#kel the council man | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hesthermay · 2 years ago

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𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 (𝐏𝐓 𝟏)

PAIRING: obi-wan kenobi x fem!oc reader

SUMMARY: the shrill sound of blaster fire, red and blue shots of light cutting through the deep fog. the call of a trooper to his general, voice almost blending in with the chaos filling her ears. a blue lightsaber, illuminating the form of a quick and nimble jedi. copper hair, soft and somehow still shiny, as her fingers carded through the strands in the dead of night. flashes, these were—visions and dreams plaguing the goddess of the sun; the sun witch; whatever she may be called. viarruh finnall, the queen of orret, knew she was meant to do more for the galaxy, meant to be out there and meant to be with someone, and with the help of a dear friend that is exactly what will happen.

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

RATINGS + WARNINGS: general audiences, mature themes, slight angst? female oc, use of she/her, mentions of death, soulmate trope, eventual fix it fic. the clone wars time period.

NOTES: this oc and story has been living in my head for actual months. i love viarruh, and i sincerely hope you all do too! her and obi <3 ugh <3 there will be more to this story, i can’t say how many parts bc i’m honestly just winging it but it will follow the clone wars timeline, but it should be alright if you haven’t seen the show. also! i am planning on posting this story to my wattpad! if there are any inaccuracies or things that aren’t quite right, i’m doing my best! but i’m also flying by the seat of my pants so! oops! anyways feedback is always appreciated love u pookies

STAR WARS MASTERLIST

It was quiet in the Jedi Temple, the long corridor leading to the council room almost deserted; save for the four occupants huddled together.

Anakin Skywalker and Padme Amidala stood side by side as they attempted to offer small comforts to the pair before them. Time seemed to drag on as they all waited, tucked away next to a large column to retain as much privacy as possible, and nerves were understandably growing stronger.

“Just don’t look at him,” the Jedi Knight offered, holding his hands up as if the answer was so simple. He could not be faulted much, however, because he stuck around even when he had no reason to.

“Don’t look at him? I dream about him every night and you expect me not to look at him?” The woman across from him questioned, incredulous words filling the small space of their circle as her sculpted brows furrowed.

“Ani,” Padme sighed, shooting him a small smile nonetheless.

“I think what the General means,” the last member of the group interjected, his low voice easing his companion’s nerves ever so slightly. “Is that when you give your speech, do not focus on him too much. It will only distract you, and…” he drawled, words sounding like a question.

“...it’s something we can unpack later,” the woman finished with a nod, filling her lungs with air before exhaling.

“Good, very good, my dear.” Aged hands squeezed her shoulders before her attention was drawn elsewhere. Her eyes landed on the form approaching them from afar, and it was familiar to her, but it was not the man she was stressing over.

It was a Kel Dorian, a Jedi the woman had seen more than once in her visions. When he was within earshot, the woman hesitated before she opened her mouth. “Koh-to-yah, Master,” she greeted, attempting a small smile. A small effort, a metaphorical hand outstretched to make a good impression, and the man stopped in his tracks upon hearing her. It was difficult to read him due to the mask covering his face, but he bowed his head in return. A choice, to accept the hand.

“Koh-to-yah, Your Majesty,” his deep voice replied, before he continued the short trek to the council room.

“Okay, it shouldn’t be too long now that Master Plo is here,” Anakin explained. “I promise, it won’t be as bad as you think.”

There was no time to reply to him, for the doors opened and the Jedi from before, Master Plo, stepped out. “You may enter, Your Majesty. I do apologize for the wait.” He held out one arm clad in armor, and the woman detached herself from her support group with one last glance.

“Oh, no apology needed, Master,” she assured, voice soft as she passed him and crossed the threshold into the large room. Before her sat every member of the Jedi Council, some in person, some over holocall, but they all gazed upon her in a daunting semi-circle.

Her eyes zeroed in on him immediately, breath catching in her throat and heart freezing in her chest. Obi-Wan Kenobi, with his copper hair that shone in the sunlight that streamed through the many windows, was somehow even more perfect in person than in her dreams, and she did not know how that was possible.

She hoped that her face didn’t give her away, cursing herself for the falter in her stride when they made eye contact. She dismissed it, told herself to give no thought to the way it looked as if the man struggled just as much upon seeing her. That was impossible, a trick of the mind; for she was only human after all.

The young woman was suddenly aware of every aspect of herself, from the way her dress lay as she stood in the middle of the room to how heavy the crown she often wore felt on that day.

“A pleasure to see you, it is, Viarruh Finnall,” came the croaky voice of Master Yoda, and so that was where she chose to focus her eyes as she forced herself to remain calm.

“The pleasure is all mine, I can’t thank you enough for taking the time to hear me out,” she smiled, as polite as ever in a formal meeting. She did not have much experience with Jedi, but she did have some when it came to being a Queen.

“Of course,” the man sat next to Yoda replied, his hands clasped before him. “What can we help you with, Your Majesty?”

Viarruh took another deep breath, gathering her bearings before she dove into the explanation she could only hope she delivered in a clear and concise way. Her hands reached down and fluffed her dress slightly as her lips parted, nerves shoved to the back of her mind. “How much do you know of my planet’s culture?”

A moment passed in silence, her eyes flitting from one Jedi to the next, before she continued. “Or, more specifically, how much do you know about my family?” Another beat of silence, and she began her little walk around the circle she stood in, movement helping to disperse the nerves buzzing throughout her. “In my family, the crown is passed down from Queen to Queen, traditionally mother to daughter; and that is because we possess something that I understand to be somewhat similar to the Force,” she paused, eyes landing on Obi-Wan subconsciously. He was stoic as ever, hand raised to cover his chin as he listened, and was little comfort in the moment.

“It’s ancient, older than old, and it’s…” she laughed slightly, arms moving about as she spoke. “It’s magic. That’s the only word for it. Some have called us goddesses of the sun, others have called us sun witches; regardless of that, we are capable of things normal humans cannot do. We have a connection to the sun and possess abilities that aid us in protecting our planet, our people. Traditionally,” she sighed, “mother would teach daughter how to use and strengthen these abilities, but I have been without my teacher for quite some time. I haven’t had my master to help me, I’ve been on my own with only the light to guide me in the right direction, and I will not lie to you all. There are things I still don’t know about myself, things I’m still learning. This magic, it only grows stronger as time passes, just as I do, and I have not mastered much yet.”

“Magic?” Someone questioned from behind Viarruh, and she twirled around to face the man. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but magic is not real.”

This reaction was not one Viarruh was unfamiliar with. The condescending tone in the Cerean’s voice did nothing but roll off her back like water. Just as she was about to respond, someone beat her to it. A few seats away, a Togrutan woman illuminated in blue as she called from wherever she resided, addressed her colleague. “Master Mundi, perhaps we should keep an open mind, this galaxy is bigger than you might think.”

The man, Mundi, as it turned out, grumbled to himself but settled into his seat nonetheless. A small smile stretched across the queen’s face, and she lit up with an idea. “On the contrary, Master Mundi,” she raised a finger, and spun around to find the beams of light trickling into the circular room. “Magic is real, and I can show you.”

She stepped forward, hand outstretched before it was enveloped in the streams of warmth. Not a moment later, the light began to shimmer around her hand, golden sparkles covering her skin even after she pulled away. She held it up to show everyone, eyes flitting down the line of people before they settled on Master Plo. The grin she shot him was, all things considered, tame compared to her usual mischievous smirk, but the man did not know that. As the woman floated towards him, all he could think of was Ahsoka Tano, and how she must be a copycat for she looked almost the same when a plan formed in her mind.

When she finally stood before him, slender fingers were placed on his forehead and the still glittering light showered down and covered his entire body. Warmth filled him to the brim, as if the sun itself was beating down on a summer’s afternoon, and his eyes shut momentarily. When they opened again, Viarruh was still standing before him, hands at her sides but giving him a hopeful look. “Fascinating,” he mused, and the woman chuckled before bowing her head and returning to her spot. Behind her back, Plo made eye contact with Yoda before he nodded just once.

“That,” Viarruh began again, “was only a simple trick, but I feel a good example of how real my connection with the sun is. Recently, it seems I have…unlocked something. A new ability, something I had seen my mother deal with but not something she ever had the chance to help me with. I have been having visions and dreams,” she explained, face serious as she grew closer to the heart of her speech, the real reason she had called upon the Council.

“And they are only getting stronger and more persistent. Every day, now multiple times each, my mind is taken over and my eyes glow golden and all I can see is this war. I have seen it all,” she stressed, nodding her head a few times at the disbelief on some of the master’s faces. “The assassination attempts on Senator Amidala’s life, the Battle on Geonosis,” she listed, eyes wide. “I’ve seen a handful of you fight in battles, seen you risk your lives against swarms of droids. And I see myself, too; fighting with you, helping you and your men bring this closer to an end one day at a time.”

The room was so silent, one could’ve heard a pin drop, if anyone dared to move a muscle, that is. Every Jedi sat frozen in their seats, eyes all trained on the woman in the center of the room, and for a moment she felt like prey being stalked by predators. But she could not afford to let that get to her, let it throw her off her game because she was in too deep now to back out, to lose.

“I know, I know it sounds absurd, but it’s the truth. I have never been so certain about anything in my entire life, as I am about the fact that I am meant to do something in this war. I can feel it in my bones,” her fists clenched to emphasize her words, eyes boring into each and every person they landed on. “I believe that every person in this galaxy has a purpose, something they are meant to do, either for themselves or someone else; and I know in my heart of hearts, in every crevice of my mind, that I am meant to fight with you. My entire life, I have always had an intuition that rivaled anyone around me; sometimes I just know things and I am seldom wrong. I have never been led to believe I cannot trust my emotions, and that is how I know these visions mean something. I see with more than eyes.”

Her feet stopped moving, planting themselves in the dead center of the circle she had been pacing with toes pointed right at Master Kenobi. “Please,” she breathed. “You have to believe me, have to trust me that this is meant to happen.” His blue eyes bore into her, and she could not find it in herself to look away from them. If anyone in this room believed her, it had to be Obi-Wan. He had to know that she saw things beyond herself, that she thought of him every day and maybe, just maybe, she could tell him that she also dreamt of him every night. During the day, it was battles and clones, lightsabers and blaster fire; but at night, it was him. Moments of sneaking affection, fingertips brushing fingertips, late night conversations where no prying eyes could catch them, kisses, soft and sweet and sacred in their secrecy.

When she finally did break contact, flashes of his laughing face being pushed to the side, she looked to Master Yoda. “I love my job, and I love my people, but it eats away at me sitting in that castle instead of being out there.” Her voice shook under the severity of her emotions, the weight of her words and what they meant too heavy to hold steady in front of the audience. “I am absolutely riddled with guilt every time I see a clone fall, or a Jedi get cut down, and I know I can’t save everyone but I know I could do something.”

It had been a long while of Viarruh being the only one speaking, everyone else sitting in silence as she spilled everything that had been occupying her mind for months, so when she finally concluded her speech there was a pregnant pause, a swallowing quiet that left a pit in her stomach. This was it, she had nothing left to add to change their minds, should they send her away with her insane claims and delirious visions. She knew full well how crazy her request was, to want to fight in a war when her days consisted of royalty and sunshine, but it was about doing what was right, not what was easy.

A croaky voice broke the silence, bringing all eyes to a green Jedi huddled in his chair. “Thank you, I do, for coming forward with your visions. Frightening, it is, to share something unknown.” His head bowed slightly, ears moving with him. “Some time, we will need, to discuss things. From the temple, stray not, please.”

Relief, in its purest form, washed over her when his words registered. She was not being sent away with no thought to what she had to say, she was not laughed at for the emotion she showed.

“Of course,” she answered, bowing her head as well. “Thank you for your time. I shall be with General Skywalker in the meantime.” With that, she turned to make her exit, eyes lingering on a copper haired Jedi just a moment longer than they should have before her feet carried her across the room and over the threshold. Behind her, the doors shut and her shoulders slumped, closing her eyes while the sounds of shuffling feet filled her ears.

“Well?” Padme urged, unsatisfied with the lack of information being given.

“They listened to you, didn’t they?” Anakin fired immediately after, and Viarruh was struck with how similar they could be. Two peas in a pod, they were.

The young woman nodded her head, careful to mind the headpiece she wore once it bumped on the wall behind her. “Yes, they listened. No, Obi-Wan didn’t speak to me,” she answered, already knowing those were the two hot questions burning on everyone's minds. “Master Yoda said they would need time to discuss things, and not to stray from the temple.”

“Well, that’s good,” the eldest member of the group pointed out, aged face displaying a hopeful expression. “They could have said no and sent you home, but they’re considering.”

“Ellman’s right,” Padme interjected, face serious now that the first step of their plan was completed. It was only just a day ago that they wondered if they would even be able to do it, and here they were with one foot out the door already. “Now, should they say yes we need to have all of our points laid out for when we speak to the Chancellor. I have everything in my office in the Senate building.”

“I shall accompany you,” Ellman offered, his role as the queen’s main advisor ever present.

“Perfect. Ani, you stay here with Vi while we’re gone, and comm me when they bring her back in.”

“You got it,” he grinned down at her, and her business face melted for just a moment before she had to look away.

“And don’t get into any trouble, you two,” she warned, finger pointed at her husband before going to her best friend.

“Pads, we’re in a sacred temple, what kind of trouble could we possibly find?”

-: ✧

“Is that all you’ve got, Your Majesty?”

Although Viarruh had seen him in her visions, she had never met the young man who had captured her friend’s heart, and so she was not yet prepared for how arrogantly taunting Anakin Skywalker could be. He was caring, that much she could see; he had done his best to help with her pre-meeting jitters and now, was occupying her during her wait at the Jedi Temple. And yet, his voice carried across the sparring room with a challenging lilt curling around the words, solely meant to egg her on.

“Be careful what you wish for, General,” she warned, eyes bright and sharp and lips pulled into a smirk that only screamed trouble. Her hand shot out and in it formed a staff, appearing in a flash of light right before Anakin’s very eyes, though he still blinked a couple times as his mind attempted to catch up with what had happened. When he finally brought his attention back to the present, he only had moments to duck before the staff made contact with his face. Whatever it was made of, it did not appear to weigh her down as she moved with a frightening grace; and it stood up against a sword meant to cut through anything. She was capable, challenging, even, but she would need more training if she wanted to join them in battle. This was made clear to them both when the match ended with Viarruh’s staff on the ground some feet away from her and the blue blade of a lightsaber pointed right at her throat.

“I suppose you win this round, Skywalker,” she conceded, hands raising in surrender. Just as her opponent went to reply, most likely another boast, he was interrupted by the sound of clapping. Their heads turned in unison, and their eyes widened together just the same. The blade disappeared into the hilt of the saber and the heat fled from her neck, though it returned not a moment later as she registered who she was looking at.

Stood by the entrance was Obi-Wan Kenobi, hands coming down to clasp behind his back. “Impressive,” he mused, and the sound of his voice meeting her ears in person nearly knocked her over, but she remained steady as he started moving towards them. “It seems I taught my padawan well.”

“Yes,” she replied after realizing that Anakin’s silence was a push for her to speak up. “It seems so.” Her eyes cut to the man beside her, and he knew he would be in trouble later.

“And you, Your Majesty, are quite the fighter. I didn’t realize how frightening you could be.” By now, Obi-Wan was in front of the pair, looking at them with crystalline eyes. Viarruh tried not to think about how she looked at the moment; their fight had been long and was easy by no means, and she could feel the sweat gathered on her brow all the more under his gaze. She knew her hair was a mess on her head, having been knotted when she hastily removed the crown, and she didn’t dare look down to see if her dress was crumpled and crooked. She only prayed to Maker that it wasn’t as she stared right back at him.

“It comes in handy,” she quipped, heart skipping a beat in her chest when his smile widened.

The moment, if it could even be called that, was shattered when Anakin finally decided to make his presence known once again. “So, Master, what can we do for you?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes didn’t seem to want to leave the woman before him, but they eventually flicked to his former student, and he had to clear his throat before speaking. “Ah, yes, the Council wishes to speak with you again, Your Majesty.”

“Of course, just let me grab my things and we’ll be on our way,” she smiled, before turning to her new friend. “General, would you please comm Senator Amidala and Advisor Ellman while I speak with the Council?” She had already started to walk away from the men when the answer came, and she did not have to look at him to know he was grinning at her.

“Yes, yes, I can do that, Your Majesty.” She turned to squint at him, hands running through her long strands when, to her horror, he started to walk towards the exit. “I will go do that right now.”

Her fingers forced themselves to resume their movements as she turned away again. She found herself alone with the man she believed to be her soulmate, as if her nerves needed anything else to buzz over. When she did spin around to face him, he was already looking at her. Her cheeks burned even more, but in spite of it she held her hands out, gesturing vaguely to the crown now on her head as she made her way back to him. “Look good?”

Once again, words seemed to stick in Obi-Wan’s throat when her eyes were on him. He stuttered slightly in his reply, and cursed himself silently. “Yes. Looks good,” he nodded, suddenly shy in front of the queen. “To the council room?”

Viarruh was intuitive, and on top of this particularly beneficial trait, she also read people for what they were. Not much got past the Queen of Orret, and so she dared to let herself believe that what she saw was, indeed, true.

Obi-Wan was nervous.

“Lead the way, Master,” she smiled, swallowing her chuckle when she noticed the shade of pink dusting over his cheeks as he led her out of the room.

The corridor was long and dimly lit, the evening sun casting a golden hue across the walls and floors, and though her shoes were the only noise for the beginning of their walk, Viarruh had started to settle into herself; muscles relaxing and mind easing as she felt the warmth of the man next to her. They were not touching, not even close enough to brush arms, but she still felt him. For a moment she wondered if this would only make her miss him more when he was no longer around her, but a small voice in the back of her mind told her she was a fool to think it wouldn’t.

“Your Majesty?”

Her heart still skipped a beat when his accent rang in her ears, but she was no longer fighting for breath and composure. He was comfortable to be around, she had decided.

“Oh, please, Viarruh is fine,” she assured, smiling at him in an attempt to prove to him that it really was fine.

He hesitated for a moment, but not a second later did he nod his head before flicking his eyes over to meet hers. “Viarruh,” he corrected, and oh, Maker, her name had never sounded so pretty. “May I ask you something about your visions? I know you are to speak with the Council about them, but I was wondering if you could tell me when they started?”

“Uhm,” she stalled, remembering back to the first vision she ever had.

She had just settled down in the plush and intricate chair sat at her desk, fully intending to complete some work in the late hours of the night, for something had been nagging her though she could not figure it out. It had kept her awake when she laid down to sleep, and so she had eventually wandered her way around the castle and ended up in her office. But as she reached for the holopad she felt…funny. A feeling washed over her, starting at the crown of her head and showering down to the tips of her toes, and it had happened so fast she hadn’t had any time to react before breath stuck to the back of her throat and eyes glowed bright like the sun that hung in the sky. Her lips were parted but only quiet choking sounds escaped her as her head fell backwards, face pointed to the high ceiling but she was not really looking.

No, her mind was taken over and it was like she wasn’t even in her office anymore. Instead, she was on Coruscant, stood in the darkened bedroom of her best friend. She could not move, she could not speak, only watch as insect-like creatures crawled towards Padme’s sleeping figure. Could only watch as two Jedi burst into the room, blue blade illuminating the darkness as one of them cut the creatures in half.

It ended there, whatever it was that had happened to her. Her eyes slammed shut before snapping open, air rushing into her lungs as she gasped, almost falling forward onto the desk in front of her. With a heaving chest she did her best to push herself up from her seat on shaky arms before she dashed out of the room. Bare feet carried her to the meeting room where she punched in Padme’s comm code, and she anxiously waited for her face to appear in blue, but cried out in frustration when there was no answer.

Worry prickled at every nerve and dread had settled in her feet, making it hard to even move her legs as she rushed to the only room she could think of; Ellman’s. She couldn’t move fast enough, tripping on the ends of her sleep gown numerous times, and she practically flew into his door. She was gasping, mind racing over every possibility as her fists bangs on the door, and she didn’t know how she was still standing by the time the man answered the door.

His eyes were squinted as he tried to make out who was in front of him, and in her frenzy Viarruh almost yelled at him, but there was no time to raise her voice as words spilled out with no end. They were frantic and jumbled together, and it was the alarm bells it set off in his mind that fully awoke him. “Viarruh? Viarruh! What is it?”

His questions fell on deaf ears, and strong hands tightly grasped her shoulders. “Viarruh, calm down! I need you to breathe!” He shook her a few good times, successfully putting an end to the stream of panic falling from the woman’s lips. Her eyes were wide as they finally focused on him, and she was slightly trembling in his hold.

It was a rarity for the queen to get so startled, handling her nerves well on any other day despite the horrors of her childhood, but that was not the case on this particular night. “Vi, what happened?”

“It’s Padme, I—I saw something and when I commed her, she didn’t answer, and—”

“Slow down,” he urged. “What do you mean you saw something?”

“I was in my office, and s��something happened, it was,” she stuttered, shaking her head as she struggled for words. “Do you remember when I told you I had a weird feeling earlier today? I couldn’t sleep, so I went to my office.”

“Was someone in there with you?” He interjected, but she shook her head again.

“No, no, it was just me; but I did see something. It was like…like a vision. I got this funny feeling and then I couldn’t breathe, it was like I was choking on nothing and then I couldn’t see.” Her hands fisted the front of his shirt, words speeding up again the more she spoke.

“You couldn’t see, but you saw something?”

“I’m being serious! It was like—like a vision! I was staring at the ceiling and then something happened to me and it was all gone, all I could see was the vision and I saw Padme!”

Viarruh did not catch on in the moment, perceptiveness dialed down in her vulnerable state, but Ellman seemed to be paying more attention now that she had revealed what she had experienced. His brows were furrowed as her words bounced around in his head, thoughts zooming this way and that as he thought back to when he was working for her mother, and all the things he’d witnessed her do and he remembered visions being one of them.

“What happened to her in this vision?” His voice was low and as serious as could be, no longer high pitched in worry, and in the darkness of the corridor his face was almost grave.

“There was something in her room, and it was crawling towards her while she slept and then two Jedi burst into the room! I tried to comm her when it ended but she didn’t answer, and that only makes me think something bad really did happen to her! Ellman, what if she’s in trouble? What’s happening?”

“Listen, listen,” he soothed, taking a half step closer. “This is because of your powers. Your mother had visions, but I can only imagine how frightening it was when so unexpected.”

“My mom had them?” she mumbled, wide eyes staring up at the closest thing to a parent she had.

“She did. I don’t know much, unfortunately, but I do know that this was going to happen eventually; you’re far too perceptive and just plain lucky to have it skip you. What it is, well, to my understanding it could be a number of things. The past, things that have already happened revealed to you; the present, seeing things as they happen in real life; and the future, though that is never a certainty. Things change, but you can see these things. Now, what you saw with Padme could be any of those things, I’m afraid I have no answers to give with that, but we will investigate more in the morning. More people are likely to answer our calls, and we will be of sound minds,” he assured, one hand coming up to smooth over the back of her head. “Please, My Lady, let me escort you back to bed.”

“With the assassination attempt on Padme’s life. The one you and Anakin were around for,” she answered, keeping it short and sweet.

“You saw it?”

“I did,” she nodded, fingers playing with the fabric of her dress. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” he dismissed, looking away from her and she had a creeping suspicion that he was not telling the truth. Nonetheless, she nodded her head before allowing herself a moment to take him in. He wore the plastoid armor similar to that of the clone troopers over the top half of his robes, and his lightsaber hung off his waist, shining and magnificent. He was more handsome than any man she’d ever seen in all her life of travels and meetings, negotiations and balls. Stuffy princes didn’t hold a candle to him.

“I see,” she mused, voice verging on playfulness. It was nice speaking to him, actual conversations instead of snippets of exchanges captured in dreams. “Well, let me ask you, do you ever see things?” She glanced over him, brows raised and lips curling upwards.

Her question settled into Obi-Wan’s mind and debated how truthful he wanted to be with his response. All his time and energy went into the Jedi Order, and fighting this war. He was strong with the force and worked to keep his balance, and he was a clever and impressive General in the GAR; but from time to time he saw her. Not often, not as often as she had visions, it seemed, but when he got the rare moment of rest, he could hear her voice and almost make out her face. When in battle, surrounded by blaster fire and chaos, he sometimes felt her presence next to him, swearing he saw her and a warm glow in his peripheral, yet when he risked a glance she was nowhere to be seen. It had started when he overheard her speaking to Padme the morning after the attempt on the senator’s life, voice slightly distorted over the holocall but still ringing pleasantly in his ears.

But was this something he wanted to admit to? Something he wanted to reveal in the corridor of a Temple that frowned upon attachments? But to lie to her, the thought of it made his stomach churn for some reason.

“Yes, I suppose I do,” he settled, voice almost far away. Viarruh tilted her head slightly, contemplating the thoughts behind his eyes before he cleared his throat, seeming to come back to her. “The Force works in mysterious ways,” he nodded, grinning when the woman chuckled.

“That, I can understand. Perhaps you see with more than eyes, just as I do, Master Kenobi.”

“Perhaps,” he agreed, looking straight ahead as he prepared himself for his next comment. “Though I don’t think there is anyone quite like you out there.”

Obi-Wan, while pleasant to be around, was becoming almost flirty. His voice was smooth and his accent curled his words nicely, as sweet as honey. Her heart fluttered in her chest and she could not stop it, could not prevent a full on, toothy smile growing on her face. The doors to the council room were in sight, just up ahead, and she looked as unserious as she could possibly be.

“I think you’re right,” she whispered, turning to face him when they were only a few feet before the doors. “But the same could be said about you.” She cleared her throat, wiggling her arms a little to reset, now looking at her companion with determination. “Wish me luck, I’ve got to speak with the Jedi Council.”

“Now that you mention it, I have a meeting to attend. Good luck, Your Majesty.”

With that, the doors slid open and Viarruh made her way inside the large room once again, the presence of Obi-Wan Kenobi following her. When she reached the middle of the circle, he passed her and settled into his seat, and the added distance between them lessened the ease she had previously felt. Nerves began to settle into her again, as even Obi-Wan’s demeanor changed to that of a more stoic man, a Jedi wise beyond his years sitting amongst the council.

“Your Majesty, we’d like to thank you again for coming to us to speak,” the bald man sat next to Master Yoda began, voice just as serious as it was before. It was difficult to read him as he spoke and she found little comfort in the way his face remained stoney. “The information you presented to us is much appreciated, and has caused lots of discussion within the Council. If you don’t mind, we’d like to ask you some questions.”

“Of course, I don’t mind at all, Master…?”

“Windu, Your Majesty,” he answered, bowing his head.

“Master Windu,” she repeated, nodding her head at him with a small smile. “Ask away.”

“What is your goal?”

Vague. A broad question asked simply and to the point, and it caused the woman to tilt her head ever so slightly. “My goal?”

“Yes. What is your goal in all of this?”

“Well,” she sighed. “Short term, I suppose it’s to convince you all to help me do what I can to join the war,” she gestured vaguely with one arm, holding the other out as she spoke again. “Long term, to do what’s right. To make a difference. To help people. Is that not everyone in this room's goal?”

“We are bound by oath,” came the voice of Master Mundi, interjecting and almost cold. “We are warriors of peace and fight to bring balance back to the galaxy, per our oath to the Jedi Order.”

“I am also bound by oath,” she countered lowly. “I was born into a position of power. I’ve held it all my life, and when I was just fourteen standard years old I obtained the highest rank you could possibly get on most planets. The responsibility may not be the same as yours, but it is a great one nonetheless; to keep people safe, to represent them, to protect them, that is what I do. And the oath I made was to always do what is right, what I need to do regardless of whether it is easy or not, whether it makes sense or not. And the Clone Wars are hurting people, and the Republic’s enemy stands for things that I would rather die fighting than let become the status quo in our galaxy. We may live different lives, Master Mundi, but our goals are very much the same.”

“You are very dedicated to this,” a male Nautolan observed, and all eyes turned to him. “It’s easy to see that this means something to you. I believe you when you say that our goals are the same, but this is still a very unusual situation, Your Majesty,” he explained, frowning slightly towards the end of his sentence.

“It is, I know that,” Viarruh assured sincerely. “But as unusual as it is for you, it is the same for me.”

“Your visions, hear more about them, may we?” Yoda questioned, pointing a clawed finger in her direction.

“What would you like to know?”

“Are they of the future?” Someone else questioned.

“Not entirely,” she answered, shaking her head. “My understanding is that they are things revealed to me because they need to be. It could be something from the past, I can see things as they are happening, and sometimes I do see the future, but you all know as well as I do that the future is never set in stone. Prophecies and destinies aside, seeing a vision of something that should happen doesn’t always mean it will happen.”

“What is the extent of your powers? What can you do, exactly?”

“I can do lots of things,” she chuckled, shrugging her shoulders. “But I already told you that they’re still developing, I still don’t know what the extent is.”

“I saw a demonstration of Her Majesty’s abilities in the sparring room, and it was most impressive,” a familiar voice entered the conversation, backing her up as she stood under the eyes of the disbelieving. Her chest warmed as she caught his eye before they flicked to the next person to speak.

“Sparring room?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan answered smugly. “Her Majesty sparred with Anakin, and held her own for quite some time. I could only imagine what she would be like with just some formal training.”

Murmurs filled the room, soft and blended together, but she gathered that Anakin being her opponent was the hot topic. “Impressive, that is,” Yoda confirmed. “Needed, a demonstration is, perhaps.”

“I can give you a demonstration,” she promised, hand already coming up to point at the copper haired Jedi. Her palm faced upward, slender fingers curling slightly as she made miniscule movements. At first, no one was aware of what was happening, Obi-Wan being most confused of all, but then he felt a little tug at his belt. He looked down to see his lightsaber moving here and there, before it eventually lifted off his thigh and unhooked from his waist.

His mouth opened in shock, and he didn’t need to look to know he was not the only one, as they all watched his lightsaber float through the air, right into the hand of Viarruh Finnall. She ignited the weapon, blue blade shooting out from the hilt and bathing her in the cool hue. And because she lived for the dramatics, she twirled it around, a move that was like muscle memory to her, the whirring sounds of the energy blade filling the room. When she finished, she retracted the blade and her hand fell to her side.

“While I did lose my fight with Anakin Skywalker, I have won many more. I am not helpless, and I do not give up easily.” Her eyes bore into the council members one by one. “And I am not afraid, I was not built to be and cannot afford to be.” She continued to spin around, intending to make an impression on every person she looked at, and she knew it was successful from the look in each of their eyes. “Sometimes it is not enough to just be against darkness. If you have the ability to, should you not use the light?”

The severity of her tone and words had lodged itself in the chest’s of the Jedi Council, and before them stood not the naive queen they thought was coming to their planet. No, stood before them was Viarruh Finnall, Goddess of the Sun, the Sun Witch, Queen of Orret, in all her wisdom and confidence. She was passionate and unyielding, she was caring, and she was strong. This young woman, whatever she had gone through in her lifetime had made her tough enough to bear the weight of leadership, to dive head first into a war that she was never obligated to join, to look an evil in the face and stand steady against it.

“If we were to say yes,” Master Windu broke the silence, sharing glances with those around him. “What would be your next course of action?”

It took her a moment to calm herself, dispelling some of the intensity in her words as she turned to look at the man. “Well, should you say yes, I would need to speak with Chancellor Palpatine next. I chose to meet with you first because, although the Chancellor makes the final decisions, having you all to back me up would speak louder to him than I ever could on my own. You, of course, are not obligated to, but it would be most appreciated if I had someone to accompany me to speak with him; and depending on his answer, I will head home,” she explained with a note of finality, clasping her hands in front of her.

“Home?” Master Mundi interjected, leaning forward in his seat.

“Yes,” she answered simply, looking right at him.

“And what do you plan to do about your status as Queen while you fight in this war? You cannot do both.”

“I would give it up.” She stated, in such a way that it seemed the answer was obvious. It did not weigh heavy on her tongue as she spoke matter of factly, though it did put pressure on her chest, bones feeling as if they could cave in. “My birthday is in a matter of weeks, and though it may seem frivolous, celebrations are quite the talk back home,” she explained, flicking some hair over her shoulder as she resumed her movements around the center of the room. “I will use it as my opportunity to announce my retirement from the throne, and present who I have chosen to replace me; her coronation will come only days after. Then,” she shrugged. “I’ll go wherever you tell me to, and I’ll do whatever I can.”

It seemed, for a frightening moment, that she was unable to get through to them. They all stared at her, mouths closed with no intention of opening to speak to her, and her shoulders grew heavy, fighting to slouch forward as the feeling of defeat tickled at her bones. She held her breath, eyes flickering between the men in front of her. Obi-Wan held contact before he looked away, seemingly speaking to Master Yoda without using words, and she clutched the hilt of his lightsaber a little tighter, the metal warm from her hold on it throughout her speech.

As she glanced towards Master Plo, a frown almost dipping the corner of her lips downwards, she missed the nod Obi-Wan sent his elder, and the one following from Mace Windu. Her attention snapped back as a throat was cleared, and eyes had returned to her, though the tone had shifted ever so slightly. Almost indiscernible, it was, but she saw it and dared to let hope bloom in her chest.

“Speak to the Chancellor, we will. Tomorrow,” Master Yoda decided, sliding down from his chair, beginning to make his way towards the woman. “To your home, I will go with you. Train you, I will.” When he stood before her, large eyes gazing into hers, he placed one hand over the other on top of his staff as it stood in front of him and he was the picture of wisdom.

For a moment, she did not have any words. She had said so much since she’d arrived at the Jedi Temple, but now that she finally had an answer from them, she had nothing to offer the Council. She was frozen in her stare with the green Jedi, lips parting ever so slightly as his words rang in her ears. “Thank you,” she breathed, relief making her feel so light it almost lifted her off the ground below. She blinked a few times, gathering her bearings as reality began to set in that she had done it.

“Easy, it will not be, Viarruh Finnall,” he promised, shaking his head.

“The things worth doing usually aren’t, Master,” she replied, when the hole burning into her became too much and she looked up, meeting blue eyes already looking. Obi-Wan smiled at her, blowing his head in a silent congratulations, and she smiled. It was similar to the one he had managed to get from her in the corridor, and her success coupled with just knowing him now made it impossible to stop it.

Master Windu was the next to rise, the others following suit, and the tall man joined them in the middle of the room. “When we speak to the Chancellor tomorrow, you will have our full support. All we ask in return, is that you follow through with your word,” he explained, holding his hand out for her to shake.

When her hand slipped into his, enveloped by the gloved and armored one, a familiar feeling washed over her quicker than ever, and she gasped loudly, drawing the attention of everyone else in the room. Obi-Wan pushed his way to the front, almost overwhelmed from how loud everyone’s voices were once they blended together in panic, before standing beside the woman but she was not seeing him. Her muscles tensed and her back straightened as she went rigid, fingers clamping around Windu’s hand tightly, and he attempted to pull away in alarm; it was a struggle, but he was eventually able to pry himself out of her hold as her eyes glowed brightly. Her brows were furrowed and breath was stuck in her throat and she looked almost pained, and it made Obi-wan’s heart clench in his chest. It alarmed him, how seeing her like this affected him, but there was no time to think about it as his hands grasped her shoulders.

“Your Majesty! Your Majesty!” he called, shaking her slightly but she remained frozen, golden eyes staring past him. Even when he grasped her face in his large hands because the choking sounds escaping her as air tried to fight its way to her lungs were scaring him more, she didn’t see him. His thumbs pressed into her cheeks as he turned her head to face him, almost yelling at her. “Viarruh! Breathe!”

When this very thing happened at home, no one could get through to the woman after her eyes lit up and she stopped breathing; screams and yells falling on deaf ears as her mind was taken over, but as she watched herself creep through the forest with a squad of clones and Mace Windu at her side, a voice echoed from somewhere. Who it belonged to, she could not tell, but it was comforting in its familiarity and lifted the pressure from her chest; everything became clearer as if a layer of dirt and grime had been wiped away, the plastoid armor glinting in the sunlight of the trooper who passed her. Outside of the vision, the blockage was removed from her throat, ripped away as oxygen rushed into her, and light burst out of her.

It was as if they were no longer in the council room, the group of people huddled together now standing in the same forest of her vision. She did not know they were there, could not feel them still, but they saw everything she did as it projected from her. They watched as everyone trekked on, the only sounds being the crunching and rustling of foliage and the sounds of wildlife in the distance; as Viarruh faltered in her step, causing the soldier behind her to bump into her, pushing her forward a few steps. Though, it looked as if she had paid it no mind, instead holding her hands out as if to steady herself, eyes flickering around before landing on the Jedi ahead of her.

And they could only stare as Windu continued on, having not noticed the absence to his left, and Viarruh lurched forward to reach him quicker. “Mace, no!” she yelled, grasping his shoulder to throw his body backwards, pushing him and their squad away from the pressure bomb cleverly disguised; but that also meant she was the closest to the explosion. The onlookers flinched as they were surrounded by heat and light and the deafening blow, watching in horror as the queen flew through the air, rolling backwards when she collided with the ground. She didn’t move much after her body settled, but Obi-Wan could see the way her eyes were blown wide, not seeming to focus on anything as she blinked. She didn’t respond to the calls of her name, not even noticing the people slowly searching for her, the ringing in her ears blocking out everything around her.

It was Windu who found her, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes as he walked up to her. “Viarruh,” he called, and it wasn’t until he saw movement to the side, and turned to see her leg poking through the tall grass. When he stood over her, he cringed slightly at the injuries he could see, and so did everyone else. Blood covered her face, dripping down from her hairline and smearing across her cheeks; parts of her shirt and vest were singed, still smoking, telling them she had burns as well. “Viarruh,” he tried again, and she only looked at him with wide eyes, giving him no indication that she heard him. He reached down with both hands, placing a couple fingers on her cheeks to move her head side to side, inspecting for anything else, and Obi-Wan was relieved to see nothing.

“Come on,” Windu grunted, picking her up and placing her on her feet, slinging an arm over his shoulder as he supported most of her weight. Then, the scene shifted, the same light as before filling the room before it all zapped into Viarruh, hitting her with a force strong enough to push her back a few steps when it collided with her chest, causing her to gasp loudly. Hands reached out to keep her upright, holding her steady on her feet as her eyes snapped shut before reopening, back to normal.

She was panting, gulping air down like she had been drowning, and the first thing she heard when she returned to the present was the worried voice of Obi-Wan Kenobi, his hands on her arms, having been the one to reach out to catch her. “Viarruh, are you alright?”

“That one was different,” she responded, shaking her head as her mind ran a mile a minute.

“Was that a vision?” Windu questioned, leaning closer to the woman.

“Yes,” she nodded, eyes finally raising to meet those of the man that still cradled her. “But it was different, this one wasn’t the same as others.”

“Viarruh,” Obi-Wan called softly. “What do you mean by ‘it was different’?”

“Stronger, it was stronger,” she answered as the group of Jedi began to back away from her, giving her space now that she was back with them. “And I…could hear someone.” It confused her, left her wondering, because she had never heard anyone in her visions like that, never felt anything but alone as she lost control of herself.

“We didn’t hear anyone,” Mundi noted, looking around at the others. “Other than yourself and Master Windu.”

“Wait,” she jerked around, confusion growing more and more by the second. “Did you…did you all see that too?” She was met with nods from everyone, and she could only stand there in a stunned silence as her thoughts ran a mile a minute.

“Viarruh?” Obi-Wan questioned softly after there was still no response from the queen, and turned back around to face him.

“It…projected?” Her face was still twisted in disbelief, the events taking place sprouting question after question in her mind. The man nodded his head to answer her, raising his brows at her tone.

“Is that also newly unlocked?”

She had again looked away from him, eyes staring down at the floor as the dots began to connect, as the answers became clearer. “Yes,” she answered in a dazed voice. “It is.” It was the only reaction she could give him as realization dawned on her, showering over her as her gaze shifted upwards; it focused on the busy planet on the other side of the large windows, the sky turning a pleasant rosy orange as the day settled and plans were now in motion.

all works on this blog belong to hesthermay.tumblr.com: do not copy, repost onto other sites, or claim my content as your own.

#the witch: writes #—star wars #—signed; kenobi #obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan x you #obi-wan x oc #obi-wan fic #obi wan fanfic #obi wan x reader #obi wan x you #obi wan fic #the clone wars #the clone wars imagine #tcw #tcw imagine #obi wan imagine #star wars imagine

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lonewolflupe · 4 months ago

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aLoF Ficlet | Lupe Of Lothal

Here's Lupe's origin story (OR a one-shot about Plo Koon stumbling upon a Force-sensitive youngling). I'm sorry about the lack of conversation in this one, but I really tried to paint a picture of the surroundings and the atmosphere (thus this ficlet doubled the size I intended it to be).

Note: since this ficlet takes place in 40 BBY, Plo Koon is still a Jedi Knight ("By 33 BBY, Koon had achieved the rank of Jedi Master and was elevated to the Jedi High Council." Source: Wookieepedia).

Summary: Jedi Knight Plo Koon investigates a report and stumbles on an unexpected discovery. Rating: Teen and up Tags: Force connection, Force sensitivity, reference to abandonment Words: 1.954k Characters: Plo Koon, Lupe (OC), unidentified captain/flight crew, unidentified villagers aLoF masterlist | AO3 ↓ | > ch1

40 BBY, Outer Rim | Lothal

“Sir, incoming transmission from the Jedi Temple,” the captain informed the Jedi Knight, looking over his shoulder whilst addressing him. The Kel Dor Jedi stood in the Republic Cruiser’s cockpit, a few steps behind the pilots’ seats, as he gazed through the transparisteel viewport. When he heard the captain’s words, he stepped forward and gently placed his four-fingered hand on his shoulder. “Put it through,” the Jedi’s resonant voice replied, a slight buzzing sound to it, caused by the antiox breath mask adorning his face.

“Plo Koon,” the voice over the transmission started, “Are you still present in the Calamari Sector?” The Jedi Knight confirmed their current position, before the voice continued the transmission. “A report was made about the increasing harassment by creatures on settlements, coming from the Lothal System. Sending the coordinates right now.” A quick nod from the captain to let the Jedi Knight know they had received the coordinates; the navigator went to work immediately. “Since you are already located near the system, could you investigate the report?”

And of course Plo Koon accepted the request. There were always more sides to a story, and if he could avoid the loss of innocent lives, either being sentient or non-sentient, he would try to find a humane solution. After all, that was the Jedi way; emphasising compassion and teaching that all lives were precious. And so the Consular-class space cruiser set course to the planet of Lothal.

Once they had made it to the planet’s surface and the Jedi had started to ask around, it hadn’t taken Plo Koon long to find one of the affected locations. They had left urban civilization behind and continued their endeavour towards a rural area. Wrapped in his cloak to shield him from the emerging gusts of wind, he walked from the ship towards the farming settlement. It was surrounded by grasslands as far as the eye could see. It was a soothing view, and by the sight of it, nothing seemed to be amiss.

A flock of prairie-fowl scattered before his feet when Plo Koon reached the settlement’s only road, connecting the few houses the place consisted of. It was quiet outside; he only noticed a Gotal at the other side of the hamlet. The humanoid was bundling together a bale of cut grass, next to a modest corral containing a small herd of nerfs. The Gotal looked up warily when he noticed the Jedi’s presence. Plo Koon approached him cautiously, calmly stating the reason for his arrival. The distinctive short, grey fur on the man’s face surrounded a pair of weary eyes.

Their brief conversation revealed much to the Jedi. Recently, a pair of creatures had started terrorising the normally quiet hamlet. There hadn’t been any casualties; neither the inhabitants nor their livestock had been touched. Instead, the creatures had been taking rather peculiar items from the small village. There had been much debate over the identification of the creatures, but most rumours came back to one species: Loth-wolves.

With his long, taloned fingers, Plo Koon stroked the mask on his face as he stood pondering over his findings. Whilst Loth-wolves had been a problem to Lothal’s earlier farmers, no one had encountered any in nearly a century; they were deemed extinct. The Gotal pointed towards one of the hamlet’s houses, telling the Jedi the home’s resident could tell him more. Plo Koon thanked the man for his time before leaving him to his businesses.

After he had knocked on the door, it took a while before it slid open. Behind it stood an elderly Ithorian lady, her bend back in combination with her angled neck making for an eccentric appearance. She was wearing a somewhat primitive, timeworn translator collar on top of her neck. Plo Koon introduced himself and told her about his earlier conversation with the Gotal. The lady invited him inside, which he accepted so he could get to the bottom of this. She offered him something to drink, which he refused, because he didn’t want her to make any physical effort on his behalf.

Ithorians were known for their long lifespan, and the elderly lady in front of the Jedi was proof of it. She sat down in an old rocking chair, moving back and forth, concurrently with her memories. She told him about her younger days, how she grew up on the plains of Lothal, in a time when Loth-wolves were still an occasional sighting. She told him how the magnificent beasts had rarely ventured out of the Lothalian mountains and the enclosing grasslands, but that they had been slain anyway, out of ignorance and crudeness. Plo Koon could feel a mixture of grace and sorrow as the lady told him about the creatures, reminiscent of a bygone time.

Before continuing his investigation, Plo Koon kneeled down beside the Ithorian to thank her for her honesty and for sharing her memories. Before he could get back on his feet, the lady put her hand on his shoulder and seemed to be looking straight through his goggles. Crackling through her translator came the redeeming words: she had seen the Loth-wolves as a maiden, as a mother, and now, as a crone. She was certain of it; the Loth-wolves had never been away.

Plo Koon let the words sink in as he strolled to the far side of the hamlet. When he reached the last house, he sat down on a crate and let his gaze wander over the vast plains ahead. The gusting wind had died down; only a faint breeze remained. It played with the tall grass, gently brushing it whenever it reached down to the surface. Slowly, the sun set in the distance, and the presence of the twin moons became evident. Where the sun had shone a golden light over the grass, the moons’ light changed it into a velvety silver. There was a serenity to this place; a tranquillity he could only obtain by meditating back in the Jedi Temple.

He closed his eyes, taking in this strange place that felt oddly familiar. A cold blanket crept over the grassland as the night came, and when it reached the Jedi, every exhalation resulted in a small, foggy cloud in front of his breath mask. He felt the coldness creep inside his body, pricking his skin, tickling his senses as they enhanced. He could hear the friction of feathers as the prairie-fowl huddled together to keep warm. He could see the loth-rats nestling in their holes below the grassy surface. He could taste the dew as it formed on the tall grass all around him. He could smell the resin from a faraway spine tree as it dripped down its bark. He could feel..

Suddenly, he could feel their presence. He knew they were right in front of him before he opened his eyes. When he did, he looked upon two magnificent Loth-wolves, towering above him. Both wolves had black fur and were accented with dark, scaly skin, laying in patterns on their face, their feet and their croup, almost like reversed fingerprints. Their bright, amber eyes looked calmly down at him, waiting.

Plo Koon gently arose from the crate, and with a slow motion, almost like a wave, he reached one hand towards the wolf nearest to him. The wolf showed its teeth, but not in a threatening way; it merely tasted the air, the atmosphere. When the Kel Dor’s four-fingered hand was near, the wolf gently moved its head forward, nudging it into the Jedi’s touch. Plo Koon felt a strange sensation deep within, as if they shared something ancient, as if a connection was being made. The wolves seemed content; yes, this was the one they had been waiting for.

The Loth-wolf lay down and looked at the Jedi in anticipation. Without the need to share any spoken words, Plo Koon understood the wolf’s intentions. He walked over to the beast and carefully mounted it. His fingers grasped around tufts of its black fur; tightly enough to keep himself balanced, but gently enough to not bother the creature. As soon as it was back on its feet, both the Loth-wolves turned around and started running. They ran through the tall grass, away from the hamlet, onto the vast, open plains. Plo Koon moved along with the rhythm of the wolf’s movements, gazing into the distance to set eyes on their destination, but there was nothing to be seen. Nothing..

He was dreaming. The stars surrounded him; not just from above, but all around him. Glimpses of his past, memories from long ago. Voices of parental figures, of teachers and mentors, words of wisdom and knowledge descending onto him. Images of former events.. Or visions of future matters? He didn’t know. It felt like he was floating in space, between worlds. Was this really a dream?

Plo Koon woke up at dawn and found himself on the rocky foot of a mountain. It felt like he was waking from a very deep, intense slumber; nothing he had ever experienced before. When he heaved himself up and looked around, the Loth-wolves were nowhere to be seen. When he was taking in these new surroundings, a peculiar sound caught his attention. It was the sound of subdued howling. As he turned into the direction of the sound, his eyes caught a cave entrance not far away. He walked over cautiously, and when he peeked inside, he expected a Loth-wolf pup.

But what he found inside was a different kind of pup; it was a human child. A female, about two years old, her feral, silver hair quite distinctive for a juvenile of the human species. There was dirt smeared all over her skin and she was wearing rags, but furthermore, she seemed healthy. Around her, scattered through the cave, the Jedi noticed the peculiar items that had been taken from the hamlet, such as toys, pieces of clothing, a mug and plate, and remains of fruits and vegetables. He now understood why the Loth-wolves had ventured into the affected settlements.

The child looked up at him, her eyes wide with curiosity and anticipation. There was no sign of fear or restraint. Plo Koon slowly moved forward, kneeling in front of the child and gently offering his hand to her. She took one of his taloned-fingers in her hand, still looking up towards his goggles, his eyes hidden behind them. As soon as their skins touched, he felt a connection. In an instant, he knew what he was already expecting; she was Force-sensitive. “Koh-to-yah, little one,” Plo Koon greeted the child softly, and he noticed a flicker in her eyes. They were as brightly amber as those of the Loth-wolves.

…

When Plo Koon walked out of the cave, the child on his arm, the Loth-wolves had returned. They were waiting for them outside. The Jedi threaded carefully, since he was now carrying their pup, the child they had clearly been taking care of. But the wolves remained at ease, watching the Jedi and the youngling in full anticipation; they had brought Plo Koon to the child with a purpose, after all. He slowly walked past them, thanking them for their compassion and their aid. The child flung herself over his shoulder, watching the wolves as he walked off into the tall grass. As soon as the Jedi had activated the transmitter on his comlink, ready for a pick-up from the Republic Cruiser, an eerie sound behind him caught him off guard. It was the hauntingly beautiful howling of the Loth-wolves, an echoing goodbye song for the child they had cared for. They had now granted him the responsibility of that care.

I read a theory on Reddit stating that Loth-wolves are/carrying the spirits of Jedi that died on Lothal. Plo Koon didn’t die on Lothal obviously, but I like to think he connected with the creatures during this little story, thus making a ‘new’ Loth-wolf appear after his unfortunate demise during Order 66.

#star wars #sw #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #the clone wars #clone wars #tcw #clone wars fanfiction #clone wars fanfic #plo koon #jedi youngling #lupe oc #a lupe of faith #lonewolflupe #lonewolflupe writes #fanfiction #ficlet #short story

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reneeofthestars · 2 years ago

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Made for @kyjoraven #dtiys ! I may have gotten a bit carried away. It was so much fun, but took WAY longer than I was expecting. Still, I'm really happy with the overall result. Congratulations on 3k (now 4k)!!

Tara Ohvala belongs to Kyjoraven.

Click on the image for better quality.

A brief fic to accompany this below the cut!

The lounge went dark as the stage lights came on, and as polite applause filled the air, Gida felt the anticipation in the room surge. Only it had nothing to do with the band that was beginning to play.

For as glitzy and glamorous as the patrons were, they welcomed this cover of darkness. The shift in atmosphere was palpable to her; all the surreptitious emotions that Gida had sensed lurking just beneath the cheerful, pleasant facades seemed to finally creep forward.

Gida took a sip of her drink - a fizzy, tangy juice that the bartender seemed pleased to have available. The Jedi Council had sent her and three other Jedi to discover if there was a possible Separatist mole in the Republic Senate. One thing led to another, and with a nice bit of detective work from Tara Ohvala, here they were, dressed in very un-Jedi-like outfits, waiting and watching. It was quite the change of pace from fighting droids.

Across from Gida sat Tara. The Mirialan was newly Knighted, having only been a fully fledged Jedi for less than a year, but she already seemed so poised and capable. And pretty. Gida looked away quickly before Tara caught her staring.

Up at one of the circular bars, Masters Eeth Koth and Teyla Marin leaned against the counter, turned towards the stage. But Gida knew their attention was everywhere except the beautiful music. It wasn't often that Gida and Master Teyla worked with a member of the Council, but Tara's former master had proved easy to like.

Gida caught herself rocking to the crooning singer and stilled, bringing her mind back to the task at hand with a sigh. She had thought this would be the easy part - sense for dubious or malicious intent, find the mole.

"Have you sensed something?" Tara asked quietly, raising her drink.

Gida shook her head, lekku falling behind her. "Only that we're going to be here a while."

Behind them, an argument had broken out over a game of sabacc. A Kel Dor in a rich cloak jabbed a finger at an offronted Umbaran, cursing him colorfully in what sounded like Huttesse. The Kel Dor was a well into his cups, and his vices made him angry; it bubbled and popped like lava. The Togruta between them acted in a placating manner, but Gida could feel the way he relished framing the Umbaran.

A Wookiee roared with laughter to her left, causing a brief pause in the performance before the band regained their composure and continued. Gida jumped, but not at the noise - at the sudden crash of rage from him that the laughter masked.

Nearby and older couple slow danced to the music. The Nautolan woman rested her head against the Theelin man's chest as they swayed in a slow circle. Calm certainty radiated from them, clashing oddly against the Wookiee's fury, still disguised by a wide smile.

A Tholothian dressed in what could be military garb stalked past, with an elegant Rodian woman whispering rapidly to him. Their whirlwind of emotions left Gida dizzy.

But it was all too much - the hem of her dress was too itchy, the shoes too blocky, it was too loud, too crowded, too many emotions, too, too too -

Gida ducked her head and squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her fingers to her temples. She let it all wash over her, all the emotions that twisted her gut and boiled her blood and made her want to draw her lightsaber or run --

They aren't mine, and they have no place with me.

She let out a controlled breath, and felt the onslaught of emotions lessen. When she opened her eyes, she was re-entered in the Force. A note of approval reached the edge of her senses. Master Teyla had noticed. It had been easier to manage this time. So much easier than when on the battlefield...

Gida took another drink, reaching out with the Force, and feeling the others do the same. They would know when they found their mark.

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plokoonsdisapprovingeyebrows · 2 years ago

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I'm working on the next part of the time-travel sandbox AU and augh Jedi Temple slice-of-life stuff is so much fun! Just [clenches fist] making it feel lived-in and mundane!

...

There is no such thing as a coincidence in Tyvokka’s world. The paths he sees that lead outward from every person he encounters are always there in the background, even if it’s only sometimes that they loom into the present strongly enough to be noticed.

He’d planned to head down to the Quartermasters’ offices later in the afternoon to make his monthly import order. The pot of stringbark pepper in his kitchenette is getting low, and there’s a few seasonal Kashyyyk delicacies best ordered earlier in the local year. Kashyyyk’s thirteen-month calendar is always out of step with the Galactic Standard by some amount; Tyvokka keeps a reminder on his personal datapad and resets it every year in advance.

Instead, he steps out of his fresher into the mid-morning sunlight, and a broad shade-dappled path leads him directly to his front door and out into the Temple.

Well. Sometimes the Force lives up to its name.

The sense of strolling along a quiet forest trail fades away as Tyvokka descends into the bowels of the Temple. If he turns away, the vision will reappear—he’d experimented with it as a Padawan himself. If he stops in his tracks when the vision is this strong, sooner or later there’ll be a nudge at his back, like a sudden gust of wind. The Force is not sentient, says the maxim they’re all taught as crechelings, but sometimes Tyvokka really does wonder.

He has nothing else planned for today, so he might as well play along.

The Quartermasters’ waiting room is deserted when he enters. There’s a tiny togruta youngling manning the service window; she’s spinning around on Master G’nari’s oversized office chair, staring up at the ceiling. Her presence in the Force is tangled with the sort of devastating boredom only the younglings on an unwanted Temple Service rotation seem to manage.

She catches sight of him with a strangled squeak, and attempts to stand to some sort of attention. The rotation of the chair throws off her balance. She trips over her own feet and goes tumbling to the floor, where she turns into a sort of lump on the carpet, the Force around her incandescent with shame.

Tyvokka judiciously rings the bell on the desk.

Another Initiate peeks out of the filing office. This one is just about as small, but the full mask on his face and the curving sensory horns on either side of his head mark him as a kel dor, and therefore probably five or six years older than he looks.

“One moment please, Master,” says the Initiate. He crouches beside the disconsolate Junior Initiate, coaxing her up off the floor. She immediately transforms into a limpet, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his robes. The kel dor makes a sympathetic noise, patting her back with one arm. Then, finally, he looks up through the window at Tyvokka.

“I’m sorry, Master, our supervisor was called away for an issue, so it’s just us at the moment. I can help you if it’s a personal order, but I haven’t got Council certification yet.”

Tyvokka blinks. As far as he knows, there is only one kel dor Initiate currently within the Order.

“You may need the protocol droid,” he points out, gesturing toward the office where he knows it’s kept. Quartermaster Kjarnesk is a fluent speaker of Shyriiwook, and Tyvokka gets lucky and catches the man roughly once every four years or so. His underlings mostly need the droid to translate.

The Initiate shakes his head, a curious tinge of familiarity in the Force around him. “I understand you just fine, Master. C8’s on the charging port. He had a big day yesterday and he might take a while to recover his wits.”

Tyvokka finds himself momentarily lost for words.

Initiate Plo turns back to the little Togruta. “Shaak, do you want to go and sit in the office? There’s a bit of caramel in the stamp drawer; you can have it if you want.”

She clearly has to think about it for a few moments, but in the end the lure of candy wins out. She detaches herself, mortification smoothing out into residual shudders of emotion, and makes herself scarce.

The Initiate stands, retrieving the errant office chair. “Was she spinning?”

Tyvokka nods. “I take it this is not the first spill.”

The chair is sized to fit the Quartermasters’ usual office supervisor, a bothan almost as tall as Tyvokka himself. Young Plo Koon has to use a touch of the Force to get himself into the seat, and then again to get himself within arms’ reach of the inbuilt datapoint. “It is not,” he says, cheerfully. “Just the first time she’s managed it in front of someone other than myself.”

That explained the overwhelming sense of embarrassment. She hadn’t been hurt—Tyvokka would have felt the pain if she had—she had just been trying very hard not to exist on the same plane of reality as the source of that embarrassment.

“Error can be an effective teacher,” Tyvokka observes, “particularly with the motivation of having one’s error witnessed.”

“Apparently I’m not a very motivating witness.” Initiate Plo is positively radiating affection and good humor like a concrete wall after a sunny day. “It’s her first Temple Service rotation, and I understand she wanted to go to the gardens instead. I can’t blame her for finding her own entertainment.”

Tyvokka rumbles a laugh. “We all do, at that age.”

Kel dor expressions aren’t typically easy to read beneath the goggles and mask, but the Temple kel dor make up for it with body language and judicious broadcasting of emotions through the Force. Young Plo laughs, visibly far more relaxed in Tyvokka’s presence than most younglings would be. “May I ask after your order?”

“Planet of origin will be Kashyyyk,” says Tyvokka. “Stringbark pepper, thirty units of half-kilo pots.” Sometimes the assistants point out that one bulk fifteen-kilo unit would be significantly cheaper; Tyvokka then explains that stringbark degrades into a guaranteed upset stomach within a few months of breaking the airtight seals. Little Plo makes no such argument. Given his apparent familiarity with Shyriiwook, Tyvokka isn’t so sure that this can simply be explained as ignorance.

The rest of the order is small amounts of various nuts, fruits, and cooked insects, timed to go out ahead of each seasonal harvest. Plo only interrupts once, to ask after the Basic spelling of rrlamgiyyaam chyargaugyyym, a spicy protein-meal mix. It’s not one of Tyvokka’s usual orders—a regional staple from Kgaurillram in the far north, it’s made of minced and dried leeches, which puts off all but the most adventurous eaters.

(He mentions this offhandedly, wondering what the Initiate will make of it. Plo only pauses for a moment, head tilted to one side. “Interesting,” he says.)

By the end of their interaction, Tyvokka is sure of one thing—young Plo is not just fluent in Shyriiwook but very familiar with it.

Where has he come by that fluency? Why is it so familiar to him? The wookiee languages are not exactly commonplace among the Order. Shyriiwook has just about nothing in common with keldeorinyaa. (On the other hand, the idea of taking him as a padawan suddenly seems much more realistic. Damn Yoda and his meddling.)

He leaves the Quartermasters’ offices with much to think about, and ghostly branching paths flicker in and out of existence beneath his feet.

...

#kem fic #fic: bring us a light to see by #starwars #plo koon #tyvokka #i accidentally gave tyvokka an interesting Force talent #no idea what to call it #not rly sure how it works other than an indication of meaningful choices

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sofir-kefir · 1 year ago

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PS: imagined a situation if Plo Kun became a small child while retaining his mind. Under such circumstances, he should be taken care of, this is done by my OS Aidar Majere. A little awkwardness and sweetness, perhaps too much pink snot due to the fact that the author wants to eat these two.

Plo moved a little and opened his eyes, he fell asleep again... Raising his head, the master looked around, they were in a common transport so as not to attract attention. Plo together with the Gift flew to the Vesk system, it was necessary to fulfill one assignment from the council, so the young man and the child should not seem strange. Heavy thoughts began to overwhelm the master as he heard a soft voice above him:

- master? What is it? We still have a long flight, go to sleep, everything is fine

Looking up, Plo squinted a little from the bright light and found that the young knight wrapped him in a cloak like a blanket, as a result of which kel-dor did not feel cold. The Jedi was also very upset by his condition, because every day he became weaker and slept a lot, because he did not have enough strength. Practically everywhere he accompanied the young man and helped where necessary, but only with advice, physically he was now and in truth weaker than a child, he had to humble himself and allow himself to be taken care of. Dar adjusted his cloak, wrapping the Jedi better and he smiled at Tom. Plo, in turn, looked out the window, some stripes, most likely they would fly for more than an hour, which means that for more than an hour he would shamelessly sleep on the young man's lap because of weakness, which upset even more. As if understanding what was bothering Magister, Majere hugged him a little tighter, covering him and arranging him on his chest

- don't worry, everything is fine, you need to rest, time zones can bring down the sleep mode, I can see that you barely keep your eyes open, well, go to bed~

Already understanding a little how to act, the young man closed the curtain on the window and leaned back himself, stroking the little master's head. This helped him relax and it turns out that it was very wonderful to put Plo to sleep, which the Jedi actively used. When the baby calmed down and fell asleep and really feeling very weak and some relief.

Aidar patted him on the back and closed his eyes himself, falling into a doze, joyful from his small success on the path of trust on the part of Plo.

#plo koon #star wars

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the-time-lord-oracle · 1 year ago

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Fear Her was a terrible episode but I think we can all agree that Kel was the episode's redeeming feature. Every scene he was in was funny! That man loved his council!

#doctor who #fear her #Kel #This guy was hilarious!#I'm reporting you to the council!

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dukeoftheblackstar · 1 year ago

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@daimyosprincess like, babe. you don't have any idea how much I fantasize about this in a non sexual way. I have an HC where after the war, Plo just spends more time in the creche and is being a shit general by egging his boys to give him his own grand children. Dropping bombs and shit like:

And then there's beautiful art by @uncannyzuck. I mean just look at how he's so grandpa-coded ;-----;

I bet you that little pouch/bag he has in the back is like 10 pcs of bacta patch and 1283912739182731892371 candies and little snacks for the little ones.

And this all-time favorite fic of mine that I constantly re-read when I'm down is about Plo sneaking in younglings during a meeting and I am dead, bestie. Like. DEADDD.

The number of times I have hounded @kimiheartblade's OC as Plo for grandbebbiiiss!! And @t3mpest98!!!!

And then wait till you see this THING I have been working on because my OC has like a clutch of 5 with the bebbies and I physically cannot handleeeeeeeeeee ;/////////////; my HC with @saengak and @amorfista

And then look at him with actual BABIES! Uncle Plo with baby Sha by @phantom-path

And I HC that he gets so into the story telling like a fucking boss. I bet you he'd use the force to set he mood like dim the lights in the creche, make his voice roll like thunder (daddypls), and use his electric judgement to make lightning for scary story nights!

AND SINCE, OMG BESTIE, YOU GOT ME ALL STARTED NOW, apologies @vodika-vibes for hi-jacking his because you know, I'm your local Plo Koon whore 24/7 ;//////;

PLO BEING A FOG MACHINE WHILE STORY TIME AND MAKES IT A LIL BIT COLD SO THE YOUNGLINGS GET ALL SNUGGLED UP TOGETHER AND OH MY GOD I JUST..

I JUST CAN'T BESTIE LIKE E///////////////////E

But then it gets better tho! PLO SINGING TO PUT THEM LIL BEBBIES TO SLEEP. AND LIKE IMAGINE THE LULLABYYYY. WHAT IF IT WAS SOME ANCIENT BARAN DO SAGE CHANT FOR PROTECTION OR SOME KEL DOR AGE-OLD SONG FOR CHILDREN SPANNING CENTURIES LIKE SIRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

AND THEN. AND THEN JFC. BESTIE. LIKE.

PLO TUCKING IN THE BEBBIES TO SLEEP OR LIKE IN A CUDDLE PILE LIKE THE WOLFPACK BECAUSE EVERYBODY'S WOLFPACK IN PAWPAW PLO'S EYES.

And then he gets tired! Like pawpaw gets tired because he spends more time at the creche because he's genuinely enjoying himself AND HE FALLS ASLEEP SOMETIMES. LIKE TELL ME THIS OLD MAN DOESN'T SLEEP THROUGH COUNCIL MEETING SOMETIMES!

Got this commissioned for my Old Man Plo dreams by @moonmo0n

BESTIE I COULD GO ON ALL DAY.

THANK YOU FOR TAGGING ME IN THIS BECAUSE I HAVE BEEN FEELINGR EALLY STRESSED LATELY AND OMG PLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO ♥

PLO WOULD BE PERFECT GRANDPA TO ALL THOSE CLONE BABIES AAAAAAAHHHHHH

Can you imagine all those clone babies clamoring around ‘grandpa plo’ to come play with them 🥹

It's just the cutest thing ever~

So, like, the babies are distinguished by the clothes they wear, right? Babies belonging to the 212 wear orange, babies belonging to the 501st wear blue, and babies belonging to the Wolfpack have the little wolf symbol somewhere on their clothes.

Plo steps into the Clone Creche, and is immediately swarmed by children, toddlers, and babies of all ages. A baby, clad in yellow, silently demands to be picked up. While a toddler, weaing the symbol of the wolfpack, presses herself to his leg, "Gampa! Storytime!" She demands. Her demand is echoed amongst the other children, and Plo is helpless to do anything more than find a soft cushion to sit on to start reading a story to his grandbabies.

#plo koon #old man plo

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chaoticriderlessb · 4 years ago

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The Jedi Code/Council: Attachment is forbidden.

Plo Koon: I'm sorry, what was that? I was busy adopting my sons and daughter.

#mika squawks #life of mika #random post #imma nerd #star wars #kel dor #plo koon #master plo koon #the jedi council #the jedi code #no attachments be damned #star wars the clone wars #plo needs his children #let the man have his children

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samspenandsword · 3 years ago

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SFW Alphabet: Plo Koon

Summary: SFW Alphabet for everyone’s favorite Jedi dad, Plo Koon. Pairing: Plo Koon/reader; gender-neutral, humanoid reader with no other mentions of their appearance. Rating: GEN — SFW Warnings: None — allusions to war and violence, fluff, relationship firsts, family dynamics, overall romance. Word Count: 2.7k

Woooo boy lads this one took a while to crank out. My focus has been elsewhere lately, but I was determined to finish this because I love Plo and he deserves some love. I hope you all enjoy!

You can find the template I used here

NSFW Alphabet

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

So incredibly affectionate. More than he probably should be as a member of the Jedi Council, but this man has so much love and affection to give. Much of his affection comes in the form of words — words of affirmation, compliments, deep, meaningful conversations. He will speak with you about everything from the nuances of the Force to where to get the best meiloorun shake on Coruscant. And every conversation with you, even if it’s silly, is just so incredibly heartfelt. Plo wears his emotions and heart on his sleeve, just as blatantly as he wears the symbol of the Wolfpack.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Plo as a best friend sounds like actual heaven, not gonna lie. Endlessly caring, a selfless sort of best friend who is concerned with you above all else. Very paternal, as is his nature. Will fuss if he thinks you’re not taking proper care of yourself. But he is, 10000%, a totally shameless gossip. And he could spend hours indulging your need for mindless Jedi gossip, including but not limited to the fact that literally everyone knows about Anakin and Padmé, Obi-Wan sits like a whore during council meetings, Mace Windu has the worst sweet tooth in the galaxy, and everyone has had a crush on both Kit Fisto and Depa Billaba at some point, it’s lowkey a rite of passage.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Yes. Cuddles all the time. Plo will indulge every cuddle urge you have, gladly and happily. Rest your head on his shoulder, let him stroke up and down your back. Lay your head in his lap and fall asleep to him scratching and massaging your scalp.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

I would definitely think of Plo as a domestic partner. Man is pretty self-sufficient as a Jedi, but also as a Kel Dor. His physiological needs are so different from the gross majority of the Order (also the galaxy) that he can take care of himself pretty well. Cooking for himself, cleaning, meeting his specific needs, etc. This man also considers it a matter of pride to be able to take care of others. He is definitely the sort of friend and partner who is happy to do your laundry when you’re burnt out. And he is 10000% the type to gently place you in his lap and lightly scratch your scalp, or even read to you if he senses you just need some quiet alone time cuddling with him. Moments like that are some of his favorites in your entire relationship.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

As a Jedi, I don’t see Plo getting into a relationship unless he’s all in. He has to be willing to break the Code, but also hide your relationship from both the people he’s closest to, but also the people you’re closest with. I think it would take a lot for Plo to end his relationship, but if he did, it would be because he was trying to protect them. He’s a war general who’s constantly in danger, a member of the Jedi council, outspoken supporter of clone rights, and that comes with a target on his back and no guarantee of tomorrow.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Commitment is more than a little important to Plo, and he really appreciates a partner who feels the same. Everything about your relationship takes a commitment that reaches “beyond” levels. More than just commitment to each other, it’s commitment to secrecy, commitment to boundaries, awareness and willingness to accept the reality of your situation — that you can’t go on regular Tuesday night dinner dates, that you can’t show affection in public, that you can’t even publicly admit to your feelings. But even beyond that, Plo appreciates someone who is committed to their family, their ideals, their friends, their job, their hobbies. It’s such an attractive trait to him. So yeah, commitment is huge to Plo.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Plo can treat you as gently as you need him to. He can sense where your thoughts and emotions are every time you’re together and can adjust his tenderness and attentions to however you need. He is such an accommodating partner it’s ridiculous. Plo is, to his core, a caretaker. All he wants is to care for you, however you need. And if you need gentle care, he will more than readily give it to you. But if you need something more outspoken, firm, reassuring… He can and will give you that as well.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Plo’s hugs are like being cocooned in a blanket fresh from the dryer — warm, encompassing, comforting, leaving you a little cold and bereft when they’re gone. Plo offers hugs and physical touch much more readily than other Jedi, and he has no qualms about taking comfort from hugs and touch himself. Your relationship, whether platonic or romantic, has no shortage of physical affection. However, if you are someone who isn’t necessarily comfortable with that, all you have to do is tell him and Plo will understand. He will never push or violate your boundaries, and actively works to care for you in whatever way you need.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

This might be the one milestone in your relationship Plo hesitates to reach. Even between you, using those three little words feels like a bridge that once he’s crossed, he can never come back from. Not that it’s necessarily a bad thing, but Plo might actually feel a little anxious to use the L-word, knowing that he very well might die in the war and leave you alone. He might hesitate to use it, as it feels like a much bigger violation of the Code than your entire relationship. But with that said, Plo will ultimately never fail to acknowledge to himself and you how he feels. But it simply might take a bit longer than normal to get to the point of him using the L-word.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

I don’t really think jealousy is Plo’s thing. Protectiveness is though. The closest Plo comes to true jealousy is when he sees other couples out and about in public and he gets a little saddened by the reminder that he can’t be with you publicly. Also he gets a little frustrated when people flirt with you, but he trusts you to handle things like that. But Plo is a protective partner. He likes you knowing that he’ll always protect and take care of you, no matter what.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Kisses with Plo are… I don’t want to say non-existent, but yeah, essentially non-existent. At least, not in the traditional sense. Plo is always a little dejected by the fact that he can’t give you traditional affection. But you two have developed your own form of physical affection. He very much loves every time you place a kiss over his antiox mask. Or if you brush your lips over his palms or knuckles. He loves the feeling of your lips on his skin. He, in return, has taken up the habit of gently nuzzling you. Placing his forehead on yours (a gesture he learned from his clones), nuzzling against your temple, even against your shoulder and neck. He also returns affection with his hands — stroking over your cheeks, your knuckles, your back, your neck, your scalp. It’s his special form of affection. And it’s just another thing that makes your relationship as unique and special as it is.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Plo Koon??? Around children??!??!? Sign me up! Even if you and him have decided that you don’t want kids for yourself, seeing him around children and the younglings at the Temple is such a treat. All the kids absolutely adore Plo. And he never hesitates to pay them all a visit when he gets back from a particularly long mission. He gathers them around and tells them stories and exaggerates them the perfect amount to keep them all endlessly hooked and entertained. Not to mention he radiates such paternal energy that pretty much every youngling at the Temple has accidentally called him “dad” at some point (another rite of passage). Plo himself also loves children, he finds them so refreshing and comforting and is considering becoming a creche master after the war is over.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Plo is absolutely a morning person. He very much enjoys getting up with the sun, preparing breakfast in the comfort of his apartments where he can go without his mask, meditating, maybe even reading a little. Mornings with Plo are calm, comforting. On the rare mornings you can spend together, he’s the type of partner who will wake you by gently stroking your hair and telling you he’s made you breakfast. Even if you aren’t a morning person by nature, it’s hard not to enjoy domestic mornings with Plo.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Plo likes to spend nights in. He’s truly not one for going out on the town, though he might enjoy accompanying you to your favorite restaurant every once in a while, even if he can’t enjoy the meal with you. He prefers to stay in and read with you, talk about your respective days, maybe even indulge in a holo-series.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

I don’t think Plo is necessarily closed off, but it might take a while for him to share his deep emotions with you. He’s happy to talk about his upbringing, the Order, the accomplishments of his Wolfpack, and even some of his missions with you. But talking about the underlying emotions, the distress the war causes him, how tired he feels, the heaviness of the Force weighing on him throughout the war… That will take longer.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Plo has the patience of a saint, even more than most Jedi, who are notorious for being neutral and patient. He is one of the few Jedi that has the patience to work through and discuss emotional outbursts, which is another reason he’s so popular with the younglings. He doesn’t make them feel shamed for not having the best handle on their feelings. And for that matter, he never makes fully-trained Jedi feel ashamed of their moments either.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Yes, Plo remembers everything. He makes it a point to. You mean so much to him, he cannot bring himself to forget anything about you. And he gets a little embarrassed if he does. Remembering things about you is how he gets through long campaigns and deployments, in the thick of battle and destruction. Remembering you and everything about you has become a sort of peace for him amongst the chaos of war.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite moment in your relationship is the time he walked into your apartment and found his wolfpack sprawled around you, all practically cuddled up to you, while watching a holofilm. You didn’t complain as Boost and Sinker bickered practically the entire time, and answered all of Comet’s questions with a smile. But what really sold it was his commander. Wolffe, closed-off, ornery, doesn’t-like-strangers, touch-adverse Wolffe, had his head in your lap, and practically rumbled with content as you massaged his scalp. Nothing felt more like coming home than the image of Plo’s loved ones all together, safe and sound.

S = Security? (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Plo is naturally protective. As a guardian of peace, and someone who grew up learning that life is something to be protected and safeguarded, it is simply in his nature to be protective. But he’s never smothering. He never makes you feel coddled or babied, and you love that about him. And he appreciates every time you accommodate his protective tendencies. Because even though he will always worry about you, he is comforted whenever you let him shower you in protective love.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Plo doesn’t plan the biggest dates and gifts in the world. Nothing elaborate, or extreme, or over-the-top. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t put effort into doing things for you. Instead, his gestures are smaller, intimate, more personalized to who you are. A date to your favorite ice cream shop. A gift of your favorite tea and a new teacup to go with it. A small weekend getaway to Naboo for your anniversary. Folding your laundry while you nap. Restocking your kitchen without prompting. The little things that let you know he truly knows and loves you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Okay I love him but Plo has the absolute weirdest habit of not accidentally answering questions. You can ask him something and he’ll think the answer and then forget to speak aloud. He always gets a little embarrassed when it happens, and sometimes it’s a little annoying, but over time it just becomes amusing.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Plo has never been super concerned with his looks. But sometimes he feels a little conscious of how different he is from you, and how he can’t give you traditional affection. He can’t kiss you in the way someone else would be able to. But Plo can feel your emotions through the Force, and knows how much you love him regardless. So no, Plo isn’t very concerned with his looks.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

You have become a very rare solace for him in a galaxy that’s tearing itself apart. So while he doesn’t necessarily feel incomplete without you, the only time he feels at peace anymore is in your company. With you, he doesn’t have to hide his distress over the war, the worry he feels for his men, who are for all intents and purposes, his sons. He doesn’t have to hide from you, and for that reason, he cherishes you more than he can ever express.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them)

Plo does that dad thing where if he sits in a comfortable chair for more than thirty minutes, he’s liable to fall asleep. He has fallen asleep during long council meetings before. Yoda and Windu absolutely know and while Yoda finds it absolutely hilarious, Windu went through stages of being frustrated by it, to becoming resigned to it, to finding it amusing but being unwilling to admit so.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Someone who complains and is unable to accept his other commitments. Yes, he is committed to you, but he is a Jedi and a general (as much as he doesn’t like it) first. If you are unable to understand and accept that then there will be problems in the future.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Plo is a relatively light sleeper. In fact, he sometimes describes his version of sleeping as more of a dream-like trance. Only when he’s really tired does he fall into a deeper sleep. He also, like most Jedi, experiences visions during his sleep. Mostly snippets, nothing that ever makes sense. And waking up next to you soothes him in a way meditation can’t. Which is why he takes every chance he gets to sleep beside you.

______________

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veny-many · 1 year ago

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So I was exploring the Wookieepedia again. And found someone interested me.

That cool looking Kel-Dor Tol Braga!

He was respected Jedi Council member who had skill and wisdom and open minded and kind hearted. He always tried to peace talk to even sith at first meeting, and one sith lord actually redeemed by fighting him for three days. And Tor actually accepted him as his Padawan.

But when he tried to take down the supreme Sith, he was brainwashed by him and fallen to dark side.

He eventually able to broke out, but he was so broke down by the fact his pride had blinded the truth and led them to failure.

And he willingly surrendered to dark side.

When hero tried to save him, he said that dark side and Empire will rise again and again, and galaxy's suffering will never end and what they fought for are not mattered.

Still, by hero's choice, he was convinced by the fact that he still had good inside, he gained his confidence and hope once again and agreed to be redeemed.

It was interesting to me that the fact even Kel-Dorian could be fall and redeemed despite their strong judgment of good and bad.

And as always, it makes me... have more idea... of Plo Koon. Muhahaahahahhahah

Thinking about what can broke him to fall?

The true cruelty of galaxy and society?

The suffering of innocent they tried to save and still failed?

The meaning of clones that made to die for Jedis? And the war they forced to fight?

Many Padawans and Jedis that fought in war and died and suffered?

The Jedi Orders that changed while long history under serving corrupted Republic and fighting in war?

Or the guilt for Little 'soka that Jedi Order abandoned when she needed them most?

Or the guilt for original 104th battalion who died by his command that was from his judgment from pride of their successes?

Yes, what a sad life to be kind hearted Jedi in wartime...

I don't think even if he survived from Order 66 he could be the same person before the order after all that traumas and cruel reality.

But in the other side, I believe he would never let him self fall or give up when he have at least one young someone with goodness who needs his help and care.

Because... just he has too strong buir energy. That's all. Even Tol took care of young man who was sith lord. And I believe Plo would have so much power and will for taking care of younglings. What am i saying

#star wars #plo koon #tol braga #kel dor #i dont and want to see sith plo #he can be scary and somehow kind hearted still #with scary way #like killing and burning all the city and strokes his wolfpacks hair with pride and kindness for their success #like fries the Jedis till skin become ash and saying he is proud of his little 'soka who just fought and killed one Jedi Master #hahahahah #what have i done #my mind is diseased

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ruptured-skein · 1 year ago

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“You, Fabius?” Erebus was rarely caught off guard, but the sheer vanity of this man truly astonished him. Those Emperor’s Children... He couldn’t help but smile at Fabius’ expression. “This isn’t about you, and it never was.”

He extended his hand, palm up, and made a squeezing motion. Fabius staggered and fell on his knees, his face turning a sickly shade of green.

“Don’t worry, cousin, I pray,” Erebus said. “This will intensify your existing disease - albeit briefly. But for an outstanding scientist like yourself, it shouldn’t be a problem, right?” He sneered with a side of his mouth. “The Dark Council views you as a potential ally and friend. You could have been immortal for ages by now if only you had made the right decision. Unfortunately, you hadn’t,” he sighed, with a hint of regret that was only partially false.

Having lost his interest in the Chief Apothecary, he turned to Saqqara, only to find his way blocked by the snarling, blood-eyed World Eater. Angron’s sons never took long to go baresark beyond any reason; what miserable beasts, Erebus thought. Useful, but still miserable, even when domesticated, like this one.

He made a beckoning gesture, and suddenly, the sound of soft laughter filled the air. Two slender arms appeared out of nowhere and securely wrapped around Arrian's armored waist. The androgynous creature that responded to Erebus' call appeared fragile and harmless; the warrior broke free from the daemon's grasp, hurled it to the ground with a powerful blow and lifted his foot, ready to crush it with a ceramite boot. In that very instant, the thing spewed a cluster of tendrils, each one thicker than the World Eater's arm, still laughing in delight. The tentacles pulsed and coiled around Arrian, constricting his body with an unyielding grip. One of them snaked around his cybernetic dreadlocks, tugging his head upwards, while another forcefully thrust its tip into his mouth. Arrian bit it off and spat it out, but he could do nothing more than growl, showing his metal teeth stained with ichor.

Finally, the path was clear, and Erebus kneeled before his child's crouched form.

“Bu erga kel, o’g’lim,” he said in his sweetest, honey-flowing voice, and the lone tear slid down his kohl-lined eye. “Come here, son. No need to bother summoning your pet Neverborn. They'd rather listen to me than you.”

The diabolist fell into his arms, his head resting on the First Chaplain's breastplate, and Erebus planted a chaste kiss on his forehead.

“Come back home, my boy,” he breathed. “Come back to where you belong.” His hands gently covered Saqqara’s, their grip tight on the hilt of the athame.

Upon leaving his chamber, Saqqara discovered a parcel waiting for him on the floor. Intrigued, the diabolist paused briefly before deciding to open it. As he did, a glint of steel caught his eye, causing him to withdraw his hand in surprise. A slight wound on his hand prompted him to examine the contents of the parcel further. Inside, he found a letter bearing a chilling message.

"Greetings, wayward son. Or perhaps I should say, wayward brother? It appears you have found solace in another's embrace, haven't you? But now, it is time for you to fulfill your destined sacred duty. This blade, stained with your blood, shall never know peace. Ah, but I misspoke. It will find peace once it has taken the life of the one who has done the most good for you. Or perhaps the one you love above all others. Or even yourself."

(wrong blog to ask, but I'll just reblog it with the Consortium)

The diabolist drops the letter, his fingers immediately reaching for one of the smaller bottles on one of his belts, carefully avoiding getting his blood on the seals. As he loosens the cork, he whispers spells of binding that cause flakes of ash to fall from his blacking lips. A colourless thread of smoke snakes out of the bottle, encircling the blade of the long dagger. Where the smoke touches the strangely archaic-looking surface, it hardens and a low, angry hiss can be heard.

Saqqara leans back. Stares at his hand. Wipes the ash from his lips and then stands up.

"An athame?!" Arrian didn't intend to shout, but the word ends up at a considerable volume. Fabius gives him a chastising look and clicks his tongue. Reaches for the hilt of the dagger. "Interesting. I don't remember ever having one of these in my hand."

Saqqara nods, exhausted. "They're not necessarily widely used, as there are easier ways to kill someone with the help of the gods. This one is a symbol."

"Erebus?" asks the Chief Apothecary, tilting his head. As much as he despises anything to do with the mumbo-jumbo of self-proclaimed gods, he knows full well that it represents a real threat. Especially in the hands of a gifted politician like the Dark Apostle.

Another nod from his diabolist. "I can't think of anyone else with such a long memory."

An arm of the chirurgeon with a microscope attachment approaches the athame. Fabius gives in to his curiosity. "Well, I'm on the safe side this time, aren't I? I've never done you any good on purpose." He smiles narrowly. "Even if I would be the easiest way out. Though I'd prefer not to sacrifice a body still that fresh and healthy, just to spite Erebus."

"Not really." Arrian points to a passage in the letter. "Fulfilling Saqqara's original mission is also a way to get the Athame away from him. And for that you are the target."

Fabius bares his teeth. "Afraid you'll be the one who dies?" But then he waves it off before Arrian can protest. "No. All this is unacceptable. I don't like being threatened. And that extends to my employees as well." - "Technically, Saqqara is more like Erebus' employee." - "Come now, details. I don't see that Lorgar's First Chaplain has made any improvements to Saqqara!" - "You riddled him with explosives!" - "Improvements."

With a barely audible sigh, Arrian gives up on this fruitless discussion. He looks at Saqqara, who is still staring at the dagger as if hypnotised, running his finger over the wound on his hand, which doesn't really want to close and looks strangely unreal.

Fabius straightens up. The Chirurgeon busily folds himself around his shoulders into a very aggressive position. The Chief Apothecary waves a servoskull over with a curt motion and begins to dictate.

"To whoever of the Dark Council of the Word Bearers is interested in my diabolist! I do not appreciate members of the Consortium being threatened, as I apparently have not made clear enough in the past. My mistake, sorry. So let me rephrase, hopefully without room for interpretation: Saqqara is mine. And anyone who would like to discuss this is cordially invited to a meeting on neutral ground. Yours sincerely, Lieutenant Commander Fabius, Chief Apothecary of the Emperor's Children."

He makes a waving gesture. "Send."

Arrian whistles through his teeth. "You really don't like 'em, huh?"

Fabius smiles humourlessly.

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foreverchangingfandomsao3 · 2 years ago

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The 212th had been waiting for a long time to get a General. Wolffe had gotten his General already, a Kel Dor called Koon. Jet had General Mundi. Bly had General Secura, and Monnk had General Fisto. Ponds had General Windu (Cody didn't envy him). Even Rex had a General for kriff's sake. Skywalker. Rex could be found complaining and lauding him in equal amounts when they were drinking. Skywalker even came with a Jedi Commander called Tano.

The 212th had no General at all.

There were only a few Jedi left that could possibly be assigned as Generals. Krell, Vos, Swan, Kenobi, Vebb.

The names whittled down as fighting began. Swan and Vebb were the first to be assigned. Vos disappeared from the list without reason, definitely not attached to a battalion. Krell seemed to go where he was needed, and Kenobi was never assigned.

Cody looked him up.

High General Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master, member of the Jedi Council. His list of missions was impressive. Truly impressive, but many were without details, redacted by request. His skills listed diplomacy, the ability to speak multiple languages and military strategy.

No mention of his fighting skills, although he must have some. He knew from Rex that Kenobi had been Skywalker's Master, and they sparred every time his General was on Coruscant.

Kenobi seemed to be involved in conducting the war from the Temple, and mostly over holo. There were vids of him too. Negotiating with a Hutt in Huttese, conversing with a Twi'lek about medical supplies for the Venators, more of him talking to various species and Jedis, with only one video that appeared to be the man in action. All but the last vid were shot from behind, showing only the man's respectful posture and the red hair.

Cody tapped on the last vid, watching it play out. The quality wasn't the best, looking as if it was shot from afar, but it was zoomed in. There was no sound, but he could see a younger version of Rex's General led to a pole in cuffs, passing by a man that must be Kenobi, already with his arms chained above his head, hands limp, long auburn hair, pale skin and blue eyes. His lips were moving, then his head lifted, eyes directed upwards under raised brows. Cody could have sworn he said 'good job' before looking forward with a look akin to frustration. Cody watched him avoid sharp claws from a creature he'd never seen, and deflect bolts with a lightsaber, cutting down droids.

So he could fight. Not only could he fight, but he also seemed formidable with a lightsaber.

Whichever battalion received him would be in good hands. If they assigned him to one. The war had been in progress for months, yet he was kept safe within the walls of the Jedi Temple.

---

"Cody," Obi-Wan interrupted. "Your faces make little difference to me, and short of shocking pink hair, it's nearly impossible for me to tell anyone apart by sight."

"I don't understand."

"Ah, I hoped you had been told."

"Sir?"

"I'm blind as the proverbial Shyrack, Commander. My eyes do not function as they should."

"I-uh-wh-..." Cody tried to stammer out some kind of understanding, but couldn't. He took a deep breath. "No, sir. I was not informed."

A snort of laughter from the ginger. "Surprisingly, my dear. I'd worked that much out."

"Are you going to need a guide?"

"Around the battlefield? It wouldn't make me a particularly effective General now, would it?"

#Show it some love please #It's my birthday and I spent a while on it #Blind Obi Wan Kenobi #Obi Wan Kenobi #Eventual Codywan #They've literally just met #Codywan fic

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beckyh2112 · 3 years ago

Text

Palpatine being a creeper

One (1) of you asked for the scribble, so have some scribbling. (Also, I define ‘scribble’ in terms of my writing as “unedited and no attempt to be a full and complete scene, much less a story”.)

—

Two days after Palpatine was arrested and forced into Force-suppression cuffs, Commander Fox fell into a coma. Physically, there was nothing more wrong with him than there had been before.

Mentally, most of his mind was gone. There was just barely enough in there to maintain his body’s autonomous functions.

The other clone commanders did not take that well. Ponds hadn’t wanted to explain the histories between the commanders, but Mace was a Jedi. He could feel the gnawing guilt most of the commanders felt towards Fox. Worse, he could feel the resignation of the Guard commanders, the way they just accepted that Fox was gone.

Palpatine appeared to be meditating. The Force coiled around him; Force-suppression was not the same thing as being cut off from the Force.

It was a show of power, a taunt. Mace ignored it. “Ser Palpatine.”

The Sith Lord didn’t stir, but there was a sense in the Force of an opened door, a distant invitation.

Mace did not particularly want to play the Sith’s games, but what he wanted was particularly irrelevant. Palpatine had something to do with Commander Fox’s coma. Mace and Yoda were the only people the Council trusted entirely to never Fall, no matter the circumstances.

He knelt on the floor outside of the cell and settled into his own meditaiton.

At first, the shared mindscape was both a throne room and the Chancellor’s office. Mace exerted his own will on it, and the mindscape shifted and settled into a Senator’s residence.

Palpatine wore simple Naboo robes, elegant in cut and color rather than ornate with decoration. Something more suited to an aide than a politician. Both a personal preference, Mace judged, and a manipulation.

The Sith Lord carried a fox in his arms, its fur Guard-red, and a jeweled collar around its neck.

Mace let fury sweep over, through, and past him.

“You can’t blame an old man for wanting to keep his pet with him.”

Hatred rose in Mace, and he paused. The emotion was almost, but not quite, his own. If he was a shade less certain of his place in the Light, he might not have noticed.

He thought of Plo after the Malevolence, of sitting knee to knee with the Kel Dor master while Plo trembled under the weight of the memory of thirty thousand lives ending around him. Of Plo after he rescued Wolffe from Ventress, and that one terrible moment where Mace was certain this war would lead to yet another Jedi’s Fall.

Plo would hate with his own hatred, being here while Palpatine called Commander Fox his pet.

#bexfic #star wars #i have more stuff in my head about Fox in this situation #but I haven't written it down yet #fox^2 au

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swbumblebee · 4 years ago

Text

“Stop it.”

Mace Windu was a Jedi Master, and as such had years of training resulting in near limitless patience.

A limit, however, that his closest companion and partner in time-travel was testing with his constant pacing. And huffing.

Plo Koon ignored his request. Mace sighed.

“Would you just sit down? You’re not going to bring them home any quicker and you’re wearing down my rug” he warned.

Plo looked at him, looked down at the rug, and continued pacing.

“I don’t know what you’re worried about” Mace continued, happily ignoring the sulky silence. “We know their mission goes well, we’ve done this before!” he exclaimed. “It’s a resounding success and half a planet ends up with a crush on Obi-Wan.” He said matter-of-fact.

He felt a reluctant pulse of amusement from Plo in the Force, as much as the man tried to keep it off his face. Mace could always tell.

He stood up, joining him in front of the sofa.

“Nobody gets blown up, nobody gets injured.” He reminded gently. “The Tume agreement is signed, as it is every year, and they both live to worry us another day” he said kindly.

Plo shook his head.

“I know how it went last time. I remember the debate” he corrected. “But things could be different my friend, we have changed the timeline. The smallest difference could be vital, and we have made a very large difference.” Plo explained, in his usual measured voice. “We have altered young Anakin’s temperament; Force only knows that he’ll do. And Obi-Wan has much less to prove.”

Mace frowned. His friend was making some irritatingly good points, but he remembered the two boys standing in the council room not one week ago; a familiar determined glint in Obi-Wan Kenobi’s eye that, in the coming years, would move planets, and Skywalker looking up at all the Masters as if they hung the stars.

“They will not disappoint us” Mace said surely.

Plo stopped.

“I know” he sighed. “I just…worry. It is most unbecoming of a Jedi” the Kel Door admitted.

Mace smiled.

“We are no longer typical Jedi my friend, and you are not the only one.”

It was true. Despite his words of reassurance, waving the two off in the hanger had brought a distinct clench in his stomach, and the training droids in the dojo had had a very long week.

Both froze, two very familiar force presences making themselves known, and not a moment later Mace’s commlink chirped shrilly.

They grinned at each other.

“Windu”

“Master, Knight Kenobi and Padawan Skywalker have just requested permission to land” the unidentified voice on the other end of the call informed them professionally.

“Thank you, Windu out.” He closed the link without a second thought, already grabbing his cloak and joining Plo, standing impatiently, by the door.

“Wait – we can’t both go!” Mace exclaimed, the thought suddenly occurring to him as Plo reached for the door control.

The other Jedi looked at him, clearly irritated.

“Why not?”

Mace rolled his eyes. One of them had to be sensible.

“Plo, how’s that going to look? Two senior council members waiting for a new Knight and a Junior Padawan? People already think we’re too close” he exclaimed, frustrated with his friend.

Whilst they both had a wildly different attitude towards the A Word (developed over the course of the war and in their new situation) appearances were something they had to be mindful of.

Whilst his expression did not change, the Force around Plo expressed just how much of a toss he gave about appearances.

His friend folded his arms.

“Alright, we can re-convene at the flat later. I will meet them in the hanger.” He said calmly, as if it was some kind of compromise.

Mace raised one eyebrow.

“Any why do you get to welcome them home?” he asked archly.

“You waved them off” Plo said simply. “It is my turn.”

“Ah that’s not how-Plo!” he cried out, outraged as Plo quickly opened the door and strode out into the corridor, pushing Mace gently back with the Force whilst he made his escape.

Leaving the Master of the Order spluttering at the injustice of it all, in his wake.

---

Plo was working hard to keep his happiness behind his shields as he strode into the hanger just in time to see the temple shuttle land. He ran a critical eye over it, having a sudden vision of Skywalker’s battered old ship in that first timeline. As liable to explode as it was to put the wipers on.

Thank goodness that was a bridge to be crossed in the future. He made a mental note to keep an eye out for Anakin adopting ships.

Obi-Wan ruffled young Anakin’s hair, laughing as the boy tried to squirm away, as they descended the ramp. The playful scowl on Anakin’s face transformed into excitement as he sensed Plo and turned to him, held back from running over for his usual hug by his Master’s lightning quick reflexes, grabbing a wrist and holding him back.

Plo sent a wave of welcome over to them both in the Force as they came closer, a genuine smile on Obi-Wan’s face and Anakin practically buzzing with excitement.

Obi-Wan bowed deeply in respect, clearly nudging Anakin through their training bond to do the same, and the boy hastily followed suit.

Plo held a hand up and nodded at them both as they rose smiling. Both looked absolutely fine, perhaps Obi-Wan a little tired, but Plo had a feeling that was more to do with the energetic ten-year -old he’d just spent a week with, than the challenge of the mission.

“Welcome back” Plo once again pushed his pleasure at them in the Force. Predictably, Obi-Wan’s eyes slid away from looking him in the face, but he smiled gratefully all the same as Plo plucked the bulky pack out of his hands and shouldered it. Anakin nearly skipped as they all headed towards the exit and made for the Kenobi/Skywalker residence.

“Thank you Master, it’s good to see you-“

“Master Plo, it was so wizard we went in a hyperlane and the pilot let me sit up front and Chose was awesome Master it was hailing when we got there, like really hard rain! And they had massive beds and loads of puddings and me and Master Obi-Wan went to a play with singing-“

As the child rambled excitedly on, Plo shared a bemused look with a resigned Obi-Wan, sending him a wave of amused sympathy at him in the Force. Received with a dry raise of the young man’s eyebrows.

It must have been a long week for the twenty-three-year-old.

Content to let the child’s happiness wash over him, and Obi-Wan appearing to enjoy the lack of expected contribution for once, the journey to the flat was mostly uneventful, only a few Jedi casting them amused looks at Anakin’s wild gesticulating.

“Anakin, Obi-Wan!”

They were stopped from keying in the door code by Mace’s cry of greeting as he rounded the corner towards the little group. Ignoring Plo he went straight up to the boys, Anakin beaming at him and Obi-Wan bowing once again.

“Master”

“Hi Master Mace! Guess what? We saw hail on Chose and-

“Anakin” Obi-Wan blissfully interrupted before the whole recount could begin again. “Why don’t we get inside and get the tea on and then you can tell Master Mace and Master Plo all about our mission” he suggested firmly, in a way that was definitely not a suggestion.

“Yes Master”

Obi-Wan keyed in their code and stepped inside, Anakin following happily kicking off his boots by the door.

Mace, still giving Plo the cold shoulder, stepped inside first. And made a distinct noise of surprise. Plo followed curiously looking over his shoulder.

“Obi-Wan – what happened?” he asked, aghast.

Plo held back an unseemly laugh.

The flat was a tip.

There were robes on the floor, he spotted two pairs of boots sticking out from under the sofa and a discarded pack under the table. What looked like the entire Temple’s supply of mugs were scattered on almost every surface, alongside precariously stacked datapads and flimsy piles on the tables and on the floor, some of which had fallen over.

As he picked his way across the room, avoiding random bits of droid and one or two power tools, Plo could spy a half-eaten bowl of cereal on the kitchen counter when he peered inside, and about three days worth of washing up. A laundry basket was sitting next to the washing machine, overflowing with brown and beige.

The two young Jedi stood awkwardly in the middle of the flat.

Obi-Wan flushed a little.

“Ah, we left on quite short notice” he offered.

“I don’t think it’s that bad really” Anakin offered with an awkward shrug, slyly kicking something further under the sofa.

“This is….” Mace was lost for words. Whilst Plo hadn’t spent much time in Master Kenobi’s home the first time around, he had always thought the man to be fastidiously clean, and what he had seen had been very tidy.

Anakin however, was no surprise.

Plo could sense Mace doing the same thing he was, adding “domestic help” to the Obi-Wan Support List. They’d been so focussed on studies and their boy’s personal development they completely forgot that the Knight had never lived by himself before, never mind taken care of a youngling!

Obi-Wan apologetically shoved some pads and an old robe off the sofa to make space and disappeared into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

The two Masters sat down gingerly. Anakin on the floor opposite.

“Your mission was a success?” Plo asked conversationally as Obi-Wan reappeared with the mugs of tea. Plo caught Mace peering at the rim for signs of prior use, and gave him a look.

“Yeah” Anakin answered before Obi-Wan could get a word in “the Chosians didn’t like me at first but they really liked Master Obi-Wan and they spent ages talking. And people kept giving him stuff.” The boy explained with a disgusted expression. “Flowers and cakes and-“

“Yes thank you Padawan” Obi-Wan interrupted loudly, his ears turning a rather bright shade of pink. Mace smirked at him and Plo sent his partner a mental swat.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat.

“The mission was a success and the Tume Agreement has been updated and signed.” The Knight took a sip of his tea. “We will not need to go back for a while, it should be valid for another ten years” he finished casually as if accomplishing something no Jedi had managed before, on his first mission, was an afterthought.

Mace and Plo shared a look.

Just like last time.

It was a huge relief that their presence had had no adverse effects on the Negotiator’s skills. As Plo sat and listened to Mace congratulate the blushing young man he had a thought.

What could these two, The Team; the best Jedi of his generation and the most powerful force user ever, accomplish with the support of Mace and Plo this time around?

The Sith had better pack their bags. He thought smugly.

---

To get a feel for the whole set up of Obi-Wan Anakin’s first mission when they were assigned it “the first time around” read this Snippet Of Nothing, which is the mission being discussed, and is from the councils point of view.

#Space Dads Go Time Travelling #plo koon #mace windu #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Anakin Skywalker #Bby anakin #fluff #Old married couple Mace and Plo #surprisingly messy Obi-Wan #bit long this one #obi-wan fanfic

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