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undead-merman · 1 year ago

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Garnet

December 31st 2015

To my horror, my father's scraps of rambling claiming to be research turned out to be true.

Deep in this unnamed facility past a million warning signs was the monster. His eyes gleaming in the darkness, reflecting the light of my lantern. I swear his eyes bore into me as if he was reading my very soul. He shouldn't be alive, not for how long this place has been abandoned. Life behind a chain link fence with only stagnant air and dust particles.

I pulled him out and seeing as how I simply came here to fight off my burning curiosity and hatred, I don't have a team to help me swipe the place and collect the research from the last group that contained him. I've contacted my most trusted allies to help me. They'll arrive any day now to my camp just outside this worn down concrete mess of a building.

He's semi feral. He understands basic body language, but does not speak or respond to any spoken language. I've tried. He growls and hisses at the most basic of things. He didn’t even understand forks and knives. He doesn’t even eat with his hands, he kneels down and licks it up from the ground. It’s a sad sight, really. I managed to lead him outside with some scraps of my lunch. He hissed and shied away from the sun like it was a beast. The poor thing, I shielded him away from the sun and waited with him until the sun went down. I made him a spot in my tent, and I'm watching him. I can’t be too careful with how wild he seems to be. He’s sleeping in my bedroll.

I cannot believe my father was right. The power of manifestation is true and has happened in the past, allowing a billion gods to be born over the years… Garnet, as I will be calling him from now on, doesn’t seem to look like one. He looks more like a demon. Garnet horns, a long tail, rough skin with pillars of said stone growing out of his spine and across his skin. His skin I can tell is supposed to be a much more saturated red, but with who knows how long he’s been in there he’s surely gotten paler.

I’m going to do my best to look after him. I think I should look into my father’s notes more as well.

January 5th 2016

A few days have gone by, and I want to compile my notes here. My new team has arrived, a few of my late father’s friends, a few friends of my own. All of them know of my father’s sudden detrimental interest in manifestation, even after all his years as a man of hard science. A handful of them searched the building, while a few stayed with me and studied Garnet.

Previous research dating back to the 1800s shows he wasn’t always feral. He was a calm-collected man that was theorized to be a demon of sorts. The horns on his head are indeed made from pure garnet, as well as the protrusions on his body. He used to have wings, as stated in some of the old writings, but they must have atrophied and fallen off.

I’ve taken some time to try and teach him some basic English. He’s a fast learner, which makes my life a lot easier, though it seems like he used to speak it a long time ago. My guess with how long he’s been alone, he’s forgotten it. Makes me sick to my stomach. Over a hundred years of solitude. Strangely enough, looking at his old enclosure, there were no signs of attempted escape. He stayed put like a well-trained dog.

There are thousands of files, some of them unreadable, almost all of them unorganized. We suspect people have been in here to explore or trash the abandoned facility, so it makes it harder to find material. But with Garnet the moral is up at the very least. Though, Garnet seems wary of new people. He only seems at ease around me and inside my tent. He snaps at anyone getting too close. In fact, he goes ballistic unless I stand in the way. I hate to describe it as such, but he acts like an unsocialized dog. Still, he seems like a good man, just lost from the stillness and loneliness of that facility. I’ve seen him sneak around and patrol my tent before curling up by my head. When he thinks I'm asleep he’ll lick my hair and chew it.

Talking with the team they agreed to stay here for as long as it takes. One of them even inviting a few more to understand garnet, a biochemist, a genealogist, Histologist, Biophysicist, the whole nine yards. Some of my father’s friends are even paying for the expenses of this trip. I’m so grateful. I hope that the study doesn’t stress Garnet out too much. Furthermore, I’ve resolved myself to taking Garnet’s comfort as a priority. If he doesn’t want to do something, then I will make sure that they don’t press anymore.

January 16th 2016

Our team has done some more digging and careful organizing and we’ve found out more about Garnet’s reason for being here. This used to be a research company that was looking into lab grown crystals but had ended up finding Garnet. They had harvested garnets from his body using different methods from bloodletting to cutting them out of his skin after burning him. From what it seems his blood would solidify into gemstones. It would provide hefty amounts, though their color would be low quality. The act of burning him which would scab over with the crystal and yank them out. These would result in much higher quality garnets. They wanted to test this, but I refused. It's far too inhumane.

We have also discovered he’s been there for generations. They had found a collection of folders called ‘Project Vein’, they didn’t even properly give him a name. I couldn’t stop myself from crying, knowing this man had gone through all that for some stupid fucking jewelry. Worst of all, when he saw me crying he straddled me licking my face and tried to comfort me, me. I couldn’t sleep that night, I didn’t even try.

The company dissolved after the great depression and he had been there ever since. Wasting away as he waited for someone to come find him. Save him, give him orders. Good riddance. I don’t even want to know the names of the people working here… it would eat me up inside.

We’ve been trying to teach him more and he’s picked up on it more and more. Instead of basic words, he’s relearned slightly more complex sentences. Thankfully, he’s a bit more social now and not just hovering around me and hissing and biting at the others. Not to say he doesn’t hover still but at least he’s not hostile to the others at camp. My father’s closest friends from work, he has taken great interest in Garnet. He keeps trying to feed him and get Garnet to spend time with him. Garnet is still wary of him. We did find out Garnet enjoys fruit. One in particular being a pomegranate. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. We gave it to him, and we watched as he peeled the flesh with such delicacy. No juice spilled from it unless it was already in his mouth. We all sat around and watched as he plucked seed after seed. He offered a handful to my colleague and myself before eating the rest. Ever since then, he’s been pestering us for ‘the tiny pom’.

His body is nothing like the doctors have ever seen. They were able to take small tissue samples and do some check up and scans. The tissues turned to Garnets within a few minutes. After study, his flesh truly turned to the crystal. The Mineralogist explained that garnets have a few different species. He seems able to produce many species… I wasn’t aware there were species.... Chrome pyrope garnet seems to be the main one he produces. He’s only able to produce a red variety as far as we know. But even she doesn’t know if. His flesh produces Spessartine. She wanted to take samples from all over his body including bone and marrow samples, but I refused.

I made sure they don’t go overboard with testing. As fascinating as he is, I cannot allow any mistreatment.

January 25th 2016

We have been here for nearly a month and Garnet has made leaps and bounds worth of progress. His long hair had been bothering him so they went head and cut his hair. He perked up the minute they showed him his reflection and he came scrambling over to me asking if I liked it. It suits him, and now I don’t have to spend twenty minutes every morning combing it.

He’s finally comfortable wearing clothing, much to everyone’s relief. With the cold, It only further proves the point that he is not bound by reality like us mortals. While he contains a stomach, he does not need to eat, he doesn’t need to sleep, the cold has no effect on him, he can have his body torn apart and beaten and still be fine, and heal it all away within a matter of hours.

He is not a mortal creature. If my father had any say in this, he would have called it a god. Garnet ceaselessly creates from his body without the need for energy. What else could you call it? I’m not even sure myself. Father’s research says there are billions of them. Gods created from the ideas and concepts attached to them. He mentioned gemstones, devils, zodiac, animals, though gemstones are primarily the object of his interest. Garnet, amethyst, ruby, topaz and citrine. He claimed to have known about Garnet, his mother telling stories about him. I worry that my family was somehow involved with him.

We’ve plucked through as much as we could inside, but sadly time has destroyed most of their research. What I've previously written down in my cataloging is simply all we have. Garnet doesn't seem to remember anything after the last visit to him. From what he's told me, a man had come up to him and told him to wait there. He waited and waited until I came.

Everyone discussed what to do next. Without Garnet consenting to testing, there wasn’t much they could do. But when I told them about my father’s research, they asked if I was planning to see if there was more like Garnet. I had to admit it. If there were any more creatures like Garnet, I was willing to risk everything to find them.

I really am my father’s child…

They agreed to help me and asked what to do with Garnet, and honestly I had to think awhile about it. I simply just couldn’t let him go about the world on his own. I know it in my heart that he’d be taken advantage of the moment someone got him in his grasp. But keeping him with me? It is not like he’s some pet. I’d have to hide him, keep him safe. I’m not sure if I am up to the task.

But seeing how Garnet curls up to me every single night, licking my fingers and hair, and nibbles at my shoulder just to hug and hold me, I knew I had to. I told the group I’d keep him by my side and Garnet was thrilled about it. He latched on and didn’t let go until bed. I’d have to return home to look more into my father’s notes. The people of my camp offered to help me get back without having to arouse suspicion from the public. I am privileged to have such lovely people surrounding me in this mission. When I told Garnet that we’d be traveling back home, his tail whipped around wildly, and he seemed to take pride in the fact I called it home for the both of us. I hope I can spoil him like he deserves.

January 28th 2016

We ended up taking a train. We were able to have a whole private cart to ourselves, so I didn’t have to worry about Garnet getting overexcited and getting caught. I had to thank one of my dad’s old friends for that.

He was pressed by the window the entire time, and he refused to let me squirm away. I was by his side with his hand around my waist as he watched trees and mountains go by. It was charming seeing how amazed he was. Every seat cushion he bounced on, the table he laid upon and lounged like a king. After so long alone, it was heartwarming to see him so enthusiastic about the world.

I’d let him pick at my lunch and takes the things he wanted as I looked up more about Gemstones, mostly the ones about my dear new friend.

From my dad’s rants, I remember him saying that humans assigning characteristics would result in a grain of truth. So I looked at what the birthstone would represent and their symbolism. It was sweet seeing him sniff and poke at my pad and pen.

Loyalty, passion, healing, and protection were the most common aspects… and it would make sense for him. Loyal to the end. Waiting for someone to come find him. I have to push down all those hateful feelings. I have Garnet to look after.

Maybe in the future we will find more about them, but for now I'm going to spend some time looking into my father’s things and making sure Garnet feels safe, loved, and taken care of. He deserves it.

#undead oc #garnet the god #reader insert #gn reader #tw: experimentation #but it's a world where if an object or idea is given characteristics or symbolism they will adapt them and become an avatar of it #more to come next month #Symbolika verse

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jessicas-pi · 1 month ago

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Unwilling Mand'alor Satine AU: Part Three

(part one (sort of?) || part two)

The Empire has been preparing for its attack on Mandalore for many years. They are well-equipped; more than enough stormtroopers to overwhelm Bo-Katan's Nite Owl forces, and Vader and his inquisitors will be there to deal with the Jedi.

But here's the thing.

Vader was Anakin Skywalker once, and Anakin Skywalker was there on the Coronet that day, all those years ago, when Satine Kryze pointed a blaster at Tal Merrik and couldn't pull the trigger.

Vader remembers this, and when the battle is being organized, he directs the plans accordingly. Satine Kryze couldn't shoot one man to save a ship full of people, so of course she will stand back while Mandalore burns and the Jedi under her "protection" are slaughtered. Satine will not pull the trigger.

Vader is so very, very wrong.

Satine hates violence, that is true. She hates war. The idea of taking a life makes her feel sick.

But she cannot, will not, stand back while the Empire does its worst to the people she has sworn to protect.

Satine pulls the trigger.

---

Kelleran Beq is leading an evacuation of the younglings from the palace when an armored Mandalorian he's never seen before runs past him in the palace hallway, presence burning with controlled fury.

Obi-Wan is drawing Vader's attention away from the palace when he sees a single warrior soaring high above him, a black blade in her hand.

Bo-Katan, who spent quite a bit of her teenage years getting thrown around the training mats by her older sister, looks up and grins.

The Empire will not win this round.

Satine hasn't worn her armor in over a decade, but the weight of it is familiar all the same. She is fighting for the Jedi as much as she is fighting for Mandalore, and the kyber at the heart of the Darksaber knows this. Satine is not practiced at wielding it, but she does not have to be. The Darksaber wields her. It is magnificent to her people. It is terrifying to the Empire.

But this is not the only sight that will be remembered, and in the years that follow, the legends of the Battle of Mandalore begin to spread.

---

Ahsoka has acquired a jetpack by this point, and she leads a charge of Nite Owls in an aerial assault on the Imperial ships hovering around Sundari. She takes a light cruiser by storm, smashing feet-first through the front window, lightsabers blazing green and gold.

(In this universe, she does not wield lightsabers that Anakin modified to be blue like his own. She uses new blades, blades that are hers, blades forged with beskar hilts and powered by crystals she claimed from the depths of the Living Waters.)

(Ahsoka Tano has become a child of two worlds, and she is wearing it well.)

She is the second Jedi in Mandalorian history to have an epic ballad written about her.

She will not be the last.

---

Years ago, Rex was dragged to Mandalore bound hand and foot, writhing against his bonds because his mind was telling him to kill, kill the Jedi, kill her, destroy her, destroy them all, even as every instinct rebelled against it. But Ahsoka and a med-droid working together removed the chip that had wrested control of his body from him, and he's been free for years. Free, and working to free all his brothers. There is a sizable squad of them by now, and they fight for their Generals and their Commanders and the brothers they lost and the brothers they still have.

They fight, and they win, and their songs of victory are sung proudly.

(Jango Fett refused to share his heritage with them. The Mando'a they knew was negligible; they never considered themselves Mandalorians.)

(That has changed.)

(They are not Mandalorians by blood, but by choice, because to a true Mandalorian, blood means nothing.)

---

There are many Inquisitors who accompany Vader to Mandalore---and they do not fail entirely in their mission. More than a few Jedi die.

One Jedi who falls is accompanying a Padawan when she is attacked. She screams for the boy to run, seconds before a red blade pierces through her chest.

But he does not run.

(Not this time.)

Though Caleb is nineteen and a capable duelist, he is no match for the Grand Inquisitor. He lasts four minutes before a slash to the face ends the fight, and he falls to the ground. The Grand Inquisitor steps closer, and raises his blade to finish the boy off, when a single voice rings out loud and clear.

"Leave him alone!"

Through vision blurred with pain---through only one eye---Caleb sees the form of a scrawny child, standing fierce and tall and hopelessly unprepared to face an Inquisitor.

The Grand Inquisitor glances over his shoulder, laughs coldly, then turns back to Caleb, twirling his blade.

"I said leave him alone!"

There is a snap-hiss and a flash of green light, and behind the Grand Inquisitor, the girl drops into the Djem So opening stance. The dead Jedi's lightsaber is comically big in her grasp, and she holds it backwards, but her form is precise, and she is undaunted.

"Come at me, hut'uun," she spits.

She can't be more than seven years old.

Caleb's grip on his own blade tightens, and as the Inquisitor turns away from him to cut down the annoyance, Caleb staggers to his feet and rams his blade through the Grand Inquisitor's chest.

"I coulda taken him," the girl complains, as the Grand Inquisitor staggers once and then drops dead at her feet. Up close, Caleb finally recognizes her.

"You're that kid," he says, gripping the wall with one hand because he's dizzied by pain. "The one Ahsoka's training."

(It's more polite than that feral demon child from Death Watch, which is also what he's heard her referred to as.)

Caleb grabs her by the wrist and runs as best he can---runs not for himself, but for a child in his protection---bringing her to the Sundari citadel, where the Jedi are taking refuge. A Twi'lek healer sits him down and patches him up as best she can, but his left eye is lost to him.

In the aftermath, Sabine draws a crooked jaig eye on Caleb's eyepatch.

---

A stealth squad of purge troopers, led by an Inquisitor, break into the Palace, taking it by surprise and cutting off the escape route for a group of Jedi children. Kelleran orders them to run. He says he'll be right behind them.

Most of the children know it's a lie.

Most of the children do as he told them.

But one turns back.

It is a girl, seventeen years old and different from the rest of the Jedi, because she's not a Jedi at all—only a lonely girl rescued from a dusty red world, the last of her kind. She stops and looks back and sees Kelleran Beq holding his own against the advancing purge troopers, and she knows he will not get out alive. Many of them have fallen, but many more remain, and an Inquisitor with them.

She wonders if she could even the odds.

No, she knows she could even the odds.

So she turns around. A Jedi boy runs after her, grabbing her hand and trying to pull her away, frantically demanding to know what she's doing. But she just grips his gloved hand tightly, narrows her focus to the purge trooper bodies littering the ground, and whispers— sisters, give me strength.

Merrin's eyes burn green and flame dances on her fingertips as she begins to chant.

(This story is spread in whispered rumors from stormtrooper to stormtrooper, and is usually dismissed as horror story nonsense. But the Purge troopers who were there to see it—well, they won't be forgetting it any time soon.)

---

Another Inquisitor breaks into the citadel in the center of the city, lightsaber flashing, ready to strike. The few Jedi Masters there ignite their blades, ready to defend their own.

But one holds her hand up sharply, halting the rest.

The verdant blade in her hand hisses as it deactivates, and she steps forwards.

"Padawan," she says.

The Inquisitor falters.

"Padawan," she repeats, more gently.

The Inquisitor's own blade deactivates as she stares in petrified indecision and fear.

But the Jedi doesn't hesitate at all. She holds out a hand to her, palm up. "Come here, my child."

The twisted black hilt of a scarlet saber clatters to the ground, and with a choked sob, Barriss Offee crashes into her master's arms.

---

Obi-Wan pushes past his grief and his guilt and fights Vader head-on. It is difficult to believe that this twisted monster used to be Anakin Skywalker.

At least, it is difficult to believe it, until Padme shows her face.

She wears armor painted in the colors and patterns she wore as Queen, and tears her helmet off to reveal her face.

Vader freezes.

"Padme?" he wheezes, sounding like someone reached into his chest and ripped his heart out.

Padme levels a blaster at his head.

Bombs fall and blasters fire all around them, but for the three old friends torn apart, there is pure silence.

"Padme," Vader says again, stepping towards her once. "Padme, it's---it's me, it's---"

She cuts him off sharply. "I know who you are, Anakin."

"But---"

"I miscarried. Did you know that?" she spits out. An accusation. (A lie.) "Our baby is dead because of you, and if Obi-Wan hadn't brought me to Mandalore, I would have died with her."

"Padme---"

Padme goes on, breathing fire and fury, because even if her children are alive and safe, her heart is shattered, and she uses that pain. She always has. "I called her Annie. For the moment I held her, I named her for the man I loved! I loved Anakin Skywalker---I love him still!"

Her voice drops low and she lowers her blaster.

"But---" She shakes her head slowly, never looking away from the skeletal mask he wears, and Obi-Wan knows she swallows down tears. "I don't know who you are. Not anymore."

And Vader does something truly unexpected.

He retreats, leaving behind a brother and a wife who watch him go.

(Both of them could have killed him.)

(Neither of them could do it.)

---

Above, around, and through it all, Satine Kryze does battle. Her blood runs hot, and she does not hesitate. She disarms when she can, injures when she must, and kills only as a very last resort.

But she does kill.

When the next morning dawns and the Empire is gone and Jedi leap nimbly from one rubble heap to the next, searching for the gleaming sparks of life as they lead search-and-rescue teams, the Duchess of Mandalore locks herself in her bedroom. Her scorched armor screeches against the wall as she slides to the floor, a blaster in one hand and the Darksaber in another.

She is too tired to cry.

She is too tired to be sick.

She is too tired feel anything but loathing.

Oh, Manda. What have I done?

But even as she chokes the question out to herself, she knows the answer.

She did what she had to do.

And she will never forgive herself for having done it.

#more to come! and hopefully it will not take me *checks date of last post* 14 months to put out the next part!#unwilling mand'alor satine au #ficlet #sorta #idk what this is #part ramble part fic #jessica's random thoughts #star wars #star wars au #satine kryze #and a lot of other characters i'm too lazy to tag

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