ㅤhi im salem ! i'm a wolverine and ( mainly ) anakin writer. you can find me under the same user on archive of our own. i mainly just like talking about them. occasionally i will cohesively write things. i mainly do this for my own personal enjoyment so keep that in mind.
ㅤmy inbox is always open, but my requests won't always be. don't be weird, thanks. all the original characters featured here ARE mine however they're kept under a different user ( same place where i upload all my art. ) so. yeah.
ᯓ★ eventually i'll add a more cohesive pinned but this is good enough for now i think.
currently my main project is the " i look to you ( and i see nothing ) " series originally posted on to ao3. i'll be uploading the chapters as i go. okay thats all
anakin skywalker is dirty and nasty. post !
dont have anything else to add to this other than he loves carnally and with his whole person. you have marks on your calves from him and youre like wtf how did this get here !!!! and then he just goes :)
SCOTT is a very complex, and unique character. I really wish we got to see more of him without it being romance related. I think Scott (as well as literally all of the higher ground characters) deserved a lot more nuance than they were afforded in the very short season. All of the characters should've had far more complex relationships, and I really like how it was portrayed with Auggie/Juliette and Daisy/Ezra. Their feelings moved much, much slower than Scott and Shelby, and it felt more realistic. I've always really enjoyed Scotts complicated emotions and how we see it as the viewer, The way he pushes and pulls-- his anger and reluctance to be apart of the cliffhangers. But at the same time, we see him (in a way) yearn for those dynamics and relationships. I think he loathes himself in a way, and takes that out on others. He's one of my favorite characters portrayed by Hayden.
He's got a lot of pent up anger. He's bratty-- the least cooperative of all the cliffhangers despite being a former football player. Out of assumption, we can equate some of this to his withdrawals following his lack of drug use at Mount Horizon, but the rest is most definitely an effect of his trauma. His anger manifests in numerous ways, and it escalates easily. He's argumentative, the first to raise his voice and pick a fight when things don't go his way. Alternatively, he gets volatile. He shoves, kicks, and throws things around. At the same time, he can be soft. Sweet, even. It's a breath of fresh air against his turmoil.
A super common thing I see among Scott writers and how they portray him, is what appears to be the throwing away of why exactly he's at mount horizon to begin with. His inappropriate behavior towards Sophie Becker (a teacher at mount horizon) is due to his trauma with elaine. I wouldn't pin Scott as a hypersexual, and if anything-- I feel as if he falls somewhere on the asexual spectrum. With characters that deal with rape and sexual assault, you have to treat them very carefully. And you have to understand the severity of what happened to them. In one of the earlier episodes we get to see Scott have a hallucination of his assailant. Mind you, this was brought on because the weather. Tangentially related, I feel like it's a little distasteful to call Scott Scotty. The first time (in the show) Scott is ever called that name is by Elaine, in one of the glimpses of her assaults against him.
I don't hate Shelby by any means. I think she's a good character. I hold the belief that she's been villainized to some extent-- but her dynamic with Scott was very push and pull / hot and cold from both parties. Neither one of them were truly ready for a relationship and were both too immature to have a healthy one. I saw a super good post on the higher ground confessions blog that talked about how their romance dominated the story towards the end, and I completely agree. All of their other facets were put on the backburner. I truly think they should've stayed complicated but not exclusive, or just not gotten together at all. In a way, I think They're foils of each other. I'll elaborate on this more in another post.
Scotts very dear to me. I definitely recommend watching the show. This is all over the place, I know. I'd like to talk about him more but I'm coming out of a writers block at the moment. I wanna do one of these with Sam Monroe, too. Thanks for reading :^)
warning/notes: f!reader has undiagnosed dermatillomania, established relationship, fluff (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) english is not my native language, not proofread.
"god, what did you do to your face?" sam asks the second you open the door. it’s not an insult thrown in your face, but a concern he doesn’t know how to voice any other way.
"shut up," you sigh, locking the door behind him, "see? this is what i was talking about. i don’t wanna go out with my face looking like this."
you’re not sure when you picked the habit of picking your skin raw. nothing deep, of course, no big deal, but you can turn not just your face into a battlefield in under five minutes, but your chest, shoulders, even your back- any patch of skin you can reach, your arms, your legs, and, for god’s sake, one time you managed to pick at an ingrown pubic hair and sam had to spend forever figuring out why you were being so shy and refusing to undress yourself- the answer would’ve been hilarious. or, it could’ve been, if it was a one-time thing and not the norm.
at first, sam was downright pissed and would grab your hands if he saw you tearing at your hangnails- on a fresh manicure, no less. "stop it, you’re not a fucking kid," he’d snap, and you’d pout, ashamed, but while he was holding your hands in his, you’d start chewing your lips and the inside of your cheeks.
sam was pissed, but he googled how to deal with someone who likely had dermatillomania, likely, because you can’t bring yourself to see a dermatologist or a therapist right now, swamped with exams and family drama, and basically, you both suspect your attempts to turn yourself into one giant inflamed wound will stop once this crazy stressful period is over. which is probably not true, because you feel like you’ve been like this since you were a kid.
you and sam have bought countless fidget toys, but nothing helps in the long run, so you’ve settled on him just being there for you, not shaming you, and telling you you’re beautiful even with a wound on your face from your failed attempts to pluck out a short, stubborn hair near your eyebrow.
you don’t need his advice or logic- you know it all already. you just need his support.
"get over here, you little butcher," sam huffs and pulls you by the hands onto the sofa. he sits you down on his lap and pulls a small pack of pimple patches from his pocket- your personal first-aid kit. he squeezes some antiseptic from the bottle on the coffee table and rubs it between his palms- you’ve trained him not to touch your face with dirty hands.
sam smells like cigarettes and sweat, and you smooth down his messy hair, your fingers digging into the strands dyed blue.
"if i were you, i’d be worried. what if i switch to picking at you next?" you snort while sam carefully peels off a patch and sticks it on the red wounds on your face, you’d been diligently picking at every pimple and any bump you could feel, making everything ten times worse.
"stop squirming," sam hisses at you, applying the patches with a dead serious expression. he sticks the tip of his tongue out- he’s that focused- and you can’t resist; you touch the tip of his tongue with yours. sam nips at your lip, "just sit still!"
"i started making cookies," you say, locking your hands on your knees, fidgeting impatiently in sam’s lap, waiting for him to put on the last patch- your face took a whole pack of fifteen.
"good job, baby, that’s great," sam says, genuinely proud. you’d both read that you need to keep your hands busy, and you’d been wanting to learn how to cook and bake specifically, so now, while your parents are at work, you try to spend more time in the kitchen when you’re not studying or job hunting.
sam kisses you, his hands resting on your waist, and you feel a pleasant chill from his rings through the thin fabric of your t-shirt.
"c’mon, i’ll help you. or, you know, eat the dough before you even get the cookies on the tray," he says, and you reluctantly get off his lap, only for him to pull you back by the waist and steer you into your own kitchen.
"these cookies are for your mom and the twins, so don’t even think about it," you laugh, and your laughter vibrates against sam’s chest, bringing a smile to his face. he glances at the rolled-out dough smelling of vanilla and cocoa, and pinches off a piece, popping it into his mouth.
"i deserve these cookies more! it’s my reward for the delicate surgical work of patching up your adorable, mangled little face," sam snorts, and tickles your side playfully as he passes by the sink to wash his hands. he dries his hands on a towel and comes over to you, "i’m all yours, chef."
"you’re making cats," you say, handing him a cat-shaped cookie cutter, "and i’m making the icing."
warning/notes: none, i would say. this is my second to last horrortober work, and i can’t wait to drop last fic already! english is not my native language, not proofread.
no elaine. the mother making traditional canadian poutine while a pecan pie bakes in the oven, while the father messes around with scott in the backyard where a small soccer field is set up. their hearty laughter carries through the open kitchen windows.
you push the barringer’s front door open and follow the noise to the kitchen, and when you appear, scott's mom turns to you with a faint half-smile on her lips.
"you need to talk to scott today," she says casually, stirring the thickened gravy, "it's time," she sets the gravy bowl on the countertop and leans out the window a little, "boys, lunch is almost ready! scotty, you have a visitor!"
"alright, future football star, let's go," the father puts an arm around scott's shoulders and leads him towards the house, while you try to hide your dejection from his mother by staring intently at the door leading from the backyard to the kitchen.
scott, all sweaty from practice, with messy hair, bursts into the kitchen, laughing cheerfully at his dad's joke, but when he spots you, his heart immediately skips several beats.
"hey! i- just give me 5 minutes, and i'll be right down," he says, wiping his sweaty, dirty palms on his sweater, and you nod.
"yeah, sure," you watch as scott hurries off to his room, and now you're under the gaze of not only scott's mom but his dad too.
"honey," his large hands land on your shoulders, "you need to convince him to do it today. you see how happy he is here, and mom's having a hard time already..." his mother elbows him in the side, "...and mom can't wait for scott to stay here forever, sweetie."
you absently run your fingers over your face, avoiding the button-green eyes, and you don't need to answer because scott, looking more like a sparrow caught in the rain, is already coming back down to the kitchen, and his father steps away from you the moment scott crosses the threshold.
"take a little walk, and then i'll expect you for lunch," his mother hums, not looking at you, already healed again by the process of cooking.
"shall we?" scott's palm is warm and damp from the shower, he smells of sandalwood body wash, and you listlessly follow him, trying your hardest to feign a cheerful mood until you're out of the house.
"you seem kinda down today. everything okay?" scott strokes your slender palm with his thumb, his concerned gaze fixed on your furrowed brows, the downturned corners of your lips.
"we need to talk," surprisingly, scott remembers perfectly well how the last time ended when you said the same thing to him.
the other you, the real you from the other world, broke up with him just before he left for mount horizon, saying he'd become aggressive and withdrawn, lost all his ambition, and you didn't like his drug habit either, and it couldn't go on like this. he couldn't tell you about elaine, he was ashamed and disgusted with himself, and it would be unfair to say you didn't try digging in that direction- he just didn't let you. he wanted you to figure it out yourself and solve the situation yourself, as if that were physically possible.
but this you definitely can't break up with him. besides having no reason to- scott doesn't do anything, just smokes weed since returning from mount horizon, plus, this whole world was created for him, wasn't it?
"what is it, baby?" scott asks. he sits down on a wooden bench under a sprawling maple tree and pulls you by the hand, seating you on his lap. he looks into your button eyes, and to be honest, he even likes how they look on you.
your eyes in the real world are too perceptive, too smart, but these green buttons... they just suit you better.
"your mom wants you to sew buttons on your eyes too. so you can stay here forever," you say, tilting your head slightly, studying his expression, waiting for even a hint of horror, but you see only lazy acceptance of the condition.
"and?" scott asks, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger.
"scott, use your brain!" you grab his shoulders, looking around. you already know your time is running out, you're not even a real person, you're a shadow woven from a web, given shape and color by the beldam just to become another anchor for scott.
"don't you want to go back home? to college, to your friends?" you whisper, pressing your forehead to his, and scott's rough palms cup your face.
"i have more here than i'll ever have there," he whispers against your lips, "mom, dad, you... no elaine, no job. and if it takes sewing on a couple of buttons, hell yeah."
a world built for scott, where he doesn't have to prove anything to anyone, where everything revolves around him just by the right of his existence. a world where everyone curries favor with him, where every leaf falling from a tree belongs to him. it seems that 'other' dad even said something about an increased scholarship at the college here if he stays.
scott doesn't want to work for his future. he wants to take everything that's owed to him, as a martyr broken by elaine, and if it takes sewing on some pathetic buttons instead of eyes, he'll do it.
his fingers touch your buttons and he snorts.
"let's go back, you're so sad because you're hungry," he tickles your stomach through the fabric of your light t-shirt, but it doesn't get a reaction from you.
then again, scott doesn't need one.
he gets up, intertwines your fingers, and kisses your temple. he hums some tune as you trail behind him, already feeling your limbs going limp, becoming useless in this circus performance.
"back already?" scott's mom asks, setting the table for lunch. the smell of hot poutine and pecan pie fills the kitchen with a thick haze, and her black button eyes fix on scott, but the sly smile is meant for you.
"all good," scott plops down at the table and immediately starts eating, "i'm ready to sew the buttons on, ma. it's no big deal," he says with his mouth full, and you, standing behind his back, see the expression on scott's father's face change, becoming blurry, as if wax is heating up and slowly melting.
"oh, scotty, i'm so glad to hear that. you made the right choice, son. mom will take care of you here," the beldam says with the same smile, and you see her already opening the drawer with buttons and needles, "you won't have to worry about a thing anymore, scotty. everything will be just fine."
SCOTT is a very complex, and unique character. I really wish we got to see more of him without it being romance related. I think Scott (as well as literally all of the higher ground characters) deserved a lot more nuance than they were afforded in the very short season. All of the characters should've had far more complex relationships, and I really like how it was portrayed with Auggie/Juliette and Daisy/Ezra. Their feelings moved much, much slower than Scott and Shelby, and it felt more realistic. I've always really enjoyed Scotts complicated emotions and how we see it as the viewer, The way he pushes and pulls-- his anger and reluctance to be apart of the cliffhangers. But at the same time, we see him (in a way) yearn for those dynamics and relationships. I think he loathes himself in a way, and takes that out on others. He's one of my favorite characters portrayed by Hayden.
He's got a lot of pent up anger. He's bratty-- the least cooperative of all the cliffhangers despite being a former football player. Out of assumption, we can equate some of this to his withdrawals following his lack of drug use at Mount Horizon, but the rest is most definitely an effect of his trauma. His anger manifests in numerous ways, and it escalates easily. He's argumentative, the first to raise his voice and pick a fight when things don't go his way. Alternatively, he gets volatile. He shoves, kicks, and throws things around. At the same time, he can be soft. Sweet, even. It's a breath of fresh air against his turmoil.
A super common thing I see among Scott writers and how they portray him, is what appears to be the throwing away of why exactly he's at mount horizon to begin with. His inappropriate behavior towards Sophie Becker (a teacher at mount horizon) is due to his trauma with elaine. I wouldn't pin Scott as a hypersexual, and if anything-- I feel as if he falls somewhere on the asexual spectrum. With characters that deal with rape and sexual assault, you have to treat them very carefully. And you have to understand the severity of what happened to them. In one of the earlier episodes we get to see Scott have a hallucination of his assailant. Mind you, this was brought on because the weather. Tangentially related, I feel like it's a little distasteful to call Scott Scotty. The first time (in the show) Scott is ever called that name is by Elaine, in one of the glimpses of her assaults against him.
I don't hate Shelby by any means. I think she's a good character. I hold the belief that she's been villainized to some extent-- but her dynamic with Scott was very push and pull / hot and cold from both parties. Neither one of them were truly ready for a relationship and were both too immature to have a healthy one. I saw a super good post on the higher ground confessions blog that talked about how their romance dominated the story towards the end, and I completely agree. All of their other facets were put on the backburner. I truly think they should've stayed complicated but not exclusive, or just not gotten together at all. In a way, I think They're foils of each other. I'll elaborate on this more in another post.
Scotts very dear to me. I definitely recommend watching the show. This is all over the place, I know. I'd like to talk about him more but I'm coming out of a writers block at the moment. I wanna do one of these with Sam Monroe, too. Thanks for reading :^)
ᯓ★ ﹕ i look to you ( and i see nothing )
➥ CHAPTER FOUR : objection ! hold it !
summary : In the wake of new video evidence, Saloh and Anakin run off, seeking answers for themselves. Obi-Wan and Xel follow their tail on a wild goose chase! As one does, of course.
notes : 2k words. ( ao3 link | masterlist )
Obi-Wan and Xel speed walk through the halls of the Sundari Capital building, having left on the Duchesses order to retrieve their Padawans. She doesn’t speak, but there’s something swirling deep behind Obi-Wan’s eyes that Xel can’t place his finger on. He knows the look Obi-Wan wears, she’s seen it hundreds of times before. The two of them prolong this silence even long after they’ve found themselves a speeder. Xel watches as he adjusts his grip on the steering handle.
“If you’ve got something to say, just say it.” Xel remarks, twisting to stare at him.
“If you’ve got something to say, just say it.” Xel remarks, twisting to stare at him.
Obi-Wan opens his mouth and closes it a few times. “You reminded me of your padawan in there. You’ve trained them well.”
Xel laughs, even though his throat feels a little tight. The thought echoes in the back of her mind. It makes his stomach churn, the idea that one day, Xel will no longer be able to ensure Saloh’s safety. “Do you think Anakin’s ready?”
Obi-Wan gives her a pointed look. He knows what she’s doing. He indulges her anyway. “No,” he begins, smiling fondly. “Not yet, at least. He’s too arrogant.”
There’s a small pause as Xel hums, and then smiles— grateful for the slight topic change. “He’s gotten better,”
“Yes, he has.”
“Do you think he’ll ever be ready?”
“He’s getting there.”
Xel hums again. “You’ve been saying that for a few years now, Obi-Wan.” She pauses with a laugh. “He’s like you. Don’t think that I’ve forgotten how you were as a padawan. Anakin’s mellowed you out.”
Obi-wan abruptly stops the speeder, whipping around to glare at Xel. “Mellowed me out?” He repeats, eyebrows furrowing. Xel’s really struck a nerve, it seems. “If anything Anakin’s making me grey early.” He huffs. “I am not mellowed out.”
“You sound like Master Jinn,” Xel teases. “I remember him saying the same things about you to my master. Don’t you?” And she relaxes back into the seat on the speeder, head tilting. His eyes crinkle at the smug smile that's adorned Xel’s features.
There’s an exasperated sigh that slips past Obi-Wan’s lips as he kicks the speeder back into gear. “No, Xel. I do not.”
┅┅┅
The familiar hum of lightsabers does little to ease the pit at the bottom of Saloh’s stomach. The two bounty hunters surely have an array of weapons on their person. The idea makes Saloh‘s blood run cold. Lightsabers can be lethal, it’s something younglings first learn– to ensure they aren’t played with as toys. But whatever these bounty hunters have got, at this close of a range? The damage could be devastating. They might be willing to take themselves out if it means not to leak the information they have.
Anakin, as impatient as ever, advances on them. “Who hired you?” He snaps. Saloh catches the way his hands twitch on the hilt of his lightsaber. He’s never been one for negotiation– Saloh knows this just as well as Obi-Wan. He lacks the patience for it, always barreling towards more.
The lump in Saloh’s throat keeps them from speaking for a moment, but when Anakin begins to launch himself forward, tired of the silence, Saloh catches his arm with their freehand. “We know you both have something to do with the recent influx of missing persons,” They start, voice a little too automated. They’re lying through their teeth. They’re praying out to any power higher than the force that these hunters don't know that. “We can work something out if you’re honest with us.”
The two bounty hunters hesitate, looking at each other for a moment. Anakin looks almost betrayed. They’ve always followed his lead before. He doesn’t know what changed and he can’t read them. That new knowledge stings the worst. Their usual bond is severed, leaving behind the walls that Saloh cowers behind. “It’ll be easier to explain yourselves to us– Our masters won’t be as forgiving.”
“Jedi,” The taller bounty hunter seethes. “And you call yourselves peacekeepers.” They spit, shoulders tense. If they were a tooka cat, Saloh imagines their hackles would be raised.
“We’re just trying to get to the bottom of this,” Saloh urges. “Those people are innocent.”
The shorter of the two, the one that makes Saloh’s stomach twist, speaks next. “We're just doing our job.” They start, taking an advancing step forward. Testing the waters, maybe. “We’re not gonna be a pawn in this game of yours.”
That’s enough to have Anakin angry all over again. “You think this is a game?” and his voice raises, stepping forward as he gets right into the bounty hunter's face. “These are people's lives at stake.” he starts, voice low. Strained, even– as if he’s fighting with himself on what to do.
Saloh could blow chunks. “We can work out a credit payment if we need to,” They bargain. They fear this isn't exactly going as planned. They’re running in circles, basically. Pleading, getting angry, advancing on each other, and pleading some more. It's ridiculous. Saloh should’ve talked Anakin out of coming here and they should’ve let their masters know. Saloh always makes the wrong choice, it seems, and now they are paying the price for it. They follow blindly, not thinking forward. They’ve been trained to do otherwise– They should know better.
But they don’t. They don’t think they ever will.
┅┅┅
By now, Xel and Obi-Wan have discovered the speeder their padawans have stolen for themselves, and are now loitering around it, as if it’d tell them the secrets of what trouble those two have gotten themselves into.
Xel has a horrible feeling in her stomach, he just can’t place why. “If we were Anakin and Saloh, where would we go?” She hums, mostly to herself.
Obi-Wan looks up. “If I were Anakin, I’d have gotten myself killed by now.”
That gets a small laugh out of Xel, and the pit lingering dissipates a little. “Yes, well, we must walk in their shoes for a while.” And they’re rounding the speeder, moving to stand behind Obi-Wan. “They’d probably go wherever the camera footage was found. Look for any clues there.” Xel pauses. “That’s what I’d do.”
This earns her a quizzical look. “I thought we were walking in their shoes?”
“Saloh is always trying to walk in mine.”
“Ah,” Obi-Wan begins, nodding as the corners of his mouth pull into a wistful smile, as if he can agree with the same sentiment about his own padawan. “Saloh tends to follow Anakin’s lead. Always just a step behind him,” And he turns as if he can see the two of them in their mind. “He’d announce where they’re going,”
“And they’d follow, although they’d give Anakin a hard time.”
Obi-Wan nods. “Anakin would want to go to the source. The last place where the missing person was spotted.” And a light seems to go off behind his eyes. “It’s about,” And he thinks back to his memory of the hologram the Duchess had shown them. “Just west from here, I believe.”
Xel nods, mimicking Obi-wans earlier movement. That pit in his stomach has returned, only heavier and definitely worse. “We should hurry.”
There’s a noise of affirmation from Obi-Wan, just before he spins on his heel, making his way through the alleyways of sundari towards the last known whereabouts. Hot on his tail, Xel scrambles after him. Something tells her things just got a whole lot more complicated.
The two of them approach the security building with a quickness. They approach the back of the building, and Xel’s heart sinks when they catch the hum of lightsabers and arguing, the indigo light spilling from the window. They nod to Obi-Wan, who gets the hint and rushes towards the front of the building. Xel, on the other hand, enters from the same way Anakin and Saloh did.
It’s far easier for Xel to jump up. Their hands grip the edge of the window, and they haul themselves in far smoother than Saloh did. They ignite their lightsaber seconds later, the yellow mixing and making some areas glow green. Xel would appreciate the beauty if it wasn't for the circumstances.
The bounty hunters spin around, and there's the hiss of readying weapons. “Not expecting guests?” Xel asks, tightening their grip on the hilt of their saber. “It’s four versus two. Surely, you know you won’t win that.”
The taller bounty hunter scoffs. “There’s three of you. I suppose they’re letting anyone become a Jedi now. You can’t even count.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
As if on cue, the door closing them in unlocks itself, and Obi-Wan stands in the doorway. His blue overtakes the fleeting green. “I hope you wouldn’t mind a fourth.” He murmurs, giving a sly smile. “I’m sure there are better means of negotiation than fighting. We’re more civilized than this.” And he enters the room, shutting and locking it once more with the wave of his hand. “Let’s not waste any time.”
┅┅┅
The following two and a half hours are grueling. Anakin and Saloh are banned from participating. Saloh assumes that is their punishment for running off. Anakin does not take this lightly, however– trying to bud in continuously and questioning his master's interrogations. He won’t even look at Saloh, and they hate that. They learn that the bounty hunters were individually hired by Osaar Huul, The current deputy minister. They had no knowledge of the other one until today. That’s the most shocking. Saloh can’t vocalize this, but their stomach flips at the idea of someone taking advantage of their own people like that. They can't fathom it.
It opens up a larger vein of thought regarding the two soldiers they saw. Does Osaar have allies? Were those two men even mandalorian soldiers? There’s so many questions, and they have so few answers. They worry how deep this line of betrayal runs.
They do learn, however, that there’s a holding facility they were given the coordinates of. It’s a lead, although it’s not much. In the case of them arriving only to find it empty, they’d be back at square one again. Anakin perks up at the information– ever ambitious, he is. “We’ll go,” He says, beginning to stand. A firm hand pushes him back down into his seat. “Absolutely not.” Obi-Wan counters, furrowing his brows. “You are not running off– again.” And he sighs when Anakin scoffs. “You will stay here.” He pauses, looking to Xel.
She seems to understand what he’s saying. “We will go.” And he glances to Saloh. “Come. We shouldn’t linger.”
Saloh knows better than to argue. They stand, following their master towards the window, and slipping out. They can feel Anakin's eyes burning into the back of their head, and they don't have it in them to look back.
┅┅┅
There’s a tense silence as they walk, and Saloh picks at the threads of their robes. They hesitate when they remember the scold Anakin gave them earlier that day, although their pause is fleeting.
“Why didn’t you tell me where you were going?” Xel asks, still facing head on.
“It– It didn’t cross my mind.”
Xel sighs. “Saloh, I was so worried.” And he pauses, turning to face Saloh head on, now. “I know you know better. I trained you better than that,” And they plant both of their hands firmly on Saloh’s shoulders. “What if you got hurt? Saloh– You are under my care. I am responsible for you. I just want you to be safe.”
Saloh winces, eyes blurred. They hadn’t meant to worry Xel. “I know.”
There's a pause, and Xel sighs again. “You're a good padawan, Saloh. I just wish you wouldn’t run off.”
“I’m sorry, master.”
“It’s– It’s okay. I’m not upset. I’m glad you’re okay.” And the words die on Xel’s tongue. “..Are you okay?”
Saloh’s lip trembles. They should be okay. There’s no reason for them to not be okay. But that bounty hunter– and Anakin, it’s all too much. Everything is too much and for whatever reason they can’t breathe. Their skin doesn’t feel right and the fleeting memories of their past weigh over them like a blade waiting to fall. “No.”
summary: you eye spy kaspian at a bar. You wanna take him home.
warnings: no use of y/n, usage of versions of "you", he calls you sweetheart. bodyhorror if you squint.
notes: 845 words. sfw. suggestive towards the end. not proofread. i wrote this out of my own free will.
ㅤYou noticed him when you first entered the bar. Tall, Brooding. He sits on one of the far seats, chair pushed a good distance away from the other patrons. He’s got quite the obvious bubble around him. His eyes are about the only thing you can see in the darkness of the corner he’s made home in. Glowing, glaring, and green. He burns holes into the battered wood his beer rests on– sweating a ring into the surface. His jaw tightens as he finally takes note of your obvious staring from the entrance.
ㅤAs he looks up, you jump and look away– There’s just something about him that makes you shy away from his eyes. Maybe it’s how his shoulder width about doubles half the guys you’ve seen tonight. Perhaps it's how unapproachable he looks. Swallowing your nerves, you walk over to the the bar anyway. You’re greeted by dusty blue hair put up in spikes as the bartender spins on their heel. “Helloo!” Junko greets. You’re just barely able to read their name tag in time. Their golden neck extends into springs as their head spins. “What can I get for you?” They inquire, springs compressing back into their mock neck as their head sits upright again. You fumble on your words for a moment, startled. “Oh– uhm,” You begin, eyes fitting away as Junko sets their hands on their hips. “Just– A vodka cranberry, please.”
ㅤJunko accepts this answer. “Comin’ right up!” she beams, walking backwards as she grabs a glass. “You wanna start a tab, or no?” They question, head turned inhumanly far as their springs extend once more. You bite back a cringe. “Yes please,” and Junko nods as best she can. You’re glad when she sets her head right again. As you wait, not wanting to just stand there like a fish out of water, you take a seat. It’s conveniently next to the same guy. Just your luck.
ㅤHe doesn’t spare you much of a glance. You gift him with many. He taps his ring-covered index and middle finger twice on the bar once he catches Junko’s eye. She nods and grabs his now empty beer from him before placing a brand new, freshly opened one on the bar. “Here ya’ go, big guy!” They tease. He only offers them a huff, smoke billowing out of his nose as he does so. If you weren't sitting beside him, you’d think he had a cigarette. But no. That was all him. You can’t tell if the heat on your face is from the smoke or not.
ㅤHe looks at you once as you hand off your card to Junko, who trades it with your drink. You bite first. “I like your rings,” And you stir your drink to feign confidence. His hand twitches and the silver catches the light. “Thanks.” And that’s all he offers you. You meet his eyes again as now, they are trained on you. He just stares at your face. It makes you nervous– your throats dry. You take a sip of your drink to ease your nerves, and you clear your throat before you speak again. “Are you a regular? This is my first time,” You admit, and his jaw shifts like you’ve upset him. “I work here. I got off an hour ago.” And you nod like what he’s said is revolutionary. It’s not, but you’re interested anyway.
ㅤ“Yeah? Oh, can I guess your position?” You don't wait for an answer. “I bet you’re a bouncer. Was I right?”
ㅤHe cracks a smile. You could get used to seeing it. “Yeah. What gave it away?”
ㅤ“Hm– You seem like a big guy. Got a real serious face. Easy guess.”
ㅤ“Ah. A typecast.”
ㅤThat earns a laugh out of you. There’s a brief pause between the two of you. “What’s your name?” And he doesn’t answer you at first, choosing to eye you down from his seat. You just take another sip of your drink like you’re entitled to the answer. “Kaspian.” He offers, raising an eyebrow and nodding as you tell him yours. “I like it.” He replies, lifting his own drink to his mouth, but pausing as he looks back over towards you. “And you said you’ve never been here before?”
ㅤYou smile and nod. He sits on this for a moment. “You should come more often.”
ㅤ“Oh? How come?”
ㅤKaspian shrugs. “We’ve got good drinks.”
ㅤ“I’m not super worried about the drinks.” You reply, dropping your shoulders. You prefer to have fun rather than waking up with a horrendous hangover. He sits back in his chair, he’s playing you. He knows this game. “Then what are you worried about?” And you smile, all knowing. “I’m more worried about how many visits It’d take before I can take you home.”
ㅤKaspian laughs this time, but it comes from his chest– deeper than a typical chuckle. His fangs glint in the light as he leans forward, invading your personal space. Despite the extra room he’s given himself, It doesn’t take much. “I don’t think you have to worry about that, sweetheart.”
❛ EPHEMERIS, a planet located just outside the mandalore sector. characterized by it's five total moons and complete lack of a rotating axis, the planet is home to it's dominating inhabitants, corophemeras. ❜
ᯓ★ a blog all about the fictional star wars planet ephemeris. writing on themes such as COMMUNITY, HISTORY, and LOSS. authored by @nyctonoxie. ﹙work in progress﹚
summary: coffee shop au I thought of earlier with a friend of mine.
warnings: reader implied. no exclusive mention of y/n, gender neutral descriptions. insert is referred to once as "mother nature."
notes: 735 words. sfw. not proofread.
ANAKIN SKYWALKER , fresh out of high school with his short cropped dirty-blonde hair and his watercolor eyes. He's kind, popular among customers. There's something so alluring about him. Maybe it's how he holds eye contact- follows his customers eyes as their gazes fit away. Or perhaps it's the fact he seems taller every time his regulars come back for their typical order. There's just- something about him that keeps customers returning.
ㅤHe's working here over the summer before he goes into collage. It keeps his hands busy, although he spends most of his free time outside of the quaint little shop below cars, or leaned over their hood. Occasionally, he'll come into a shift with oil still staining the lines in his hands, sticking under his nails-- grime on the edge of his shirt, caught in his 5-o'clock shadow he hasn't had time to shave. Obi-Wan, his boss, despises this.
ㅤAnakin is particularly fond of a new regular he's acquired. He remembers meeting them as if it happened mere hours ago. He'd parked further away than usual, for whatever reason. All he remembers on that front is that'd he'd regretted it. The cold bites at his cheeks and makes his nose sting. It's just about ruined his day, despite wearing a fleece jacket the cold has still wormed it's way in and made itself home in his bones.
ㅤHe's interrupted by someone who seems to be having a worse day than he is. They look around his age, maybe a little older, and he contemplates leaving them for someone else. His shift starts in about thirty minutes and he'd rater warm up in the back than be someone's savior today. Good deeds don't tip and he really needs the money.
ㅤUnfortunately for Anakin, they spot him before he can evade. He doesn't look exactly- friendly, per say. Brows furrowed and He's looking at them as if they're mother nature. As if they'd made this frigid weather just to rain on Anakin's party. Their words die on their tongue, and instead, they stare like a deer caught in headlights. And he just stares right back.
ㅤ"Excuse me- I'm sorry to bother, but my car just broke down and I-" They start, laughing a little to ease their own anxieties. "I've been all over the place and My phones dead. Could you call someone-? or-" And they almost cut themselves off, too terrified at the idea of asking this particular gentlemen, Anakin, for help. "-or help? Maybe?"
ㅤAnakin humors them for their own sake. He nods, wordlessly, and shoulders past them, bracing a hand on their already opened hood as he leans over the front of the car. He doesn't see anything visually wrong, but it's always hard to tell when it comes to cold-weather breakdowns. "How long were you driving for?"
ㅤ"Not long- maybe five minutes? Give or take?" Anakin hums, nodding along. "Did you let your car warm up?" And they pause, and look at him as if he's the stupid one. But they laugh instead, and their cheeks flush even more as if they're embarrassed. "I was in a rush this morning- My fluids are probably frozen. A friend warned me about that once. I didn't even think of that."
ㅤAnakin shuts the hood before he speaks again. He's found he doesn't mind their company. "It's a common issue. Happens all the time." And he pauses, before nodding to his coffee shop a few feet away. "You could grab a drink while your car warms up. I'll walk with you. I need to clock in anyway." And he cant say he's not delighted when they agree, letting their car warm up as they begin to walk towards the shop.
ㅤThey handle most of the conversation, chatting away while Anakin listens. He'll add on every once in a while, but he prefers to watch and listen. Once they're inside, he takes their order, and repeats it in his mind when he makes it. Repeats the name they gave, too. Anakin scribbles down a note on the side of their cup before he hands it to them. Waves them off and bids them well. They can feel his eyes on them as they leave.
ㅤOnce they're back in their now properly running car, they glance at the note left scribbled on the side, ink smudged from his hand.
ᯓ★ ﹕ i look to you ( and i see nothing )
➥ CHAPTER FOUR : JUVIENILE MISCHIEF ( with a side of interrogation. )
summary : While Xel Flayer and Obi-Wan question the council for the over-the-top usage of jedi for this particular mission, Anakin and Salem take it upon themselves to search what little leads they do have. Unfortunately, they neglected to tell anyone this.
notes : 3.1k words. ( ao3 link | masterlist )
Salem stares utterly dumbfounded. At this point in time, they actually might have preferred an actual fight over the appearance of their close friend– this opens up a whole new can of worms they’re not sure they’re ready for the fallout of. Anakin's eyes stare unblinking into their own during this brief, yet thick period of silence. And it cracks at Salem's next words.
“I– What the hell are you doing here?” They start, de-activating their lightsaber and clicking it back into it’s hilt. Anakin crosses his arms, cocking his head. “I could ask you the same thing. Obi-Wan and I arrived late yesterday.”
Salem pauses to rock on their heels. “Wait, hold on,” They begin, mimicking Anakin's stance as they do the math in their head. “That means the council told you both to leave hours before they sent my master and I.”
“You’ve just figured that out?”
“Anakin–!”
He laughs, genuine and sweet. His eyes crinkle and he's got a stupid, boyish grin on his face. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it,” And his laughs die down to chuckles before he speaks again. “I knew you were here when you first entered the sector.”
“How? I haven’t even touched my communicator,”
“Your thoughts are loud.”
“What is it with you and my master prodding into my head–?”
At this same moment, Obi-Wan comes into view at the far end of the hall, looking rather bewildered at the sound of Salem's voice. The confusion is only furthered by the time he makes direct eye contact with them. “Salem! What are you doing here?” And he’s walked up to the pair, setting a hand on their shoulder. “Where’s Xel?”
“With the Duchess,”
“Did the council send you? Is something the matter? Why would they–” Obi-Wan cuts himself off to collect his thoughts, sighing. “Would you show us to your master? I don’t mean to bombard you with questions, Salem.”
Salem shakes their head, turning to walk back down the way they came as they motion for the other two to follow. They walked quite a while, but if they’re lucky they might just run into Salem’s concerned master and a rather anxious Duchess. “It’s okay. I don’t quite understand why the council sent us either.”
Obi-Wan follows quite closely behind Anakin and Salem, listening intently as Salem recounts the past day. He hums, eyebrows furrowed as the cogs turn behind his eyes. “I just can’t make sense of why the council sent you two. Anakin and I are perfectly capable of handling this situation ourselves,” He begins, hands tucked into his robe as he briefly makes eye contact with Anakin, before his eyes fit back to Salem. “Not that we don’t mind the help– It’s just–"
Salem beats him to it. “You just wish the council had told you. I get it. My master would’ve been frustrated too. They’re going to be, for sure. I don’t understand why they didn’t mention you two. I didn’t think this issue was that large.”
Anakin scoffs. “It isn’t.”
┅┅┅
Following the next few hours, Anakin and Salem have made themselves home in the vacant space of floor beside the Duchess and their Masters. In the time after a few very frustrated holo-calls and seemingly speaking to brick walls, little explanation was given as to the reasoning behind the council's decision. Anakin busies himself with eavesdropping and occasionally adding his own comments, but is continuously silenced by two very pointed looks from Xel and Obi-Wan.
The two of them are so absorbed in their own frustrations and confusion that they fail to realize the situation is no longer entertaining to their very bored teen padawans. Anakin has resorted to fiddling with his lightsaber hilt as Salem fidgets with the stray threads on their robes. Once Anakin notices the fray-monster they've started causing, he swats their hand away. “Seriously, Salem, You’re gonna ruin your robes.”
Salem huffs. “That’d be more interesting than standing here.”
Anakin goes to reply, but stops himself as his head snaps in the Duchess' direction. He glances over at Salem, and they can see the gears turning behind his eyes, just like his master, before making his way over to her. Salem scrambles to follow, smoothing out their robe as they go. The duchess is standing just out of earshot by the time Anakin reaches her. "Excuse me, Duchess," Anakin starts, stopping a good few steps in front of her. "Could you go over the information you know again?"
Salem stops beside him, checking him out of the corner of their eye as he speaks. They go along with whatever he's saying anyway. “It would help my master and I if you did. We don’t want to get any information wrong.”
The Duchess ponders on this for a second, glancing at Obi-Wan as she weighs her options. Between attempting to have a solid conversation with two very preoccupied masters versus their troublesome padawans, her options aren't exactly glowing. “I suppose,” She surrenders, straightening her posture. “If you’ll follow me.”
Anakin and Salem follow the Duchess to what seems to be an intel room of sorts. She presses a button on the control panel, and suddenly, the machine whirrs to life. In a matter of seconds a hologram of the capital city lights up the otherwise dark room. “There’s been a series of missing persons in the outskirts of Sundari.” She makes a motion with her hand and four yellow pulsing dots appear near the edge of the hologram. “After investigation by my own forces, they’ve all been seen together one way or another. We just can’t seem to figure out why– or how they’re going missing.”
Salem sits on the information for a moment. “Are these their last known whereabouts?” They question, pointing to the closest of the four dots.
The Duchess nods. “Yes, that's correct. We have surveillance in those areas to combat the illegal activity that used to happen, but the footage did little to help.”
This seems to be new information to Anakin. He perks up, suddenly, making eye contact with the Duchess. “Could you show us the footage?”
“Oh, yes. Though I’m not quite sure how’d they help,” And the Duchess presses a different button as all four recordings begin to play at the same time, replacing the hologram of the city. It’s almost as if they just– disappear into thin air. Anakin didn’t even know people used cameras anymore. It never occurred to him. Salem, however, figures out what's happened rather fast. “They cut the footage.”
Anakin gawks for a moment. “People still do that?”
Salem nods. “As a last ditch effort, they will. The timestamps were added after, yes?”
The Duchess nods. “It’s part of the transfer process.”
“And these cameras record all the time?”
Another nod, but the Duchess seems unconvinced at Salem’s theory. “Yes, what makes you think the footage was cut? That's an incredibly outdated technique,”
“In old systems like this you can crop and edit footage before uploading it. Relatively speaking, It’s easy to tell because of lighting differences. But with the old formatting with the newer technology, it’s made it harder to tell. If someone knew of how the systems worked and found out you were retrieving the footage–”
Anakin cuts them off. “–They would’ve found time to edit it together as a failsafe to not be found out.”
“That would have required them to be present when I requested it–”
Salem nods. “It’s just a theory, but I’d like to look into it. I don’t want you to worry just yet.”
Anakin is right to the point. “Thank you, Duchess. We’ll be going now,” And he hooks his hand around Salem's arm and hauls them out of the room. He ducks into the back hallways, still keeping a hold on Salem's arm as they frenzy to catch up with him. “Anakin, where are we going?”
“To go take a look at those cameras.”
It takes quite a while for the pair to figure out a path outside, not to mention finding a ship that suits Anakin’s taste. After about half an hour of wandering and bickering, they’re finally able to get moving. Salem curls into their seat on the mandalorian speeder. “Do you even know where we’re going?”
Anakin scoffs. “Of course I do. We’re going to the outskirts of Sundari.”
“We’re looking for specific locations. Do you know where those are?”
“I’m sure I can find them,”
Salem is unconvinced. The two fall silent after that, listening to the ambience of Mandalore as they fly through a surprising amount of traffic. Eventually, after what feels like forever, they arrive at a more desolate section of Sundari. It’s quite obviously the edge of the capital city. Anakin smiles as he lands. “Told you I knew where I was going.”
Salem rolls their eyes before hopping out of the speeder. “Uh-huh.”
Anakin laughs at their mock-annoyance, hopping out of the driver's side and rounding the front of the speeder, meeting Salem on the passenger’s side. He cocks his head as he tucks his hands into his robe. “Do you have the coordinates?”
Salem glares at him through their peripherals, but pulls out an imagecaster from one of the many hidden pockets on their jedi apparel. “This is the best I could get,” they start, clicking it on as a small hologram of sundari pops up. Most notably, there are ‘solid’ dots indicating the missing person's last whereabouts. “We’re gonna have to find it ourselves.”
Anakin snatches the imagecaster out of Salem’s hands, earning him a good smack to the arm. He waves them off as he examines the area around him, glancing back to the image caster for any hints as to where they might be. After a few moments of this, he looks back up and redirects his attention back to Salem. They’re leaning against the speeder.
“It looks like we’re here,” Anakin begins, pointing to a section of the north-west outskirts. “The last known whereabouts of one of them should be somewhere further west.” And he nods his head in the direction. Salem nods, beginning to walk in that direction. “Better hurry. Our masters are gonna notice we’re missing eventually.”
┅┅┅
Back at the Capital, hell seems to have broken loose. Obi-Wan and Xel have now busied themselves with turning the place upside down trying to find their padawans. They look like worried parents at a park when they lose sight of their teenager. They have just finished cleaning their mess before the Duchess walks in. At their frazzled state, she’s a bit taken aback.
“Oh dear– Still having issues with the council?”
Obi-Wan laughs without humor. “I almost wish that was the case, Duchess,”
Xel cuts him off, winded. “We can’t find our padawans. Have you seen them? Please tell me you’ve seen them.”
The Duchess gives them a smile, her pity barely concealed. “They came up to me earlier and asked about the details of the case. I explained everything again and then they hurried off I–” And she trails off, clasping her hands together. “I figured they told you.”
Obi-Wan almost gawks at the Duchess, but holds back, glancing at Xel. “They could be anywhere.” He sighs, running a hand along his jaw.
Xels worry and frustration are poorly hidden. “Yes! They could be anywhere! What were they thinking– Going off without telling anyone? I taught Salem better than that– We taught them better than that–”
They’re cut off by a gentle hand on their shoulder. Obi-Wan shares a sympathetic look with them. He knows better than anyone else that they truly aren’t upset, just very worried for Salem’s safety. Obi-Wan turns back and smiles warmly at the Duchess. “Thank you, Duchess. Did they specify where they were going?”
The Duchess shakes her head, and Obi-Wan deflates a little bit. “But, I do have an idea as to where they might have gone.”
At this, both Masters perk up again. The Duchess turns on her heel and motions for the two of them to follow. Once they’re flanking her, she recounts the interaction. “I took them into our Intel room to recount all of the known information. They’re both quick thinkers.” She notes, and Xel smiles. “They’re a good pair.”
The Duchess leads them both to the priorly specified Intel room, and like before, she presses a button as the machine creates a hologram of the city. “I explained that these were their last known whereabouts. But we couldn't figure out why or how they’re going missing.”
Obi-Wan crosses his arms, deep in thought. “With your resources I find it hard to believe that you hit a dead end so quickly.”
“I agree. We Mandalorians are more than capable of handling issues ourselves, however the issues with the tapes is what made us hit a dead end.” The Duchess nods, setting a hand on her hip before she goes to say something else.
She's beat to it by Xel, who whips around to stare at The Duchess. “There are cameras? Can we see the footage?”
The Duchess smiles. “Yes, I was just about to get to that.” And she presses another button as the holo-city fades away, instead replaced by four screens showing the footage of the missing persons just— disappearing into thin air.
Obi-Wan stares at it dumbfounded before Xel jumps in place, pointing the hilt of their saber at the replayed video. “They cut the footage!”
Bullseye. Like Master like Padawan.
┅┅┅
Anakin busies himself with scoping out the area while Salem attempts to figure out how to get into the surveillance building without causing any damage. Eventually, he hears them huff in annoyance as he turns to look at them. They’ve got their hands on their hips as they stare at a window just out of reach. “Anakin,” They begin, swiveling their hips to face him. “Come here really quick.”
And he does. Anakin walks towards them until he’s standing beside them. He’s got this smug look in his eyes that makes Salem want to punch him. “Need me to open it?”
Salem rolls their eyes. “Yes, Anakin.”
He doesn’t do it. There's a good pause of silence between the two of them. Salem knows what he’s waiting for. They sigh in defeat and rock on their heels. “Please.”
Anakin grins like he’s won a competition and pushes up on the window, as it creaks with age and slides open. It’s enough for someone smaller than him to slide through. Once he’s done that, Anakin wordlessly picks Salem up by their waist. Hold them in the air for a second, quite similarly to a cat, before he hoists them up fully, allowing Salem to slip into the window. They go out of Anakin's line of sight for a moment, but pop back up after they’ve collected themselves.
“Here–” Salem begins, as they open the window more and hold out their hand through the gap. Anakin takes it clawing his way through the window as he lands beside them. “I wonder if there's a map around here somewhere.”
Anakin straightens, dusting off his robes and adjusting how they sit. “I doubt it. Surveillance buildings aren't usually public access. Issues in security if they were.”
“No harm in wishful thinking,” Salem responds, beginning to inspect the room. It looks like it used to be an office, considering there's a desk, chair and boxes of old files. Speaking of the boxes, Anakin shakes off the dust on one before setting it on the desk and opening it.
“Anything useful?” Salem questions, walking back over as Anakin rifles through the papers.
“No,” Anakin begins, checking the date on one and sucking in air through his teeth. “They’re old. Before you and I were born, I think."
“You think?”
“You’ve never told me what year you were born.”
“How old do you think I am, Anakin?”
Anakin only laughs, shrugs and puts the files back into the box. Salem laughs too, but their moment is ruined when muffled voices can be heard approaching the door. Anakin’s face drops into something far more serious as he goes for his lightsaber, holding the hilt tight in his hand. Salem grabs his arm and drags him into a corner farther back and out of view from the door.
The door knob rattles, and in walks a few officials. Anakin and Salem share a look. There’s no reason they should be here. Behind them, walks a few shrouded figures. Bounty hunters, maybe. They’re speaking low enough that Salem can’t exactly pick up what they're saying. The way Anakin leans forward gives them the idea that he can’t either.
One of the bounty hunters conveniently blocks the opened window. One of the Officials– no– Soldiers, Salem now recognizes them as, speaks first. “You can stay here until he comes for you. We’ve got a few new names we need you both to handle, anyway.”
“And how long will we need to stay cooped up in this time capsule?” The taller of the two bounty hunters asks. They must have a voice modulator on. No-ones voice naturally sounds like that. The other speaks up. Shorter. Something about them makes Salem feel a little sick. Like something about them is quite right. “I’ve got business to attend to later. I won’t stay in here all day.”
The Soldiers laugh, as if the bounty hunters are stupid, as if it’s preposterous they had the audacity to talk back at all. “We’re paying you to be here. You two just sit tight.” And they turn around and click the door locked behind them. The taller grunts, before sitting down on the desk. Salem holds their breath, terrified to move. Anakin does not share this sentiment.
The low hum of a lightsaber erupts with a start– and the room, half hidden in shadow, is now casted in blue. Anakin advances on the two of them, and Salem almost wants to pull him back and continue hiding as if they weren't there at all. They move to stand beside him, igniting their own lightsaber. The blue that crept up the walls and dominated the natural light is now a much deeper blue-violet.
The bounty hunters go to grab their blasters, but unfortunately, Anakin thought of that first. His hand shoots out as the blasters are lifted and pushed out of reach. He’s always been so gifted with the force.
“I think this’ll make use of your time,” Anakin sneers. His eyes are unkind. Nothing like how he looks at Salem.
“I believe it’s best if you tell us who you’re working for. You might not like what happens if you don’t.” Salem adds, adjusting the grip on their lightsaber as the sweat oozing from their palms makes the hilt threaten to slip.
Salem swallows hard– mouth dry. They’re parched, suddenly. Fear resides deep in their bones as if it was written into their being.
ᯓ★ ﹕ i look to you ( and i see nothing )
➥ CHAPTER THREE : MISSION ACCEPTED: mandalore.
summary : Anakin has his own issues when it comes to The council. So does Xel, apparently. The two are issued a mission to Mandalore, It isn't until Salem gets a weird feeling that they realize they aren't the only jedi on the planet.
notes : 2k words. ( ao3 link | masterlist )
It’s another few days of rinse and repeat padawan life before anything of substance happens. For Anakin, it’s quite a normal cycle, only broken by sessions of repairing his droid and moments stolen in the temple gardens. For Salem, their life has been quite a bit more hectic compared to the ladders.
For one, their droid situation? A train wreck. Their new astromech is named ‘R3-XR’ or ‘XR’ for short. An R2 and R3 rolling around would get real confusing. Salem and Anakin laughed about that for a little while. While Salem does quite enjoy their new droid, they are however not very enthused with its new habit of waking them up at ungodly hours by beeping incessantly by their bed. Xel finds this absolutely hilarious.
Anakin busies himself in the temple library or in the training center. This is where he finds himself now, actually. He is briefly distracted by a peach starfighter flying past the massive window— with a purple one not too far behind. The sight makes him smile. This loss of focus does earn him a hard hit to the ground, however. He already knows that’s gonna hurt later and currently his Masters scolding is gibberish in his ears. He stares blankly, taking the hand his now smiling Master offers as he stands. He refocuses his mind as Obi-Wan suddenly gets quite the serious look on his face. Anakin expects bad news.
“Seems like we’ll have to cut this training session short, Anakin,” Obi-Wan begins, looking down at his communicator.
Anakin feels his heart sink. “Again? This is the second time this week.”
Obi-Wan nods solemnly, understanding his padawan's disappointment. “Patience, Anakin. But you’ll understand in a moment. The council has summoned us.”
Anakin de-activates his lightsaber and clips it back into place, summoning his outermost robe from the far side of the room as his Master does the same. “Both of us? Typically they only want you.”
“I am a temporary seat the Jedi Council, Anakin. It’s understandable they’d want to see me more.”
“Whatever you say, Master.”
Obi-wan doesn’t dignify him with a response as he beckons Anakin to follow him. The two travel the winding halls of the Jedi temple before finally finding themselves standing in front of the door to the council room. Anakin adjusts the cloak upon his shoulders as he attempts to shake off any worry. The last thing he needs is a meaningless scolding from the entire council infront of his Master. Obi-Wan glances at him with humor behind his eyes. “Don’t worry, Anakin. You’re not in trouble.”
It does little to ease Anakin's anxiety.
┅┅┅
Salem desperately attempts to keep up with their master. It’s not easy when you started flying a Delta 7B literal days ago. Salem has little to zero room in their mind to process any of the witty banter their Master throws at them– much to Xel’s disappointment. Over the comms Xel now listens to Salem mutter commands and instructions to their new droid, occasionally begging their master to slow down or ease up on the sharp turns. The attempts are futile, unfortunately.
It takes them flying into clear, open air before either of them can truly strike up conversation. “You’re doing alot better than I thought you would, Salem,” Xel comments, slowing down so he can cruise just beside Salem’s starfighter.
Salem scoffs. “I’d be performing better if it wasn’t for the fact you pilot like a maniac, master.” Salem begins, finally relaxing their muscles and allowing the adrenaline coursing through their system to slow, much like their heartbeat. “When you told me we’d be practicing more frequently I figured you meant taking it slow.”
Xel laughs, hearty and earnest. Despite Salem's frustrations, the genuine display makes them laugh a little too. “Salem, when have you ever known me to take things slow?”
Salem ponders on this for a good moment, while Xel patiently waits. After a few seconds, Salem sighs in defeat. “You don’t. Because–”
Xel cuts them off. “ –Because it's not my style! See? You’re catching on.”
They groan, holding back the urge to impulsively slam their head into the front of their bay. “I hate it when you say that,”
Salem unfortunately isn't given much room to say anything else before Xel suddenly speeds off, laughing maniacally into her comms as his padawan stared dumbfounded in her wake. It takes their droid beeping urgently that they kick back into gear and attempt to catch up with their Master– who is, by now, miles away.
Before they know it, They’re nearing the Jedi Temple where their master is parked and leaning smugly against his starfighter. They land just beside Xel, who walks over and looks up at them as they hop out. “There you are, slowpoke! I was beginning to wonder if you were alright.”
Salem stares at their master without humor. There’s a smirk playing at the corner of Xel’s mouth. “Well, Master, If you hadn’t flown off without me perhaps you would’ve known if I was okay or not.”
Xel rolls her eyes, beginning to walk away from the lower landing pad and towards the main body of the Temple. “Going slow was never my style, Salem! You know this!”
They speed walk to catch up with Xel, huffing angrily. “Stop saying that,”
Their master laughs again as the two finally enter the Temple. Their back and forth banter is suddenly cut short as a Sentinel steps out in front of them. Salem’s learned about them recently. Some of them act as temple guards. It doesn’t soothe the anxiety that has already begun to pool in their stomach. This guard in particular towers over the two of them for a moment, before finally speaking. “The Council requests you.”
Xel swallows on nothing. She hates when the council sends a sentinel to inform her of things. “Did the Council give details?”
“No. I would assume it’s urgent.”
Salem’s master nods slowly, briefly glancing down at Salem who stares up at the guard with round eyes. “Then let's not waste any more time. May the force be with you,”
They nod, stepping out of Xel’s way. “May the force be with you.”
Xel does not waste time as he weaves through the clumps of Jedi alike. The pair make their way towards the Council room while Salem tries to shake off their anxiety. Xel doesn’t stop walking to comfort them. “They freak me out too, y’know.”
Salem stares up at their master. “They do?”
“Oh yeah,” He starts, blowing out air. “I think it’s the mask.”
Salem nods in agreement. “It’s definitely the mask.”
Before they know it, which is conveniently right after Salem finishes their sentence, the door to the council comes into view. Xel’s shoulders tense and roll back as they stand up a little straighter. They spare Salem one last glance before stepping into the room.
From the looks of it, they’ve intruded. The council members suddenly stop what seems to be bickering and turn to look at the Jedi Knight and their padawan. It’s Yoda who speaks first.
Yoda dips his head in greeting. “Expecting you, We have been,” He starts. “A very important mission we have.”
Mace Windu nods. “We need you and your padawan to investigate an issue on Mandalore. On The Duchess’ request.”
Xel hums, placing his hands on his hips as he thinks. “It’s rare that the Duchess wants our help at all. Mandalore is a primarily independent planet.” Xel is so deep in thought that they fail to see the uneasy looks from a few of the other Jedi masters. It makes Salem feel queasy.
Mace Windu nods again. “So I’m sure you can understand our urgency. We expect you to leave before 1700 hours.”
“That's a few hours from now. We should hurry, then. Will a ship be waiting for us?”
There’s a unanimous nod from the Masters of the Council. With that, the two are ushered out. They begin to practically sprint to their quarters so they can make the deadline. Like Obi-Wan, the Council is painfully punctual. The last thing either of them need is a scolding on time management. At this point in time, Salem is very glad their master makes sure they always have a ‘go-bag’ packed. The Council didn’t specify the duration of their mission, so packing a few extra sets of clothes and a few alternatives that didn’t outright scream Jedi will have to do. Salem makes sure their own outfit is up to par just before a set of rapid knocks pummels the outside facing of their door.
“Coming!” Salem shouts, grabbing their bag and ushering XR as they exit their bedroom. The pistons of their door sliding open fill the room with a low ‘hiss’. Their master is on the other side with a bag identical to theirs.
Xel smiles. “Ready?” He asks, nodding his head down the hallway. Salem nods, stepping out as they begin to trek down this hallway together. Thankfully, They’re on time.
┅┅┅
It isn't until the next day that they’re a little over halfway to Mandalore. Salem busies themselves with fiddling with their lightsaber while Xel reads. It’s a comfortable silence, and the time seems to fly by. Before they know it, They’re entering The Mandalore Sector. It still takes quite a few minutes for The ship to land, and to be honest, Salem’s quite excited to actually get off the ship. They hate staying cooped up like that.
Salem shakes out their shoulders as the ship's bay opens. They smile at the Duchess, who greets them, albeit with a slightly confused smile. Xel catches this. “Duchess Satine, It’s lovely to see you,” And they share a short hug as Xel pauses. “Is everything alright?”
Satine nods, seeming to ease out of whatever confusion they had. “Oh yes, aside from the obvious issue at hand. Let me not keep you waiting, please, follow me.”
The Duchess walks with such purpose, and if it wasn't for the feeling of being watched and someone other than their Master probing curiously at their mind, they would have half the sense to admire her. Their words become muffled in Salem's ears as the walk almost becomes numbing with how off everything feels. They’re snapped out of it when their master leans over them.
“Salem? Are you okay?”
Salem nods slowly, glancing around. “I– yes, I’m okay, Just– got this weird feeling is all.”
The Duchess doesn’t seem very comforted by their words. Salem offers her an apologetic smile. “It may just be me though– I just–” And they’re cut off when it feels as though someone is standing right behind them. They whip around to empty space, and it leaves them with a desolate feeling. Salem feels as though they have to literally shake the feeling off. “I’m going to go for a walk to clear my head– perhaps I’ll find something while I’m at it.”
They don’t leave much room for argument after they hand their bag over to a rather puzzled Xel, then turning on their heel and taking a hard left down one of the halls. If Salem knows anything, it’s how to hide a finding place. Unfortunately, these walls are fucking barren.
It feels like they’re walking in circles with how alike they look. They’re much nicer when one side is a huge window. Now Salem just feels as though they’re in a lab. They put a little pep in their step when the feeling of getting watched crawls up their shoulders. This time, however, it feels real. It’s not the echoes of eyes. They’re real and burning and Salem can feel their heartbeat pick up. They rest their hand on the hilt of their lightsaber, but with the exceedingly high rate that their mind is going at, attempting to focus using the force feels like it’s impossible.
They can feel this figure practically breathing down their neck and swallowing them whole– But Salem continues walking. Furrows their brows and braces, spinning on their heels and igniting their lightsaber. The low hum erupts with a start, casting this person's face in a hue of purple. What they don’t expect, however, are Anakin's blue eyes staring right back at them. He smiles, resting his hand over their own as he lowers the glowing blade from his neck. “Easy,” He starts, voice low and gentle as if he were talking to a petrified lamb.
“Wh– Anakin?”
