* / UNCONVENTIONAL

𝘔𝘈𝘠 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝙁𝙊𝙍𝘾𝙀 𝘉𝘌 𝘞𝘐𝘛𝘏 𝘠𝘖𝘜.

[mvrecks]

this blog’s muses will be moving to a sw canon and oc multimuse MAIN blog over the next few weeks, stay tuned for more!

[mvrecks]

She protecc

[mvrecks]

Little sketch of Cere and Trilla just being fam. They braid flowers into each other’s hair and it’s cute.

[mvrecks]

hiro x trilla aka first brother x second sister rights.

[mvrecks]

hamadaxfighter‌:

Eyes are always ON him. He knows what they whisper about when his back is turned - how hands idly hide speaking jaws as gaze focuses. Rumors are rumors, but HE knows the truth. Choices were MADE and he advanced with success. For when it came to his TASKS, he was a perfectionist.

That was where his fear remained. Not of LORD VADER, but of the punishments for FAILURE. Disappointing him. Failing. He would never FAIL him again.

He is the shortest of them all. He does not know their ages, nor does he know who they ALL were before - he doesn’t care. He is young, perhaps even the youngest, but he does not let AGE ( or height ), determine his ferocity. He makes sure to prove that he BELONGS there.

Second sister is someone he KNOWS of, but has spent little time with as far as socializing goes. She appears to be fierce and UNYIELDING, but he does not know more than the minimal. He chooses not to socialize and most do not reach out to him. He wonders, vaguely, if the others FEAR him or just his standing with the Dark Lord.

“Second sister,”  he greets. Head turns, eyes staring through crimson visor. A low hum buzzes from vox before he shifts. “Spar ?” He seems to think for a moment before he moves to stand, short stature leaving him looking slightly up. The first brother never backs down from a challenge, even if it is one of simple sparring. He nods, voice holding smugness as he speaks again.

“Sure. If you think you can LAST.”

THEY ARE ALL ACQUAINTED,   but there is no friendship among the Inquisitorius. they merely work together, train together-- they know each other well enough to fight alongside one another, but not too well. Of course, there are exceptions. But those exceptions are rather... frowned upon here. 

The life of an Inquisitor is not conducive to bonds. There is always the threat of death looming over their heads for any slight failure, and the only way to survive is to become stronger. 

The second sister knows this well, and has taken it to heart. She is one of the most feared and most skilled of the Inquisitors, and she knows that some speak of her in the same way they speak of First Brother, though never with the same air of mystique. 

Lips twitch beneath the visor, and the weight of her ‘saber is a small comfort. She knows that there is a chance of her defeat in this session, and that such a defeat would be, as ever, rather painful. But there is also the chance of victory, the chance to truly prove herself worthy to be considered-- or at least, worthy to stay alive. 

“ i’m sure you’ll find that i’m quite competent, ” she fires back, “ though i wish that could be said for all of us. ” A delicate jab, carefully worded so that it remained pointed, but not too harsh of an insult that it could drive him to rage.

[mvrecks]

fraternitae‌:

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓  title glows through him in its truth.  padawan  —  he may have been named master years ago,  but between them now  ( and with no order to guide him )  obi-wan remains his master’s padawan. 

he recalls the feeling when he heard it the first time.  padawan.  it means apprentice,  means beloved child,  means chosen.  it speaks of a future.  jedi travel by pairs. 

obi-wan smiles,  wiping at his wet cheeks with his sleeve.  ‹ you will remain ,  even when i cannot sense you ? ›  he wonders if qui-gon knows just how much that comforts him,  eases away the oppressive loneliness.

he reaches blindly  ( uselessly )  for that near - tangible sensation,  the warmth of qui-gon close to him.  the embrace that held him together.  hands reaching into the dark.  he comes up empty,  and already he longs for the warmth,  for the comfort,  like a child.

‹ teach , ›  he pleads,  his voice nearly inaudible,  broken from the pain of screaming his solitude to the stars.  ‹ teach me how to…  how to heal — i’m afraid i don’t know how. ›

HE NODS,   or at least approximates a nod, though he cannot be seen. The relief that now washes over his former apprentice is felt through him as well-- and by extension, through the Force around them. Qui-Gon allows some of the heaviness of his heart to fade away. At least he can aid and soothe him in this way, though the universe remains dark and grim. 

“ yes, i will remain. i am always here, watching over you, ” he affirms, another gentle touch to Obi-Wan’s shoulder following-- and he hopes that his padawan can feel it still, though with each moment he fades. 

“ to heal, you must first release the past. look to the future-- find hope somewherre amidst the darkness, ” he replies, though he knows the answer will not make things easier at this time. Everything is too soon-- up until now, Obi-Wan thought he was alone, that there was no one in the entire galaxy that would be there for him. Qui-Gon knows it will take time. 

“ you might not know how to yet, but i hope that, in time, you will. ”

[mvrecks]

✧･ﾟ: * @kepthope liked for a trilla starter !

THE BATTLE RAGES ON   as ships explode into space dust above them and blaster bolts rain across the battlefield in a hail of fire and death. This is her first major battle. She and Cere had been called as reinforcements from a nearby system, their own battallion now mingling with the 212th in an effort to drive back a Separatist invasion. 

It is hard to focus with the chaos surrounding them, and the thirteen-year-old was unprepared to be thrust into battle-- and yet, Trilla manages to hold her own against the droids, for the most part. 

Until she’s separated from her master. She doesn’t notice until she’s quite alone, surrounded by both active and deactivated battle droids, and she feels a sting in her side-- but she’s not wounded. 

Cere. 

The momentary distraction, concern for her Master is broken off when a bolt sizzles a little too close to her ear, nearly taking off her padawan’s braid as she jolts to the side, quickly swinging her green-bladed saber around to deflect another barrage. 

Now, she notices she’s alone, and surrounded-- but not for long. Light-coloured robes are a welcome sight as General Kenobi arrives. Batting back a few more blaster bolts to the dying groans of droids, Trilla manages to reach his position. “ master kenobi! ” her cry is breathless and relieved, but then she changes her tune. “ i have them here, you must go help Master Cere, she’s been wounded. ”

[myrcella]

… Outstanding.

[mvrecks]

starter call for TRILLA SUDURI // THE SECOND SISTER !!   starters will most likely be relatively short. capping at 5.

[jedaiisms]

                                                 * ADVENTURERS *

padawans dooku, jocasta nu, and sifo-dyas exploring some old ruins, circa 87 BBY

[amikoroyaiart]

All of them are dorks

[mvrecks]

starter call for TRILLA SUDURI // THE SECOND SISTER !!   starters will most likely be relatively short. capping at 5.

[mvrecks]

fraternitae‌:

𝐇𝐄  hears his old master’s words like a soughing wind,  like something fresh and soothing,  a cool hand upon a fevered forehead,  blinds drawn aside to allow sunlight in.  he sees nothing,  even as his eyes strain against the dark,  but eventually he closes them  ( tears falling from dark lashes )  and finds that his breath is eased,  as if suddenly relieved from some terrible infection clogging his lungs.  i have always been with you.

‹ my connection  —  anakin , ›  he whispers.  

anakin,  a wound in him,  a piece of his spirit torn clean off and left bleeding. 

anakin,  a necrosis creeping through his veins,  choking him from the embrace of the force.  it is no wonder,  he thinks.  he has been choking himself to avoid the pain of that wound. 

‹ not…  not only him, ›  he concedes,  unsure of how much the spirit can read of his thoughts.  it should be unsettling,  to be so utterly seen.  it isn’t. 

with eyes closed,  the memory of his master’s wry smile is so near.  almost tangible.  broad hands elegantly poised over the cards as they played sabacc.  blue eyes reflecting the light.  tangled brown hair beneath obi-wan’s deft fingers and a comb.  little memories tear him into joyful weeping once more  —  he never really stopped.

‹ i can feel you slipping , ›  he whispers.  ‹ when will i have you near me again ? ›

THAT NAME   tears through the Force anew, Obi-Wan’s pain reaching Qui-Gon-- his padawan at last unable to hide it, unable to conceal it from him, the Master can now soothe the student-- but now it may be too late for that. Too late, the wounds may be too deep to soothe. The pain too great-- 

The Force has grown dark, it still trembles in the wake of the destruction that marked the end of an era. 

Everyone is trapped in the Darkness-- but some more than others. 

Qui-Gon feels the bond between his padawan and the boy-- oh the boy, the chosen one, how far he has fallen, and Qui-Gon wonders if he was wrong, or if fate were simply cruel, playing a long game with the boy he trained and the boy he found, pushing them through darkness and agony and fire before balance is restored--

Will balance be restored?

Qui-Gon has no answers. He is wise now in the Force, but he does not know everything, he knows not the full breadth of the future-- the Darkness has blinded even him. 

“ i am always near, padawan, ” he says, and it’s true. Since the Darkness had swallowed up everything, Qui-Gon had attached himself to Obi-Wan’s presence, remaining ceaselessly by his side as he tried to break through to him. “ i am always here with you, though you may not sense me. i will not leave your side. but i will speak to you soon-- as soon as i am able. and perhaps... eventually, perhaps you will be able to see me. if your wounds in the force are healed, and i become stronger. ”

[mvrecks]

fraternitae‌:

𝐅𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑  in his blood,  the grief ignited.  he shivers in the cold desert night,  weeping still,  desperate pain and fire when he closes his eyes,  charred flesh and bitter screams echoing through time and bringing him down,  down,  into his lonely agony  —

padawan

you are not alone

warmth bursting,  day breaking,  a laughter bubbling through his despairing sobs  —  qui-gon,  bright and beautiful and present.  he feels the distant memory,  faint but solid,  of arms around his frame. 

‹ master , ›  he gasps,  taking great gulps of air.  weeping still,  disbelief and pain and longing compounding into exquisite bittersweet joy as he senses him.  he’s everywhere.  he’s right here. 

‹ you’re with me —  ? ›  he had for a while thought it impossible,  clinging to yoda’s words with the conviction of a child.  he clings no longer,  only relishes the echo of his lost master like he was starved for it.  obi-wan is smiling and crying. 

‹ you’re with me .  please, i  — ›  i can’t do this,  i can’t bear this loneliness,  i have buried my heart too deep and it is rotting,  help me.  he says none of these things.  ‹ you’re  here . ›

WORDS AREN’T NEEDED NOW.   Where thoughts were once before hidden, felt only as abstract, now all that Qui-Gon knows is abstract, the spaces between the physical, the energy binding all things. He does not see light, just as he does not hear sound. But instead, the Force-- Obi-Wan’s essence, his heart, open for Qui-Gon to witness, to understand. 

Words are not words, but thoughts and feelings, and yet Qui-Gon hears them as though spoken clearly. There is no confusion. His mind translates the Force to the things he knows well, to sights, sounds, words-- Obi-Wan’s thoughts are as clear as if they have been spoken, though his lips don’t move. 

The Master remains to comfort his apprentice, his hand brushing against Obi-Wan’s tear-streaked cheeks-- and a tear is wiped away, wicked off to fall to the floor, though Qui-Gon cannot yet be seen. 

“ i am with you, ” he affirms, hoping that his voice remains heard though his ability to remain present fades by the moment. “ i am with you, i have always been with you. it is only now that i have become able to show that. ” 

Comfort continues for a moment, and then, Qui-Gon is master once more, and Obi-Wan the learner. “ your connection to the force is damaged, ” the spirit tells his padawan, “ that is why i have not been able to reach you until now. ”

[mvrecks]

fraternitae‌:

𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫  @mvrecks

𝐇𝐄  weeps to the dark between the stars  —  the stars themselves are bitterly distant and give no answer,  but obi-wan kenobi pours his pain between them,  leaking his soul with his tears that fall into the sand. 

it’s impossible to sweep the hard stone floor of his cave - hut clean. 

hidden from the galaxy  ( no one,  no one knows he is here,  he is utterly alone and it ruins him )  he can grieve,  can cry until his lungs burn,  until his ribs ache with the force of it,  until his eyes sting and he loses his voice.  still he calls for the one he needs more than anything,  over and over silently as he shakes doubled over,  kneeling in the ashes of his failure,  once more lost on the black beaches,  breathing smoke.

qui-gon.  qui-gon.  qui-gon. 

master. 

he wants to tear himself apart,  open himself to the carrion fowl and disappear,  anything but this emptiness that hollows his bones.  nothing can drown it,  there is nothing now,  there is nothing at all.

‹ why aren’t you here, ›  he screams in a shattered voice to the unmoving dark.  ‹ help me.  please. ›

LONG HAS HE TRIED   to reach out to his former padawan, lost amidst the burning sands of that hellish planet where it all began all those years ago, long has he wished to comfort him, to ease his grief, to soothe the wound in his spirit any way that he possibly can now. Obi-Wan cannot sense him, cannot see him, cannot hear him. 

Qui-Gon curses his incomplete training, but will do what he can now. Regret does not change the present. 

It has taken so long to reach this point, to reconnect to the physical world enough to manifest, to become visible. And when he at last does, he’s positioned kneeling on the floor, arms wrapped around Obi-Wan’s trembling frame. 

Feeling is strange here, the physical has no bounds for him, and yet he can feel the boundaries around him as he passes through them, or brushes up against them. He is tiring already-- and he has only just begun to manifest-- Qui-Gon doesn’t have long here. 

“ i am here, my padawan. ” 

Voice is soft, he prays that Obi-Wan can hear him at last, that he’s broken through the veil, that the boy (he’s grown now, but Qui-Gon still sees the boy he trained all those years ago, the boy whose apprenticeship had ended too soon, now he sees that) will no longer be alone here in this wasteland. He wraps Obi-Wan in an embrace, one that he’s not certain can be felt-- but perhaps the Force itself will approximate. “ you are not alone. ”

[mvrecks]

semi-plotted starter for @hamadaxfighter from the second sister !

HE IS AN ENIGMA.   The first brother, the inquisitor who was there before all the rest. there are rumours, rumours that he had been hand-chosen by Lord Vader himself, that, though it may not seem like it, he was closer to the Dark Lord than even the Grand Inquisitor. And still others-- one being the most difficult to believe of all. 

That the first brother does not fear the Dark Lord. 

The second sister never expected him to be a child. But oh-- aren’t they all children? Is not she herself no more than fifteen standard years of age? Beneath their helmets there is no matter of age to be considered. But the first brother is small, shorter than any of the other inquisitors-- probably little more than a youngling. 

Still, she knows better than to make assumptions based off of his size alone. There are better ways to learn more about people.

“ first brother, ” she approaches, altered voice echoing through her helmet’s vocoder, “ will you spar with me? ”

[mvrecks]

trilla tag!