#kalesera

[alligais-a]

@kalesera,    plotted starter.​

it’s not often that the duchess of mandalore has free time,  and when she does vencikye would much prefer to enjoy herself with her than to have serious conversations  —  but she expects this one will be long as well as serious,  especially with how much her mother aunt likes to talk.  so she waits until satine has enough time to rest in her chambers,  only then coming to see her.  she smiles at the sight of all the plants,  and runs her fingers over leaves as she passes the various pots,  almost in greeting.  as for satine herself,  vencikye greets her only after she’s sat down on the edge of her bed.

“  hi,  ”  she says simply,  chewing on her lower lip.  there’s no reason to be nervous,  and yet she is.  she dislikes having to ask about her parents when she ought to remember;  satine certainly thinks she does.  she blows out air through her nostrils.  “  i’ve been thinking, and i’ve got a couple questions about my parents and stuff  . . .  if you’re not too tired for them?  ”

[griefdestined]

@kalesera asked: Your muse is trying to calm down/unwind after a long, bad day in a hotel room/out of state, away from family and friends and most of their things. What do they do?   | Headcanon & Development Questions (no longer accepting)

UNWINDING WHEN ALONE

          So, Obi-Wan has actually been away from his friends and family a lot. Especially during his apprenticeship before he and Qui-Gon finally found their sync with one another, so this concept is not foreign or daunting to him at all. And he enjoys being alone - not lonely mind you - but alone. The location also does have to do a lot with how he unwinds. In various different sources across Canon and Legends we know that Obi-Wan, while one could considerably argue is an adrenaline junky on a good day, does really really enjoy his quiet and solitude. 

It’s mentioned that he enjoys meditating in the Garden of a Thousand Fountains (shout out to the High Republic books for bringing that into Canon cause it’s one of my favorite parts of the Jedi culture) surrounded by the trickling of water, the smell of grass and the overall light of all the life that surrounds him. In other instances, if such an environment is not available, a night in with soft instrumental music playing and a cozy book. 

          Obi-Wan enjoys non-fiction novels greatly, he loves learning about botany, the life of other worlds and cultures, etc. Anything he can put his hands on he loves, especially when its from the point of view of that culture. While the archives are wonderful and full of so much information, it’s also neutral and logical and he finds it lacking. Books that have the culture of a people or place woven into the very wording of it are most enjoyable to him. And of course his guilty pleasure is Jedi romance novels - they often have happy endings and he never got that with his own starcrossed Jedi romance. But he would rather die than let anyone know that. 

[bornesorrow]

                   slender fingers toyed with the slim stem of her glass, clouded gaze fixed upon the rippling azure toniray within.          ❝   i fear some of my colleagues in the senate cannot come to terms with the concept of a neutral system.  ❞          preferring a course of peace in a conflict was not necessarily the same as aiding the enemy.     in most cases, these systems proved the opposite, remaining members of the republic while refusing assistance offered and requested by the warring parties.     how could they present a threat when so many others threw their entirety into the fight.    the republic hardly required their assistance.

                   the corporations and banks supplying both sides, an open secret amongst the senate, however, forfeited her good will only further.     their wielding of supposed neutrality, fully utilizing the advantage of their inclusion in the republic and the profits naturally inherent, drew the senator’s disgust.

                   honeyed eyes lifted to meet the sky of her friend, the barest allusion to a smile upon padmé’s lips.          ❝   i consider your choice a noble one, satine.     sometimes, i wish i - and naboo - still had the same option.  ❞

@kalesera​ liked for a starter

[palavenmoons]

Some Wingits for BB.

Because it is the perfect time for beach and chill.

The characters blonng to them. Pic 1: Xefe and Nalva, pic 2, Kalesera and Jorgal.

[alligais-a]

frank herbert’s dune prompts. @kalesera​ sent,    "the storm passed through us and around us, it's gone, but we remain."

vencikye cannot entirely believe that they’ve discharged her  —  she’s spent the day in a daze of warmth and joy,  though some part of her still feels as though the walls around her will dissolve if she touches them.  the days at the medical center all blended into one another until all that was left was a blur,  but on the other side everything is sharp and vivid.  night has long fallen over the jungle,  and when she looks up it’s almost like she hasn’t seen the night sky before,  with how it takes her breath away.  she leans against the doorframe,  and there is a small surge of relief when it does not simply fall away,  when she does not find herself back at the medcenter.

she can hear her children,  her husband and her brother  (  a visit from him is such a rare delight,  especially today  )  chattering in the room behind her:  alia’s loud laughter,  esdra’s quiet voice,  korkie’s measured words and gwenael’s low tone.  just standing outside and listening fills her with warmth,  with the knowledge that she’s home;  though her mother is curiously silent.  just as she notices this,  her ears pick up on the sound of footsteps,  and then there’s a familiar hand on her shoulder,  satine’s voice telling her to come back inside  —  oddly enough,  tears spring to her eyes.  she can’t even shake her head,  just stands there with her eyes full of tears and her throat closed up for no good reason.  she doesn’t even know why.

satine moves to face her,  holding her by the shoulders,  and brings their foreheads together.  vencikye thinks that surely she would be getting teary-eyed now if she wasn’t already,  and then her mother speaks.  the words are quiet,  accompanied by a squeeze on her shoulders,  all of it certainly meant to be comforting  —   and still she breaks hearing them.  the tears run down her cheeks freely even as she clamps a hand over her mouth,  refusing to make any noise.  she’s supposed to be well,  and the last thing she wants is to cause her children more worry than she already has.  the thought of the children alone is enough to overwhelm her,  and she has to fight back a sob.

for several moments she only weeps in her mother’s embrace,  as quietly as she can,  giving thanks that at least it’s satine who’s here to hold her.  korkie is so often absent,  and she does not want to tarnish his homecoming any more than she wants to worry her spouse or her babies.  they’re so young,  too young to see their mother weeping;  and they’ve seen her do worse than that,  so much worse.  the guilt threatens to overwhelm her,  and she buries her face and her sobs in her own mother’s blouse.  once the wave of shame passes,  she draws away slightly,  wipes at her eyes.

“  the storm almost swallowed me whole,  ”  vencikye is trying to make a joke of it,  but her smile and her voice both tremble.  “  this wasn’t the first time either,  and we  ...  we don’t know how many storms there are on the horizon.  i  —  i am not sure how much more i can take,  baba.  ”

[alligais-a]

@kalesera​,    starter call. 

the streets of aldera are bustling as ever,  and few people pay any mind to a flower girl advertising her wares,  even as vencikye steps in front of them and holds out her flowers.  there are many that simply sidestep her and move on;  those who do mind her mostly refuse her.  yet she tries again and again,  knowing all too well that whether or not she’ll be able to afford food for the day depends on selling these flowers.  she steps into the path of a blonde,  short-haired woman,  and for a moment she wonders whether it’s her aunt.  but then,  she wonders that with all of them,  and it never is her.  setting the thought aside,  vencikye puts on a smile and offers the woman a small bouquet.

“  freshly picked flowers,  ma’am,  a penny for the bunch.  ”

[alligais-a]

@kalesera​,    plotted starter.

the side of her head still throbs,  as does her shoulder,  the bandage slick with blood.  they’ve only bothered to bandage the worst of the wounds,  leaving her broken nails and the smaller welts on her fingers and her arms to bleed.  yet vencikye does not utter a word of complaint as she’s led down the prison hallway,  hands cuffed behind her back  —  at least not until she sees who is in the cell ahead of them.  she stops dead in her tracks,  her head spinning.  her mother yet lives.  “  oh,  gods,  ”  she whispers hoarsely.  it isn’t meant as a protest,  isn’t meant as anything really,  but the guards are clearly through with her.  “  if you think you can throw another fit,  princess,  think again,  ”  one of them barks at her,  the one who shoved her on the floor earlier,  and lifts up his blaster threateningly.   she begins to say,  “  i wasn’t  —  ”

the gun’s barrel is cold against the back of her head.  all the breath seems to have left her lungs.  the guard orders her to walk,  his voice distant.  she takes a step,  then another,  narrowly managing not to trip on her feet.  he leads her to her mother’s cell at gun point,  and she has to stand there as a second guard removes her handcuffs then unlocks the door.  the whole time she stares straight ahead,  not daring to look at satine,  until her sight blurs.  when the blaster is finally lowered,  she doesn’t even have time to exhale before she is being rudely shoved into the cell.

vencikye simply stands there.  she feels as though she’s aged a year and as though none of this is real.  charming, aren’t they?  is the first thing she thinks to say,  followed by,  i’m so sorry.  yet when she opens her mouth,  all she lets out is a choked gasp,  half a sob  —  then she is crying openly,  lifting her hands to her mouth as she bawls like a girl.  her whole body is shaking,  whether from shock or fear vencikye cannot tell.  slowly,  she sinks to the floor.

[alligais-a]

frank herbert’s dune prompts. @kalesera​ sent,     "i should've suspected trouble when the coffee failed to arrive." / HELP

vencikye smiles at the words,  the sort of smile that she hasn’t shown much recently:  a real smile,  equal parts amused and fond.  not so long ago,  she would smile like this all the time.  she’d grin,  too,  and tell jokes and laugh at them herself.  that was all before the coup,  of course.  before her mother was deposed and imprisoned,  and she thrown into prison thanks to her own stupidity.  that was before they’d almost died,  both of them.  she hasn’t been the same since.  sadness has gripped her,  become her constant companion all too quickly.  it’s been years since she last felt like this,  and it frightens her to feel so melancholy and listless again.

satine has not been doing much better.  she tries not to show it and vencikye pretends not to see it,  but she is her mother’s caretaker.  (   her mother’s mother,  though she dismisses the thought as soon as it occurs to her.  )  she couldn’t possibly not see it.  for a moment,  smiling as satine complained about the lack of caffeine,  she nearly forgot.  for a moment they might have been back in the palace,  back home.  but this is coruscant,  an hospital at that,  and they no longer have a home.  the smile fades and she turns back to the flowers that she's just brought in,  busying herself with arranging them for a few moments.  when she faces satine again,  the smile is back in place.

“  oh,  come now,  baba,  ”  vencikye walks over to the hospital bed and places her hand over satine’s.  she’s not trying to be condescending or disrespectful,  but she can’t help being a little patronizing.  not when satine acts like a child,  and certainly not when she’s been dealing with this for weeks.  “  there’s no trouble,  it’s just that nobody in their right mind would bring you coffee.  you cannot.  have.  coffee.  ”  she speaks slowly,  as though her mother were a five-year-old who’s misbehaved,  and she the preschooler’s long-suffering mother.  she could stop there,  but really she’s so tired that she just presses on,  gesturing wildly as she does.

“  you were stabbed through the stomach,  for fuck’s sake!  i’m already giving you more spice than i ought to,  which is to say i ought not to be giving you spice,  and now you want to get all hopped up on caffeine?  ”  vencikye shakes her head,  sighing.  “  you need rest,  woman.  otherwise you’ll never get out of this damn hospital.  no caffeine,  no stimulants of any kind.  absolutely not.  i’ll see if i can maybe get you some decaf,  but don’t count on it.  ”

she’s heading towards the door already,  but she stops short of opening it.  then she hurries back and presses a kiss to satine’s cheek.  “  sorry i blew up on you,  i just  ...  oh,  i love you,  baba.  ”  she gives her mother a kiss again,  this time on the other cheek.  “  i even love you enough to go look for decaf.  ”  she grins,  albeit half-heartedly,  and gently taps satine’s nose.  “  try and take a nap,  okay?  you’re in need of one.  don’t worry,  if i can’t get decaf i’ll get you tea.  ”