#post-copero

[arcann]

anyway that post came from swtor going "yeah in a series where obi wan and anakin were praised by their deeds as a team, where every jedi master treats their padawans like their own children, we decided that the decimated jedi order would separate a student from their teacher because they had become too close." in the silly copero stronghold battle pass missions

[fischglas]

Group photo of this very nice chiss family (they're not related) meeting at Copero, I hope nothing happens to them!

From left to right: Azansa (Aristocra of Sabosen family), Zirelin (Inrokini military captain), Sanaa (CEDF cadet moved to Imperial Intelligence), and young Sivval (the guy from last post)

[dirthara-dalen]

Enzo my beautiful blue boy. Same context as my post about my boy Lee. Prob gonna be in multiple parts as well and will link to each post as well. Info below the cut. Like Lee there is canon divergences in his backstory as well.

Enzo was born on Copero 9 years before the Phantom Menace. His mother, Inrokini'na'kivu (Nina), was a descendant of Vilkas & Vector Hyllus through her mother and Ryn & Solaris Xeno/Vera through her mother. Thanks to Vilkas she inherited his joiner mutation as did her son (This will be explained in Vilkas posts that are coming up). She willingly gave her son up to the order upon meeting Sifo-Dyas and young Lee when she met them one day. Enzo was about three at the time. She knew Enzo's father, a one Mitth'raw'nurodo, would highly disapprove of Enzo's force sensitivity. Ezno does not know who his father is for a long time.

Enzo struggled greatly as a youngling in the temple. He is very skilled in the usage of telekinetic and mind reading abilities but the mutation he inherited actually interfered with this. For him the song he was hearing from nest Oroboro was 'too loud'. In truth he was amplifying it unintentionally. He was made Lee's padawan as several masters believed Lee and his unorthodox methods could help the young boy.

They were right. Lee brought Ezno back home to Alderaan and straight to nest Oroboro. The nest actually lived on Starwing lands and had been ever since once of the dawn heralds made a deal with one of his ancestors. In exchange for access to land and protection the nest would not turn a single Starwing family member into a joiner. For at least two thousand years the two coexisted in harmony, that is until recently.

Alixs Starwing, Lee's uncle who is the youngest of his mothers siblings, recently became the nests dawn herald. This occurred after the last dawn herald suddenly died and said herald had been Alixs's partner. In his grief Alixs volunteered to replace his love. Due to Alixs now being the dawn herald Lee knew he could entrust Ezno to him to help the young chiss with understanding his mutation.

By the time events on Naboo had concluded, Enzo finally had the ability to control his mutations and was finally able to truly focus on being Lee's padawan. The two stayed on Alderaan for his training until Lee felt he was ready to train elsewhere. When Ezno turned ten his chiss biology kicked in hard. Lee was shocked with how fast Enzo was growing in such a short period of time. Ezno went from about 4" to almost 6" in less than a year. This is when both learnt that as a chiss Enzo matured way faster than other species. It became quite evident to Lee by the time Enzo reached 14 that he was more mature than most of the masters he knew at the temple and that was saying something considering their age.

During his time as Lee's padawan, Ezno became a very skilled duelist and discovered he was a tech savant. Lee also noticed over time how Enzo did not enjoy close quarters combat. As a surprise he gifted Enzo Vilkas's blaster rifle which had been entrusted to their family by the chiss. As he suspected Enzo was a natural marksmen. He then began to teach the young chiss everything he could about working in intelligence which would later lead Enzo to semi officially join the SIS during the war.

To be contiuned

[sullustangin]

Fluffy February Day 16: Glow

Fandom: SWTOR

Time:  25 ATC/26 ATC (early days of their post-nathema marriage)

Pairing:  Theron Shan/Smuggler

Rating:  T+....it’s a little spicy

Words: 872

~~

The tingles of euphoria were still flowing through her as Eva got out of bed.  Her bare feet didn’t take her far.  She grabbed the taper off the table and extended up to the nearest lamp. Eva tossed her loose hair over her shoulder to get it out of the way.  She heard a pleased hum from the bed she’d just left.  

Once the taper had kindled, she used it to light fresh incense, keeping the heady atmosphere going.  In the dark, the gentle glow of the festival lamps and fireflies barely lit the balcony, but it was enough.  Eva looked over at Theron, sprawled out.  “You look utterly debauched.”

“Says the one wearing a dancing girl’s belt.”  Theron stretched his arms over his head and then flexed for her.  “And only that.”

A well-timed clinking from the belt as Eva finished her task made both of them laugh.  She felt the heat of his gaze on her as her body moved.  Eva dunked the taper in a flask of water, set purposefully there for the task.  “Still more than you.  Shouldn’t you be suffering from some sort of spy panic about being… so exposed?” she teased him.

“If half of what you’ve said tonight is true, then they’re not looking at my face,” Theron shot back, sharp and sweet in the same breath.  Eva giggled.  He smirked as he continued, “Let’s just say the Chiss Ascendancy got some rather nice counter-surveillance equipment in exchange for my silence and confidence on a number of matters.  I still owe them… but they really owe me.”  He ran a hand through hair, the shots of silver in it catching the light.  “And I’ve made sure we’ll be... undisturbed this evening.” 

Eva made a stop at the low table that was laden with foodstuff and alcohol.  “Told you that Copero wasn’t a bad idea.”

“Didn’t pay much attention to the scenery or culture the first time through,” Theron admitted, briskly. “But… yeah, this little weekend away from Odessen is nice.  And we are getting work done.  Otherwise, I’d be a real killjoy.”

Eva turned to give him a chiding look, and he responded with that lopsided smile of his.  “Breath of Heaven?” she asked as she held up the bottle.

“Fits the occasion. And the company,” Theron replied lightly as he sat up.  

When Eva approached the edge of the bed and extended her arm to offer a cup to Theron, he took an inordinately long time to ogle her before taking his cup from her.  Then his free fingers reached to trace the skin just below the pretty belt about her waist.  “You’re certainly something beyond what this mortal deserves.”

By the time their cups were empty, the still-burning incense had made a cloud about their balcony, the glow of lanterns casting unworldly shadows across them.  The fireflies lazily bobbed around the perimeter.  “Copero has redeemed itself, I think,” Eva said as she put her cup to the side and laid back in bed.  

Theron’s lips curved upward. “Is this the start of some redemptive tour of the galaxy?  Every awful place we’ve visited, we ‘do over’?”

“Well, some place are objectively just awful – “

Then in unison, “Tatooine,” and they laughed, low in the night.

“Taris,” she said.

“Balmorra.”

“Ord Mantell, no matter what Corso says.”

“Umbara,” he added, then he wore some wounded expression at his own mention of it.

“Ziost” was whispered. “But…other places would have been beautiful or at least fun if… we weren’t fighting a war across them.”

“Like Katalla.  You should get that casino win you deserve out there.”

“And then you can ravish me in the conservatory.  Rishi – I technically still own it.”

“Manaan.  I haven’t run the swoop track there in years.”

A long pause.

“I’d… like to take you to Corellia,” Theron finally said.  “I grew up there.  Or at least, I made the transition from Jedi to … me.”  Then he added, “They’ve been rebuilding – going there to support the reconstruction wouldn’t be the worst way to spend credits.”

Eva shifted slightly to let her skin touch his.  “Your father did extend an invitation out to Alderaan.  And … I had a decent enough time there the first time, with Lenn and learning to dance… and falling out of a tree with Bowie.”   She paused.  “Your call though.”

“…we can make it work.” His fingers found her dark hair. “Have you ever been to Tython? Like, really been to Tython?  Not just a drop off-or a flyover?”

“Is there something other than a bunch of little kids going on their class trips these days?” Eva asked honestly.

Theron chuckled.  “It’s… not as busy as it used to be,” he conceded. “But I think a lot of the things worth seeing are still there, if you’re not afraid of a few nights of camping – no light pollution out there.”  

Eva made a face. “…are you going to get… uptight? Because it’s Tython?”  She tried to phrase her question as diplomatically as possible.

Theron’s expression turned mischievous, and then he muttered into her neck as he pressed up against her, “I thought that would be a selling point for you – because it’s Tython.”

Then they both laughed, as fingers got to tickling and teasing, and the conversation was discontinued entirely.

The lanterns burned out eventually, but the fireflies danced til dawn.

~~

@fluffyfebruary @ayresis @starlightcleric @ermingarden @bluephoenix1347

[storyknitter]

The Old Guard (7/7)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Hey, look everybody! It’s finally done! \o/ Many thanks again to @andveryginger for making sure that it doesn’t suck (any glaring mistakes are mine, because I can’t leave well enough alone and keep poking at paragraphs that I don’t like).

“Theron, thank you for arriving so quickly.” Lana glanced up at him as he entered the War Room.

“You said it was important,” the spy shrugged, “and Beywan didn’t mind tabling our discussion. What’s up?”

“You’re to report to the Commander immediately, in your quarters.” The Sith stood stiffly at rest, hands clasped behind her back.

“Did she say what this was about?” Theron asked, somehow managing to keep his expression and voice neutral, even as his mind raced through what felt like hundreds of different possibilities. His stomach flopped and his heart stuttered as both anxiety and hope settled into his chest.

“I informed Vassanna that you wished to speak with her.”

“Wait, what? Lana, why the hells would you do that?” Theron hissed and ran a hand roughly through his hair as he scowled at the blonde. She confused him by answering with a small, sad smile.

“Because it’s true. And because you two need to sit down and talk to each other, like the mature adults that you both pretend to be.” Shrugging slightly, Lana continued, “And this is all that I can do to help you: force your hand and make you actually sit in the same room together with nowhere else to be until your discussion is finished. The rest is up to you.”

Theron stared incredulously at the Sith for a moment, her words taking time to sink in.

“Well, go on. ‘Time and tide’ and all that,” she said, waving him off with a hint of a smirk.

Sanna sat stiffly on the couch with her hands folded together in her lap, Jedi Mask firmly in place, and waited until the door closed behind Theron to speak.

“Lana said you wanted to talk to me.” Her voice was flat and distant; the optimism he’d felt upon entering the room began to fade, though he pressed on.

“I do.” He sat on the opposite couch, taking a deep breath. “I want-- no, I need to explain.”

“You’ve already explained,” she said tersely, standing to leave and smoothing the front of her shirt to cover the shaking of her hands. “On more than one occasion, in fact. I don’t have time to hear the same story again.”

“That’s funny -- Lana mentioned that your schedule’s clear,” Theron said with a raised eyebrow and a wry twist to his lips. Vassanna glared at him as she took a step towards the door. “No, wait,” he pleaded as he stood and grasped her elbow, meeting her hard gaze with a sigh. “Hear me out, just this once.”

She tugged out of his grip, bristling as she stabbed her finger at him. “How can you expect me to listen to anything you have to say to me?”

Theron caught her hand and pulled her towards him, knocking her off balance in more ways than one, and rested her palm flat on his chest. He covered her bare hand with his, holding it in place over his heart. “Please, Sanna...” Closing his eyes, he lowered the mental shields he had been trained since childhood to keep around himself. “Believe me.”

Vassanna wrenched her hand from beneath his, recoiling as though his touch had seared her skin. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to block out the distorted emotions she could sense from him, but it was near impossible: regret, sorrow, fear, frustration... and love. So much love.

She shook her head in an attempt to clear it and tried to ignore his feelings -- and her own.

“It doesn’t work like that, Theron. The Force, the bond we--” The Jedi’s lips pursed as she cut herself off, taking a deep breath. “They’re not lie detectors,” she huffed.

Resting her fisted hands on her hips, Sanna shook her head and muttered, “I should have known better; you’re a kriffing spy. How stupid am I for believing you, for thinking you’d be honest with me?”

“Sanna--”

“Where did the lies stop, Theron?” she interrupted, pacing as every pent-up question she’d had since that day on Umbara tried to claw its way out of her throat at once. “Oh stars, where did they start? Was everything you said to me a lie?”

“No, I swear. I--”

“What did I do?” She was shaking and shouting at him, her Jedi control all but gone. “You said that you didn’t expect me to understand. Well, why not? Make me understand! Why did you do this? And why couldn’t you trust me?” Theron’s brows knitted together in confusion: he hadn’t expected Sanna to take issue with the amount of faith he had placed in her.

“Of course I trust you, Sanna; I have since I recruited you for the attack on Korriban. Not to mention that I’ve trusted you with my life since Manaan.” Taking a leap of faith, he said, “I love you.”

His confession wasn’t appreciated by the Mirialan -- she looked offended rather than moved by his declaration, arms crossed and a frown on her face.

“Oh, so you’ll trust me with your heart, but not with kriffing intel, not with this op? You should have brought me in on this sooner; why didn’t you?”

Memories assaulted him: the pity in Marcus’s eyes after Theron discovered that Marr’s fleet had been destroyed, Lorman’s ill-disguised glee over the wreck of Acina’s shuttle, the dozens of other close calls that he and Sanna had over their time together. Finally, a vision of what the Order of Zildrog had planned for her flashed before his eyes and he snapped.

“I was trying to protect you, dammit!”

“I didn’t need your protection, Theron, I needed you. And in case you've forgotten, I was a kriffing Jedi Battlemaster at one point; I can defend myself,” she snarled and he sighed, deflated.

“I know you can, but--”

“No, don’t you dare give me that line again about watching my back -- you can’t watch my back when you’re not here,” she countered with narrowed eyes, anger and contempt dripping from her words. “And leaving me in the dark? Tell me, how does that help me or protect me? How am I supposed to be an effective leader and keep my people safe without all the relevant information? This is hard enough as it is without you making me look like a fool!”

Theron’s hands went to his hips and he frowned, exasperated, and took a small amount of satisfaction in the surprise that flitted across her features with his next words.

“You’re right, okay? You’re right, I should have talked to you. I didn't tell you because-- because I was afraid,” he said, shoulders slumping. “If the Order knew that you were aware of what was going on, they would have moved forward with their plans. If they'd done that before I could stop them or undermine them, then the galaxy would have burned: Coruscant, Dromund Kaas, Zakuul -- all of it.”

Theron’s answer seemed to placate her slightly; Sanna crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. He sighed and despite his best efforts, despair seeped into his next words.

"I know you, Sanna," he continued. He gave her a small, but infinitely sad smile. "You'd have willingly walked into -- you would have sacrificed your --" He broke off, swallowing hard, unable to even utter the words and he ran his hand along his jaw. "I would have lost you. Again. I... can't do that. Couldn't do that. So I couldn't let you talk me out of it."

“Well, you’re damned right that I’d have tried to talk you out of it. Going off alone was a bad idea, and dangerous as hells. You could have died!” Vassanna shouted, hands fisted at her sides and blinking back tears.

“If I hadn’t gone, you would have.” Heartbreak was clear on Theron's face and in his voice, but she was having none of it.

“How dare you,” she hissed, eyes flashing. “How dare you decide that your life was worth tossing away in exchange for mine. That’s not how this was supposed to work -- we were supposed to be a team.” Both were painfully aware that this was far from the first time they’d had this argument, though it was usually in reverse. Staring each other down for a long moment, Sanna turned away first, her head bowed.

“You said such horrible things to me.” Her sad, defeated tone shattered the remaining shards of his heart.

“I know,” he said in the soft voice he only used with her, “and I’m so sorry.” Theron reached for Vassanna’s hand, but she pulled back from him yet again. Disappointment filled his chest and he pushed it away. She’s still here and we’re actually talking, so maybe things between us are still salvageable after all, he mused, and the thought heartened him.

“Please, please understand, Sanna. The Order was embedded in the Alliance far deeper than any of us thought at the beginning -- they had people everywhere, and for a long time.

“I tried to leave you as many breadcrumbs as I could, as many hints as possible without tipping them off... even after you’d commed me. What I still can't figure out is how the hells you not only found, but sliced my new comm frequency from across the galaxy. That was incredible,” he said, admiration clear in his tone.

Sanna looked down at his words, lips pursed as her tears finally overflowed and she dashed them away angrily. It took every bit of restraint that Theron had to keep from reaching out to comfort her; she had made it abundantly clear that she didn’t want any physical contact with him.

“They were observing me then, during our call,” Theron said quietly. “I had to do something to get you off the comm, to make the Order think that I wasn’t compromised. If it looked like I was, well... no one keeps a compromised agent around for long, Sanna. I had to lie to you make them think that I was truly done with the Alliance, with you... and hells, it hurt.”

Vassanna’s head snapped up and she stared at him, incredulous, lip curling into a sneer, twisting her face. “It hurt you? How can you even-- What do you think I--” The sob she was trying so hard to contain attempted to break free with a deep gasp. “You told me that my worst nightmares were real, Theron! You broke--” Vassanna's mouth snapped shut and she crossed her arms over her chest again. His stomach sank as anger and grief transformed her face into a bitter caricature of the gentle woman he’d known for years.

If Theron had believed that his intuition was nudging and prodding at him before, then every instinct he had was screaming at him now. Frustration swept through him; something was very wrong and on the tip of his tongue, but he still couldn’t name it.

His mind dragged him back to Copero, standing in the shuttle next to Valss and prepping to leave; after she'd made that terrible train pun, Sanna had tried to reach out to him through their connection. He'd had to shut her out quickly -- it was so very tempting to just run back to her, to hold her in his arms again -- but her voice in his head had sounded distant, fuzzy, as though the reception was bad. At the time, he’d assumed it was her doing, that she’d muted or dampened their link somehow, but--

The vague, cold unease Theron had felt since he’d left Umbara snaked itself around his chest, lodging itself in his heart. As understanding settled in, his eyes grew wide and he stared at her in disbelief, wishing and hoping that he was wrong.

“What did I break?” Sanna’s gaze slid off to the side, avoiding him, and Theron fought down the urge to be sick. He grabbed her shoulders, trying to meet her eyes.

“Vassanna, please tell me -- what’s broken?” he begged, voice raspy with dread. She looked through him, that blasted Jedi Mask securely back in place.

“Our bond.” Even though Theron had known in his heart what her answer would be, it still felt as though all the air in the room disappeared and the world tipped under his feet at her mumbled words. His hands fell away from her arms and he took a step backward, dazed. She swallowed hard and stared at the floor, tucking the edges of her cardigan tightly around herself, as she’d done so many times with his jacket.

“What have I done?” he murmured, sinking to the edge of the couch, head buried in his hands. He hadn't meant to say it aloud and she offered no answer.

Time stretched out between them, blanketing the room in a heavy silence.

“Does it hurt?” Theron asked softly, looking up at Sanna with shining eyes. Any Force-sensitive being -- bonded or not -- could undoubtedly feel the remorse and self-loathing that rolled off of him, as well as the concern for her well-being. She shook her head, still avoiding his gaze.

“Not anymore. Now it’s just... numb.” She appeared to be intrigued by a loose thread on the cuff of her sleeve and he hung his head, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. After another long silence, Theron heaved a resigned sigh and took his datapad out of his coat pocket. With a few taps and swipes of his fingers, he did what needed to be done, what she deserved: he gave her space to heal and what little peace he could. It may have been at the cost of his own heart, but he felt it a worthy exchange, all things considered.

Before he came back to the Alliance, Theron had believed that he was prepared for Sanna to reject him; he’d done and said so many terrible things, after all, even if he hadn’t meant them and they were uttered to keep her safe. That hadn't stopped him from foolishly hoping that he could make it up to her, but... not now. He’d done too much damage; no amount of “I'm sorry, but I only did this to save you,” could justify the devastation he’d caused.

Theron had always known that this was a possibility -- he just hadn’t expected it to hurt so damned much.

He cleared his throat and swallowed, but the lump there was immovable; his voice came out sounding strangled, despite the effort he put into speaking. “I've arranged to be moved to my own quarters. Change of billets for senior staff still need your approval, though.”

There was no acknowledgment of his statement from Vassanna; she simply stood there, curled into herself, blank features unreadable.

Theron stood and tenderly pulled her arms out from around herself, gingerly placing the datapad into her hands, its blinking cursor happily awaiting her authorization code. He barely checked himself in time to keep from dropping a kiss on the top of her head.

The heartbroken spy turned and trudged up the stairs to the armoire, clenching his hands into fists to still their trembling. Fuck, this hurts. Just breathe, you can do this, he told himself as he heard her fingers tapping across the keypad. Swinging the door panel open, Theron pulled out the duffle he’d so recently emptied and unzipped it, reaching blindly for the handles of a drawer.

Packing his bag, Theron felt as displaced and adrift as he had at thirteen, tossed out of the Jedi enclave and utterly on his own. The future he’d spent his entire childhood envisioning had disappeared in a puff of smoke with a few simple sentences. Daydreams of the future he’d wanted to share with Sanna threatened to do the same and he scrambled to hide them away, not quite ready to let go of this dream.

His implants pinged with a notification regarding the status of his housing request and Theron blinked it away, archiving the message before he could see the confirmation of the end, of their end. You’ve gotta keep it together, Shan, just a bit longer, he thought.

“Denied.” It was a subdued, broken whisper and Theron froze, unable to breathe for a moment, the duffle slipping from his fingers to the floor.

“What?” he asked. He could barely move, let alone turn to look at her. Hope stubbornly blossomed in his chest again and he stomped it out, afraid that he was hearing things.

“Your request is denied, Agent Shan,” she said in a wavering voice, holding the datapad out to him. “You need to work on any issues with your roommate on your own. Moving out won’t help anything.”

Theron stared at her, agape, before managing to croak out, “Of course, Commander.” He made his way slowly to the edge of the raised bedroom, crouching before dropping down and crossing the room. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off of the Jedi, as though she might disappear if he looked away. Pausing within arm’s reach, Theron took the datapad, fingers brushing hers, and tossed it on the sofa as he cleared his throat.

“There’s still a problem,” he said. Sanna’s eyelids fluttered closed and her jaw set in defeat at his words. “I want to make things right with her, Commander, but I don’t know how. Even if I knew how to fix it, I don’t know that I could; there’s a lot that’s broken.” Theron caught himself reaching for her and drew his hands back to himself. “And I’m worried that my roommate might not want things between us to be fixed. I hurt her -- badly.”

Opening her eyes, she glanced past him at the mostly-empty duffle lying on the floor. Fighting back more tears, Sanna met his gaze.

“Stay. I--” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Stay, Theron.”

“Are you sure, Sanna?” She nodded, lip caught between her teeth, and his heart soared. “Yeah?” She nodded again and stepped closer to him with a gasping sob, taking his hand in hers and twining their fingers together.

“I don’t know how to do this, either, but we used to make a good team,” she said, sniffling, and swiped at the tears glistening on her cheeks. “We can figure this out together, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” Theron said, haltingly reaching out to cradle her cheek in his hand and brushing away a tear with his thumb. “I like that idea, very much.”

“Me, too,” Sanna said, struggling to find the right thing to say, to do. She settled for resting her hand on top of his, eyes drifting shut while she basked in the warmth of his skin for the first time in so very long. “I love you,” she whispered.

Theron couldn’t repress an odd combination of a sob and a laugh; it drew a concerned glance from Vassanna, and he let out a relieved huff.

“I was pretty damn sure I’d never hear you say that to me again,” Theron said, blinking away the tears that sprang up, unbidden. He hesitated for the briefest of moments before pressing his lips to her forehead, closing his eyes and willing this moment to be real and not a dream.

“I certainly tried not to love you after... after everything, but I couldn’t,” Sanna sniffled. “I failed spectacularly, in fact.”

“Is it wrong that I’m glad you failed?” Theron’s flippant question was met by a long pause. His anxiety spiked as he thought that perhaps, after all this, he’d undone everything with a careless remark.

“No,” she answered quietly, voice thick with tears. “I’m glad, too.” With a small smile tugging at his lips, Theron reached up to brush a stray wisp of hair out of her face.

“Oh stars, I’m such a hypocrite.” she choked out, turning away, hand pressed to her mouth. “I'm so sorry. I didn't tell you the whole story earlier.” Sanna glanced back with wild eyes to see the confusion on Theron’s features and rushed to explain. “I wanted to hurt you like you’d hurt me -- what is wrong with me? I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m--” A whimper and hiccup broke off her rambling and Theron took a step closer, tenderly holding her face in the palms of his hands and pressing a kiss to her forehead again as his thumbs brushed her cheeks.

“No, sweetheart, you’re okay,” he said soothingly and tried not to worry about what had her so upset. “Shh, there’s nothing wrong with you, it’s alright. You can tell me now, whatever it is -- if you want to, of course.”

Sniffling, Vassanna turned away and began to pace, fingers twisted together in front of her. Theron stood as patiently as he could while she worked out whatever was running through her mind and did his best to ignore the urge to kiss the frown from her features, the way he used to when she was worried. That won’t help anything, he scolded himself.

Sanna stopped abruptly in front of Theron, as though surprised by her own inability to stand still. Her mouth opened and closed a number of times as she struggled to find the right words.

“It’s still there,” the Mirialan blurted out, gesturing to the two of them and wiping away more tears. “The connection between us, I mean. It’s in pieces, but... from the minute you walked back into my life, the Force started repairing it, stitching it back together.” Panic flashed across her features and her hand subconsciously covered her heart as she met Theron's eyes again.

“It scared me, and I-- it hurt so much and I couldn't do that again,” she whispered, shaking her head, “so I kept you at a distance, as best I could. I’m so sorry, I should have told you--”

Vassanna's hands clamped over her mouth to smother a harsh, heart-wrenching cry she could no longer contain. Without a thought, Theron stepped forward to close the gap between them and wrapped his arms around her shaking shoulders, holding her tight. He fully expected her to pull away again and was elated to be wrong; instead, she burrowed her head in his chest and her arms wound around him, fingers grasping and clutching at the back of his shirt, as though unable to hold him close enough.

Cradling her head to his chest, Theron ran his other hand up and down and her spine, filled with both guilt and relief. Dropping a kiss on the top of her head, he murmured calming words and reassurances into her hair between sniffles of his own: how she had every right to feel the way she felt, to be angry and upset about what he’d done; there was nothing to be sorry for but he’d forgive her anything; that everything was going to be okay; that he loved her, oh he loved her so damned much; and how very, very sorry he was for everything he'd done to her and how badly he wanted to make things right.

As they stood clinging to the other, time ceased to exist and they both felt as though they were home at long last.

“Stop apologizing, Theron,” Sanna said softly, breaking the silence and leaning back slightly. She reached up and placed her cool hand on his cheek, scratchy with stubble. “I forgive you.”

Theron huffed out another laugh-sob of disbelief and tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear before kissing the crown of her head.

“Hells, I love you, Sanna,” he said, resting his forehead on hers, noses nuzzling.

“I love you too. I can’t promise--” She paused and took a deep, calming breath before meeting his amber eyes.

“This might not be easy for me sometimes, Theron. I spent so much time questioning everything and I'm having a hard time letting go of the hurt, the anger. I know that I should, I know that I need to, and I’m trying, I am, but...” The Jedi bit her lip as her words trailed off and he nodded, his thumb tracing her jaw.

“I understand. I won’t ask you to --”

Before Theron could finish his sentence, Sanna had twined her arms around the back of his neck and tilted her face up, tugging him to her and capturing his lips with her own, effectively stopping his words and any thoughts of taking things slowly.

Across the base, a notification popped up on Lana’s datapad:

Change of housing request: Shan, Theron From: Aurek-0001 To: Cresh-0312 Authorized by: T. Shan Pending Command approval...

The blonde Sith sat with bated breath, frowning at the blinking cursor with no small amount of concern -- and hope -- for her two friends.

“Oh, don’t you two dare be stubborn idiots about this,” she muttered. “Just talk to each other, for Force’s sake. Work this out.”

A small, hissed “yes” escaped the Sith as she saw the request had been rejected. With a pleased smirk, she cleared both Theron and Sanna’s schedules for the next day.

[merry-chissmas]

A feast for the Thrycers among us by @velvetsunset, and a ‘gee, I hope there’s more of this’ story. Eleven out of twenty-five prompts hit!

[visionmarred-archive]

how does raz feel about home (and whatever her interpretation of that might be) 🤔

The change is immediate; Razeia had never been particularly good at hiding her emotions, and the previously relaxed expression shifts into something of discomfort. “Home, huh?”

It’s a concept she tries not to think about. She prefers to not remember afternoons spent by the water with her father, herself shrieking with laughter when he’d pick her up and jump in with her. Her parent softly singing lullabies in Cheunh when she had a fever as a little girl. The guilt sitting heavily in her guts when she tried to make things easier for them and ended up making things worse. She prefers to not remember how there’s no way she can see Copero again, not until she has the credits to make things right.

After a moment, an easy grin finds its way to her face again, and she lifts up her glass to take a sip. “Hope you don’t mind me waxin’ poetic for a moment, but I’m at home among the stars, sweetie.” Her thumb circles the edge of the glass, and one could almost believe that the previous sour expression on her face hadn’t been there at all. “My ship? The finest home you could ask for. Can glide through an asteroid field on half-power, take me anywhere and everywhere I need to go. Gotta ask yourself - is there anything better?”

[detritusvortex]

the Wildly Unimpressed brigade has bad day, seems kinda annoyed about it.

some attention for my BH since i only learned to take proper screenshots long after his campaign and foray into the expansions.

[andveryginger]

A Road Not Taken, Pt. 5

“Speechless”

Summary: For months, she has wondered how to tell him. Now that the moment is here, she still has no idea. (IA x NPC//Adela x Saganu)

Note: Many thanks to @storyknitter for the quick review. Posted with minimal editing, so any mistakes you see are definitely my own.

Also posted over on AO3.

They walked the corridor to their joint quarters in silence, neither trusting themselves to speak. The tension between them was fraught: Fingers intertwined, her knuckles paled as she tightened her grip; shoulders creeping higher as they progressed; jaw twitching in time as she clenched her teeth. She slowed the pace as they approached their rooms, the distance between them dwindling. Finally, pausing before their door, her free hand came to rest against his elbow and he looked up. The blue eyes he knew so well were glassy, swirling with a storm of emotions he couldn’t entirely parse. There was affection and relief, certainly, as well as joy and hope. But it was the spark of fear amidst it all -- something rarely seen from his Red Flame -- that had him worried.

He offered a smile, reaching up to cradle her cheek. “Are you alright, beloved?”

“I --” Adela hesitated, drawing a deep breath. A smile flickered across her lips, warm but wavering, her fingers tightening with his once again. Her voice was low, rough, and unsteady as she stepped before him. Her free hand came to rest against his, eyes fluttering closed for a beat. “I have missed you, my darling Aristocra.”

“As I have missed you,” he replied, glancing left and right. The corridor was deserted around them. He eased forward, brushing his lips gently across hers. He spoke quietly, reverently: “My beloved wife.”

Her expression warmed, but the smile that flickered across her features could only be described as anxious. His apprehension grew. “We should step inside,” she whispered. Her gaze darted toward the security camera to her left, at the apex of the bulkhead and upper deck. “No need to provide any more entertainment than necessary.”

Saganu said nothing as she reached behind them and keyed entry. The door slid aside with the usual rumble, closing with a hiss. They had stepped in to what was nominally her side of the suite, the standard chair replaced with one slightly overstuffed and infinitely more comfortable, and the bed piled with two extra pillows -- his, pulled from his room, the bed they rarely used. Datapads were stacked on her desk, two and three high, and a cup of caf waited nearby, vacuum canister beside it. As always, the temperature had been lowered considerably, accommodating his preference after years of service on first Csilla, then Hoth.

He tugged gently on their joined hands and she stepped closer. Releasing their connection, he brought his hands to rest on her hips as hers came to rest against his chest. She did not close the gap, he noted, even when she slid her palms up to his shoulders. A rueful gleam touched at her eyes even as he opened his mouth to speak. “Will you tell me what’s wrong, beloved?”

She looked up at him, drawing a deep breath and swallowing heavily. Again, he noted the odd mix of emotions, the tension in her shoulders. “Wrong is perhaps not the correct word, but things have become more… complicated in your absence,” she said. “Shortly after Tabarin recalled you, I...” She stopped, inhaling and shaking her head. A nervous laugh escaped her. “For months I have wondered how to tell you. And now that moment is here, and I still have no idea.”

His brow furrowed. “Adela, what --?”

“I --” She exhaled sharply. “I’m expecting.”

Her words struck him and his breath escaped him in a rush, eyes widening with the shock. “Expecting?” he echoed in a whisper. Surely she didn’t mean… Confusion creased his brow as his mind struggled to catch up. “A child?”

Adela nodded. “Yes, darling. Our child.”

They had discussed the possibility of children, of course. At the time, both agreed that, while they might wish for it, the prospect carried enormous personal and political risk; Adela believed the potential cost -- his family, his position, and his standing -- to be too great. Such desires would have to wait. Following Copero, he had all but resigned himself to the fact they would never bear children; that, by the time they regained the good graces of the Ascendancy and House Nuruodo, his beloved consort would be unable to do so. It seemed the galaxy itself now demanded they take that risk.

Confusion slowly gave way to surprise, chased quickly by delight and awe. He felt her hand close over his, gently guiding it over her abdomen. She placed it against a small swell, hidden beneath the loose fit of her tunic and duster. Warmth infused him and his eyes stung. Was this what it was like to cry, he wondered. He didn’t remember; he had been permitted such a show of emotion only as a small boy. As he stood before her now, their hands joined over the first physical evidence of their child, however, there were simply too many emotions to contain. The chaotic jumble overwhelmed him.

“Beloved…” His voice emerged rough, his throat tight as he struggled to find words.There were none. Shaking his head, he slipped his arm around her and drew her close, sealing his mouth over hers. As with so many other things in their relationship, he would simply have to show her.

Afternoon sun filtered through the transom windows at the back of the room, broad beams of yellow light sprawling across the opposite wall as Saganu stirred, the familiar warmth of his consort curled into his side. He revelled in the welcome weight of her head on his shoulder, the wisps of hair tickling his chest, and caress of her skin as her leg slid over his. Three months, he thought, and it might well have been an eternity. Functional and capable, but not operating at full capacity; he had become so accustomed to working with her that working without her seemed as alien as sleeping alone. A rueful smile curved his wide mouth. Before her temporary assignment to Hoth, it had been as many months between their Zeltronian rendezvous. How his life had changed…

And was about to change again, he mused. His brave, cunning, beautiful consort was pregnant. He smoothed his hand over her left arm and dropped a kiss to her silver hair. Their child. It still felt surreal -- as much a dream as laying here with her curled around him. Their lives forever merged in one tiny little being. Would they favor him, the dark blue skin and distinctive red eyes of his people? Or take after their mother, fair skin and blue eyes? Could the child fall somewhere in between?

He was, of course, getting ahead of himself. Any child favoring him should be taken and raised “in shadow” -- out of circulation, and instructed from a young age to take on the responsibilities of Aristocra, a standard policy he knew his consort will disagree with. A child favoring her, on the other hand, would be raised out of circulation for entirely different reasons… not the least of which might be passing on her Force-sensitive heritage. While he, himself, reserved few superstitions regarding the use, he was an outlier among his people: Any Force-sensitive child they had would have to suppress or hide their ability to pass in the Ascendancy, lest they become an outcast. Such was a burden he did not wish on his child. If it came down to it, he supposed, he would prefer the child remain with the Alliance or in the Republic. At least there, they could be trained, respected, and free.

Pale fingers trailed over his abdomen and he heard her chuckle. “You’re thinking too loud, Aristocra,” she said, her voice heavy with sleep. “Credit for them?”

A soft smile tugged at his lips. “Marvelling at how our lives have changed,” he rumbled, “and imagining what our child will be like.” He swallowed back the knot that threatened, even now, as the words ‘our child’ fell from his lips. “It still feels very much like a dream.”

“Reality,” Adela began, raising her head to look at him, “will settle in soon enough, I’m sure.” Concern radiated from her blue eyes, even as her hand came to rest against his heart. “As soon as they come looking for us.”

Saganu nodded, his hand covering hers. “I am, as yet, unsure if we should speak with Tabarin,” he said. “My cousin has extended himself more than I could ever ask, from Zeltros to Copero. I’m afraid this might be a step too far.”

“That was my concern, as well. Few here beyond my family and Lieutenant Temple would understand the significance of my pregnancy.” A rueful grin curved her lips. “But Tabarin is becoming a somewhat regular visitor. I’ll only be able to conceal things for so long before my condition becomes very apparent.”

Looking down at her, he furrowed his brow. “Lieutenant Temple knows.”

Adela nodded. “As a Force sensitive, it was… more readily apparent to her.”

“Then our child -- ?”

Again she nodded, lips drawn taut. “For now, he isn’t very strong,” she said, “just a bond with me, and a bit of flutter for familiar people like Raina and my sister.” Her gaze darted briefly to their joined hands before returning to his. “I want very much for you to have an heir -- someone to inherit all your hard work. But if this is a sign of things to come, then I pray he looks like me.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Saganu released it slowly. Even in this, it seemed they were of similar minds. He shifted focus, wonder and confusion lighting his features as he regarded her. “He? You can tell already?”

“Not at first,” Adela replied. “But now, a few months on? Yes.” Her expression softened. “It’s so strange: he’s felt how anxious I’ve been about this, been concerned about telling you. But he can sense you -- knows instinctively you’re his father. It’s... “ She gave a soft chuckle as her eyes grew misty. “He’s happy to see you.”

His hand caressed down her arm, along her ribs, settling onto her abdomen, more accessible as she shifted onto her back. Warmth radiated from her, his fingers curved ever-so-slightly over the taut muscle and skin. Such a small change, he thought, and yet so apparent now -- especially to someone who knew her curves and contours as intimately as his own. “How” -- he broke off, his voice unexpectedly rough -- “how long before I’ll be able to…?”

“Another month, perhaps a bit more?” She offered him an apologetic smile. “The doctor suggested it might take longer, since this is our first.”

He nodded, then looked back to her. “Then I hope our son knows how pleased I am to see you both.” Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to her lower abdomen, at the crest of the swell. His consort. His child. He held them dear -- cherished them enough to risk or even choose exile for them, to be a part of their lives, to be a father and a husband. Such choices were not made in a vacuum, however, and he already knew the stance his wife held. But they were also his family now and, as such, deserved as much of his duty and devotion as ever. It was as he lifted his head and opened his mouth to broach the subject that the communications console sounded an alert.

“Open communication,” Adela called into the room, “voice only.”

“Agent Emrys; Lieutenant Kal,” the petite voice of Raina Temple said, “my apologies for any interruption, but we are on our way to the cantina, and Aristocra Tabarin wondered if you might join us for dinner?”

It was his turn to offer a rueful grin. “Of course, Lieutenant,” he replied. “Agent Emrys and I can finish our debrief at a later time.”

“I’m sure he’ll be pleased to hear that.” There was a hint of humor audible, even over the comm. “We’re estimating approximately twenty minutes.”

Adela spoke up. “We’ll meet you in the cantina, then.”

“I take it all went well?”

Saganu looked to his consort and his gaze softened. “The report was a touch… overwhelming, but the end result is quite promising,” he replied. “I was thrilled Agent Emrys had such good news to share.”

“I’m so glad, sir,” Temple replied. Her relief was audible, prompting a shared smile between the two. “I’ll look forward to seeing you soon. Dev out.”

The channel closed and they sat for a long moment in silence. He laid his head on her chest and Adela raked her nails through the thick mop of hair atop his head. Closing his eyes, he offered a sigh. “We should tell him,” she said at length. “He deserves that much.”

Saganu nodded slowly, then opened his eyes and shifted to look back up at her. “He does. And, if other actions are required, it will at least prepare him.”

His consort regarded him with an arched brow. “‘Other actions’?”

“Yes, beloved: Other actions.” He grimaced. “Given the current political climate, we should face the very real possibility of my… departure... from the Ascendancy.”

Adela heaved a sigh, her own lips thinning as her brow furrowed and blue eyes clouded. “Darling, we’ve discussed this. I refuse to be the reason for your exile -- voluntary or otherwise.”

“And I still maintain that you -- and now our son -- are equally as deserving of my duty and devotion,” he replied. He placed his hand flat against her heart. “You both are my family as much as my mother or Tabarin; even the rest of House Miurani. We are partners, you and I, and nothing has punctuated that reality more than the last three months we have spent apart.”

Her eyes were glassy, tears welling against her lower lashes as she looked down at him. “Saganu, I --”

He shook his head, before continuing quietly. “This time on Csilla has also shown me exactly how much I have changed -- how different I am, compared to my colleagues and kin. The rules and the double-speak; no one ever saying exactly what they mean.” A knot formed in his own throat, and he felt his vocal cords constrict as he struggled to speak. “It’s stifling, beloved, and without you -- both of you, it will never be worth it.”

Nodding, Adela sighed, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “Oh, Hells,” she whispered, swiping at them roughly. She gave a forced laugh. “Bloody hormones.”

He shifted up, leaning down and nuzzling her nose with his own, a smile curving his lips. His heart swelled with warmth and affection for this beautiful woman before him -- his friend, his partner, his consort. “It’s all right, beloved,” he murmured. He kissed her gently.

She directed her gaze at him as he drew back. There was determination mingling with the softer emotions in her eyes. “Promise me that you won’t… go looking for it? Exile should be the last resort.”

“I can’t promise, Adela,” he replied, shaking his head. His fingers tucked a stray lock of silver hair behind her ear. “I will be there for you and for our son. That means I will do whatever is necessary, even if that means voluntary exile.”

There was a long pause. He watched the muscle in her jaw ticking, her eyes as her gaze swept over his features, reading his expression and the deeper connection they shared. Finally she nodded. “I’ve trusted you as I’ve trusted no one else,” she said. A soft smile twitched across her lips. “I’ll simply have to continue to do so.”

Saganu swallowed, giving his own nod. “Thank you, beloved.”

Her fingers combed through his hair. “Always.”

“With that settled,” he began, “perhaps we should prepare to meet the entourage?”

“Mmm.” A chuckle rumbled through her. “I’d prefer to stay here with you. But, to keep up a few appearances, perhaps we should get cleaned up.” Her eyes twinkled as she regarded him. “If you’ll start the water...?”

A lopsided grin curved across his lips. “I doubt that will save us time.”

“I don’t care.” Adela allowed her own grin. “I’ve missed you.”

He dropped a kiss to the tip of her nose, then gave his own deep chuckle. “I’ll start the water.”

[erichan-legacy]

Copero | A Traitor Among the Chiss

[juravern]

Copero.

Ignore the parts where some of those trees look distinctly tropical (big red flowers! When there’s ice and snow ready to ruin them! And those broad leaves!), and this is a really, really beautiful place. Look at that sky. I am also a sucker for the majestic ruins they like to do.

(But laser deathtraps tend to take your mind off photography.)

Also, I like this Flashpoint, okay? It’s not quite Colicoid War Game level of complexity, but you don’t just kill trash mobs in a straight line to the boss, and I admit that I liked how well they got across the feeling of the town, narrow winding streets you could almost get lost in. 

(I didn’t get lost, but given that I tend to zoom out my camera by a lot when running FPs and Ops, the transitions between open courtyards and narrow corridors kept screwing over my view XD.)

We’re not going to talk about Theron XD. I realise a lot of people have strong feelings on the subject, and frankly I’m not interested in more drama. 

(Also, I like Theron, but I’m not that invested in him nor in the nuances of the story to begin with, so I’m just sitting back and content to see where they take the story for now.)

[the-empires-weapon]

Weapon in Copero Pt. 2

Theron.

Chiss. Chiss...Valss of House Inrokini.

Altar. Ancient technology.

Bomb.

My mind barely perceives anything outside of the hologlass across my eyes, and the targets they jump across. My limbs feel sore, sore from running and climbing, and if my mind had even the slightest chance of processing anything apart from each moment I’m in, I’d know where I was and why. But all of that is behind me, blank and blind in the mind of the weapon I’d been built to be.

They’re talking, and Theron has the bomb in his hand. He’s placing it on the technology they stand across from. And they start turning to me- cut off and stalled by the sudden hum of my lightsabers.

“Stop right there.”

Theron’s eyes go wide. “Holy shi-”

“So,” the Chiss - Valss - says, stepping before Theron and closer to me. “You’re the Commander of the Alliance. Theron said you might come for us, but I’m not sure we anticipated finding you here so soon.”

Leaped from shuttle - sensed - “I’m taking Theron back. Your house has made dire mistakes, Valss. And you’ll pay for them.”

“Valss-” Theron grabs him by the shoulder and pulls him back. “You can’t beat them. Not now. You’d never win, not when they’re in this state.”

I feel my lips twist into a snarl. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Theron.”

“You’re the one destined for victory, Shan. Not me.” Valss shakes him off and steps closer. He pulls out his own lightsaber - my target locks onto it as he activates it, a cooler yellow than my own.

Force Sensitive - mentally strong - physically strong.

Untrained.

Dead.

“You’re going to give Theron back,” I hiss, and I fling myself at him with a scream.

[rainofaugustsith]

Blogger Interview

Thank you so much to @cinlat and @jeswii for tagging me in this - I am sorry it took so long to do, but it was fun! Tagging, let's see, @verbose-vespertine @tishinada @itstheelvenjedi NO PRESSURE.

Why did you choose your url?

It's from my Ao3 account name which was made first. August - I actually don't remember why. Rain - well, I like the rain and I could not think of anything else. For Tumblr I added Sith at the end because my main is an Old Republic Sith (not to be confused with a post-Darth Bane Sith) and because 'rainofaugust' was actually taken.

Any sideblogs?

I have Rain Plays SWTOR, which is a player guide to the Star Wars: The Old Republic game I played for years. I wanted to make a guide that would explain some of the things I found confusing when I first played, give some helpful tips, and break down content to make it more playable for people. I especially liked concentrating on parts of the game that were considered group content and showing solo players how to get through it.

I stopped playing SWTOR when 7.0 hit, although to be honest I'd been, overall, unhappy with the story since the end of KOTFE. Having said that I've left the sideblog up because a lot of what I wrote might still help those playing the game.

How long have you been on tumblr?

Since 2017.

Why did you originally start your blog?

I started it because I noticed there were a lot of sapphic/wlw fans of Star Wars here, and one doesn't really find that elsewhere too much.

Why did you choose your icon?

It's artwork that was made by the wonderful of my main, Viri. It's such a lovely picture of her, and I thought it was perfect for an icon.

Why did you choose your header?

It's from my favorite part of my favorite flashpoint in SWTOR - A Traitor Among the Chiss. It's a little too long, and when it was released it was far too tedious, but aside from that I feel that the Copero flashpoint represents everything SWTOR could have been. It's got absolutely beautiful, detailed design that you could spend hours exploring - a city with little alleys you can explore; stunning scenery; a flashpoint that includes puzzles and not just 'destroy it all' gameplay; really good decorations and armor as drops; and even a transition from day to night. This scene is toward the end, where the PC ascends a staircase in some ancient ruins at twilight. It's such a beautiful backdrop that I always stopped to admire it during the flashpoint.

What is your post with the most notes?

There's one with like 10K notes, and it's about Diana Serra Cary, who was the last surviving silent film star. I wrote it few days after she died. That one still shows up in my reblogs now and then. There's another where I was talking about cultural appropriation of Jewish ritual items and the Hebrew alphabet in various media that has a few thousand reblogs.

How many mutuals do you have?

I actually don't know.

How many followers do you have?

Right now 329 I think?

How many blogs do you follow?

211.

Have you ever made a shitpost?

Not intentionally.

How many times do you use tumblr a day?

I more or less have it open in the background for messages and such, even if I'm not actively on the site.

Have you ever fought another blog?

Not really. A few of the fandom sheriffs and Lana Hate Club sorts have tried to start drama with me in the past, and in general my policy has been to block and add their names to my Tumblr filters immediately without engaging, or with a general warning. I don't owe them a debate, it's not really worth my time and attention to respond, and I'm not interested in the drama. I also am pretty proactive about blocking if I see someone being hateful on someone else's posts/relogs/comments because I don't need that nonsense here. If you want to act like a clown do it on your own time, not mine.

How do you feel about “need to reblog” posts?

It's a surefire way to get me not to reblog it. I'm not a fan of that sort of manipulation.

Do you like tag games?

I do, although I'm always anxious about tagging others. Like, is someone going to feel left out or not want the tag or…yeah.

Do you like ask games?

Yes, with the same caveat as above.

Which of your mutuals do you think are tumblr famous?

See this is one of those questions that I feel like I can't answer because again, will someone feel left out or not want to be mentioned, or what. I have some artists and writers on my mutuals list who are scary talented at what they do, and some have more recognition/followers than others - but for all of them, I really love it when their work pops up on my dash.

Do you have a crush on a mutual?

I'm demisexual. Crushes aren't really a thing. I've met some awesome friends here, though.

[lavampira]

thinking about the traitor arc since I’m replaying it with kai soon, and I’m still not entirely sure how I’m adjusting the plot so it isn’t utterly ridiculous because I still loathe how disjointed iokath feels, everything about the machine gods, and how the zildrog plot falls flat in execution anyway, but as far as tweaking some details goes, I’m pretty sure thaston will be just as involved in it as theron behind the scenes, and since theron was thaston’s SIS handler post-vanilla in my canon, they’d be able to get the ‘we’re being spied on’ message across (something similar to that scene in fmab of riza telling mustang about salim bradley) in their own form of code and copero would make much more sense with thaston involved rather than theron nosing his way into chiss house politics to get an in on the superweapon map or whatever. and the two of them planning this out with theron going behind kai’s back for secrecy is painful, but it would put thaston’s whole issue about theron ‘compromising what needs to be done’ because of his relationship with the commander behind them.

[fleeting-sanity]

[ Previous Entry ] ○ [ Read @ AO3 ] ○  [ Chapters Index ]  

(Thank you to @swtorramblings for the help!)

 "Spiky!!"

Vyria ran towards her brother, catching him in a rib-crushing hug. Most of the Alliance rejoiced upon Rio's return, save for his indifferent twin. He made up a story of fixing his ship on a primitive planet that he got stranded on. Luckily, he was well-liked enough by the people of the Alliance and it didn't take much to convince them. After the pleasantries were done, it was time for him to face his twin brother.

"Shouldn't have returned. I was looking for your replacement."

"How'd that go? Any candidates?" 

Rionnic fixed a death glare at his twin, then closed the door behind him with the Force while shutting down the surveillance systems in his office. He cleared his throat, holding back the cough he mysteriously got. "What happened to her?" he coldly inquired as a summary of the Jedi's absence.

"Doing better. She won't be a threat to anyone, I swear. Arcann is with her."

The Sith sighed wearily for having the reassurance in his brother's words destroyed by the last line. He was still resentful towards Arcann for having to spare him only because he related to Senya’s parental role. If it weren't for her, he would have driven his lightsaber through the former tyrant's heart. Without a doubt, the decision was highly controversial not just amongst the Alliance, but the whole galaxy. It wouldn’t take long until Senya found out about Vaylin.

But between managing the aftermath of the fleet's destruction on several planets and spending hopeless years searching for his wife and son, he simply did not have the energy to bicker with his twin. The Jedi noticed the shift in his brother's mood. 

"Are you alright? I can take over some work if you need a break." 

Even though a respite was needed, Rionnic simply couldn't afford that. After his visit to Copero, he was struggling to keep his rage inside after letting Theron slip from his grasp. Only a few of the Alliance knew about his treachery, and he decided to bring his twin up to speed. "There's an abandoned listening post we've recently discovered. You and Lana are coming with me to that obvious trap."

"Of course. I’ve missed springing traps with you."

 ------------------------------

Zakuul was still recovering from the war. She had never seen her planet in a state like this. Children running around stealing food from one another, droids overheating from overwork, but most bizarrely, a town crier bellowing anti-Alliance propaganda to a crowd of restless citizens.

"And it all started happening when the Outlander murdered our Emperor! The Alliance lied about helping us restore our home because they pocketed the wealth they plundered from us! Think about it. They made us look like fools!"

Vaylin had heard enough. Not that she disagreed completely, but she’d heard enough of it on the base that it was annoying to her. She immediately diverted their attention to her by igniting her crimson saberpike, commanding an intimidating presence. "Scamper!" as she slammed her foot to the ground, causing a little tremor with the Force. It effectively dispersed the crowd as they ran away panicking.

But not the brave announcer.

"You! Have you no loyalty to our late Empress?! Your duty as a Horizon Guard--"

"Shut up. You have nothing better to do. Depending on others to help you is weak. If you love Zakuul so much, then fix it! Not by creating dissent and risking another war," as she grabbed the collar of the man's outfit, speaking through the Guard helmet shrouding her identity. "That would only harm your beloved planet even more. Now get to work."

She couldn't believe those words came out of her mouth. Fortunately, Arcann wasn't there to hear it. But the worst part was that she started to believe in those principles and even acted on them, helping the people and keeping order in her vicinity.

It wasn't that bad after all.

She returned to the penthouse with art supplies and some basic necessities. It has been weeks since she stayed at her new home, and it was getting dull being alone with not much to do. Everytime she turned on the news broadcast, she was hoping to see dear Outlander but he only appeared once during the brief announcement of his return. The memories of their embraces were still vivid in her mind, causing her to smile sheepishly by herself.

After watering her little garden on the balcony, she changed into more comfortable apparel and started painting. A part of her felt that this idyllic and simple way of life wasn't who she was meant to be. She had the power to conquer this galaxy if she wanted to. But this felt preferable, and she saw no point in letting it go. 

But she couldn't shake off this feeling of progressing dread. Being here on Arcann's word alone seemed like a disaster waiting to happen. What happened yesterday resurfaced in her thoughts. Mother was on Zakuul, but fortunately, she somehow failed to detect Vaylin’s energy. She simply couldn’t afford more close calls like that. Socially distancing from Rio be damned, she needed his help.

After a long call queue into reaching the Alliance base, she finally got through the line. It was a gamble as Senya could potentially answer it. Luckily Koth was on the receiving end, looking worn out. “Another Horizon Guard? What do you want?”

His tone wasn’t appreciated but alas, she could do nothing lest it blew her disguise. With a scoff, she requested the Outlander, which Koth scoffed at in return, telling her she couldn't just call the Ambassador without an appointment. This angered her; both hands clenched all that rage inside the best she could. 

“I need to speak to him. It’s urgent! Just tell him that…”

She stopped for a moment, trying to think of what could identify her to Riornivo but still shroud her identity. Koth folded his arms with a raised eyebrow.

“Tell him the flower crown has an urgent matter to discuss.”

The sentence perplexed the former Zakuulan Officer, but rather than acting on his curiosity, he was too tired to continue this desk job. Vaylin’s call was the last he served for the day, and he later dutifully conveyed her message to Riornivo. The Jedi managed to act indifferent long enough until he could find some time to be completely isolated.  

“Vaylin?”

“Rio. I thought you forgot about me.”

His apologetic smile accentuated the lack of rest on his face. “I’m sorry, I’ve been busier than I’d anticipated. How can I help you?”

“I... I can’t say it over holo. Could you come over?”

Despite his twin brother telling him to prepare for their destination tomorrow, he knew that whatever Vaylin had to say was just as important. Hopefully this won’t take long so he could make it back to Odessen in time.

It was with great hesitation that he pushed the bell of the penthouse. Vaylin quickly answered the door to a hooded Rio, mouth slightly agape upon seeing her. "Come, before they see us."

Vaylin was unusually radiant that night, as if she curated that look specifically for him. The fact that they were alone amplified his nervousness through the roof. Her perfume, her apparel, and the air of allure around them--he immediately defaulted to repeating the Jedi code in his mind. The former Empress noticed how the Jedi avoided gazing at her. She dared herself to pull his hood down,  startling him. 

"You look… beat. Tough day at work?"

He gulped down his nerves. "M-more or less. How are you doing?"

Without answering, she quickly went to the bar to fetch warm cups of tea to ease his nerves. "Thank you. You shouldn't have..."

His heart was all fluttery at the way she was treating him, even this bare minimum. She then sat in front of him, mulling over her words. "Rio… remember what you told me on that shuttle? About Force Bonds?"

The topic totally shifted the atmosphere for him, but he was still determined to help. "Yes? Did something happen?"

"Mother was here but she failed to sense me. I wouldn't know how to restrain myself if we met someday, unless the bond is gone so she can't find me. Or either of us dies. That would break it."

Rio's face fell upon being presented with an impossible dilemma. How should he proceed without angering her? Truthfully, he only told Vaylin about severing Force Bonds as an effort to calm her. Despite the vast research he'd studied back in the Order, there weren't a lot of ways to sever Bonds. He read about Master Zez Kai-Ell's theory of turning away from the Force, and that was another obstacle on its own. 

"Vaylin… it will be a difficult undertaking. Please, um… don't be angry? You probably won't like what I have to say," he said meekly, looking like a weakened prey.

"...What?"

"Your bond is stronger because of the blood relation, as I am with my twin. It's just… there's not been a way to break it. I tried."

"No, there's only one way to break it."

"I'm very sorry, but I cannot let you harm your Mother. I won't ever forgive myself..." as he shifted his tone to a more assertive one. There was a reason behind his risky words--one of his own Mother. He was still haunted by the failure of saving his own, although it was not his fault. The relief he felt when Rionnic spared Senya was tremendous, and now he would do his best to keep her safe.

Even from Vaylin.

"She's not even your Mother. What goes between us is none of your business."

The former Empress promptly got up, frustrated at how unhelpful Rio has been. However, her stomping away was stopped by his arm as he dared to bring his body closer to hers. Hoping that she'd see reason. 

"Please, Vaylin. Give me more time. It's better to-"

"Shut up! I don't want to hear it. You claim to care about me, but you lied about this. You lied to me!"

"I want to help you! I care about you--I really do. Just… give me time. I will find a way. You have to trust me."

"You just lied to me."

He let out the heaviest sigh, his mind replaying the moment his Mother died in his arms. He tried to sweep away the memory--his hand clutching his temple, that Jedi code mental block holding no power over this traumatic recalling. The environment including the woman next to him blurred away. Then he crouched down, burying his head between his knees, breathing erratically, while his late Mother's last words echoed in the chambers of his mind. He could hear another voice calling out to him, but where?

"Rio!"

The world steadily stopped twisting, forming a beautiful woman in front of him. She wiped away his sweat, eyebrow raising while catching him from stumbling to the floor. The look on his face as he tried hard to stop panting was all too familiar to her. "Sorry… I.. wouldn't happen again-" 

"This is personal to you, isn't it?" she asked calmly.

"I didn't mean to do that. I'm sorry you had to see that…"

"Stop it. Why are you always apologizing for everything? Just shut up." 

She dragged his head onto her collarbone, stroking his hair to his neck. This did the exact opposite of calming him down. So quickly the temperature rose, the fragrance of her perfume through his nostrils flaring up his nerves, and the skin to skin contact… He needed this to stop before something unsavory happened.

“Vaylin…”

No answer, just more patting.

“I-I have to go…”

“Then leave.”

She hadn’t let go, but he gathered enough stability to gently pull out of her embrace. Shakily, he got up and thanked her for her time, promising to deliver results next time they meet. All he got was a “whatever”, but it was reassuring enough for him. However, just as he was about to open the front door, he backtracked and pulled something out of his robe.

Another flower crown, Odessen edition.

It was placed wordlessly on her head, as her gaze softened to an appreciative look, further tempting the Jedi with her beauty. He pulled his hood on, quickly exiting the penthouse, while calculating the amount of rest he could get before his next mission.

Nathema.

[ Next Entry ]

[reliciron]

OK so @tearblossom​, asked me a really fun question after this post.

“Who do you think would be the one to initiate their first time? And do you think at the point we are in the story that they have done it yet?”

Quick timeline I got from Vulkk: 

KotFE chapter 10 through the end of KotET happen in less than one year 3630 (yeah I think it’s weird too), and KotET 6 through 9 probably happens in a few days with how fast the story was moving. Iokath, Umbara, and Copero happen the next year 3629, then Nathema and Jedi Under Siege in 3628. Onslaught is 3627 and we are currently in 3626. (I admit this is a longer span of time than I thought.)

So from that, Onslaught is about 4 years since the end of KotET, and Arcann’s romanced message said he realized his feelings for you were more than just hero worship right there in the throne room after you killed Valkorian. Which… is a little fucky time-wise. Because, with how fast things happened between getting him in Chapter 6, and killing his father in Chapter 9, it’s maybe been a week at best since he joined the Alliance, and it’s only been a couple months (again, at best) since he went through the Voss healing dishwasher.

Of course, nothing says you have to stick to the canon timeline, I haven’t actually seen this more specific article until now, but I’d like to try if possible. (I think it works out alright for my fics, Hidden Hurts happens on the way back to Odessen from Chapter 9 and they’re fully in a relationship by Disowned on Onderon for Onslaught.)

Anyways, Arcann would have had to have done some serious thinking during his time running around between the ritual on Voss and Chapter 6 to have already gotten to the admiration phase by Chapter 9 (Which might make for an interesting fic really. I’ve had a loose idea that he was still kinda confused as to how the hell the commander was able to bring him down, so he might have secretly visited some of the major places from the PC’s vanilla story to try to understand how they got to be who they are.) Whatever he did during that time, there’s a big difference between the growly ‘No. You are not alone!” he gave the PC when he escaped Voss, and the calm and contrite dude you see on the rooftop.

But the PC hasn’t had time to really even like him yet, let alone be friends by the end of KotET, and god knows Arcann isn’t going to push them for it. After everything he’s done to them personally and to the galaxy at large, his mindset is probably 100% ‘I am grateful for whatever they give me (friendship and otherwise), I don’t deserve to ask anything further of them’. He will doubt any of the PC’s attempts to be friendly in the beginning (even if he desperately wants to believe it), maybe playing it off as ‘this is just how they are with everyone’ or ‘they’re trying to keep an eye on me to make sure I don’t go nuts again’.

So there’s going to be a while of getting to know each other, then being friends, then dancing around each other because neither one thinks the other is interested. It’s up to preference how long this takes, although if you’re keeping to canon, they’re at least on kissing terms by that scene before Nathema.

Once they’re together, we start a different clock. Arcann’s got a lot of issues (hopefully he will have started to work through some of them by then, but I think there are a few that might not stand out until he’s in a relationship), growing up with daddy dearest (and Senya wasn’t innocent either) has left a LOT of damage. He’s been taught that a lot of the sort of things one does or wants in a relationship are weaknesses. Wanting reassurance, support, understanding, hell even something as basic as touch, he’s never had any of it, and might not realize until they’re together.

(You cannot tell me that man isn’t touch starved to all hell. I’d bet you money the last person to give him a hug (before Senya rescued him) was Thexan. And while I figure he’s had sex before, I don’t think he’s been allowed to have romantic relationships, and I don’t think he would have been comfortable enough or felt safe enough to take anyone to bed since he lost his arm.)

Pair this realization with his terror of driving the PC away, and his feelings of not deserving nice things so he should be happy with whatever they give him, and you’ve got a problem. He absolutely WILL NOT ask for it even if he’s desperate for it.

So tl;dr: the PC will probably need to be the one to initiate the first time. And by Onslaught they would have likely had sex (assuming your PC or your version of Arcann isn’t ace or just doesn’t want it). If I had to pick, I’d say between the end of Nathema and the start of Onslaught, possibly before Jedi Under Siege.

These are just my opinions though. I’d love to hear other people’s take on it.