There is a scratch mark on the floor of the Council chambers that Mace has never noticed before. Not a deep one, mind, quite shallow. This matters because it’s making the white-hot pulse of agony stabbing through his eyeballs ebb momentarily. Then, he chances a glance upwards at the fidgeting Knight in front of them, and it returns in full force.
Huh, he’s never seen Oppo Rancisis’ face turn that colour before.
“Hmm”, Master Yoda hums, deep and scratchy. His expression is unreadable even to Mace beyond a baseline gremlinness, and the force with which he grips the edges of his seat is making his bones creak. Master of the Order you should become, they said. Follow the calling of the Force, you should. A fulfilling purpose, it will be. Mace is going to hunt the little goblin for sport when this is all over, and he’s going to laugh the whole time.
“Show us the livestream again, could you, Knight Parvo?” Yoda asks. Mace bursts a capillary, he’s pretty sure, and so does poor Knight Parvo, whose orange Mon Cala skin tips all the way into blood red with stress. “Most unusual, this is.”
“Absolutely not!”, Ki Adi intervenes before Mace has to, thank the Force for little mercies. Plo Koon’s tusks tremble slightly with either suppressed laughter or abject horror, maybe both, and Stass Allie has her head in her hands. “The holo stills should be enough”, Ki Adi proceeds to add, and Mace has to reconsider all feelings of grace he just felt towards his fellow Councillor.
He never wants to watch Yoda zoom in on someone’s abs again. Or Depa raise her eyebrows at the curve of thighs bent over the dripping front of a speeder.
“Speeder Wash For Our Troops”, his former padawan reads out loud from a still of what has to be hundreds of the things gathered in the public senate parking lot. “Fund Our Boys And Get A Wet Seeing-To!” The series of images features dozens of Coruscant Guard troopers in various stages of unkitted, gleaming and shining with soap suds and water. The fact that the whole thing is also massive shatterpoint after massive shatterpoint is, quite frankly, insulting.
“Well hello- oh dear”, Obi-Wan’s blue form crackles to life in his chair, followed by several sounds of choking that are definitely not him. Good, Mace thinks acidly. If he has to deal with this, then so does kriffing Skywalker. “I’m sorry, why am I looking at Commander Thorn using a washrag like a lasso on top of a speeder?”
“Oh, the Guard’s little fundraising project”, Bail Organa says, as he steps into the Council chambers. Normally, Mace likes the man well enough. Now, he just smiles and adds on, “I’ve already donated, in mine and Breha’s name. Remotely, of course.”
“The Guard’s fundraising speeder wash?”, Obi-Wan repeats, edges of his holo form flickering with what Mace suspects is Skywalker very unsubtly trying to edge in. Force, but the man really is horrible at any and all stealth, like kissing his secret wife in an open arena in front of his Master. “And they are fundraising for…?”
“GAR budget allocations have to come from somewhere”, Organa shrugs. “And with the tide of public opinion turning, they’ve been tending towards cuts. The Guard feels them more keenly than any other sector - they’ve been reduced from half to quarter rations, and medical supplies have not made more than a token appearance in the last draft. The Chancellor has cancelled three consecutive meetings on the matter, and thus it was agreed that a more hands-on approach was needed. Any surplus will go into the Army fund.”
“Surely it can’t be that dire”, Oppo protests, a slightly less concerning shade of purple now. Senator Organa shrugs again, jostling the smattering of cracks slowly building around his person in a way that makes Mace wince quietly. “It’s all publicly available data, Masters.”
It really can be that dire, as it turns out. And quarter rations is only scratching the surface of how dire, considering the Guard has apparently never had access to bacta in all their posting, and also includes requisitioning forms available to the Senate for reconditionings and decommissionings, two words Mace has only heard Ponds whispers amidst shuddering in the early days of the war before Shaak Ti went off and just about tore some throats out over it.
“Alright”, he concedes, rubbing at his temples. “Fair enough, we have failed to tackle a massive blind spot in the Guard’s well being. There is no Jedi assigned to Coruscant, and that’s an oversight on our behalf. But how in the everloving kriff did this get past the Chancellor and Commander Fox?!”
Who have both signed, black on white. Bail Organa smiles cryptically. “Well, if you scroll a bit past that one image, up to the industrial speeder in the back - Commander Fox is currently having credits stuffed into his codpiece in the back, I believe.”
“HE’S WHAT IN THE WHAT NOW”, Commander Cody screeches through the speaker of Obi-Wan’s holo image, and Mace has to summon every bit of Jedi-serenity he possesses in his body to keep from dropkicking a cackling Yoda through the chamber windows.
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// Okay so ever slight recon to Neo or more Neo's history- cause ngl I barely established it and what I have said is kinda boring- Neo overall will still be mostly the same just a few added features, I just wanna add to their characterisation a bit lol-
(Won't lie dunno if I worded this very well)
So the very basic explanation: When Neo was young about- 8 or so due to circumstances they personally do not remember and no one will tell them, disappeared- Some how this young octoling had found themselves uprooted from their life in Splatsville and dropped smack bang in the middle of Salmon territory. Neo never joined any of the Salmon clans fully, kind of drifting from place to place- but they some how adapted to their new life there, picking up salmonid traits, more so mentally than physically. They lived a some what weird but survivable life until one day when about 14 a group of Grizzco workers found them at one of the job sites. The workers horrified at a child being in such a place took Neo back to Splatsville where they were reunited with their family. Neo didn't adjust well to this new, unfamiliar life among Inklings and Octolings, they had very little memories of their life before their disappearance. The biggest issue was the more calmness, it was strange and weird. Neo was not ashamed of their more 'feral' like traits but it was hard for Neo to get used to Splatsville so in a drastic attempt to become accustomed did a near 180, becoming calm and soft spoken to such an extent it felt forced.
Neo today is still calm and soft spoken, it becoming who they are but deep down those Salmonid like traits will always be there, as those are just as much apart of Neo.
Neo doesn't hide it but the only Agent who fully knows about this part of Neo is Captain who encourages Neo to embrace that part of themselves more.
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7. dancing with their hands holding onto each other [Indira/Vector]
Parties like this were dreadfully boring, salvaged only from complete indignity by the company she was allowed to keep.
"Agent, you don't look like you're enjoying yourself," Vector commented as he joined her, the words a gentle tease and warning to watch her expression all in one. He let his hand rest on her hip, close enough it would look like a lovers' tryst rather than anything else. In a way, perhaps, it was.
"This is not my... preferred environment," Indira said, taking a sip of her drink. "Though it does appear to be yours," she added dryly, studying his posture, his expression. The life dancing in his black eyes.
"We are a diplomat," he said with a small shrug. "Events like this are how we meet people, learn of their cultures, forge connections." He glanced at her. "We have met many fascinating individuals, from equally fascinating worlds, and events of this kind are a less formal occasion to mingle."
She canted her head in concession of that point. The atmosphere was indeed more conducive to casual conversation than she imagined, say, a treaty negotiation would be. It was still a more... lax surrounding than she was comfortable in. "I can tell what all of them want just from looking." Indira took another sip of her drink and set the crystalline flute on a small table. "There's no challenge to reading them."
A smile played at Vector's lips. "If no challenge, perhaps a diversion is better?" He slid his hand from her waist and offered it to her instead. "Would you do us the honor of a dance?"
Indira couldn't resist the answering smile that curved across her face. "But of course, Master Hyllus," she said, spine straightening as she rested her hand in his. "I suppose it shouldn't surprise me that you know how to dance."
"We are, perhaps, a bit rusty," Vector allowed as they headed for the dance floor. "Killik celebrations do not include many of the... aspects found in Imperial gatherings. But we will do our best."
"Which I'm sure will be just fine," Indira said, squeezing his hand as they slipped in with the other couples already dancing, her other hand on his shoulder and his on the curve of her hip. A light breeze wafted through and she gave a slight shiver as it made the loose ends of her hair tickle her bare back.
Vector nodded a greeting to one of the other couples and a smile tugged her lips again. He was so at ease here. Despite the looks his appearance--and company--drew, he was unruffled. It was a good look for him.
"What would you say is your favorite thing about parties like this?" she asked, mentally biting her lip in concentration on the dance steps. "Since you so clearly enjoy them."
"The people," Vector answered without hesitation.
"You enjoy forging connection."
"Yes." He tilted his head, studying her. For his claim of being rusty, he seemed to have no trouble remembering the steps, even with his attention divided. "It is part of what makes the Nest feel like home. We are connected in a way beyond anything we dreamed of as a diplomat."
"But you lost some as well," Indira said, recalling the message from his almost-fiancée, the people from his previous life who disapproved of his... change.
"And gained new ones that more than compensate," he said smoothly, drawing their joined hands in to kiss the heel of hers.
Indira arched a brow, but the comm in her ear crackled before she could return the flirtation.
"You have your opening, agent."
Vector had picked up the minute tensing of her posture, even as they continued to dance. "To work?"
She gave a single nod. "I wish it had better timing, but duty does call."
He nodded in return. "We will do our part and meet you on the ship, agent." His grip lingered when she started to step away. "Indira? Be careful."
She smile and kissed his cheek. "Of course."
Subtly as they could, they disengaged from the dance and set about their true tasks for the night.
---
True to his word, Vector was waiting on the ship. Still in his dark blue formalwear, though the collar was loosened, the gloves discarded.
He smiled when he saw her. "Safe and sound."
Indira smiled in return, running her fingers through the loosened portion of her hair. "I do pride myself on being good at my job." She quirked a brow when he offered her his hand. "What are you doing?"
"The others will not be back for some time. We thought we could finish our dance."
"It does seem only fair," she said lightly. She stepped out of her shoes, grey skirt swirling around her ankles as she nudged them aside. "This will be more comfortable."
"We will try not to step on your toes," Vector murmured, drawing her close enough to rest both hands at the small of her back, teasing the deep diamond cutout of the dress.
Indira's smile widened and she clasped her hands behind his neck in response. "I trust you," she whispered, and enjoyed the warmth that flickered in the comforting depths of his black eyes. She only realized as they swayed to non-existent music how much she meant it.
As parties went, just the two of them was much more to her liking.
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