āEres mi mayor inspiraciĆ³n y estoy muy orgulloso de ser tu hermano.ā
ā Ćlex MĆ”rquez, after Marc MĆ”rquez was crowned 2025 MotoGP World Champion.
āCrecimos juntos, sufrimos juntos y este aƱoā¦ ganamos juntos.ā
ā Marc MĆ”rquez, after Ćlex MĆ”rquez was confirmed as runner-up in the 2025 MotoGP World Championship.
star wars setting, ~10 years after the republic fell (think fallen order vibes)
āā
On the wind-blasted planet of Zeffo, up a stone path that winds through the hillside from the small spaceport, the first words Marc speaks to him in ten years are, āYouāre alive,ā and Valentino nearly turns on his heel to take his chances with the Inquisitors.Ā
Startled, his first line of defence is to get cruel. āIām sorry, I must have the wrong house. They told me a Jedi lived around here.ā
āDonāt be a fucking idiot,ā Marc snaps, riled in turn, and the winds picks up as if in response. The villagers had warned Valentino to wait out the storm, but heād been too impatient, buoyed by the possibility of another survivor. The electromagnetic fields must truly be playing havoc with his senses, because if heād had an inkling of who waited at the top of the path, heād still be in the spaceport. Too late now. āGet inside.āĀ
Grudgingly, Vale does, letting his hood fall to his shoulders. The place is small, dark, but meticulously tidy. Marc hands him a clay cup, and Vale recoils at the glint of metal where his fingers should be. Bile threatens the back of his throat, but he swallows it down; he has no fluid to spare.Ā
āAh.ā Marc smiles, rueful, but with enough of a twist that Vale viciously wonders if heād done it on purpose. āCouldnāt keep out of trouble, even after I left the Order.ā
Left. One way to put it, Vale supposes. āOf course you couldnāt.ā
Silence. Outside, the winds howl.Ā
āI thought aboutāā Marc swallows, a thick sound, pulling his right armāmissing right armāclose to his body. āI felt it, that night, the Force screaming. The cries. I wanted toāfind any survivors, do what I could. Some troops found me first.ā
An old curse finds its way to Valeās lips. Purge troopers are sadistic; Marc must have found a way out, or they wouldnāt have stopped with an arm.Ā
āDrink,ā Marc insists, threading his way through the tiny living space. āThe storms provide good cover from those who can sense the Force, but theyāll blow for days.ā
āDays?ā Vale echoes. āIāI need to get back to the spaceport. My ship is there.ā
āNothing will be able to take off or land,ā Marc says, matter-of-fact.
Fuck. Stuck here, then. āThe boys will be worried.ā
At that, Marcās head snaps up, eyes dark. āTheyā¦?ā
āI saved them,ā Vale says, and wrinkles his nose as the memory washes over him: burnt flesh, choked screams, lightsabers flashing in a hypnotic whirl. Luca, clinging to his hand. āI wish I could have saved more.āĀ
Attachment, though, had always been his struggle. His younglings, his Padawan, had been his sole thought, and only once the smoke cleared and hyperspace was dancing in front of him had he sunk into the pilotās seat, sobbing as the Force wailed in grief and anger.Ā
āTheyāre lucky to have you,ā Marc says, which is perhaps the kindest thing heās ever said to Vale. It rubs, the lack of teeth, and Valentino squirms in the face of it.Ā
āYou said days?ā he asks, brusque. āHow many days?ā
Marc shrugs. āItās a storm. You want to go outside and ask it?ā As if to underline his point, the winds scream, crashing against the mountainside.
āHow long do they usually last?ā
Another shrug. Valeās chest burns with an anger he hasnāt allowed himself to feel for a decade. When he moves, his head brushes against something dangling from the ceiling: old parts from a ship, if he had to guess. Against the far wall sits a workstation, and as he moves closer, he can pick out the bones and carapace of a lightsaber. Marcās lightsaber.Ā
Couldnāt keep out of trouble. Couldnāt let go. Always so reckless.Ā
āI have a room,ā Marc says, occupying himself with something in the corner, fingers busy so he doesnāt have to look at Vale. āI will keep out of your way. I have workāthe villagers give me things to repair. Just donāt go outside. The winds are stronger than you think.ā
āSo I have no choice.ā
āNo.ā If he didnāt know better, heād call it apologetic, the lilt in Marcās voice, but Vale does know better. He knows him: body, soul, Force.
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