” The chill in his voice rivaled the chill in the gym. Osha shrugged on her other shirt and zipped up her jacket for good measure.

The stranger was just putting away the wet broom when she returned, rolling down the mats again after. How the hell had he mopped so fast?

“Oh, wow.” She blinked at the floor in surprise.

“Efficiency is an underutilized talent. Some people only see you rush, not caring that you did it all correctly.” His black hoodie still covered a lot of his body language, but the hunched curl of his shoulders must have been for her benefit. Most women didn’t want men looking over them, even if it was just good posture.

“So how do you fight, if you’re not boxing?”

“However I want,” he shrugged. “Capoeira. Jiu-jitsu. Kendo. Arnis. I’d rather be a jack of all trades than master of one. Traditional boxing is bogged down in a thousand little rules and pieces of etiquette that take the teeth out of what real fighting is. It’s just domesticated violence that forgot its history was built by lions.”

Osha back-flushed the machine a few times while he spoke, idly checking the dirty water. Then, she loaded a double into a new basket while she processed what he said. He didn’t seem bothered by her quiet demeanor. Sometimes silence was as important as its inverse in a conversation.

“And what would you say real fighting is, then?”

He waited until she looked him in the eye to say, “Bloodsong.”

“What?”

“We are animals, with animal instincts that have been honed over thousands of years to make fire, build cities, have families. But there come times for each of us where primal instinct drives us—when your life is threatened; when what you want is at risk of being lost. Then, all the blood in your body comes singing through your ears in a mix of adrenaline and panic, and you know one truth: only the strongest survive—that is the bloodsong.

“To dull that edge with rules, to quiet that song with tradition, is to glaze over the jagged history of how we got here—to cities and families and fire. But respecting the razor’s edge of instinct, and teaching yourself to hear the song, those things are what set lions apart from house-cats.”

Osha couldn’t look away from the fire in his eyes, the seriousness in his tone. Tonight, he’d only put on the guise of the bumbling fool for a minute before dropping it in favor of… this. Was this his real self? His philosophies were the very opposite of what Osha had been taught.

“You don’t think it’s a privilege to be able to practice fighting as a sport?” she said, deflecting and putting together a cortado on impulse. The steamed milk would provide a literal smokescreen between them that she could hide behind.

“It’s more theatre than fighting.”

“It’s called a martial art for a reason.”

“A good point,” he allowed, nodding his head. The intensity of his look had softened a little, but the fire in his eyes blazed true. “But those are all just pretty words to soften a blow. I prefer not to pull my punches in any sense.”

SHHHHHHH—

Osha breathed out shakily as she worked through the sudden din of machinery. The stranger accepted his drink without picking up the thread of conversation, leaving her to ponder it. This is what I am, his silence declared. You should not try to change me.

“My sister all but called you an asshole when I asked who you were,” Osha said at long last, once the silence had soured.

He rotated his drink in his hand, considering it and smirking wider. “No she didn’t.”

“She did.”

“Your sister doesn’t swear.”

“Okay, she called you a ‘real butthead.’ That’s basically the same thing.”

He chuckled and took a sip. “Mm. Cortado?”

“Figured you wanted another two-shot deal, Mr. Power of Two.”

“It’s a good choice,” he says, inclining his head to her in thanks.

Osha quickly scrubbed down and reset the machine for the night before shutting it down. Before she rounded the bar, he handed her a ten. “I told you I’d pay.”

Rather than hemming and hawing her way around it, she took the bill and dropped it in the tip jar. He rolled his eyes a bit, but didn’t drop the smile.

“Where do you train?” Osha asked once they approached the door. It’s a familiar pose for them: standing in front of the shop door with nothing but streetlights on their faces.

“Wherever I want.”

“So shifty! What are you, like a vigilante gym rat?”

“I think your trainers would call me a brawler. They like to think there’s no place for NHB fighters.”

“NHB?”

“No Holds Barred.” The term sent a frisson through her skin, that razor sharp thrill of danger he’d been talking about. Just the name was enough to excite. 

“Then how did you learn?”

“I had to, in order to survive.”

A few minutes later, he held the door for her and stood a few steps back as she locked up.

“Mae also told me to stay away from you. I wonder why.”

“Mae has her own reasons to dislike me. You should find some on your own.” It sounded like an invitation. She didn’t respond to it, just walking down the street in the direction of her apartment complex.

They crunched through the snow on the quiet street in silence. Several bars they passed had music thumping within, soft yellow glows bleeding out onto the sidewalks. “You’re not following me home, are you?” Osha asked, very aware of the bear spray in her bag.

“I live this way too. Why, are you following me home?” The goofy smile had returned, and Osha saw it for what it was: a mask. 

She shook her head and leaned on a pole as they waited for a crossing signal. She gently tried to stretch the pain out of her Achilles, but the cold limited her range of motion.

“Your ankle alright?”

“It’s just tight this time of year.”

“How are you resting it?”

“The usual way,” she sighed.

“How often do you do isometric exercises instead of just working on it in class?” She was startled by the question a little. It must have shown on her face, because he followed it up with, “I’m a sports scientist. If it helps, you can think of it as professional curiosity.”

That’s right. “Oh, um. Well I stopped PT after a year off crutches, and I was told class training, normal training is what’s best for me…”

“I mean no offense, but isn’t boxing how you got your injury in the first place?”

“Yeah, but—”

“That might be as effective as putting steel around a wooden pencil with broken lead inside.” The light turned green. 

“Then what do you recommend?” She was expecting him to say something like come train with me, come to my house, let me do it right for you, but she was proved wrong.

“Isometric exercises, building out full range of motion. I’m sure you still have your old PT records, follow those exercises about thirty minutes a day. Don’t worry about muscle tone or whatever. Take a few days off from classes and understand where your pain is. Numbing yourself to it only hides it when you’re trying to get rid of it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. But that’s just my advice. Follow it, don’t. You’re not a client, I won’t be disappointed if you ignore it, Osha. I’m going this way, so…” he put a thumb over his shoulder. It gave her a choice: follow him and continue the conversation, whatever path it might lead down, or head home to where she’s safe.

As thrilling as the night would have been to go with him, she didn’t even know his name. And perhaps there was something wrong with her, because she didn’t ask for it. It preserved the mystery, the clandestine kind of air about them. She wanted more of it, to be sure, but breaking the ice too early would be unsatisfying.

“I’ll see you around.”

He looked delighted by her answer. “You can count on it.”

CHAPTER 3