Aerith speaks and his voice holds Vestir’s attention even if Vestir has mixed feelings about the content. He doesn’t have enough faith to completely believe Aerith. He doesn’t know enough to dismiss the kyber factoid either. The people he’s met from one end of the universe to the other all share the same opinion about him. If this crystal is actually sentient, why would it be an exception?
“You know better than to trust me with valuable items,” he reminds. The fact that it’s returned in one piece now doesn’t mean much. The thought to sell it crossed his mind right before he took on odd jobs. Several times. If he believes in the crystal’s properties, he’d say it scared him out of following through. At the edge of the temptation, he felt the fear behind the possibility of Aerith not coming back with Vestir to the ship if he found out.
His stare travels from the crystal back to its owner. “This ship drains less fuel than the last one. We’re not in need for more credits any time soon. I’m still pretty exhausted. Probably won’t take a new job for a few weeks so I can recover.”
“I know better than to do a lot of things, Verehaan.” There are several instances that come to mind, and each and every one of them incites either a rush of belated panic or the desire to crawl into the ground and never resurface. “Hasn’t stopped me before. Unfortunately,” his voice lowers, words trailing off into a mumble, “Trusted you with my life and look how that turned out.” (Of course, valuable here is highly debatable. But in any case, the chances of him revoking that trust are low at best, regardless. Of everything. He’d do it again—will do it again.)
Aerith twines and untwines the cord around his finger, rhythmic, methodic, as he turns over the idea of a few weeks to themselves. And though it may not be under the most ideal circumstances this time, these chances to breathe, to really take in journey and the destination bring him back to a night on Jedha, cold and dark as ever. Promises of I’ll do what you ask of me, I won’t get in your way, it won’t be forever. The start of a search for something beyond the life he’d fallen into. A hushed laugh sounds at the memory, abrupt.
“Obnoxious,” he chuckles dryly. Vestir barely recognizes this ship without its dead droning and cold draft now that Aerith is with him. The aspects that vexed him are easily ignored now.
“I hate jobs that don’t pay but I guess I made an exception.” Before the cup gets too far out of reach, he snaps forward and stops its movement by pressing his hand over Aerith’s. “Thievery suits me much better.” Aerith should consider himself lucky since Vestir hasn’t stolen anything from him yet. In that moment, that thought jolts a realization that causes him to pull his hand back.
He fumbles with digging his fingers underneath his collar. Once he found the thin cord around his neck, he pulls it out and over his head. He presents it before Aerith. The cord is securely wrapped and tied to a metal clasp around a kyber crystal. “I also hate giving things back but here. This is yours.”
“Was wondering how long you planned on holding onto that. I could feel it on you.” It is ever-familiar, thrumming low and dull, a song he’s known so long, he can’t remember not knowing it. There is another there—familiar, yes, but less so. They intertwine easily, harmonize. Across entire star systems, he’d felt it, known it, if only for a fraction of a fraction of a second. “Creepy, right?” A small smile etches itself into the corner of his mouth.
Aerith takes the crystal from him. And it is near-instantaneous the wave of calm that spreads through his veins. The kyber is warm as he turns it over in his hands, fingertips dragging over its raw edges. It breathes the faintest glow. “If I were to let anyone keep it, it’d be you. You know kyber screams when it doesn’t belong to you? And yet it’s never done that in your hands. Thank you for looking after it.”
Vestir’s left brow quirks up. In midst of their banter, he can hear Aerith’s sincerity adding weight to his words. He stops spinning his tea cup and glances up. That type of sincerity is supposed to inspire listeners to mirror it. Vestir runs his tongue behind the edge of his teeth, knowing he isn’t going to rise up to the challenge.
“Could’ve fooled me,” he says without an ounce of truth in his voice. He returns to spinning his cup with his index finger. “It wasn’t aimless. You know there’s a method to what I do. That’s why I’ll always find a mark. It’s unacceptable for me to lose a mark.”
Behind every mention of “a mark,” the word “you” lingers on his breath. He exhales slowly and shifts in his seat.
Aerith leans forward now, elbow against the table, chin resting in the palm of his hand. The fingers of his other tap idly against the surface. He mirrors Vestir’s expression more out of habit than intent—eyebrow quirking, Aerith meets his eyes for as long as Vestir will allow.
“Then I’m a mark now? Exciting. Too bad there were no credits in it for you at the end, yeah? He reaches out, stilling Vestir’s cup. Drags it toward himself for no other reason than to “spite” his companion. “All you wound up with is me.”
“Hey, he is hot shit,” he blurts a little too loudly, too quickly. He spends no time thinking about whether he should reign his tenacity back or not. Putting up a front for Aerith would be a futile use of time and energy. Instead, he flicks a tiny wad of his napkin at Aerith’s head.
“All I need from you is some respect while you’re awake and asleep. I don’t think I’m asking for too much.”
”Oh, is he now? Forgive me; I must have missed the memo.” He drives a playful kick, barely a nudge, into Vestir’s shin. His eyes narrow. “Don’t test me,” he says.
But with a slight shake of his head, Aerith’s demeanor shifts. His expression softens, his posture, too.
Getting Vestir to admit to anything that tells of vulnerability is like pulling teeth, and he is no stranger—has resigned himself—to this fact. Their time apart did not change that. Especially now that they’ve settled back into each other’s rhythms. That doesn’t stop him from at least trying to get what he wants.
“So when you went on an aimless hunt across the galaxy, that was solely for my respect? You have it. You know that.”
Cheeky little shit. Vestir scoffs, “Oh yeah? You’re suddenly hot shit in your dreams, huh? So much that my dream doppleganger would be screwed without you.” It sounded ridiculous. He knocks his knee against Aerith’s.
He downs the tarine tea in a final swig and scrunches his nose. “I trust your devious mind would find some way to torture him. Maybe you can start with over steeping his tea.”
“If this dream doppleganger is anything like his real-life counterpart, yeah. Or is he also suddenly hot shit?” Aerith bites back the smile the threatens to break out, maintaining a neutral expression.
“We don’t have to start criticizing my tea brewing methods to divert from the fact that you need me. You can admit it; it’s okay.” He follows suit, downing the rest of his own tea. And maybe Vestir is right—it errs on the side of too bitter this time. Still.
These words from anybody else’s mouth would sound like a threat. Vestir knows how quickly he could spring from his seat just to press his blade against another speaker’s throat. With Aerith, Vestir remains where he is. His hand covers up the soft lift of the corner of his mouth.
“I can’t promise my dream doppleganger wouldn’t kill you if you do dare to dream of it. I’d be powerless to save you, Aer.” He shrugs nonchalantly.
Aerith’s head cocks at the harmless threat Vestir makes in return.
“That dream doppleganger of yours sure can try. Sounds like incredibly poor planning, though; don’t you think he’d be fucking himself over?” Their knees collide beneath the table as Aerith stretches himself out, relaxing into his seat. The look he offers Vestir is a pointed one. “I mean, what’s he gonna do without me?”
“I won’t see you for a long time, will I? I might never see you again.”
「 nevernight sentence starters 」 | @jasharakelen
39XXBBY | Jedha
“If it is as the Force wills it, then may our paths cross again one day.” The low song of the uneti tree looming over the Temple courtyard sits like a headache in his skull, as if punishing him for such a strained response, one he hardly believes in. Less and less so with each passing day. But it anchors in the top of his spine all the same, and Aerith offers a slight bow to his once-fellow acolyte. A wordless respect. Well-wishes for the life that awaits beyond the walls of the Kyber Temple, beyond the Holy City, beyond Jedha.
“But until then”—(and it comes just as easy it as it always has)—“may the Force of others be with you.”
“You owe me answers. I think I’ve earned them by now.”
「 nevernight sentence starters 」 | @nevakhan
3954BBY | Undisclosed
“Do I? Is that how you think this works?” He shifts back in his seat, arms crossing over his chest. From the corner of his eye, Aerith sends a glare her way. “I don’t owe you a damn thing, Neva.
“Besides— you know— there are a lot of things I think about you, but I don’t think you’re fucking stupid. You already know the answers.”
“Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold.”
「 nevernight sentence starters 」 | @vestirkano
3954BBY | Undisclosed
“Yeah, Force knows I could ruin you if I wanted to at this point.”
Aerith’s gaze drops, surrendering beneath the caustic stare Vestir shoots him across the table. Instead he diverts his attention to the remnants of tea in his cup, sends it into an idle swirl. A faint laugh sits low in his throat.
“Don’t worry, Verehaan. I wouldn’t dream of it,” Aerith assures him.
But she’s no stranger to her environment. Cities, wherever she may go, all offer refuge to the faceless. She’s no stranger to clambering over walls, to sprinting through winding alleyways with nothing but the Force to guide her.
Cities, she’s learned, are where you go to get lost in the crowd.
Nevariane walks with her head pitched up towards the sky, dark and empty. The neon lights cast a pinkish glow onto her skin and reflect off of the puddles that dot the streets, rippling into nothing. She lets her surroundings wash over her, as easy as breathing. (inhale) Yellow light spilling onto the ground (exhale) a string of windows, all darkened, one not—it’s ingrained into her by now. What she feels through the Force she feels in the crowd, the jostling of bodies, endless, even before they sidle past her.
When you feel so much it’s easy to feel nothing at all.
It’s in a bit of a daze then, that she collides with someone—though she straightens up immediately, a sudden clarity jolting through her senses. But it’s when she looks up at them from underneath the dark of her hood that she freezes in place, recognition hitting fast. Whatever apologies she has ready on her lips die the moment she meets their eyes. Her hands drop to her sides, and for a time, she stares openly. The angles of their face are both familiar and unfamiliar all at once, changed yet unchanged by time.
Cities are supposed to be where you get lost in the crowd.
“You’re alive,” is what she says at length, tone careful, even. Barely concealed surprise smoothing back into a neutral expression, she takes a half-step backwards, putting the tiniest bit of distance between them.
The supplies Liora had sent him to retrieve for her hit the ground with a metallic clatter, and Aerith curses under his breath. He reaches out on instinct to steady both himself and the person he’s just inelegantly crashed into, though he recoils just as quickly. His hand drags roughly through his hair, flustered.
Aerith is several apologies in—shit— I’m sorry— I wasn’t watching where I was going— please, excuse me——and a fraction of the way down into a crouch when his gaze locks onto the unexpectedly familiar face. Surely he should make some effort to gather up the fallen items; he can’t return to Liora empty-handed, after all. And yet he makes no further move to do so, straightening slowly instead. Too transfixed on the person before him.
(For a moment, he’s back on Jedha. For a moment, he is but a child. There is a girl who runs through the Temple corridors, and he trips on the dragging lengths of his robes when he follows her. They laugh about it, then. But as they grow, this is how it will always be. In every aspect, Aerith will always stumble behind her; he was never meant to run by her side.)
His expression shifts from stunned to hardened—wide eyes narrowing, jaw clenching.
“Neva,” he says. There is little emotion in his voice, though the name catches strangely on his tongue after a near-decade of disuse. “Nevariane Khan,” he tries this time, looking pointedly to the other for confirmation. “I didn’t just drop dead the moment you left, you know.” (Of course, that doesn’t mean he hadn’t at least felt like it.)
A vein on Vestir’s temple pulses. He purses his lips and takes several calculated steps forward. Luckily, the person running towards his direction is doing exactly what he needed them to. He grabs the Klatooinian by the collar with both hands without hesitation. Shouts that demand him to release his grip pierces his ears. He doesn’t comply. The Klatooinian side steps away. Vestir notes the change in weight distribution and sweeps the other leg. Dust and sand particles ascends towards the sky as the body comes down.
Through the haze, Vestir can barely make out his mark. He seizes the chance anyway. He drops a knee onto the other’s neck. “Watch where you’re going,” he spits. The Klatoonian shoves him off and he hits the ground, hard. Vestir’s head bounces off the ground after the impact. His vision spins when he picks himself up too quickly for his sleep deprived body to handle. His outstretched hand breaks his fall. Every hour he spent pushing through the fatigue infects his bloodstream at once.
A kaleidoscopic image of Aerith from across the street dances across his vision. He strikes the side of his head with an open palm. The hard part’s already over, Vestir. Slowly, he regains his footing after several deep breaths. He’s right there. Step after step, he staggers across the street.
He lowers himself again, on his knees, for Aerith. “Hey,” he says in a huff. “Find anything interesting today?” The accumulation of the previous times he’s said the same line floods his memory. If he treats this moment the same as any of the others, maybe the outcome will be the same. He’ll get up and return to the ship with Aerith beside him. They’ll pick up where they left off. The hard part’s already over, he repeats to himself like a wish, a prayer. ( A lie. )
Aerith knows well enough by now that Vestir Kano is incredibly easy to lose. For moments, minutes, for hours. For months. Luckily, though, there are times he is incredibly easy to find again. Find the enclave of chaos, listen for the shout that sounds above all else, and you will find him there at the center. You will know him for the harsh set of his jaw, for the sharpness of his eyes, the white of his knuckles. But Aerith— Aerith will know him for something else entirely. Sure, he sees through the gaps in the crowd the veil of dust, and behind it, the brief thrashing of limbs. But like the planets orbiting a sun, there is a gravity that draws him to Vestir. A tug on his soul that guides him.
Vestir emerges from the altercation, and again, his breath catches. His pulse does not quiet, his hands do not still. His lost companion draws closer, kneels before him. And only then does the tug settle, swelling in his chest, warm, gentle in the way it strains, unlike the ache that has made a home of him in the time since they were torn apart.
There is no more indication than this he needs to assure him this is all real. That Vestir Kano is alive. That he is here in front of him. That Vestir has found him.
Hey. Find anything interesting today?
It’s enough, nearly, to undo him. His brow furrows as he blinks back the welling of tears. Aerith’s hand, bleeding faintly from the fall, finds him—reaching out, landing where neck meets shoulder. His fingers curl, uncurl, curl into the material of Vestir’s clothes.
And Aerith nods, dazed, the softest yes clinging to his exhale. “Today brings me a dead man,” his timbre is distant, as though he has yet to completely process the situation. Every single time his wandering mind has entertained this very scenario, lost on him. (It should be quieter. There should come an embrace. Vestir shouldn’t look so worn down. Aerith should smile—and he does, he does, but it falters just as easily.) “What are you doing here?”
「 send me a ✧ and i’ll bold all that apply to your muse. 」 | @sehriin
I would kill you. ✧ I would physically hurt you. ✧ I would attack you unprovoked. ✧ I would manipulate you. ✧ I dislike you. ✧ You annoy me. ✧ You scare me. ✧ You intimidate me. (translation: you’re A Lot and i’m not sure what to make of it) ✧ I hope I intimidate you. ✧ I pity you. ✧ You disgust me. ✧ I hate you. ✧ I’m indifferent toward you. ✧ I’d like to get to know you better. ✧ I’d like to spend more time with you. ✧ I’d like to be friends with you. ✧ I’m unsure what to think of you. ✧ I’m unsure how I feel about you. ✧ You are my friend. ✧ You are my best friend. ✧ You are my mentor. ✧ I look up to you. ✧ I respect you. ✧ You are my hero. ✧ You inspire me. ✧ You are my enemy. ✧ You make me happy. ✧ I want to protect you. ✧ I would fight by your side. ✧ I consider you an equal. ✧ I think you are beneath me. ✧ I think you are above me. ✧ I would lie for you. ✧ I would lie to you. ✧ I would sleep with you. ✧ I would sleep by your side. ✧ I would hug you. ✧ I would kiss you. ✧ You are family to me. ✧ I would die for you. ✧ I would kill for you. ✧ I would trust you with my life. ✧ I would trust you with my most precious belonging. ✧ I would trust you with a secret. ✧ I would trust you with my biggest / darkest secret. ✧ I love you (platonically). ✧ I love you (romantically).
「send me a ✧ and i’ll bold all that apply to your muse. 」 | @vestirkano
I would kill you. ✧ I would physically hurt you. ✧ I would attack you unprovoked. ✧ I would manipulate you. ✧ I dislike you. ✧ You annoy me. ✧ You scare me. (generally not Directly, but you know) ✧ You intimidate me. (on occasion) ✧ I hope I intimidate you. ✧ I pity you. ✧ You disgust me. ✧ I hate you. ✧ I’m indifferent toward you. ✧ I’d like to get to know you better. (sad, but true) ✧ I’d like to spend more time with you. (forever!!!!) ✧ I’d like to be friends with you. ✧ I’m unsure what to think of you. ✧ I’m unsure how I feel about you. ✧ You are my friend. ✧ You are my best friend. ✧ You are my mentor. ✧ I look up to you. (cautiously) ✧ I respect you. ✧ You are my hero. (or whatever) ✧ You inspire me. ✧ You are my enemy. ✧ You make me happy. ✧ I want to protect you. ✧ I would fight by your side. ✧ I consider you an equal. ✧ I think you are beneath me. ✧ I think you are above me. ✧ I would lie for you. ✧ I would lie to you. ✧ I would sleep with you. (hypothetically, yes, but that’s not gonna happen and we don’t have time to unpack all of that) ✧ I would sleep by your side. ✧ I would hug you. ✧ I would kiss you. (smooch!!) ✧ You are family home to me. ✧ I would die for you. ✧ I would kill for you. ✧ I would trust you with my life. ✧ I would trust you with my most precious belonging. ✧ I would trust you with a secret. ✧ I would trust you with my biggest / darkest secret. ✧ I love you (platonically). ✧ I love you (romantically).
Vestir replayed security holorecorder enough times to memorize the exact timestamps of when his target appeared. He studied it close like it was sacred text. A mere 1.87 seconds of a blurry side profile walking along the current of a busy market was all he had. He burned through a favor with a former fixer just to obtain it. He worked with less of a lead before. He was going to make this work. This had to work.
His vision was still speckled with red. Confusing the landscape of Nar Shaddaa for Nal Hutta had cost him two days and three nights. The wait for him to gain clearance into the planet and to land his ship accumulated. Every second and minute gathered in his head, spinning. It stung his temples as much as any other headache he ever endured, but there was an odd familiarity behind it. As per usual, he gritted his teeth and waited for everything to pass.
The main screen on his dock flashed green and he took off, looking for the target’s ship. The night hours bled into the day where he could see the land around him without the aid of his goggles. He checked the HoloNet postings on the mercenary board. The target last seen in the Y'Toub system was claimed but not cleared yet. Hope was a blade that ate into his skin, but he held on even tighter. He knew he was close. A quarter of the day sped past him before the universe threw another breadcrumb; he finally found her ship. He knew exactly which market was within walking distance from this spot.
All he had to do was picture himself returning to his ship after a job and finding every chamber empty. Slipping back into this routine made it easier to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest—that little whisper saying that he was too late. He ran into the bustling area where people on either side of the streets had booths set up and tarps laid out. Everybody who passed him were the wrong height, had the wrong eye color, the wrong voice, the wrong smile. He continued searching around, forcing his feet to move forward. The only option was forward.
There wasn’t room for doubt. He had no choice but to trust that he didn’t miss a single face in the crowd. With any bounty, he would’ve stayed at the ship and waited for them to come to him. But this was his person and he had something to prove.
It started when his eyes locked on a pair of hands holding an apple. The crimson fabric scrunched at the elbow fell and draped over the hands. Vestir’s breath stuttered. The crowd around the stand slowly cleared. He followed the line of the scar along the neck to the scar that hugged the contour of the cheekbone and eye. The sun glistened against the piercings that Vestir always said he’d buy new replacements for—made of the finest metals mined from Tatooine.
Vestir waited. Normally, this was where he’d jolt out of his sleep and continue his search. The scenery remained static. A clatter arose behind him when a booth keeper dropped his inventory into the street. Everyone near the fruit stand turned their heads. It was then that their eyes finally met. He had to prove it to himself. He had to prove he could always find his way back to Aerith.
Over the course of the last several months, Aerith has grown familiar with ghosts. He finds them in the laughter that carries through crowded rooms, in the blur of bodies passing him by on the street. There are strangers with sly smiles, strong hands, ghosts of ghosts—but everything is too much, everything is not enough. He doesn’t talk about the ghosts he harbors in his room on Liora’s ship, or the ghosts that have made a home of his bones. A space carved out on the bedside table for a thorny potted plant he’d refused to leave behind when they left Takodana (no, you see, the color had been perfect—). What it means to curl into himself at night under the suffocating weight of far too many linens and still fail to find the right warmth. A habit formed, fingers worrying over the scars left behind by wounds he’d had help tending to.
There is a falter in his pulse that makes his head spin, ache. Aerith has grown familiar with ghosts, but until now there have been none so vivid as this one.
Seconds become moments, and he forgets to breathe, gaze locked, attention fixed on the familiar figure on the other side of the wide pathway. He notes the stature. The posture. The dark of his hair and the green green green of his eyes.
Shit.
His hold on the apple in his hands is the next to fail him, fruit falling from the twitch and tremble of his fingers to the ground, no effort made to stop it. His body automatically carries him forward. Drags him into the fray of the bustling crowd. And it feels like something is hooked into his ribs, refusing to let up.
He feels someone narrowly avoid slamming into him. Feels someone actually slam into him not a moment later, sending him stumbling the rest of the way across the street. His eyes lose their focus, straying from their fixation as his palms scrape against the ground to catch himself.
Aerith doesn’t expect to find him again. Expects the apparition to prove itself an apparition, a mere daydream, a fantasy, delusion. When he glances up, hesitant to prove himself right, he does not expect to prove himself wrong.
content warning for mentions of death and violence.
01. Tell us about your character’s name. Was it given to them or chosen? Does it hold any special meaning? If your character has aliases or nicknames, how did they get them and what do they mean?
aerith lylin is what was given to him at birth. though as he was growing up, he was known as aeri(th) lorus—referred to with his mother’s family name, in order to preserve his father’s position within jedi order. he readopted the lylin surname purely out of spite after his father left him alone on jedha. as for other names he’s taken along the way: valin avalor is the default name he gives when he doesn’t want to use his real one; it’s simply his parents’ names condensed—vale lylin and avadrie lorus. his nickname, aer, came from and is exclusively used by his friend vestir kano.
02. What is your character’s relationship to their homeworld? Do they hold fond memories of it, or do they hate it? Are they still here, and if not, do they miss it?
aerith’s relationship with jedha is bittersweet. but like, two parts bitter, one part sweet. he spent 22yrs there and literally nowhere else. he was tired of it and tired of the life he led there and it holds some really.,.,.,,,, Not Great memories for him. the chance to leave and see the galaxy came to him and he took it. he would be reluctant to return for more than just a temporary visit. but for all that it is, if there's anything he misses, he misses the vibrance of the culture.
03. Describe your character’s relationship with those who raised them. Was it positive? Negative? Neutral? What sorts of ideologies were they raised with, and do they still stand by them now?
aerith's relationship with his mother was really, really lovely, and his father truly cannot relate!!!!!! since avadrie was a guardian and that's what aerith ended up training for as well, she was there with him every step of the way. on the other end, he was virtually nonexistent to vale—aerith's birth had strained his relationship with avadrie, paranoid they would be found out and his position within the jedi order would be compromised. when avadrie passed, vale returned to coruscant and left aerith alone on jedha without a second thought, and aerith has never been anything but bitter about it. from that point master guardian inyri looked after him in some capacity. she was there to guide him through processing his grief and confusion, though he had all but abandoned their shared ideals.
04. What is your character’s relationship with the Force? Is your character Force-sensitive? Whether or not they are, do they believe in it? Do they lean more towards the dark or the light or are they somewhere in between?
as far as force-sensitivity goes, aerith falls somewhere in the middle of the spectrum. as a child, he was told he was blessed, and had he been just slightly more sensitive, he may have been chosen to train among the ranks of the jedi. he was raised in a temple no less, in an organization that valued the force just as much as the jedi did, so a belief in the force was ingrained in him either way. he learned to communicate with it, to read it, to let it guide him, but it never took root in him the way it did in others. he stayed because he knew nothing else and thought this was the life that had been set out for him. he stayed until he couldn't stomach it anymore, and still he was surrounded by it. by now he's pretty much cut himself off from it. he still feels it, like an itch beneath his skin. still calls to it in his most desperate moments. but he doesn't trust it.
05. What three word would you use to describe your character? What three words would your character use to describe themself? What three words would someone close to them use?
anxious, lost, a-damn-ass-fool-and-a-half
resourceful, eager, diligent
"""never stays put""
06. Describe your character’s aesthetic. Do they tend towards fashion or function? Do they like to accessorize? How does this extend into their own personal spaces, such as their home or their workspace?
aerith is purely fashion oriented. like…..,,...,..,, Purely. zero functionality. five layers of flowy ass head-to-toe crimson?? that’s just aerith shopping for fruit. he never quite got away from his a lot of his temple-born inclinations, even after bowing out of his discipleship and even after leaving jedha completely. his time as caretaker for the temple meant he often got tasks thrown onto him that no one else wanted to bother with, and that sometimes meant fixing up the damaged robes of guardians and acolytes. he was given access to an array of fabrics, all rich, deep reds, and so he took the liberty of creating something for himself every once in a while. another thing he managed to cling to is ceremonial makeup—something he learned from his mother and still practices to this day. he doesn’t do it for special occasions or anything, but more as something to pass the time when he’s bored and / or anxious. overall: structured, but creative. in every other area of his life, we called this an Organized Mess. "no, it's Supposed to look like that," he says.
07. What are your character’s vices? Guilty pleasures? Bad habits? Weak spots?
his vices, guilty pleasures, and weak spots are all vestir kano. also he picks at his scabs and wastes too much money on too many damn bracelets.
08. Tell us about your character’s relationship with food. What are their favorites? Do they enjoy cooking? Are they adventurous? Will they eat absolutely anything or are they hard to please?
aerith used to spend a considerable amount of time in the kitchen back at the temple. if he wasn't assisting with food-preparation, he was at least observing and sneaking bites when no one was watching. when he first started travelling with vestir, after 22yrs of only eating jedhan cuisine, he wasn't adventurous at all, and missed the tastes of his homeworld. he learned pretty quickly that he had to set that behind him and be more open to trying new things. obviously not everywhere they travel offers the same ingredients, so aerith has learned to adapt his favorite jedhan dishes depending on what's available to him. "FuSiON." — aerith lylin
09. How does your character feel about engaging in relationships—romantic and / or sexual—with others? What is their history like? Do they fall in love easily? Are they constantly in and out of relationships?
he’s ambivalent. aerith has never really sought out relationships that go beyond just platonic. especially after renouncing his position at the temple, he found it extremely hard to connect with those around him. in his time as the temple caretaker, there were a few short-lived flings with off-worlders who had come to jedha on pilgrimages (they sure did """"""find the force,""" huh), but they were always gone just as quickly as they had come. so it’s rare that he gets close to others, and in the one particular instance where he has managed to get close to someone, he’s found that he doesn’t quite know how to decipher his own feelings and pinpoint where they sit on the spectrum of platonic to romantic. vestir smooch challenge.
10. What is your character’s pain tolerance like? Can they hold their own in a fight, despite injury? If someone hurts them with the aim of gaining information, how much can they take before they cave?
his pain tolerance is fairly high. going from daily physically-taxing training to several years of physical labor, aerith has never been a stranger to at least something hurting. it got to the point that he just kind of learned to ignore it and live with it, and even when he receives more pressing injuries now, though he might show it in doses, it takes a lot for him to actually speak on his pain.
11. What is your character’s weapon of choice? Are they more skilled as a melee fighter or do they have more skill with ranged weapons? What’s their fighting style like? What sort of training do they have behind them?
aerith is most comfortable and most proficient with a lightbow. he never made it far enough in his training to construct his own, but when he left jedha, he managed to abscond with his mother’s. due to a moderate level of force-sensitivity, he showed promise early on, it was just a matter of actually honing his ability. though he has some experience and training with close-combat, he’s fallen out of practice and is only just revisiting what it means to use his body as a weapon. (it shows.) an Extremely Anxious Creature™, aerith relies a lot less on actually countering attacks and more just throwing hands like his lizard brain tells him and hoping it all works out. (many times it does not work out.)
12. Does your character have any words or catchphrases that they say frequently? Tell us about how they picked them up.
there's not really anything specifically? though he tends to use a lot of force-related imagery. things like "may the force of others be with you" and other guardians' mantras that never left him are something he uses ironically or sarcastically.
13. Tell us about a negative experience your character has had with either the Jedi or the Sith, and how this has affected their standing. Whether currently aligned or unaligned with either faction, if forced to choose, how would they side?
his father is a jedi and that's it, that's the negative experience. therefore they're all invalid and aerith joins the sith Solely to spite him once again. it might be ""the right thing to do"""" but joining the jedi is essentially a death sentence at this point, so.,..,........,,.. it's a no from aerith.
14. How would your character react to seeing a relative or friend on the opposing side of a battle or mission?
he hopes it's his dad so the man can sQUARE THE FUCK UP.
15. Describe a memory that your character finds embarrassing.
ha!!!!!!!!! let’s go out on a limb here and say the time aerith misread the situation and tried to lay one on vestir. naturally he realized that Mistakes Were Made like 0.3secs into it. 99.9% sure even he didn’t understand what his own damn self was trying to accomplish here. and so Naturally, he took off—as you do—and locked himself in his room and hid underneath the covers. could not even think about breathing in vestir’s direction for 72hrs. did not look him in the eye for an extra 48. but in this household we support the concept of giving aerith a redo.
16. What goals does your character hold for themself and what steps have they taken towards achieving them? How far are they willing to go to reach them? What is their be-all and end-all?
aerith,,..,,......,,. doesn’t have goals. like, he’s just hurtling through life and seeing where it takes him, really. if anything, he’d like to make himself considerably less useless to those who look out for him—i.e. vestir until recently and liora currently.
17. What is the one thing your character would change about their life if they were given the chance? What other lives could they have lived as a result?
he wishes there had never been an attack on the kyber temple. whether or not his father would have still left, his mother would have still been around. he would have been more inclined to continue his training, and might be a full-fledged guardian by now. it’s not that he’s unhappy with the path he chose, but it certainly isn’t what one would call an easy life.
18. Living in such a high-conflict time, how does your character feel about doing what they must to survive? Will they hurt or kill others—either directly or indirectly—to protect themself and / or those close to them? If so, do they regret it when all is said and done?
don’t let the facade fool you; he may seem like the “”uwu all life is precious”” type but aerith will fuckin' kill a man if he has to, and has. he’s not trigger-happy or anything but when it’s come down to keeping himself and—first and foremost—vestir alive, shit has in fact gone down. you want your skull bashed in with a pipe? lightbow bolt to the throat? threaten their safety and i got the man for you.
19. What is the biggest problem your character is currently dealing with?
learning to readjust to life without vestir, navigating the feelings that come with the situation at hand. trying to find his place and make his way.
20. Give us 3+ headcanons of any length or subject matter.
his favorite skill that he picked up in his time as the temple's caretaker is gardening. after living on jedha, he's mostly familiar with desert plants, but one of his favorite things about visiting other worlds is seeing what kinds of flora they have to offer. he will often purchase plants from the markets of worlds they pass through, but his room on the ship is hardly the place to sustain them. he still tries for as long as he can.
aerith has a kyber crystal he acquired in his early years as an acolyte that he keeps on his person at all times. he holds it in times of pain or anxiety, as its faint song helps to calm him.
aerith has a recurring dream / nightmare of the night the temple was attacked. it's always the same feeling of terror, and the same crushing weight weighing down on him. he wakes up with a sharp pain permeating beneath his scars.
bonus. Give us a list of any length telling us why our “fave is problematic.”
the galaxy’s number one vestir kano apologist
would sooner Die than put into words what he feels and what he wants
"""the force told me you're a dumbass bitch"""
aerith "daddy issues" lylin
is probably buying yet Another bracelet as we speak
requires 12 blankets and 73 pillows to sleep alone
will hide instead of confronting awkward situations
never puts things back where they actually belong
""i'M nOt FrAGiLE""" he says, proceeding to crack two ribs and break his hand
spends three hours putting on makeup only to take a nap
doesn't brush his fuckign hair
will sleep in his day clothes,, all five layers of 'em
aerith: i'm not needy i don't need you i'm finE it's FINE
aerith, 5mins after vestir leaves: yes hello when are you coming home
