#beryl thorne

[orsanedraws]

I decided to try Veilguard one more time after I abandoned my first playthrough, so here's my Rook, a warrior grey warden by the name of Beryl Thorne. I'm somehow having way more fun than the first time playing.

[queen-scribbles]

Tenellous: somewhat tender from the lost word prompts!

I cycled through about six options before settling on Ren/Beryl, somewhere post-class story. It might also be post-SoR, but I'm not entirely sure. Beryl's having some delicious internal conflict about the nature of their whatever-you-wanna-call it relationship, though :D ---

Passing Ships

She'd expected to wake up alone.

But there was the warmth of another body behind her in the bed. The soft cadence of sleeping breaths occasionally interrupted by a small almost-snore. He was still here.

He was still here. He hadn't left.

The thought sparked off the weirdest cocktail of emotions in Beryl's chest, and she frowned accordingly. Why was he still here? Sure they'd never set terms of 'no lingering' or anything, but that had been the pattern til now. How long would this last? Why did the fact he hadn't snuck out while she was asleep, like before, make her want to smile?

An impulse she quickly and strongly curbed. He was traveling with Risha. Risha. Any connection Beryl might feel like they had would inevitably get an expiration date, once the space queen got her hooks in him deep enough. Though if it hadn't happened yet...

Wonderful thoughts to start the day, Beryl scolded herself, stretching like a loth-cat. She should get up. Her ship wasn't gonna run precheck or load cargo on its own, more's the pity.

Her foot grazed his shin and he mumbled in his sleep. Which turned into a muzzy groan as he dragged himself awake.

Beryl lay still, her back to him and lower lip caught between her teeth. Whoops.

His breath caught, a small 'huh', and then his hand settled on the dip of her waist, running back and forth. His touch somewhere between tender and clumsy with sleep.

Beryl jolted at the initial touch, swallowed a hum of pleasure when it started moving. "Surprised you're still here." Good morning. I don't know what it means that you are.

"I've never been an early riser," Renatis said, words mangled by a yawn. "Man needs his beauty sleep an' all. Thanks for not kickin' me out of bed."

She snorted and rolled over to face him. Her hand came to rest on his arm, tracing the zigzag tattoos just below his shoulder. "Thought about it. Won't your crew miss you, hotshot?"

"Eh, we're on Nar Shaddaa, gorgeous, they're all doin' their own thing. If I don't ask about what they got up to, surely they'll extend the same courtesy. We ain't on a job."

Beryl snickered at the mischief in his lavender eyes. "Yeah, well, unfortunately I do have one, so much as I'd love to go for puttin' a cherry on top of last night" --she arched her brows suggestively-- "I need to get up."

Renatis sat up with her and pulled her in for a kiss so deep it drove all other thoughts clean out of her head. Her impending trip. His hand in her hair. Hers trapped between them, pressing against his chest. The faint lingering taste of stale Tarisian ale on both their breath.

"Can I at least make you breakfast?" he asked when they finally pulled back.

That made heat spike in her gut all the way to her chest. More than the kiss. More than his initial caress this morning. More than last night. "You wanna cook for me? What are you, my boyfriend?"

They only saw each other on occasion, when they happened to be same place, same time. Fun as those occasions were, they were more ships passing in the night than anything serious enough to label.

Renatis cocked his head at her teasing and arched a brow. "I just like to cook, Beryl."

He had mentioned that before, now that she thought about it. She cleared her throat. "If I don't have time for-"

"I can cook while you're gettin' dressed," he cut her off with a grin. "Unlike other activities. Assumin' you have anything to cook."

"That'll be your next challenge, captain," Beryl said drolly. There was a domesticity to the offer than made her itch for reasons she didn't wanna think on too deeply. But it was an enticing thought; having a handsome man cook her breakfast. "Finding anything other than ready-meals."

"Ah, a challenge, you've found the surest way to my heart, Thorne," Renatis winked, rolled out bed, and shimmied into his pants. (A sequence Beryl enjoyed watching more than she maybe strictly should have.) "Point me to the galley and I'll see what I can find on this tub."

"Hey, watch how you talk about my ship," she groused, fighting a smile. "You don't have insult privileges yet."

Correction, apparently; a handsome shirtless man cooking her breakfast.

He leaned in, stole another kiss. "Apologies, Captain. I'm off to see the food stocks on your fine vessel."

She snickered. No, giggled. That had definitely been a giggle. What have you done to me, Renatis Tavaari, and how long do you plan to keep doing it? "Good luck, hotshot. I don't remember the last time I placed an order for 'real food'."

Renatis gave her a joking salute, a dimpled grin, and vanished from the room.

Beryl sighed and slid out of bed to get dressed. Her stomach rumbled, and she was suddenly hopeful he did find something to cook. If they were destined to be ships passing in the night, she could at least take advantage of the morning after.

[raven-of-domain-kwaad]

When Beryl took Kelsa under her wing as a protege and daughter in all but name, it was one of the best times of Kelsa's life. It certainly didn't hurt that Beryl could relate to Kelsa's time as a slave of the Hutts and kept them both as far away from the Cartels as possible. It broke both of their hearts when the Voidhound was strong-armed into selling Kelsa out to the SIS, causing Beryl to cut ties entirely with the Voidhound and her organization.

[tiredassmage]

for what it’s worth

Did I polish this off instead of doing another character’s run of Corellia? Absolutely. But that’s not relevant. : P Set during the 5 year gap before KOTFE; no warnings for this one I think and just a general sort of plot filler/explanation of what Oli’s up to while Cee takes... a nap. A vacation. An unplanned napcation.

Oliver reaches out through Cee’s old contacts, trying to do their part - for themselves and for whatever’s left that’s worth fighting for.

“Beryl Thorne?”

Beryl frowned. For all her time on Taris, she’d never much believed in ghosts. And yet here she was getting a call from an old frequency - from the supposedly dead.

Though that was certainly not who stood before her on the holodisplay. Still, she’d seen him before and that was just barely enough to tamper the regret that spiked from her curiosity and possibly partly-sleep-deprived decision to answer in the first place.

Barely, mind. Still, she hesitantly pulled away from the controls.

“Yeah? Don’t make me regret it.”

The male shuffled on his feet as his hands met to restlessly wring together. Even through the filtered blues of the holoprocessors, he seemed haggard and the frown pulled across his lips wasn’t doing him any favors in that regard.

“I’m… sorry for the… unconventional contact,” he said. His hands finally clasped in front of him as he settled on his words. “I wasn’t sure you’d answer from my own frequency.”

Her frown deepened. “Somehow, those odds don’t seem as long as me answering a call from a dead woman.”

She could tell he stiffened before he carefully rolled his jaw. It did nothing to release any of the tension gathered there. “I’m… sorry to bother you, again.”

She sighed faintly and shook her head. “No, I… I’m sorry, that was insensitive. You’re… Oliver, right? Cee’s ah…”

“Correct.” For a blessing, he spared her from fumbling for an appropriate label.

“Forgive me, but uh… weren’t you… y’know..?” Her frown settled a little deeper. “I want no part of trouble, agent.”

“I’m not calling on business, lest you worry,” Oliver clarified. “Not… Republic business, anyway. This…” He stopped to close his eyes tightly and take in a deep breath, one hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose briefly before both hands settled on his hips. “This is… for Cee. And… for me.”

“Spy business not cutting it for you anymore..?”

He huffed. “We both know the Republic’s spinning the same wheels it has for the last decade or more when there’s an entirely new threat at our doorstep,” he fired off with narrowed eyes, waving one hand in a broad gesture. Another frown settled back across his lips. “Look, I… This isn’t a recruitment call, Miss Thorne. I’m not asking either of us to fight a war-” He abruptly broke off into a hiss and shook his head again. “Okay, not directly, I…” 

Again, his hands settled heavily on his hips. “I have a proposition, Thorne. I’m bringing it to you because Cee… spoke fondly of your work together. She looked up to you, what you did on Taris…” He finally looked back at her evenly. “She kept in touch from time to time, I understand, and there’s… There’s a lot of good people out there where official lines don’t reach.”

Yeah. That sounded like the Captain. Beryl shook her head and folded her arms across her chest. “Charity work isn’t exactly lucrative, you know?” she said carefully.

“Nothing’s lucrative if you’re dead,” Oliver said tersely. “It’s not about the money.”

Finally, Beryl started to smile. “She always was oddly optimistic.”

He nodded slowly, though his gaze dropped for a moment. “Yeah… She…” He cleared his throat roughly. “I’m… not half as good at any of this as she ever was, I’m sure, but… I’m not a half-bad pilot and the Prancer still flies.”

She waved a hand. “I’m not much of a dancer, boy. What, exactly, are you thinkin’ to propose?”

A light of focus seemed to flicker back into his eyes. “Putting our networks together,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve been doing what I can to maintain the Voidhound’s network of contacts, but it’s not enough. I know she pulled you into some of the Republic contracts a while ago and I stuck with them for a time myself, but…” He shook his head.

“So,” Beryl mused, “you want my help?”

“I’m offering if you’re interested,” he said. “Like I said, it isn’t getting anyone rich. But you and I both know the Republic’s terms aren’t going to cut it, and neither are the Empire’s. This is about people, Beryl. Real people.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Last we’d talked, you were still in with the SIS.”

Oliver huffed and shook his head with a frown. “Yeah, well… with the rate things are going, if I’d stuck around, I’d likely be looking at a ‘gentle’ reassignment to desk jockeying on Coruscant or ‘encouraged’ into retirement to some quiet, remote colony within a year or two.” He shifted to fold his arms across his chest. “I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t cut it for me. Out in the thick of all this, it’s…”

He rolled his jaw as his gaze broke from hers yet again. “Well, it’s right where she’d be… So, if nothing else, I owe it to her… to do the best wherever I can.” 

Beryl puffed a faint break of a chuckle. Stars. She’d never have guessed a Republic spy would be such a keeper. Where’d Cee even find this guy again..?

Nor would she have really agreed with Cee’s assessment from back then. The setbacks after she’d left Quesh hadn’t been kind and she wasn’t about to pretend she was ever a saint about it all. The war had already been an endless cycle then and she’d about had her fill of seein’ it too up close.

Then again, Cee had fired back that she needed to take her own advice more often. So, leave it to the Voidhound to make their lot out to look like they could be half-decent citizens, huh?

A smile slipped slowly back across her lips. “You’re not very good at ‘no,’ are you?”

“No,” Oliver smiled weakly, “Not when I think there’s something worth fighting for.”

Beryl considered him for a moment longer before she nodded. “Alright. You’ve got yourself a deal, Captain.”

His smile strained somewhat before he shook his head. “‘Captain’ was my wife, Thorne. You can just call me Oliver.”

He straightened and folded his hands behind his back. “But I’ll take that as you’re interested.”

“You may,” she allowed with a smile

Oliver nodded.”I’ve attached some coordinates with this message then along with my personal holofrequency - all encrypted and all with the necessary details for access. We can discuss compensation in-person. I’m afraid any further details would risk interception by less welcome parties.”

Beryl couldn’t resist a mild smirk. “Still thinking like a spy.”

A lighter smile finally drifted across Oliver’s lips as he shrugged a shoulder and opened his arms. “Cee did threaten to make a half-decent smuggler out of me one day. I’d like to think a dose of healthy paranoia has its boons.”

Beryl snorted lightly. “I can’t imagine why Cee would’ve ever picked you up,” she teased. “I’ll be seeing you then.”

“Right,” he said. “If I have any updates before we meet, I’ll send them your way. Fly safe, Captain.”

[anchanted-one]

EW. Boov IV. Chapter 06. The Beera Pot Plot

Read on AO3

The Royal estate was visible on the horizon, looming larger with every second, and the occupants of the dropship went about performing their final checks on their kits. A disjointed chorus of beeps and bops filled the small passenger compartment as fresh blaster packs were loaded and safeties disengaged. Akaavi helped Daerren strap a jet pack onto his armor and gave him a helmet. Sumalee pressed the release on the doors and they opened.

Strong yelled into the cockpit. “Remember my request Stede. That shitbag King is mine!”

“Sure thing champ. Watch our backs today and you’ll get your payback.”

[autisticdindjarin]

[shabre-legacy]

“Women in our line of work need to stick together” “It’s not an easy life we’ve picked, but a damn good one”

[meatbag-status]

oh daniel my son