Kleya Snarky

New here. Andor made me do it.

[i-have-always]

Kleya Marki.....

Kleya Marky...

Kleya Snarky.

[kinasecrystal]

I’m thinking of writing some Andor sonnets, but I’m going to have to warm up with some quatrains or something.

Luthen Rael

The life of the party, a coif for every plan.

A life of fire, with flames and bombs and guns.

Burnt his life for a day that Kleya saw

New Republic rises with a million suns

[tincta-aurum]

[tincta-aurum]

mon mothma!!

andor is easily one of the best shows i've ever watched. psa: watch andor

[8nin]

and if the sun ain’t shining for you I hope the moon makes up for it

[kamillahn]

Elizabeth Dulau in Andor S02E12

[andorshitdaily]

ANDOR + Texts From Last Night

[spaceprincessleia]

159 days until andor s2

[wondersmith-and-sons]

pour one out for kleya marki, who just wanted a few quiet days at the shop by herself. she wanted to sort their inventory, do some accounting, finish some paperwork she's been putting off. she did Not want to be at that wedding. she was dressed in her shopgirl uniform, out-dripped and out-cunted by vel in her million-dollar chandrilan dress, fretting about her comms, with her boss making demands. she should be allowed to smash one of the many plates she's spinning on luthen's head. tbh.

[perigilpin]

kleya sketches bc why not

[cloudpalaces]

gallery kitties :3

saw gerrera paw purrera here

[zzzilan]

i’m so glad i slipped through the fingers of people who had no idea how to hold me

[orbiten]

I was the only one who could end it.

[i-have-always]

[twinkle-art]

MAKE IT STOP

MAKE IT STOP

MAKE IT STOP

[blessyo4]

I know a place where no one's lost I know a place where no one cries Crying at all is not allowed Not in my castle on a cloud

[ofwings]

66 velkleya would be a nice little smile 🙂

66. Whispering in Ear/Quiet Conversation

Vel has never liked state dinners.

Mon only made her sit through a few as a teen, angry and resentful, hiding nothing despite her place of honor to the left of the junior senator from Chandrila; it had eventually caused a scandal that Vel had hardly cared about at the time and has long forgotten now, but she’d been freed of the obligation.

Nothing that good lasts— now, her position doesn’t let her decline.

Worse, they’re now on Chandrila itself, instead of just its embassy.

“Stop pulling at your collar,” Kleya says, voice low and to her right, always more comfortable at these events despite Vel ostensibly having been raised with them.  She’s a natural— perfect posture, a polite smile, a gloved hand offered to shake or kiss or rudely stare at in a refusal that raises Vel’s blood pressure despite Kleya’s indifference.

Vel feels like she’s playing a part— badly. Her collar is tight and her dress blues are so starched she’s sure they could stand up on their own; she’s sweating, the air humid and anxiety thrumming along under her skin, and everything sticks to her in an awkward way. The way looks linger here is the worst part; she’s never been all that good at reading them, but on Chandrila she doesn’t have to be.

Her parents are long gone, she knows. It’s not the comfort she had thought it would be; now people look to her when they say Sartha.

Watching. Sizing her up, or down.

Kleya, too, though it doesn’t seem to bother her. She draws closer as the night drags on, through three separate cocktail hours and a formal dinner that Vel barely tastes. She covers, makes polite conversation, laughs at terrible jokes— brushes her fingers against Vel’s wrist where she’s rolled the sleeves of her shirt up, lets her hand linger on a glass of Polanis red as she offers it to Vel, holds eye contact over the shoulder of the senator she’s pretending to listen to.

Vel wants to crawl out of her own skin and burrow under Kleya’s.

She’s reaching across the bar for another glass of Corellian whiskey when Kleya finds her again, her touch light against the small of Vel’s back, startling her before she settles into it. Tension seeps out of Vel’s spine, relaxing at Kleya’s presence.

Kleya doesn’t say anything at first, taking the tumbler from Vel’s hand, swirling the liquid around fancy carved ice before downing it in one. Vel watches her neck as she swallows, mouth dry, unashamed for the first time she can remember here. She can barely breathe when Kleya leans in, brushing her lips against the curve of Vel’s ear.

“Let’s go home,” she says, voice warm and smooth, just for her to hear.

Vel doesn’t need to be told twice.

[send me a ship + a number and i'll write you a ficlet]