#posting a prompt at 9:45am on a Tuesday? ~yes~

[captainderyn]

1. It's not too late, let's go." [Fictober '23]

I said I was going to be late to the party :)) but I have a lovely block of writing time at least one or twice a week with this new job, so I figured why not give it a little try (plus @tiredassmage enabled me so hard with the idea of Agenttober that I couldn't at least put something out :P)

Day: 1

Fandom: SWTOR (pre Imp Agent story)

Genre: Fanfiction

Warnings: None

Summary: It was always supposed to be the three of them, the dream team: Roslynd, Rhys, and Valetyn. They were supposed to stick together, become cipher agents together. A training accident derails all their plans, leaving Roslynd feeling lost and dreading their last day together at the celebration that was supposed to be the best day of their budding careers.

Read Full Fic on AO3

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A year’s worth of stress, blood, sweat, and tears released across the graduation pavilion in thrumming music and strobing lights. Newly minted Imperial Intelligence professionals, strung so tightly after walking the tightrope of success and failure, let out everything they’d been holding within themselves. 

It was a night to be remembered, or, more than likely, filtered through a hangover stupor the next morning, filtering fact from fiction through a raging headache. 

Sipping at her fruity drink, which Roslynd had told the bartender to make extra strong, Roslynd couldn’t find it within herself to muster the same excitement. No, it wasn’t the cautious anticipation that knotted in her stomach. It was dread. It was guilt. It was something gross and bleak, and miserable. 

The countdown set for this night, the one she’d tick down every morning as she’d unwound her curlers from her hair, had stopped a month ago. Ever since she’d stumbled back into her room, clumsy on crutches, it’d laid face down on her desk where she’d slammed it down in a fit of tears. 

“I wish you were coming with us.” Valetyn’s touch was feather light on her shoulder before one arm went around her waist. She leaned back against his chest, brushing against the silk of his shirt. Her gut twisted again; the rich purple of his shirt, the purple sheen of her dress and matching earrings, Rhys’ violently violet tie, all chosen to match when they’d been certain all three of them would be getting on the transport to some backwater planet tomorrow. 

Back when they’d been certain their trio would be moving on as one.