sar's tryin her best here

Sar | 20 | any pronouns | art/writing blog??? | clones my beloveds | ao3: KeysToTheStars | icon by greatlakesrebel

[sar-arts]

actually though I do think I’d be down for taking requests!! probably more along the lines of. writing since my art to do list is already long enough but I’d be willing to write about any tcw characters??? or try to anyway?? so feel free to send in some asks or prompt lists or something!

[sar-arts]

c o m m i s s i o n for @galacticgraffiti of their WONDERFUL oc Eya! I had!!! so much fun drawing them!!!! thank you so much gala ilysm!!!!

[sar-arts]

Imagine me using this blog

A traditional Losnook for @certified-anakinfucker!! A little screwy but overall happy with the end result!!

[sar-arts]

in the spirit of breaking out of my comfort zone (and encouragement from @mandoposting) here’s a snippet from my oc focused wip :) my ocs are incredibly self-indulgent and there is so much context lacking but i’m more than happy to answer any questions!! because most of my oc lore lives in my head rent free so that’s just how it be lmao. um i’ll leave some super basic context in the tags!

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Bringing herself back to the present, Maila could no longer keep her focus away from the center of the room: Aslain himself. Her longtime friend looked much older than she remembered seeing him, even though it’d only been a handful of months since their last meeting. His once gleaming fur now looked dull, his eyes were sunken in, and if she didn’t know the monarch so well she would have believed he was well and truly ill. The thought alone sent a chill down her spine. He was sat in a makeshift chair, but he looked like he was about ready to fall asleep.

Of course, he had run himself ragged in the time since Skira’s destruction; it was just like him to put his people’s needs above his own. There had been no Maila around to keep his sleep or drinking schedules intact, after all. Despite how exhausted the king looked, though, the budding glee on his features as he registered her presence was unmistakable.

“Maila,” Aslain elected to greet her in Basic rather than Skir, his rough, guttural accent like music to the Jedi’s ears. Jumping off of his chair with a forced ease, Copper tensed as the king approached, but Maila waved him down with a paw. She immediately closed the distance between them, barely holding in a laugh as she felt her commander’s surprise, each of their heads resting atop the other’s shoulders as they met in a familiar embrace. “I can’t begin to describe how good it is to see you well.”

“And I you, my dearest friend,” Maila mewed softly. Her Basic was less accented than his, for obvious reasons, but centuries on Coruscant had been unable to completely scrub her Skiran accent away. The two friends parted hesitantly, with Maila turning to face Copper. “My companion here is Commander Copper, of the 296th Legion of the Galactic Armed Regiment.”

“Your Highness.” Removing his bucket, Copper gave an awkward bow. Neither of them missed the sudden intakes of breath from both Aslain and Hyenae. The left side of Copper’s face was covered with scarring, leaving part of his lip as well as a good portion of his curly red hair missing, but his gruesome features didn't stop him from being the kind-hearted Commander that Maila had grown to know over the past couple of years. He was one of Maila’s dearest friends, alongside the King.