Snippets from a never to be finished Fullmetal Alchemist Fanfic
Seriously, I went digging through my old files on the laptop I fixed and found some things. I give it a little polish to add some clarity and decided to post it.
“None of those points are suitable for an actual debate,” Bly pointed out, willing to martyr herself to cut this short. While organizing her thoughts she rushed to eat some of her chocolate ice cream. “Religious morals are subjective to the institutions that create them. Any points you bring up from such materials then present as facts are completely unsubstantiated.”
Dark eyes looked down to mourn the sundae she would not get to finish. Matilda planned to buy her another one later for this effort.
“Furthermore, those religious morals vary between individuals. What I believe and what you believe are not the same thing. Even all of the followers gathered beneath the umbrella of Elohim’s religion have different interpretations among themselves. How can you hold one higher than any other with the intent to apply it to the nation? If my holy texts claimed that the sky was green would that trump science? Does it mean everyone has to agree that the sky is green entirely because that is what my religion believes?”
“Anyone can look up and clearly tell it’s not green,” Rolanda shot back in the most matter of fact tones. “That would count as you being delusional instead of an actual question of morality. My point is how innately corrupt alchemy is. Everyone uses it to skip the natural order of things in hopes of getting ahead in their mortal lives. There’s not true rules for alchemy, no morals, or anything to rein it in. The entire thing is flawed and corrupt from the first application.”
Matilda eyes flitted to Karoline who was seated next to her. She appeared to be busying herself with the last of her ice cream cone instead of giving the debate any mind. In truth, she would be listening to the entire debacle. Rolanda threw all credibility to the wind yet again. All the two had left was to watch the rest of the train wreck unfold.
It was painfully apparent Bly had to fight off the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she knocked the rest of her long ponytail over her shoulder. “Alchemy has rules and regulations just like all other sciences. We are scientists and do have advancements. Alchemy has innate rules with the biggest one being equivalent Exchange. How we apply our knowledge is the only thing that differs from other branches. We use transmutation circles and symbols to help analyze, deconstruct, and reconstruct our experiments. Beyond those laws, we have government regulations. Certain types of transmutation are forbidden and punishable if caught.”
“Who gets to make up those rules and enforce them? None of us common people are involved. Just those of you who practice and regulate it. I know they’ll cut their own some slack. If alchemy was just outlawed for everyone it would be prevent needless debates and wastes of life.”
Matilda bit her lip to avoid cutting in before Rolanda’s next lines. They all knew what was coming next, Rolanda’s absolute favorite talking point: Human Transmutation.
“Who stops those who commit the sin of human transmutation? Elohim’s the only true creator in the world yet you alchemists spit in his face time and again. What stops people from perfecting that abomination? No one.”
“Those who have committed human transmutation stop themselves.” Matilda deadpanned while swirling her lemonade around the paper cup. Her brows furrowed as she fought back the ball of tension building up within her stomach. She was sick of having to defend herself and her likes against the zealotry of those around her. However, the corner of her mouth did turn up at Bly and Karoline’s stifled laughter. “Have you seen the after effects of a fully rebounded transmutation circle? I burnt half my hair off with a fire mishap. One for something like that kills those involved every single time.”
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Hands dropping, Rolanda tried to utter an apology but Matilda coldly cut her off. “Save it. I’m happy to know where I fucking stand with you now.” Full lips pressed into so thin of a line they all but disappeared. “Just pray for me like you seem so wont to do. Plead with your fictitious sky god to forgive my little heathen soul. Waste your time sending thousands of unheard and unanswered prayers in hopes of being absolved of your guilt.”
Fire raged in her as heat flooded her body at the gall of Rolanda so callously throwing the Ishvalan War into this. Quick to her feet, she picked up her cup and was forced to acknowledge the tremor in them. Her barely suppressed rage wanted to force its way out. Glancing at Karoline’s tear stained face broke her. Her cousin came back from that war physically whole but in pieces. There was worries his best friend, who came back the same, would off himself before it was over. Alchemists knew something was wrong with how Ishval happened. Even the young ones like themselves held pain awareness for just what their powers could be used to do.
“Pray until your little heart bursts from how much you care. But, don’t you dare fucking tell me a single thing about it. Keep it to yourself along with your sermons. You can say whatever you want about alchemists but there’s one thing we do that your kind doesn’t: we actively show we give a damn. You can recite your scriptures and sing your hymnals all you want but it changes nothing. Your type pities the hungry, offers them hollow words, and then run along to your church feats. If they’re lucky they get your scraps. I want no part of your hypocrisy now or ever again.”
Matilda turned on her heel then stormed with a pointed grace.
A Sort of Fic, Sort of Dash Summary of Mereel and Jazari
Or, I feel like I neglect Jazari and Mereel and the cuteness that is them way too much.
This got super long but I love all of it.
- Mereel and Jazari meet really, really early in the war? Jazari’s office (more of a converted broom closet that only favors freezing temperatures because of the tech) is in Arca Barracks along with her Master’s office. She meets the Nulls, Alpha ARCs, and everyone else that rotates through with Intel.
- Yes, Jazari was there for when the Nulls holed themselves up in Arca Barracks. No, she doesn’t hold that against them but dammit, the timing was inconvenient. Solus and Lumi were traumatized from Geonosis, there was a war that full on started, someone ordered a secret army of Jango Fetts, and now this?
- Their Official Meeting was less Meet Cute and more Meet Funny.
See, Jazari knows Mando’a. Partially because it’s useful and mostly because of Solus. Early on, Little Solus spoke a rough sounding Basic and forgot words a lot. Jazari started learning to help her new Katarn Clan member feel like she belonged. Now, it’s because Solus speaks Basic only when it’s convenient and she applies that word loosely.
- The Meet Funny centers around Jazari’s sleep deprived ass being called into Master Arligan’s office to help debrief the Kal and the Others. Soon as she hears Kal’s name and sees his armor her mind blanks. She looks like some kind of bastard space succulent as her face strays between it’s normal heavily olive complexion, the bright red trying to take over and her Mirialan Green showing up too.
She also curses Solus’ existence because, “You told me it’s slang for ‘small dick’ but not that it’s a name?”
(Kal knows what’s going on and just tells her to ahead and laugh. He’s resigned to this fact.)
- Bastard Space Succulents may turn into a joke with them now that I think about it. He gifts her succulents real or printed on things or just pictures.
- From there it turns into pretty smooth sailing for everyone. Jazari’s a Jedi, yeah, but she doesn’t really act like a Jedi. Her robes are a loose interpretation of standard robes, stuffy does not describe her behavior at all, and she can talk shop on a lot of things. Mechanics? Computers? Slicing? All the seedy places on Coruscant to get any kind of contraband imaginable? She’s got you covered.
- Her and Mereel just click? They get along like a house on fire. They’re both flirts, far more intelligent than people assume at first glance, and generally good humored about things. Daredevil Lunatics are Jazari’s specialty so what is reckless? Hell, she not only keeps up but can suggest even better ideas.
- The dating thing feels like it should happen early on but absolutely does not happen forever. Mereel’s a Girl of the Week type for a long while and Jazari is Jazari. She splits her time between Work, some random hook ups/friends with benefits, and whatever Thing her, Solus, and Lumi have fell into now.
- Part of the friendship totally involves food. Jazari’s been known to occasionally make treats when she sleeps at the Temple, in her and her master’s apartment. They get brought in to feed everyone at Arca because sharing is caring. If she brings a few extras, some made to look really, extra nice for Mereel who notices? Nor do they notice if she knows he’s scheduled to come through soon she makes his favorites. Who really cares?
- Zey cares because he can see where this is going. But, I also feel like there’s just a moment where he really can’t take that little bit of happiness from her. There’s a war going on that feels like it’s trying to divide the Galaxy in too, they Order’s hemorrhaging Jedi (about four months including a fellow Sentinel he helped train, Leska Drayson, leaving Solus Vetra floating in the unknown), and Clones are dying left and right. The Galaxy is falling into Hell with no end in sight and the Light feels like it’s dying. He warns her not to overtly run afoul of the Code then leaves her be. If this keeps her faith in the light going then let her have it.
- When Mereel starts hanging around her office this also turns into her offering whatever extras she has around. He just so happens to stop by and see her and she just so happens to order extra.
“I think the word to describe this is hetikles? Try it and tell me if I got the word right?”
“Lumi skipped out on meeting up again. It’s Twi’lek spicy but want her share?”
“They sent me too much. Want to share?”
- Eventually they stop acting like spending time together is an accident and they spend their kind of downtime around the Barracks together. Her tiny office couch and comfy visitor chair, as opposed to the uncomfortable one, are his. Unless, she’s sleeping there for the night...again. Because Jazari is married to computers and keeping track of everything that she stays there for days. Really, they should just give her a bunk so she can sleep stretched out.
- If Mereel has science questions for her she either answers them or goes on a giant hunt for the answer for him. Because she enjoys learning new things too and they share a love of wanting to know.
- I imagine this eventually leads to Jazari helping on occasion with finding a cure for the Clones’ rapid aging. Fully making of said cure is 100% Mereel but she’s their to offer assistance. Sometimes it’s being his sounding board for ideas, others as a study partner or Finder of Things, but mostly as a Rubber Ducky. He talks through whatever chains of chemistry and genetics that’s causing trouble to her and she listens.
- He returns the favor for her computer coding and slicing.
- Jazari also goes above and beyond and builds a sort of genetic sequence simulator for him to work with. It took some effort to get the program datapad compatible but she worked really, really hard for this. Same as she starts studying some genetics to be a better Sounding Board and Rubber Ducky.
- The first big thing Jazari leans on Mereel for is when Solus left them. It went beyond leaving the Order and the Republic but she left for Death Watch. No one could ignore those reports coming in of Solus fitting the description of a Death Watch member, how Krownest turned into House Vizsla seemingly overnight, nor the uptick in successful strikes by Death Watch against the Republic.
And no one wanted to let Jazari forget it.
- No matter how angry she is about this reckless, dangerous, stupid looking choice there is still a Solus sized hole in her life and it hurts. Her life feels out of balance without her Introvert acting like an Extrovert bounding around telling stupid stories or gushing over new fighter tech. Lumi is more withdrawn now because those two had a connection meant to span lifetimes. Beyond the anger and the sadness there is real fear. Solus may have finally bitten off more than she can chew on a path Jazari may not be able to follow her down.
A lot of what’s eating at Jazari is something she can’t verbally express to others so she turns to sparring. Mereel falls into this and they’ll go round after round together. Leaning on him was not the plan (her problems aren’t his to bear, she knows Kal’s stance on Death Watch, and she’s not making his difficult life worse) but it still happened. He’s one of the few non-Jedi people who she shares any kind of relationship with who has the security clearance for her rants.
The biggest rant that needs clearance is what Solus did to a large portion of their network on Nar Shaddaa. It was like ten proton bombs had been strapped together and get off with a Hyperdrive. The Nar Shaddaan Rooks (a fake Mandalorian Clan as Jazari had been told numerous times) almost became a smoldering crater with the few alive and mentally sound people left on the wind. That level of chaos spooked a lot of other Republic Friendly Assets in case the Psychotic Butcher came back for Round Two. Not even Jazari would piece together what in the Sevens Hells of Corellia Solus wanted to know.
- Helping out everything is the fact Jazari is almost impossible not to like. So, she gets on well with Kal and Mereel’s brothers. Tries to be observant of their Mandalorian Traditions and remembers little things. Once she even confesses that Kal reminds her of her Dad.
- This turns into Mereel getting to hear bits of what Jazari remembers about Jedha City and her Dad. A man she still quietly idolizes because he was smart and good and kind. He also gets stories about the two kind Guardians who took care of her for a few months after her father died, surly but kind Baze and humorous Chirrut.
- I’m not super aware of the specifies of the Nulls story lines just yet but I imagine Mereel starts to tell Jazari little things. Maybe admits he kind of feels like he’s in Ordo’s shadow.
- For a softer interlude, I could see Jazari taking Mereel to this multi-level garden she visits sometimes. I imagine it’s like a part museum, part botanical garden and animal sanctuary. There’s even an aquatic plant tour where you basically rent respirator masks and go on this self guided, swim tour of plants and caves. It’s one of her favorite places ever on Coruscant.
Her absolute favorite area though is the desert ones, especially the cold ones, because they remind her of Jedha.
- The next big thing Jazari leans on Mereel from is probably the shitstorm Lumi becomes when Depa Billaba almost dies. After Solus left, Mace and Lumi were on the outs more than the in (a relationship that fully crumbles after Ahsoka is cast out of the Order), Depa became Lumi’s cornerstone. Her devotion to her Lineage Sister was one of the few things keeping her in the Order beyond the obligations she felt to Clones.
Lumi withdrew so hard Jazari worried the world had only become black and white to her. She grew more aggressive, almost froze over, and threw herself into mastering Shii-Cho because, “Master Fisto had the greatest success against Grevious.” Unspoken but fully known is that Lumi is prepared to decimate Grevious entirely in Revenge.
- During this spiraling I imagine Jazari at one point makes Mereel promise he’s not going to die during all of this. She had just finished sobbing onto his shoulder (which she feels bad for later) but she’s had to face the very real chance there’s going to be a Lumi shaped hole in her life soon. She’s tired of losing people and he’s forbidden to become one of them.
“I’ll pull rank if I have too,” she murmurs into the nape of his neck while clinging to him and still trembling, “But, neither one of us give a damn about this. This is as friends. You’re too important to me. I can’t lose you too.”
It speaks volumes about how she feels because he’s on the same level as Solus and Lumi in her mind. That’s a precious, almost scared place to be.
- When something looks Off in the Coruscant Guard, Jazari trusts Mereel enough to mention it to him. There’s a new guard among Palpatine’s personal bodyguard who was part of the Umbara Fiasco. She doesn’t trust anyone’s intentions at this point.
“I read the files,” she tells him. Neither talk about the way she broke into them. “He was prepared to fire on his own brothers and killed a Jedi. Even in self-defense, I know how sly the wording in the military code is. He shouldn’t be alive.”
- What this eventually turns into is Jazari showing a complete faith in Mereel and admitting both her and Lumi had been in contact with Solus on the sly (both before Pre’s death and afterward). Solus is fully outside of this entire, rotten to it’s very core system. As she words it, “We have restrictions to what actions we can take. She does not. Even after everything, I trust her to investigate.”
- Also admitted would be the hint of jealousy she feels toward Solus being happy? Not that she’s begrudging one of her best friend’s her happiness but the fact Jazari wants to feel that level of peace. Bitterly, Jazari points out Solus looks happier among terrorists (or former terrorists after Death Watch splits) than she ever looked in the 11 years among the Order and the Republic.
- Another soft interlude moment before Order 66 is Jazari falling asleep with Mereel on her tiny office couch. It was not built to comfortably hold one person let along two with the shorter one being 5’ 10”. When they wake up, it’s wrapped entirely around each other, legs tangled together with Jazari on top of Mereel. Her chin is digging into his shoulder while her hair is tickling his nose. One of his arms is around her waist while she has one twisted in the way only a Mirialan could achieve without dislocation. They half under the quilt she came to own because someone got tired of seeing her sleep burrowed into her own robes.
Jazari tells him they should just run away together. That way they can have a million more mornings like this and in more comfortable places. They could wake up to the early morning sunlight creeping over the hills and through the window causing the curtains to glow. Have caf outside while sitting on a swing. He has to make it though because he’s picky. Wants everything made in an infuriatingly difficult way with the only the best, hand roasted beans that cost way too much.
- If they’ve never kissed until this point (which I’ve not worked out when that happens) it would 100% happen in this moment. She basically told him she wants a normal forever with him.
- Order 66 happens soon after. Jazari does not make it off Coruscant with the others. The assortment of children, teens, and adults fleeing with her got cut off in the lower levels of the Temple. Instead, they spend nearly a month collecting others, hiding out, and waging their own warfare against the encroaching Darkness with Erkan. Jazari works to get messages out and doesn’t tell them she was hurt nor how the wound isn’t healing like it needs too.
- Lumi and Mereel get a crash course in getting along when they meet up. It absolutely was not the intention for Lumi and the small group she had to crash into the Skiratas attempting to escape. But, it happened. She saved Etain when her life was almost cut short. Between that and her skills at flight it she was useful. Both of them know that Lumi and Jazari splitting from each other to better their chances of escape was the Right Choice. It doesn’t feel like the Right Call though.
- The month it takes for things to fall into place is Tense. I imagine Mereel wants to save Jazari Right Then and Lumi wants to back him with that plan. Depa’s dead and so is Caleb. Even Mace is gone and no matter how little they saw eye to eye, she still loved him. It would be so easy to give into the grief, burst in blasters blazing, and make Coruscant and Palpatine and the Galaxy feel her pain. But, she forces herself to behave.
- The surprising plan comes when Harti Wren gets in contact with Kal and the others on behalf of Solus. Jazari got a message out to her and Solus has a plan. Her riduur’s family told them how the Dark Saber was stolen from the Temple during the Fall of the Old Republic. That’s going to be their way out. It’s a really tense meeting in Harti’s Keldabe apartment; tempers rise, words get shouted, everyone is on some kind of dividing line. More so when Solus’ plan only includes herself, Lumi, and still on Mandalore, Ahsoka Tano for the mission.
Unknown to them at the time Jai Vetra was planning the evacuation of the Republic Kamino Base for the same day.
(As standoffish as Solus acts, I do believe she deeply sympathizes with Mereel and the others. Pre fought Maul and died without her being there. She knows how much it hurts to be sidelined - in her case because she had given birth only a few months prior – and have the person you love die in the process. But, she also knows that too much emotion on a mission turns it into an unpredictable shitshow. Hell, if she had better options she sure as fuck wouldn’t be heading into this clusterfuck herself because she’s too emotionally tied to the mission as well.)
- Eventually enough compromises go down for it to happen even if Jazari remembers very little of evacuation. She was feverish, weak, and it seemed to be losing a fight to an infection in her arm. She’s partially aware Erkan may have died on the way out but otherwise feverish. Solus takes the other Jedi to Clan Vetra’s stronghold (as agreed to keep Clan Skirata Safe) but Jazari is sent with them.
- Mij Gilamar ends up being able to save Jazari but it costs almost all of her left arm. The tissues too necrotic in too many places, her body doesn’t have the strength to keep up the fight to save it, and frankly, the Force may be the only reason she survived that long at all. Medicine sure as fuck doesn’t have the answer.
- Mereel’s by her side the entire time and is right outside her bacta tank when she wakes up. Everything’s super blurry in her eyes, Jazari’s almost afraid it’s a dream again because she can see Mereel, but she still smiles at him. Soon as she’s out, still coated into bacta and feeling slimey, smelling like she rolled in pineapples, they are hugging. Jazari kisses him so many times and full on cries.
- Getting used to the mechno arm took some time. Yes, it moves and feels and responds like her flesh arm but it’s not the same. She bonds with Corr over their arms and picks up his habit of sharpening knives on the metal finger tips.
- When she’s doing better, Jazari does get her “Let’s run away together” fantasy of waking up on a perfect morning. They have caf, watch the sun rise, and cuddle on a porch swing. Then there’s a tooka wrapping around her ankles, Kad starts giggling while Etain groans from the kitchen, Besany is choking back laughter, and no one’s entirely sure what’s that noise was from Parja’s workshop but it sounded like something backfiring or maybe a small explosion? It’s not what she first imagined but it is so, so, so much better.
Warnings: Clear flirtations between the two, their ongoing strange power dynamics, Solus considers herself of age by Mandalorian Standards and the fact she’s spent almost a year on the battlefield as commander,and Pre views it the same, Age Difference (Solus is 16 for this and I’ve got Pre at 30).
Summary: Padawan Solus Vetra was assigned to guard Governor Pre Vizsla of Concordia in the days leading up to his meeting with the Duchess. She takes her job very seriously but also has a weakness for people who can mentally match her. Pre’s gearing up for his victory against Satine in the very near future. They circle a mutual flame like moths.
Notes: This is a rewrite of this ask fic from five months ago. I personally enjoy this version way more.
“You started a fistfight?” the governor questioned over his glass, voice rife with amusement. Intoxicating blue eyes caught her own in a silent request to elaborate.
Solus shrugged with an air of feigned innocence before looking to her lap. Calloused finger tips busied themselves straightening the hem of her tunic. Everything about this man took her off guard from their first interaction. There was no expected submissiveness nor barely concealed hostility at her name. Vizsla bowed to her instead with an almost jovial greeting of “Alii’alor Vetra”. He was the only one thus far to recognize her claim to lead Aliit Vetra aside from Almec’s earlier sneer.
“My master for the mission said we needed to make a move on the suspect and fast. The Cathar was high-strung. Enough to bolt at the slightest provocation if given time and kept staring at us.” She savored another sip of the finely crafted tihaar. Over a decade had past since she had tasted varos fruit. Solus hated Sundari, and by extension this Concordia, but it did have some benefits. “My options were disappearing into ‘fresher to start a fire or just starting a bar wide brawl. I liked my odds better for choice two.”
Formality had fallen to the wayside between them almost from the start. But, something about tonight was pushing the boundaries even further. A quick scan almost surprised her at just how much of it was gone. Pre’s gloves were abandoned to the left corner of his desk putting his hands on display; scarred, calloused hands that looked more accustomed to physical fights than verbal ones. It took everything to not reach out to them in hopes of seeing what she could read. Instead, her eyes settled on the half undone coat showing much of his undershirt. Her clothing had stayed right but she was half seated on the edge if his desk. Their legs almost brushing because she sat nearly in front of him. Both held back from touching but it was an option.
“It worked?” His gaze flickered down to take in just how enticing leatheris, neoprene, and a soft cotton tunic could look. Catching himself, Pre drew his attention back to her face. Solus resisted giving him an inquiring look; did he like what he saw? Shifting lightly, she tried to draw his eyes back to her.
“Even better than anticipated.” Solus gave him a moment to wonder. Another sip of tihaar burned her mouth and throat. “I slipped behind this towering Besalisk. She had a Black Sun tattoo taking up most of her upper right forearm. Dropped the timbre of my voice, yelled some choice words in Mando’a with a Concordian slant, then sucker punched her. I hid in the Force to slip back, she whirled on the Pyke guy behind her, and the whole place went up. A thermal detonator couldn’t have done a better job.” That particularly memory always brought a sly look to her faeatures. Sowing that much chaos has been fun. “Seems someone who spoke Concord Dawn Mando’a had caused trouble there before.”
Pre spent several moments studying her in blatant admiration. Several micro expressions flitted across his handsome face as his mind filled in the little blanks she intentionally left.
“You truly are fascinating,” he spoke with attention paid in curling his Mando’a accent around the word. She could kiss his breathtaking face in that moment. “One of the craftiest bodyguards I’ve had the pleasure of speaking with.”
Lavender bloomed across Solus' face with the sincere praise. She could feel the faint heat stretching over the bridge of her nose while the tips of her lightly fluttering ears burned. Her mind knew politicians played many of the same games she did. Compliments would be paid in hopes of learning weaknesses or points of pride to try and win favor. Clever word games laid out to test just how smart an asset could be. Yet, it stoked the fire deep within her stomach. Perhaps, she was not as immune to flattery as she once thought.
“If you think that’s impressive,” she teased voice gone smokey and dripping with her true Krownest accent, “You should try playing cu’bikad with me.” It took effort to look up at him through her lashes but she accomplished her mission. “I’m can be an unholy terror.”
Brows quirked in interest at her offer before he flashed a devilish smile. Ka’ra she hoped he was picking up exactly what was being offered to him. Forget propriety or the Code or anything else standing within her way at getting exactly what she wanted. A governor was hers for the taking and she would lay her claim with pride. Her changed mission objective was to prevent him from befalling any harm from Kyr’tsad. Nothing was ever mentioned about her leaving marks while guarding him. Even if this did come to light she had several planned hand waves for why investigating him so thoroughly was important.
“I would love to see your mind in action.” Pre left his empty glass on the desk as he stood up to tower over her yet again. “I’m certain we’ve got time for a round or two. But, I do warn you, it has been a while since I’ve played. I may be rusty."
“Of course.” She drained what little of the clear liquor rested in the bottom of the glass. A final hint of courage as much as to avoid waste. A fanged smiled played across her fuchsia lips, “Would you like me to take the lead?”
He moved into her space under the guise of helping her stand up. A bare hand politely extended to touch only the leatheris covered parts of her hand. Just as quickly it retracted but his body heat lingered. It even stirred traces of his expensive cologne lingering on his clothing. Maybe a hint of aftershave as well. Stars the Governor played her games too well.
“That won’t be necessary, Vetra.” For he withdrew entirely from her personal space. Had she possessed any less of self-control she would have whined, something low and primal, at such actions. She wanted him next to her for the taking. This was the closest she had gotten to anything exciting in far too long.
“Then lead the way, Sir,” she quipped in a play to regain control. He would not beat her at her own game. Her pride was on the line as much as her need to establish just who called the shots.
Pre’s hand reappeared between her shoulder blades making time slow down. It felt strong even if the touch was light but the heat burned and cracked across her body. He was curiously warm, even by a human's standard. Sparks raced up and down her spine as if lightning dove out from the single point of contact.
They took a step forward together while the unknown kyber crystal sang again. A low melody seeking her out through the Force. But, it could wait until later. Right now, she had a game moving into the final round and she would win.
Characters: I have some ideas tentatively nailed down but the inspiration should be apparent.
Rating: Gonna keep it as a T.
Summary: This is was mostly me indulging myself with unexpected sort of angst, sort of not kissing. It’s set in the Star Wars Verse circa 9 BBY, on someone’s ship.
Notes: Later on this may or may not be canon for my ideas. But, I just had to write it regardless. Also, I’ve stared at it far too long and rewrote in a different font each time. I think I caught everything but probably did not.
Much better companion piece to this fic.
“You were my first crush.”
Her ears perked up to decode the words leaving his mouth. In terms of Empire Days this was her most sober one in nine years. Even if she had helped drain a bottle of rotgut it was better than before. There was only a strong buzz instead of being wasted. No type of spice coursed through her system to blot out memories or fuel another bender. Someone’s blood was not drying on knuckles while she shoved her tongue down another stranger’s throat for a victory kiss to ride the high. Instead, she spent the entire day with someone she loved from her past; a spectre that came back to her.
“I thought it might have been idolizing you. But, now I know it was a crush.”
Good news was her ears still worked. He was confessing to a past crush on her brought on by...something. She had spaced out for a bit earlier when the ship made a jump to hyperspace. The tell-tale rumble had her mentally reviewing where they were heading to next. Bad news was her Empathy was also functioning to full capacity. So, she knew he was not feeling bashful but was uncertain about the surprise. Even with the prickling edges he still felt warm...safe even. It was a word that had fallen out of her vocabulary in the last decade. Nothing was safe anymore for people like them. But, here she was sitting next to someone and feeling it again for the second time in forever.
“Really?” her voice almost squeaked out when her mind remembered she had to say something.. Making it sound neutral took a lot of focus...focus was good right now. She needed to focus on him. Yet, her long ears tipped downward while her face blushed. A past crush was in the past but her stomach still fluttered. Someone had liked her then?
“Yeah.” The durasteel bottle was still in his hands. It gave him the excuse to drink while she tried to get the words moving. “I figured you already knew. Nothing ever escaped your notice.”
Seconds after he lowered the bottle she had her hands on it. His idea of drinking to buy time was a fantastic idea. Even better when she was able to use the first drink to steel her nerves. The warmth of his hand felt nothing like his scorching admiration echoing in her mind now. It left her body still but antsy. The second burn of bitter engine brew helped to give her some focus. Otherwise, she would turn into a babbling, directionless mess of words. Saying things the right way was supposed to be her strong suit. Drink three was making it look like a good idea to just down the whole thing. Physically, she had to stay put on the ship so full body running away was out. Try real hard to get blitzed to avoid confronting her feelings was still on the table.
His uncertainty crashed into her like a solid wall. “You did know that right?” Fuck she had been quiet for too long.
Sharp canines bit into her bottom lip while she thought back. Back then he did feel different sometimes. “A little.” Her voice brushed just above a whisper while she peaked at him from the corner of her eye. Reading him right now was wrong so it would be just body language as her cues. “I tried not to pry into your mind too deeply into your mind. Enhanced Empathy or not it would be rude.”
Thinking back harder did put a few, smaller interactions into perspective. All the rumors of Zeltrons, or part in her case, being unerring mood readers was false. Even with her empathy enhanced by the Force she was still unable to pick apart minute shifts in moods in everyone. It took being truly close to someone and a lot of focus to really dissect things especially with sentients. Trying to tune out the excess information made her blind in a sense. A bitter part of her mind snarked she preferred being blind to avoid knowing just how much of a disappointment she was to others.
“Sorry for making things awkward.” Pulling her mind back to the here and now she worked to focus again. His hand had to brush hers to the bottle back. She hyperfocused on the little scars crisscrossed his knuckles from past fights. They were not that unlike in that regard. “I don’t know what came over me.”
Stretching for a moment she resettled with her right leg tucked up beneath her. “No reason to be sorry then or now. You weren’t obnoxious about it.” Reaching up she poked the tip of his nose. Before it had been simple but now she stood a full head beneath him. She usually settled for poking his chest. “Not like I haven’t made a fool of myself enough times.”
Gorgeous eyes lit up. “You, a fool?” He was teasing her; he had to be. They both knew the kind of mess she was at nineteen. “Everyone was in awe of you. I wasn’t alone in idolizing you.”
The repetition of caught her attention. He wanted her to know the praise was for her. That there was no joke for her to be locked out of. This idea of people idolizing her was something he truly believed.
Her bitter peal of laughter took her by surprise but was not unwarranted. “Awe is the wrong word to use.” Hands getting antsy she began to pick at the hem of her shirt. Quick tugs against loose threads to divert the energy in her somewhere else. Otherwise, she would resort to bouncing her dangling heel off the plastoid crate or worse finally bolt from the room. Running away seemed to be all she was good at. “Tolerated or indulged would be better words. I was non-traditional in many eyes and that ruffled feathers. Even the younglings picked up on that.”
Uniformity was not something she had excelled at except for the best days. What the asked of her before the War felt impossible. Her Giftedness was what got her promoted; it and the work she put in to hone them. A Master Jedi and his Padawan saved her because she was Gifted. The Jedi brought her into their outer folds because she was Gifted. And she supposed being cursed to survive came from the same thing. Without having her Giftedness to offer she would have been left on her birth planet.
“Bantha shit. You were one of the kindest, bravest people anyone knew.” Those words rose over her while she was in a daze. His calloused hand took her to stop the movements. “Hell, you’re still all of those things and more. Stop talking about yourself like that.”
Silence weighed them down for several long moments. Her mind tried to deconstruct what he had said to her. To worry it down until she was left as Nothing again. Instead, his conviction overrode those feelings. Snaking tendrils of self-doubt found no way to hide in her mind because he illuminated everything within the Force and herself.
Chancing a look up she felt this was the first time she was truly seeing him. The hazy memories of their briefly shared past was gone except for those inquisitive teal eyes. She hoped those would never change. Instead of sitting before her as an eager to learn teenager (asking questions to a recently knighted older teenager) he was entirely a man. A fellow survivor of everything life, the Empire, and the Force had thrown at them yet. A continued survivor if she had to wager on it and oh how she would. He could survive anything if he could survive that.
It had to be the booze that put some of the color high in his tanned cheeks. A bursting red-pink like the end of a ripened meiloorun. Something to tantalizing and begging to be touched...too be tasted. Right or wrong she wanted to kiss him more than anything in that moment.
Maybe he felt the same? Something in the room felt the same.
“Then kiss me.” There was a tremor in her voice. Kissing her would be taking a leap they could never come back from. The past would firmly be left behind at that point. She would no longer be a surrogate teacher of the same lineage. He would still be her lineage brother but never a true brother. Neither of them had ever really been the same since the past. A decade could, and did, change everything. This could be a change they needed to make too.
He hesitated with widened eyes so she found her voice again. “If you want to kiss me then kiss me.” Each word of her voice grew stronger. Yet, it faded at the next whispered confession. Something that had been weighing on her mind for months and appearing in her dreams. “Right now...I want to kiss you too.”
Seconds ticked by before her pressed a quick kiss to her lips. Unsure of how far he should go he tried to pull back. Fisting her hand into his well-worn green sweater she drug him back down to kiss her. If they were going to cross this line they would properly cross their line. No chaste, second long kisses like blushing Padawans in the throes of their first mutual infatuation.
His full lips were blazing against her own. Nipping at him drew a low whine from deep within his throat. Taking it as encouragement she tried again. Another quick catch of her teeth and one more for good measure. More than anything she wanted to hear more sounds of pleasure from him. To touch and taste and feel alive in that moment. Every thought could be burned from her mind by this inferno of a person. All she had to do was stoke the fire.
Running out of air she had to regrettably pull away from him. His chest was heaving not unlike her own. He looked at her with an almost unreadable expression. Had she scared him off? Was two kisses enough to sate whatever desire he had leftover from the past? Ears twitching in anticipation for what would happen next she looked at him.
In place a verbal response he reached out to tenderly touch her. Fingers trailed from her flushed cheek, ghosted past her sensitive ear lobe, and stopped only when he could properly cradle her head. The touch and look in his eyes felt far more intimate that she could have ever imagined. He had heard about her flaws and missteps in the past but that had been swapping war stories. This? This was something more. It was him holding her like she was so much more than a scarred storm of a person just surviving.
Taking the tender action as permission enough she dove to kiss him again. He bit her and intentional or not it drew a growl from her. Something that rumbled up from deep within her wanting more. Rushing to untangle her uncooperative legs she almost fell over. He caught her with one hand spanning her waist. Steadied she held onto him before get trying to move again. A quick pivot on her knee had her straddling his lap. Taking charge was crossing into unfamiliar terrain but she would take it.
The impulse to take his hair down flitted across her mind before immediately being indulged. Sluggish fingers tried to get the stupid band to do actually move more than a millimeter. Two halfhearted failures later she just broke the damn thing. It could be replaced. All that matter in the here and now was the halo of dark brown hair. Even more than that was the perfect leverage it gave her to pull them flush together.
Not the only one to give into impulse he laid backward against the crate with a dull thud. Only luck had her fingers free fast enough to catch herself. Hands bracketing his head she glanced down at him. Her mouth wanted to say something, anything really, in that moment while staring down at him. Kiss swollen lips, eyes dark with pleasure, and mussed up hair stole her breath. Unwilling to trust her words she instead inched down his body to planet kisses along his jaw and neck.
Mouth busy and brain foggy she failed several times to get the buckle of his armor undone. The constant distraction of stubble rubbing against her skin just so sent glorious fissures of pleasure-pain up her spine. Seeing her problem he tried to help but she stopped him cold. Fingers interlaced, she pinned his hand above his head with her free one. What was going on was her show to run. Even if she had to misuse the Force to do it the metal would give way.
Even distracted by her sudden quest she made was aware of his free hand trailing down her spine. A steady, even pressure drug her shirt downward. She fully expected him to grab a handful of her ass; if he was cheek enough to slap it. After all, she had a very nice ass. Instead, he took her by surprise to hook it just beneath it and haul her upward for another kiss.
Buckle forgotten she melted against him. The double feedback of pleasure was breathtaking. Something about feeling passion with a fell Force User always added a surreal element. But, what was between them was something more. It was felt like two stars trying to merge to form something new or go supernova. She was prepared to burn alive with him if it meant she could keep feeling this.
Characters: Unnamed New Guy, Solus Vetra, Pre Vizsla, Akaan Kast
Summary: A new guy gives a first person run down of the wildest day in his blossoming Kyr’tsad career. Solus shows off what makes her a total badass. Assume they’re operating within an American HQ.
Notes: This was inspired by the introduction scene of Natasha in Iron Man 2. You know the one. There’s a lampshade for it.
Being the New Guy always sucked. If there is someone to be blamed for something going wrong it will be you. Food and coffee runs also became your job without your approval. The really sadistic bastards made up things for you to find on wild snipe hunts to supposedly find. No one cared if you have known each other half your damned lives (looking at you, Conner, who has shared my room for ever family thing since birth) because you are Fresh Meat. If leaving out key information could result in something funny they just had to do it. Because all that matters in the end is there’s a new di’kut around HQ to be tormented until the next batch arrives.
Take for example, no one telling me that Vizsla’s personal assistant was one of those vode. Basic warnings were given (because they’re all shebs but they’re not intentionally malicious shebs) about how things ran. Careful with the loud noises if her name is highlighted red on our intra-communication network, don’t mind the black Husky in the service vest (his name is Sen and they openly argue with each other), and the sweet black and silver Cadillac CTS V in the parking lot is hers. It was to be given a wide berth and never, ever startle her when she’s getting in or out. Things can (and do) go sideways with sparks.
Getting to their sheb quality was no one ever braced me for what she looks like. See, Solus Vetra is one of those bathed-in-the-blood-of-the-Ka’ra, born-in-a-fiery-burst-reeking-of-Mandokarla, my-loyalty-is-only-to-the-true-Manda’lor names. Anyone who knows their history knows Aliit Vetra was one of those old school families; as in ancient old school. The kind that is (still) dripping money, are very proud of being Mandalorian, and who have the past to make Renaissance Borgia look tame and never got caught doing any of it. So, this petite, smoking hot, white haired, Asian chick was not who I pegged for Solus Vetra. (In fact, I found out my pick for Solus Vetra out of seeing the Higher Ups was actually Bo-Katan Kryze...a different level of Traditionalist asskicker but not the PA) Every single time I had seen Vetra she was dressed to the nines, wearing labels even I know mean Wealth, and darting around with her face buried in a tablet and wearing this tweaked Google Glass display. Basically, I would have bought her as one of the Duchess’ people before Vizsla’s...well ever. There was too much Silicon Valley Tech Start Up in her look.
Assuming makes an ass out of you and me as the saying went.
Near a month into my tenure with the company was when the Day of Reckoning all went down. In the span of three hours she went from Pepper Potts with her unruly boss and love of art to Natasha Romanoff with everything you would expect of the world’s best spy. (Seriously, I want to know if we have a Black Widow Program and if that’s where we found her. Because she is scary.) First, came The Argument with the Boss that would have made a lesser man piss himself. Few hours later, she popped up in the gym sparking The Beat Down to her vocal heckler. It cemented her as Certified Badass in my mind and shot her to the top of my “Never Ever Fuck With” List.
The Argument was held in an adjacent meeting room to the fourth floor supply closet at 10:23 AM. I was down there looking for this weirdly specific ink cartridge for our satanic printer when this feeling of doom washed over me. I swear the room dropped ten degrees while clicking suddenly picked up. It was like gearing up for a boss fight in the wrong area of a video game. You just knew shit was about to go down and it was not going to go in your favor at all. Instead of some kind of insectoid monster making the noise it was the rapid fire click of $1200 USD, real python pumps (I got curious enough to Google how much her red soled kicks cost and the answer is more than my rent) beating down on the tile floor with a Purpose.
I have to say a Smart Man would have waited for the danger to pass and ran away. This is where I say I am not a smart man. Di’kut is the right title for me because I stayed to eavesdrop...and maybe a little (a lot) of stunned silence freezing me into place. See, she cornered ‘Alor in the recently emptied meeting room with this chilled civility. I heard the door close with this crisp professionalism (how is that even possible?) before she started reaming him.
It turned out Vetra was a Smart Person because she had a lot of languages to yell in. I lost track of the clearly individual ones after the five mark. Whatever he did (I speak English and Mando’a with some passable Spanish to her rapid fire Everything) it had to have been bad if she was suicidal enough for this. Everyone, and I mean everyone, knows Vizsla can be a giant kad when he feels like and he always feels like it. When he started yelling back I had the kneejerk reaction to go help her. Again, Vetra is Small and I am a Dumbass. Before I could move, her voice shot up a couple more decibels in the angriest (and I had Dred Priest overseeing part of my training) Mando’a to have ever been uttered. Then it was drop a pin and hear it echo for eternity silent.
Conner sent three texts while I was holding my post (and my breath) behind several stacks of xerox paper. Just to keep him from blowing my cover I shot back it was taking a while to dig around and he left me alone. It was a good thing because without their yelling-and with my luck-I would have gotten busted. Until this, I would have picked getting busted by Vetra...every time really. I knew what she looked like smiling in a good mood without someone dying. A’lor only smiled when things were going to shit for someone else. Now...now it was way harder. Since she had the gett’se to get in the Manda’lor’s face and live. But, he was not only a giant kad but one who could survive her wrath. I had no winning options except to hope for a mercy kill from a heart attack or something.
My internal strife stopped when I heard them pass by the closet door and they were...laughing? What in the hell had I missed falling down that rabbit hole? Twenty minutes ago she threatened to cut his gett’se off and parade them around with the stick he kept up his ass. Now, they were friends? What kind of fucking magic did he just pull? Could I learn it? Holy Shit. Pre Vizsla knew how to laugh? Without murder and chaos raining down around him? What kind of magic did she have?
Keeping it on the safe side I waited another ten minutes to return to my desk.
Witnessing The Beat Down was one of the best things to happen in my twenty years of living. Seriously, it came straight out of a movie it was so unbelievably awe-inspiring to see. Angels sang, the lights of the heavens shined down, and I watched the best ass kicking to have ever went down this year and possibly ever. A little digging around and the offer of enough uj cake even got me a full on video of the event. It makes the bad days better in twenty-five seconds.
Everything kicked off when I stopped by our gym when my shift ended at one. The shellshock from overhearing The Argument kept my head shoved pretty firmly up my ass. (I mean, that had to go down in some kind of history right? PA owns Manda’lor with words alone. It was going down in my history.) Conner picked up on something being off enough to leave my ink cartridgeless ass alone. I think he assumed I walked in something I shouldn’t see. Namely that nympho from Recruitment climbing some of the ground team guys...again. Why in the hell he was into men who could pass for hockey goalies, missing teeth and all, I would never know...fucking Canadian.
Somewhere between changing into workout gear and returning to the main room Vetra had shown up. Okay. I mean, I guess anyone could work out here and she was a Vetra? I had to assume she had at least basic self defense training. That had always been a huge part of the Mando Culture, especially with the Traditionalists. On second glance, I saw she was still in her outfit of the day. She even had her tablet with the intention of getting Kast to sign something. That made way more sense. Yeah, she would square off verbally with her boss but this would not be a verbal battle. Knowing how to defend herself was important; throwing the ground forces around moved away from that. It went more into the, “This is going to horribly wrong. Why are you brushing up the Basics with them?” because they could break her.
Remember, how I said I’m a dumbass and not to make assumptions? This is a good time to remember that I am one because I made the same mistake twice.
But, so was Akaan Kast.
See, Akaan Kast was a cycle ahead of me in training with a reputation for being both a bully and a show off. He thought because he was directly assigned to a company in HQ he was a Big Deal. “Kasts are always around the most powerful," he liked to brag, “Because we are the most powerful and recognize our own.” However, that did not get him an invitation into the Nite Owls or the A’lor’s personal company. Both ate him alive even if he refused to acknowledge it. (If I toasted the gods for that good fortune a few different nights no one had to know.) He also had this Thing for trying to impress Traditionalist girls. (Don’t ask me what it was because I tuned it out every time he tried to pontificate on the subject.) Plus, Priest liked the guy and that is all anyone needs to know.
Point was Kast was being up to his usual antics and Vetra was taking None of It. Everything in her body language screamed “Predator ready to maul a man’s face off” masked behind this stone cold smile. Picturing her with pinned back ears and bared fangs looked too right. All she wanted was him to sign something on her tablet but he was being Difficult. The last man who made her life Difficult was chewed up and spit out with words alone. This was going to be funny as hell to witness.
“Kast, sign,” she huffed while jabbing the tablet into his chest. “Then we both can get back to our jobs.”
“You can call me Akaan and I’ll call you Solus,” he started off in complete ignorance. Except not. He clearly knew he was riling her up. “What if we trade instead? You get a true combat lesson then I’ll sign.”
“Kast, do you damn job. Sign now. That’s an order.”
“Can you really give orders as a personal assistant? Thought you job was to fetch coffee and answer phones.”
All eyes were sneaking glances at them by this point but no one was stepping in. I was a little confused. Some of these people had to have been around when Vetra first come through. Some of them even looked amused at her being hassled. I knew Kyr’tsad had a Reputation but I thought taking care of their own was part of it. Letting Kast be a kad to their own wasn’t taking care of her.
“If I’m echoing an order of the Manda’lor I can.”
“Just a fifteen minute lesson? It's been a while since you've been out in the field. Wanna make sure you can keep that pretty little head on.” I gagged at this point. How disgusting could someone be? How could he thing this was even going to work in his favor? Was she supposed to be impressed with his only okay muscles and terrible (Ba’buir would call it Americanized) attitude? Did he really think insults would work?
“Fine.”
Anyone who has ever met another human being knows fine is past “Fuck You” on the Scale of Responses. But, Kast looked pleased with himself while Vetra pointedly left most of her belongings on a bench. Which was a lot of belonging to just be moving around the office. Tablet, Goggle Glass, ear piece, earrings, watch, bracelet, shoes, cell phone, suit jacket, and top shirt? I guess if I paid that much (I had no idea the real price but I could only imagine) for a button up I would avoid getting it dirty too. Course I’d never pay who knows how much for a shirt no matter how soft it was.
I edged closer to their makeshift ring to see what was going down. Fantastic choice on my part. See, Kast made some off-handed comment about the cutesy tattoo he could see through her undershirt. He asked what it was prompting her to offer a clear view; a colorful Barn Owl nestled on her hip. Here, Barn Owls had a special meaning because they were only for the Nite Owls. The Nite Owls, being Kryze’s personal team of unmatched Spec Ops ghosts who could probably destabilize an entire first world country over night or something ridiculous. So, Huge Deal.
I put several fragments of thoughts together all at once; Kast did not. He asked why she had that Mark of Honor. Made some vague comment about why it was important “just a personal assistant” could not just wear it around. As the cherry on top he even tried to lecture her on the rules and demanded it be removed. I could detect the jealousy in his voice. He wanted one of those tattoos and would never get one.
Have you ever seen a six foot, three inch wall of could have been Alabama linebacker get his ass handed to him by about five feet and some change of definitely could be a model? I just did. It. Was. Awesome.
Before he could finish his spiel she had him on the ground. Not with dirty shots, simple but effective basics, or even an unexpectedly lucky flail. Hell no. It was like watching absolute poetry in motion. A twist of the hand in front of her face, launching her body up and over his arm to flip him forward, with his neck trapped between her thighs and his arm pinned. That held down hand looked like it was really hurting with the way she had it twisted. Everything Solus Vetra did in that moment was built to show the fuck off. When I said Natasha Romanoff I meant it.
He tapped out and she waited a few seconds longer before releasing him to gracefully rise. “Your lesson got my suit dirty. I’ll have payroll deduct the dry cleaning costs from your next check. Providing there is one of course.” In a flash she popped back up while he remained sprawled in an undignified heap. Hands on her hips, red lips pulled into a feral smile she looked down at him, “I’m the Alii'alor of Vetra and a Nite Owl within Kyr’tsad. I earned my colors and you have earned nothing. You challenged both my honor and my authority. Good luck explaining that one to A’lor.”
I have no idea if I am in love or if I am going to be scared for my life from here on out...maybe both...definitely both. At least, Kyr’tsad is fun to work for if it is a hot mess.
Notes: This is pure fluff okay? No angst, no sadness just utter fluff between two 18ish year old Mandos during the True Mandalorians glory days. Featuring the affectionate use of the nickname pip-squeak and playful protesting.
Summary: Jai and Harti share sweet early morning kisses.
Characters: Jai Vetra, Harti Wren
“Early,” Harti slurred against his neck, eyes still shut. Warm breath ghosted over sensitive skin to send shivers cascading down his spine. The rest of the words were lost to half-voiced sounds that lead into noiseless motions before stopping.
Jai stifled a yawn in the darkened room with no true effort made to move. Ship time was a fickle thing for his internal clock. Even with clearly defined day and night cycles things never settled in. Something stayed off leading to his dependency on a chrono. Harti, the impressive ass, slipped into the time change as if were a fighter. All svelte movements that never broke stride with the poise of someone born for it. He never arrived to a briefing two hours late without a good reason.
“I’ve got work,” he mumbled while wiggling around. His beloved had him trapped with a durasteel strong arm slung over his waist and a knee pressed to his thigh. Even the head resting on his shoulder served to hold him down.“Let me up.”
Chapped lips pressed forward to brush against his pulse point. “Rest,” tumbled out in poor intimation of a command. Another kiss landed centimeters above the last, half on his jawline and half to thin air.
The warmth of their bunk beat the cold of recycled air every time. Yet, he should get up. New reports would be waiting in his inboxes. Each one, no matter how banal, would need to be analyzed, sorted, and then passed off to the appropriate people. Rook and her scouting party may have even returned. Anything they had to deliver would be of utmost importance to both Jaster and himself.
Wrapping his hand around the wrist pinning his waist Jai tried to free himself. “I’m not spend the day cycle in bed.” In response, calloused fingers interlaced with his own to take a hostage. “Vaar’ika, no.”
A lazy smile was pressed into his shoulder. Next, “Please,” ghosted over his skin in that sleep rough tone. It was like listening to smoky honey drip from the spoon. “Please stay.” Harti fought dirty, like the pilot he was, and soundly won.
Jai huffed in resignation while settling back into the blankets. Work could wait until later on. Any truly important report would have came in with a shrieking alarm to his datapad. Or, someone pounding on their door, shouting increasingly angry things, until he answered. Rook having returned was included in reasons to disturb him. It had been highlighted in the most blinding yellow he could find. Part of her mission had been constructed on his intel leaving him curious. Yet, no one would really miss him for a few more hours on his day off.
“You’re impossible,” he growled out while turning over to rest flush against his lover. Their shared warmth renewed how drowsy he felt. “And you cheat.”
Head tilting down, the white haired man had every intention of pressing a chaste kiss to Harti’s forehead. It was supposed to land right at the beginning of the scar bisecting his face. Instead, the other dipped his head backward to press their lips together. Several minutes passed in a hazy of exchanges of warm kisses. Neither aimed to push things further instead enjoying each other’s presence. Spending nights then morning together were a rare luxury.
“Sleep,” the black haired sighed against his lips after the final break. “Come back to sleep.”
“So pushy,” he muttered before pressing a final kiss to crown of Harti’s head.
Summary: A brief rambling covering my Trash Fire Trio, and former friend Kamelia’s, views of beauty. Each character was written in my mind as being attractive but they each have different views of the word and concept. This was really fun to explore because it relates to them.
Characters: Lumi Kirrin, Solus Vetra, Jazari Naaji, Kamelia Malo
Rating: General
Notes: None really. Just enjoy!
Out of everyone Lumi loathes the word “beautiful” and the concept of beauty the most. As a child, it was annoying to hear but now it is almost a slur. Beautiful is a gilded cage in her mind. For millenniums it was used to enslave her people. Twi’lek became synonymous with chained slaves, bejeweled dancers, and seductive grifters all because of perceived physical beauty. Beauty is erasure in her mind. It is being striped from a multi-faceted being to pure genetic chance. Accepting the word means accepting a loss of self. No long is she a talented Jedi or smart strategist or gifted; instead she is just beautiful. Every accomplishment, every taken chance, even every flaw falls wayside to fragile flesh. Calling her beautiful on first meeting, or ever really, is the quickest way to never gain her truest respect.
Solus dove into the word “beautiful” and concept of beauty to weaponize them. Too many people are easily disarmed by well-timed compliments to their vanity. It flusters some to hear “beautiful” volleyed at them from a being they think embodies beautiful. So, she drops the word from her lips like an active grenade. Smothers them in everything they want to hear while she makes off like a thief. "Beautiful" is letting people map their expectations into her skin. Waif-like, petite, angelic, and a thousand other loaded, dismissive words. All the while she knows she subverts their ideas. True beauty is taking some abstract concept to wage a silent war and winning. Beauty is knowing her value will always lie in more than looks. So, she lets others call her as they will because she learned the truth early on: beauty is never in only flesh.
Jazari misuses the word beautiful by the standards of the general populace. Concepts are beautiful. Kindness and understanding are beautiful. Intelligence is beautiful. Machines are beautiful. But, people are only people. Some are arranged in more appealing figures than others; even then, only at first glance. What someone carries inside their souls matters more than the crude matter encasing it. Beauty is a concept that can only start from within. From there it unfurls outward for others to see. The truly beautiful uplift others as the blossom and grow skyward. For this, she is one of the privileged people allowed to call Lumi beautiful without repercussion. Because to be termed a beautiful person from her perspective is a true compliment.
Kamelia holds a contemptuous double standard for beauty. Outwardly, she proclaims all things are beautiful, particularly those that are good. Beautiful is her favorite compliment to give and receive. Once she went as far as to proclaim normalizing the word will make beauty standards meaningless. Inwardly, appearance is the first thing she attacks when crossed. Beautiful becomes the word she rips away from others as if it is pedestal. She hates that she chases the fleeting standards of conventional beauty as she does it. Her innermost longing is to be granted the title of beautiful like those around her. No matter how ugly they are inside people favor pretty shells above all else. After all, intelligence may not have a shelf life but beauty opens infinitely more doors. Beautiful is a hollow word from her in danger of crumbling.
Notes: So, started as an over-caffeinated tangent like three days ago. The entire premise is Solus got hit with a hot mic during what becomes the most extra 15 minutes of her life.
Characters: Solus Vetra, Erkan Vel, Ementior Vera
Rating: T
Chapter: 1/?
Genre: A kind of dark humor? Maybe some angst?
Summary: Solus has colorful things to say about the Senate. Very colorful things.
Covertly filming a corner booth was difficult but Ementior Vera was crafty. This would be his big break. He could feel in resonating down to the bottom of his self-admittedly shallow soul. A friendly conversation between two random Jedi was nothing. It was like eavesdropping on senate janitorial workers. But, this duo held a Jedi he knew. She was not a household name like Skywalker nor even on par with Kenobi or Windu. Yet, he remembered her enough to recognize this gilded opportunity. When he was finished Vetra would outshine his new bank account.
-
Roll film.
“Three pints of that piss tasting ale says you aren’t fine,” the Kiffar chastised before drawing up his wine glass for a sip. His tanned face wrinkled in displeasure at the taste. “Just lay everything out now. It’ll make it easier on me and your liver. As your friend I know it needs a break.”
The recorder lingered on him long enough to get a few good angles for later identification. A strong profile with emphasis on the three black stripes running down his cheek. Luck granted him a full frontal view showing the tattoos were mirrored to the other side. The Unknown also had a slightly crooked nose and noticeably lacked a braid but had a lightsaber. At least a Jedi Knight, going off his apparent youth. A thick mane of black hair cascaded around his broad shoulders and well-muscled, bare biceps beneath his tunic. If it stuck with him a little longer future viewers would be okay. No one complained about quality eye candy.
“Well, I say I’m fine,” Vetra snapped back. A silver switchblade rolled effortlessly between her fingers; blade extended. “My liver is doing well. It had the entirety of Sundari to recover.”
Ementior shifted his sole focus to her where it would stay. Jedi were supposed to be blank more often than not. The masses had heard about their phobia of emotions and knew they wore humble robes. Yet, she leaned heavily in the opposite direction. Easily read annoyance was painted across her snow face. A common thug’s blade rolled hypnotically between her fingers while she drank ale in a seedy bar. One seedy enough to not frown at a patron openly displaying a weapon. Even the rich navy of her close cut tunic and black leatheris accents failed to scream Jedi, or even Baby Jedi. Only that braid gave her way.
The man forced more wine down but looked on determined at his companion. “Then, at least tell me why you have this one,” he gestured to her knife with a nearly empty glass. “It’s not your usual fare. A gift then?”
“Because you never know when you’ll have to gut your enemy and let the dire-cats eat ‘em alive.” No part of her voice raised before she smiled at the end. Something razor sharp with prominent fangs. Predatory really. “Not at all.”
“Was that a bedtime story for a four year old?” came out in a complete deadpan. “Sure it-”
Vetra cut him off, “Three and it doubled as a history lesson.” Something wistful wove across her face in place of the previous emotion. “It was part of a reminder really. That even a terrible threat, who thought himself above all, was nothing but mortal in the end. He died well.”
A snort of laughter served as the Kiffar’s answer.
For a second the holorecorder slipped out of focus as he straightened up. Ementior felt his balls attempt to retreat into his body at the exchange. The Kiffar was still a no name but she was a new layer dangerous. Beyond the Jedi training and ruckus attached to her martial skills lurked something more. A whole lot of something that had a hand in training her. Spying may end up being a terrible idea after all. No story was worth dying to get.
The knife twirling stopped as a waitress passed. “Another ale, please?” she asked sounding courteous with a softer smile.
“Just bring me the bottle of wine,” her companion said resigned to his fate. “I might as well finish it. Save some poor sap from having to buy it later.” He got a laugh from the waitress.
Several moments of silent footage passed. Already he debated if it should be edited out or left. Vetra did paint a pretty picture sinking into her seat. One long leg kicked out drawing attention from wedge heeled boot trailing into something black and skin tight before disappearing beneath her tunic. The posture even caught a hint of lightsaber clipped to her belt. He would keep it as a reminder of exactly who she was.
“We could use that kind of reminder right about now.” Her absentminded twirling of the blade restarted while her attention focused on the ale.
“Dealing with the big shots that bad today?”
A snort of laughter came from her. "I would've rather read my personal comms to Yoda.”
It was her friend’s turn to laugh. "Even the steamy ones with your captain?"
"Yes, even the steamy ones with the attached pictures.” A beat passed. “There are no steamy ones with my captain. Who is not my captain despite your insistence. Jabiim was a temporary assignment.”
“But you kept in contact?” A smile spread across his face. “Sounds like something to me.”
“Anything is something to you.”
Things took a shift back to petty, boring gossip. While it was less of a danger to his personal well-being it did nothing for his career. She was sleeping around. The Kiffar looked like he knew a thing or two about sleeping around. It was something they shared with three-quarters of the Senate. But, that failed to him any real credit. What he need was something with more substance about a breech of the chain of command and broken chastity.
“What actually happened?” More red wine was poured into his empty glass. It rose higher than a typical pour in anticipation.
“The Senate are nothing but hut’uun.” There was a pause followed by a bitter peal of laughter. The word mention something to her. “They really are just a bunch of karking Hutts with more palpable looks when you stop and think about it. The same cowardice and greed runs throughout. Every damn one of ‘em is lying when they say they care more than their pockets. If they cared, they’d really do something.
Three sips of wine passed. “Military spending?”
“Among other things. The whole bunch is so withdrawn from this war they’re making us fight. Instead of trying to solve the underlying problems it stays on the surface. I’ve seen better self-reflection from Almec and I know that one was a lie.” Half of her ale was downed in one gulp. “Meanwhile, I’m on the front lines watching my troops die at ever turn. They keep telling me to make do with what I have. I’m Force Sensitive and resourceful but not fucking magic. At this rate, we’re gonna end up beating the droids into submission with our bare hands. While someone bitches about us needing more bacta.”
This was a line of thought he prayed they would follow. A Jedi, of known name, railing against the Senate could get him something. From the looks of it she was only just winding up too.
A deep sighed proceeded, “I don’t want to ask but I do. How out of touch are we talking?”
The blade spun faster through her fingers into a silvered blur. “Overall, they don’t know their asses from their elbows. The more specific examples could not be cleansed by fire.” Her countenance went dark. “I overheard a conversation that boiled down to wanting to know why the Kaminoians charged so much for replacement parts. Since whatever they were producing was defective if it died so easily.”
Tanned knuckles whitened around wine glass. Everything in his posture shifted into a defensive mode. “I’m sorry.”
“Parts,” the rest of her ale was gone in a flash. The glass clattered onto the scarred table top. “Not soldiers, not troops, not even clones. Just parts. Pieces in a machine to be replaced.” A snarl crossed her face, “Meat droids as far as they’re concerned.”
Ementior consciously had to stop himself from vibrating in excitement. It would never make into onto film but there was something in the air. A dark tension that clanged like credit pieces in his mind. Whatever rant he anticipated was nothing compared to what he had. Every side would have something to say.
“Those are men. Living, breathing men who never got a damned choice to fight in this war.” A note of fury worked into her voice while long ears pinned back. “Even with our brevetted ranks we still got a choice. It was leave the only home you’ve ever known or fight but it was a choice. They did not.” More mauve flooded her face growing nearly red in unbridled anger. “The Grand Army of the Republic is fundamentally built on the backs of slaves and no one gives damn. But, everyone pro-Republic is fine with it because it’s not their people dying. But, I care because it’s mine.”
The knife twirling stopped when it was stabbed into the table top. “They’re a slave army of Mandalorian blood and I care. Because we’ve never meant a damn thing to any of these people unless we’re their attack dogs. Order included.”
Mandalorian. They were Mandalorian. She was Mandalorian! She called them a slave army with the venom behind every word to mean it. Seven hells she went after the Jedi Order too. This was not gold. No this was an untapped spice mine of career starting potential.
