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She usually observed silently as Lord Honos worked, or at least she tried not to distract him too much. But she'd step behind him, wrap her arms around his waist, lean her head on his shoulder, all the while he studied whatever the Eternal Empire was up to. And he'd place a hand on hers as he spoke with Theron and Lana, and he'd intertwine his fingers with hers.
tagging @oolathurman so xyraan sees this
Hello. My name is Lee, a genderfluid (they/them) mess of an individual, and this is my SWTOR blog, made lest this cursed game invade my thoughts eternal. I'm a jobless ecologist (have degree, but have disability too which makes work difficult) that likes writing, Star Wars, and reptiles.
Elisai Legacy if you happen to catch me in game.
**Apparently this is also a Dune/Feyd-Rautha stan blog now as well.
Here is my OC page!
YO RP BLOGS THAT GET FOLLOWED BY ME: here is my side blog dedicated to rping my idiots -- @valleyofgolg
My quick and very incomplete SWTOR Character list:
*note: Nearly everyone is located on Star Forge and available for RP either in game, via discord, or via tumblr!
Jarrok: 👀😍 💞🔥🧸 (I need to know how xyraan gets to tease him ok)
Agonia: 👙👂💘
Leika'le: 👃💌💐
Khi: 🚲🦴
Piping Hot OC Asks || @oolathurman
Jarrok:
👀 Does your OC believe they are attractive? Do they use that to their advantage?: Yes. Absolutely, yes. And, again, yes to the utmost; he has used his attractiveness to his advantage to manipulate. Well. Everyone he's ever needed to manipulate lmao. Not like an Agent-level of seduction prowess, but throwing out a subtle flirt or a well-timed smile if necessary to lower someone's guard. This was definitely more of an Academy days thing, though. Outlander Jarrok is admittedly too tired(TM) to bother, because if someone is already going to disagree with him, they can kriff off. He still has an ego though, because he is still very, very pretty.
😍 What does your OC find irresistible in others?: Confidence. The ability to speak one's mind and damn the consequences (very intriguing for this particular Sith Lord tbh). Someone taking charge is very attractive to him (unless it's taking away his charge lmao).
💞Do they treat sex casually or do they view it as something with a lot of emotional weight?: For the most part, he treats it very casually. Long term relationships weren't very common for him, especially when he was younger, but man-- when there is an emotional connection, he treats sex as something sacred... in his own personal way that probably wouldn't even be perceived by his lover.
🔥What’s a surefire way to make your OC get flustered?: I had to think about this omg. He likes lace, especially in all the right places. Being threatened. Whispering in his ear, light kisses behind the shell of the ear. Collarbone kisses. And, because he's a messed up Sith that needs therapy, a little bit of violence/prowess on the battlefield. Actually, that's not even just because of his... issues... but Jarrok is a duelist. He finds form and balance in fighting to be very attractive -- definitely a thing that drew him to Agonia in the verse where they're briefly together.
🧸 Into public displays of affection or are they more reserved?: He's neutral about it, tbh. I think it depends more on his partner's preference. That said, he'd never shy away from public hand holding, kissing, makeouts... or even things that border on public indecency.
Agonia:
👙What kind of underwear do they use? Is it pretty or functional?: Most functional. She has a lot of scars from her torture on Varadan and do to disobeying her master as an apprentice. While she is very sex-positive and a lover of FWBs, she rarely wears lingerie, because she thinks it'd be wasted on her scarred body. :(
👂Does your OC have an attractive voice?: I think so. I headcanon almost all of my OCs voices as something way different than SWTOR canon (except for Jarrok's because Mark Bazeley is a fiend). For Agonia, I've always heard her sounding a bit like Cecilie Stenspil's portrayal of Eivor (example here ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ) but a bit lower and raspier. She does have some vocal chord damage. The mask that she's almost always wearing distorts everything even more, of course.
💘Is your OC a very good flirt? Are they charming?: A good flirt? I'd give her a B+. Charming? Absolutely not. She tries, but her inability to connect with other emotionally makes this pretty tricky. There is a charm about her, but it's something that's really seen after spending some time with her. It's definitely not something that people remember her for lmao.
Leika'le:
👃Does your OC smell good? Do they have a signature scent?: This is weird and I have no idea why, but I've always thought that Lei would have a very light vanilla and sandalwood scent about her. So... yes?? Aside from times when she simply can't, she's showered and has a good hygiene regiment (especially when her hair is really long!). Fun fact: her shampoo of preference is Alderaanian flame-lily scented.
💌How would they plan a romantic evening for a significant other?: Lei is not good at planning. It's not because she doesn't care to or anything, she simply finds most of her ideas to be subpar and, well, just not good enough. So, instead of something extravagant, she'd plan something small and intimate, like a dinner and then a walk in nature/under the stars, or a night in watching bad holo-movies.
💐What is their courting style? How would they woo someone?: Lei's poke-type is chaotic lesbian, so her way of courting is: Sparring as a way to flirt! Smashing Corellian beer cans with her forehead before recycling! Fighting the guy that accidentally spilled a drink on her potential gf's clothing! Blurting out "you are so kriffing pretty!" at the most random and inopportune moments!
Khi:
🚲Does your OC enjoy playing the field? Or are they more monogamy-minded?: I'd say she's more monogamous. Khi isn't the jealous type and she probably could be involved with more than one person at a time (she has a lot of love to give) but... she's way too tired for that. One relationship is exhausting.
🦴Does your OC have much sexual experience? What are they like?: Not a lot of experience, no. Most of her time has been spent focused on work and survival, and honestly her libido isn't high. So, she's a bit shy in bed, certainly more submissive at this point in her life, but that could change.
Night on Odessen. It’s past 2200, whatever that means – Xyraan never really bothered to figure out military time. Outside his quarters she could hear the occasional soldier passing by, laughing with a comrade about something she couldn’t make out. She didn’t care, couldn’t, not when she had her forehead pressed against his chest, double hearts beating in her ears, her hands against his chest and his hands tangled in her hair.
It’s been a few days at most since she’d arrived, but time was harder to tell when she was surrounded by the walls of stone and no windows. You’d have thought that all that time on Dromund Kaas would make you an expert on how to tell what time of day it was without sunlight and stars filtering through the windows, but apparently not. It didn’t matter right now. This was all that mattered.
Lord Honos shifted underneath her, and she looked up at him. “I thought you fell asleep,” she smiled softly, poking his cheek.
“I’ve been asleep for five years, I don’t need more sleep,” he muttered.
“The dark circles under your eyes say otherwise, my lord.”
Lord Honos growled as he threw her onto her back, and she batted at him in playful protest. “Stop bullying me!” she kicked her feet and wiggled under his grasp uselessly. “You horrid man!”
“Five years. Five years I’ve been gone and I don’t even know what you’ve done all this time. You haven’t told me anything.”
Xyraan finally stilled. “... You mean you didn’t get my message?”
“What message?”
“... Well, shit.”
How unladylike of her to swear and curse. She would have covered her mouth in shock at herself if she wasn’t still pinned down. “Xyraan, what message?”
She wriggled again and he finally released his grip on her, giving her the chance to sit up and compose herself.
“I sent you a message a year after you were declared– a year after the battle.”
“And…? What did it say?”
“My lord, it’s been four years–”
“What did it say?”
Damn him. She’d forgotten that he had gotten so good at telling when she was avoiding the question. He knew she remembered what was on that letter, and he wouldn’t let her go without an explanation.
Or confession.
She wanted to wait. Wanted to tell him she’d explain another day, after she had time to prepare, time to plan out the perfect moment. “Well,” she curled a loose lock of hair behind her ear, hands falling to the end of it and she fiddled. “I talked about how I was seeing this personal counselor, of sorts.” Her nails dug into her palm, and as much as she wanted, she couldn’t look him in the eye. “I talked to her about us, and how I didn’t– didn’t realize–” Her chest was pounding. Why was it pounding?
She stammered enough (she didn’t stammer, she was too good to stammer, why was she stammering) that she felt his hands cover hers, and saw him creep into her peripheral vision. “Realize what?”
This wasn’t how she wanted to do this. But at least she was finally saying it. After years, years of knowing this man.
“That I love you, Jarrok Kosokhan.”
gentleness action prompts: breathe
for Xyraan and Jarrok because we have no chill. || @oolathurman
She'd heard his name in a whisper.
Just a brief manifestation of syllables falling from dried lips, a whisper cut down before it could metamorphize into something more, but it had been enough.
The former Darth Honos. Odessen. An alliance against Zakuul and all of the oppression it wrought. She didn't believe in whispers, least of all this one, because how could he be anywhere aside from her thoughts, eternally orbiting her heart like a ghost that refused to leave? An uninvited guest in her mind that refused to be evicted. Yet, for all of the hauntings, she longs for the real thing, yearning tangible enough the she finds a way there, to Odessen, along with a shuttle Imperial defectors. Perhaps that will be enough to exorcize this phantom that clings to her.
Hearded out onto the landing platform like a gaggle of lost children, she isn't quite sure what to do. There are questions, of course, to each of them: what are your skills? what can you provide? why are you really here?
The latter might've been in her head, echoing like an accusation that she doesn't want to face.
It doesn't matter.
Limping in to meet the newest shipment of refugees, she sees him, and thinks for a moment that she might've gone mad in her longing. It's his voice that proves otherwise, perhaps lower and less authoritative than she'd recalled, weary and in need of a very long nap. Like a half-dead ghoul herself, Xyraan approaches him, pushing through the soldiers taking stock of the newest members, their protests deaf on her ears. If they thought, for a moment, to raise their blasters and perceive her as a threat, it's not for long as Jarrok's already welcoming her into his arms. As if they were the only two in the entire compound.
She hardly feels the tears streaming down her face, only forced to acknowledge the mess he'd made of her when a sob wracks her throat. Half-heartedly pounding her fist into his armored shoulder, stooped down to his level, no coherent words can escape from her mouth. She feels herself falling into a strange dizziness, the edges of her vision blurred with tears and the teasing of black.
"Breathe," he commands gently, lips pressed against the crook of her neck, arms wrapped around her so tightly that he forces himself to realize, to remember, that he's the cause of her asphyxiation-- so he loosens them, just enough. There's a certain quivering inside of his chest, stuttering both of his hearts, that renders him into wreckage of a man.
He must also remember to breathe, yet fearing if he does, then the love of his life will wither away into nothing more than a fever dream. Instead, he says,
"I tried to haunt you."
what if this dumb thing popped into my head after @oolathurman's post about Xyraan and weddings, what if
Somewhere along the way, amidst the war and the decimation and the loss, he had misplaced something important.
A pressing thing that had held him steady in a galaxy at war, like gravity, staying grounded. Interesting how these things remain ghosts until they are gone, always gliding between the lines and the shadows. Interesting how when they vanish, they become ghouls, poltergeists, deadly and intent on causing the most strife imaginable. These hauntings fester in him until he's certain he's rotting with it, falling apart at the seams.
If flesh could cure it, he'd have been a free man ages ago. Passing touches and lingering looks and everything in between. If alcohol, spice, the battlefield could ease the symptoms-- Jarrok knows that these things can't, but they've been chased just the same. Ghosts to exorcize a ghost.
--He realizes, standing amid the ruin and rubble on a newly decimated Begeren, just where it is that he's misplaced it.
Sometimes, a failed venture is the most enlightening one.
There is little time between loss and loss again, yet the Emperor's Wrath carves precious time from a clock continually counting down, to find her on Dromund Kaas. Soon, he'd be departing once more, this time to the ends of Wild Space, at the whim of Marr.
Amid the hatred that fuels him, the pain and the passion, there is a vulnerability that even he, great warrior and Sith-scorned savage, cannot rid himself off. Why his love is realized as the Core Worlds fall to ruin around him ought to be poetic-- if he were a better man.
He isn't a better man.
But he is in love-- and something more.
"Xyraan," he says before she can greet him, ask about his new scars, scuffed armor, why he's there, everything in between, "I love you."
Not the first time the words have slipped from those devilish lips, he hopes not the last. He drops to one knee, no ring, nothing to show for all of the elaborate decorations of the apartment, the wealth accumulated, material possessions forgotten in the desperation of the moment. He won't have time for it, not before he leaves again, but there is always next time. Always.
--"I want you to marry me." Sure as he always is, confident and bold; and this time, with the missing thing newly-regained burning in his gaze. If a changing galaxy means the end, it ought not to be wasted, and he ought to prove his worth to her. "Will you? Will you be my wife?"
