@mayxthexforce get a new thing and another spin off of our main verse because we can have a 1 minute conversation and I get an idea.
Anakin was tired. That was the understatement of the year. He had been tired for a while. His heart wasn't in being a Jedi anymore. His force energy definitely had been feeling more on the dark side and it wasn't just the war. It was not feeling like he could trust people. He had lost Ahsoka. She had left him...or the Order. Both of them. Even though Obi-Wan knew about him and Sabe and it wasn't exactly a secret in the Order either, he still had lied to him and that was before Ahsoka left. He had let him belief he was dead.
That was when all of his negative thoughts had started and it was being away from Sabe. She was pregnant and he felt normal, when he was around her. He had been thinking more and more that, he just was tired of it all.
He had half tried to voice it to a few people and no one took him seriously. It was like everyone thought because of the prophecy, that he had to have this life. The Jedi were not even Jedi, anymore. They were prisoners to this war and he was tired of being a prisoner. He had been one since he was born.
He didn't know what he would do if Sabe didn't agree with him on this. He didn't want to give up the force. The force was a huge part of him and he knew that he would always play a large part, but he wanted something apart from all this. He had been doing this for so long. He had nearly been killed by Ventress, though he had won. The thing with Dooku had happened. He wasn't willing to lose himself to something he didn't know if he trusted and he felt didn't trust him.
Having gotten back late last night, he had been fairly quiet. He had to do a debriefing this morning at the Temple but when Anakin got back, he had things on his mind. Searching, he finally found her.
"You know, you would think you would be easier to find now that you're slower." He took a deep breath and smiled at her. He had that 'we need to talk' look. That look often meant that he was being sent to the Outer Rim, but this time it didn't. Would she still want him if he was just him?
{ DATE NIGHT 🌆 } --- Sender asks out receiver for a special Valentine's Day date! (Obi-Wan and Maul)
@mayxthexforce
maul stands by the window, his arms crossed over his chest, watching the soft evening light filter in through the glass. watching birds dive through the air. the house was quiet, the kind of peace that had become their routine in recent years. it was strange, this life they had built together - a far cry from the chaos of the past, when his every moment had been consumed by rage and a singular drive for vengeance. but now, with kenobi, things were different. there were no more battles, no more bloodshed between them. just the steady rhythm of their days. it was different even from before they parted for a time. like it was more settled, maybe. more definite.
today, though, was different. it was valentine's day - something maul had never given much thought to in his life. the concept of the day, this celebration of love, had always felt like an unnecessary distraction, a frivolous indulgence. he didn't need a holiday to tell him how he felt about kenobi. his feelings for him had been built over years, forged in the heat of endless conflict, tested by pain, and tempered in ways neither of them could have predicted. they had been married for some time now, and despite their unconventional path to this point, the depth of their bond was undeniable.
kenobi entered the room, a soft smile playing on his lips as he steps closer to maul. his presence was calming, something maul had learned to rely on in ways he never thought possible. even after all these years, after all they had been through, kenobi still managed to surprise him. maul couldn't quite place it, but something about this moment felt different. a quiet anticipation filled the air.
kenobi pauses in front of him, his gaze steady, yet something warm and playful glimmered in his eyes. "maul," he says, his voice carrying that familiar gentleness that always seems to put maul on edge. "i was wondering… if you'd like to go out with me tonight. for a valentine's day date."
maul blinks, the words catching him off guard. a date?? valentine's day??
for a long moment, maul is silent, staring at kenobi with an unreadable expression. he had come to expect many things from kenobi in their time together, but this?? this was unexpected. not because he didn't know kenobi loved him - he did, in ways maul had never thought possible. but a date??
the idea was... ridiculous. absurd, even.
his first instinct is to laugh, to scoff at the absurdity of it, but then he notices kenobi's eyes - soft, warm, and waiting. there was no joke here. no mockery. no game. just a simple invitation.
"valentine's day??" maul's voice was laced with skepticism, but there was a faint curiosity there too. "and you want me to... go on a date with you??" he raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest even tighter, as though it would shield him from the vulnerability of the situation.
kenobi's smile widens, but there was no hesitation in his expression. "yes. i thought it might be nice. just us, spending the evening together. no expectations. just… enjoying the night. i know we don't need a holiday to show how we feel, but… i wanted to ask. for us."
maul's hearts twist unexpectedly. for us. damn kenobi!! the words shatter his defensiveness. he had never been good at expressing his feelings, let alone accepting them. but kenobi had always been patient, had always known how to make him feel seen in a way that no one else ever had. in this quiet moment, maul couldn't deny the tenderness that stirred within him.
he takes a slow breath, trying to push down the surge of emotion he wasn't ready to confront. this is stupid, he thinks. you don't need to entertain this - this soft-hearted fool of a jedi.
but even as he thought that, he finds himself standing a little straighter, his posture shifting ever so slightly, as though giving in to the warmth of the moment.
"you're ridiculous," maul mutters, though the edge to his voice had softened considerably. "you know that, right?? asking me on a date on a day like this…"
kenobi's expression softened even further, and maul could see the genuine affection in his eyes, the kind that still unsettled him after all these years. "maybe i am. but i think you'll find i'm not the only one who's ridiculous here."
maul's lips twitch at the corners, the faintest hint of a smile pulling at his mouth. "fine," maul says, his voice low, but there was a softness to it now, a quiet surrender that kenobi had come to know so well. "i'll go. but don't expect me to enjoy it."
kenobi chuckles, a warm, genuine sound that echoes through the room. "i think you'll surprise yourself."
@mayxthexforce: where do you think you’re going ? (From Mellichae to Sahana)
The energy bow finds its place across her back, her pyramided red hood and half-mask concealing all but a pair of intense eyes. Sahana stops at the exit threshold. She turns a gaze over her shoulder at Mellichae's question, lowers the half-mask. Does he presume something of her?
"I work best alone." On her own terms, without the burden of having to adapt to another's ideas. A colleague only makes things complicated, jeopardizes her system of attack.
"I was under the impression this would be a solo job. Am I.. mistaken?" Sahana says this without bothering to hide her grimace of contempt for this inked Zabrak. Only once has she ever met a Dathomirian-born male that she doesn't view as beneath her, and it is certainly not this one.
@mayxthexforce asked : ❝ i think we’re stuck here. ❞ (from Leia for Boba)
The Bounty Hunter looked around. The princess was right. They were stuck. "I guess now is the time I should tell you that I'm sorry for what I helped do to your boyfriend." He said looking at Leia. "Maybe we could just forgive and forget? Help each other out here?"
@mayxthexforce said: “You do it on purpose. I’ve noticed.” (from Mirta to smuggler!Ben)
Ben pretends to play coy. Dark brows raising and features morphing into faux innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about." He mumbles, but there's something about annoying the Mandalorian Bounty Hunter that may or maybe not get his blood pumping. Sue him. He had a type.
The thought caused his heavy eyes to open, bleary as they were. A familiar night sky met his tired gaze, cold, crisp air filling his lungs as he took a shaking breath. Almost instantly, he rolled over, retching into the sand, though there was nothing much to come up but acid.
He slowly got to his hands and knees, blinking dully as his right arm wouldn’t take his weight. In among the rest of the pain, he had failed to notice the twisted, unnatural angle that spelled a badly broken bone or three. Every breath, every movement, was a blooming of fresh agony across his skin and deep in his chest. Every twitch of muscle felt like a line of fire spreading outward from his core, even as he struggled to his feet on the sand. The scalding, burning heat of it on his skin, where the flightsuit had given way to the acid and the flame, was almost a relief. Liquid dripped from the fingers of his useless right hand and fell sizzling to the ground.
Home. Need to get home.
The hunter collapsed into the pilot’s chair of his ship, though how he got back to the Slave I was a hazy, uncertain memory. He had to ignore the way his fingers sought the controls, ignore each flare of pain as buttons were pushed and he got his ship airborne. Every breath was a heaving effort as he programmed his navsat with the coordinates he needed, long-since memorized as home. A long ways from here, from the sand and the heat and acid-
A sharp siren, the warning of arrival. With delicate care, he dragged his focus to the landing, feeling some flash of coldness when the other landing space proved empty. But He could hardly dwell.
Home. Get home.
A gentle set-down. An open bay. The bounty hunter stumbled down the ramp, half-falling towards the simple, modest home in the middle of such quiet fields. It was raining, he thought, the view through his HUD blurred and strange. He'd never seen it like that before, though...was it him? No...no, it was raining. Had to be.
With a last effort of will, he opened the door and made it inside, kicking the door shut as he fumbled with his helmet. The view of the world did not clarify, and he whispered a curse even as he dropped the helmet from shaking fingers. One hand on the wall, he staggered down the hallway, an urgency to each motion. He cast dark eyes around, and managed to slip his jetpack off what remained of it before collapsing to the couch in the family room, shaking and shivering.
Burning hot and icy cold, every breath wet and ragged, Boba Fett lay still and silent.
He had to stay awake. Han would never forgive him if he slept...Han would be home soon. Everything would be fine if Han were here. Surely he'd be back soon. Surely...surely he would return in time...
Tall. Canon states he's 7'1". I headcanon him being even taller at around 7'5" with how he towers over others.
▸ ARE THEY OKAY WITH THEIR HEIGHT ?
Savage couldn't care one way or another about his height. He appreciates it since it helps him appear large, imposing, and intimidating. But ultimately, even if he was short he would not care. His size is not what his enemies should be worried about.
▸ WHAT’S THEIR HAIR LIKE?
No hair. Only his crown - the term by which Dathomirians refer to their horns. He's kind of meticulous about caring for it so it's 're basically hair though.
▸ DO THEY SPEND A LOT OF TIME ON THEIR HAIR / GROOMING?
More than he'd ever admit. It was part of the culture. A Dathomirian male's crown is weapon and a symbol of his status. The bigger the crown, the more powerful, healthy, and therefore more desirable he is. But beyond the cultural aspect, good hygiene is just a requirement. After all, the individual horns aren't actually horns - they're antlers since they're made of bone and not keratin. Unlike antlers though, they keep growing and are nourished by blood vessels, meaning they never calcify and fall off. This means if they're not taken care of and maintained, any damage could mean a very painful and possibly fatal infection. Plus, it's just a point of pride for him.
▸ DOES YOUR MUSE CARE ABOUT THEIR APPEARANCE / WHAT OTHERS THINK ?
Not really. Savage, like most males of his culture, views his very being as a tool and a weapon. His appearance doesn't matter. His skills are what count. He allows enemies to underestimate him at their own peril.
— PREFERENCES.
▸ INDOORS OR OUTDOORS?
Outdoors. He prefers more temperate to hot climates like that of the Dathomirian village. Being inside for too long makes him feel confined.
▸ RAIN OR SUNSHINE?
Sunshine. Dathomirians enjoy sunning themselves. They're not cold-blooded by any means, but the sun is very pleasant on their skin. Granted, Savage doesn't mind the rain. He's liable to stand in it like a koala if need me, completely disregarding it as it drenches him.
▸ FOREST OR BEACH?
Forest. The bogs and fens of Dathomir are familiar to him, and the forests are very similar. Though he might also enjoy the beach if he knew how to swim and also could get over how open it is.
▸ PRECIOUS METALS OR GEMS?
Metals. It's not a matter of form but of function. Metals can create tools and weapons which are useful. Gems do not hold his interest unless they have some greater functional use to attract him.
▸ FLOWERS OR PERFUMES?
Flowers. Dathomirians have sensitive senses. Savage is no exception. If anything, he's only more sensitive due to his alterations. He doesn't mind the scents of flowers. In fact, he even finds them soothing and pleasant. But perfumes are just a bit too strong for him. He tends to get headaches and gets very grumpy about how they make breathing a little bit difficult and his eyes water.
▸ PERSONALITY OR APPEARANCE?
Savage does not judge by appearance. If that were the case, Kenobi would have killed him instead of simply taking an arm and the nibs of his crown spikes. He learned from his brother the mistake of judging someone by their appearance - quickly. He knows now to make judgment based on a person's personality. Their beliefs, their actions, their gestures, their habits. That's what he bases opinions on. It's also how he sizes people up to determine how best to approach them.
▸ BEING ALONE OR BEING IN A CROWD?
Depends on where he is in his journey. But for the most part, Savage prefers to be alone or only accompanied by his brothers. He's never had a strong sense of community, never had a circle of friends or companions. It's only ever been him and his family. Sometimes it's Feral, sometimes it's Maul. Ideally, he'd like to be able to go along with both.
▸ ORDER OR ANARCHY?
Order. Savage grew up in a cult, and that is not an exaggeration. The Nightbrothers were a strict band of males who focused heavily on the very archaic, traditional beliefs that the males were made to fight and be selected as breeding stock. They existed as weapons and tools of carnage made to create stronger and more resilient offspring to continue the cycle. His life has centered around conflict and survival since the day he was born. That rigid structure and desire to fit into a specific role follows him everywhere.
▸ PAINFUL TRUTHS OR WHITE LIES?
Painful truths. Savage can handle the truth a lot better than he handles lies. He'd prefer people just be honest with him. Lies waste his time and infuriate him.
▸ SCIENCE OR MAGIC?
Magic. Mostly because that's what he was raised with knowing. The magick and the enchantments and the spells of the Nightsisters were a pivotal part of his life. He grew up knowing that his fate was intrinsically tied to the Witches of Dathomir and the Nightsisters. And also because, let's be honest - Savage runs on instinct. His skills of reason and deduction are weak at best. He doesn't know the first thing about science beyond the rudimentary basics of biology, physics, and engineering required to make blades, make bombs, and make babies. Maul was the brains of the operation for a reason.
▸ PEACE OR CONFLICT?
Peace was never an option. This man was born and bred for conflict. Woe be unto anyone who forgets that for even a second.
▸ NIGHT OR DAY?
Night. Sensitive eyes see better in the darkness. It's cooler and more temperate but generally not too cold and he just enjoys the feeling of an evening breeze and the moonlight highlighting his surroundings. It speaks to his inner beast. He's a Nightbrother after all.
▸ DUSK OR DAWN?
Dusk. See above. And also, weirdly tender as it is, Savage enjoys the sunset more than he enjoys the twilight.
▸ WARMTH OR COLD ?
Warmth. Again, Dathomir leaned from temperate to a tropical in climate. Heat was more common than cold and he enjoys that a lot more. He doesn't claim to have an intolerance but... he definitely isn't fond of the cold.
▸ MANY ACQUAINTANCES OR A FEW CLOSE FRIENDS?
A few close friends. Not even that actually. Just his brothers, thanks.
▸ READING OR PLAYING A GAME?
Reading. Savage has never played games. Not even as a child growing up. The closest thing to games was grounding Feral and calming him down whenever he got scared or whenever he panicked and started scrambling around looking for baby Maul because he turned his back for two seconds and saw he'd disappeared from the mat where he left him. At least reading makes him feel smarter and more prepared for things.
— QUESTIONNAIRE.
▸ WHAT ARE SOME OF YOUR MUSE’S BAD HABITS?
Savage has a tendency to stare. Very, very intensely. He was never taught manners to be fair. His natural inclination is to assess people, analyze how much of a threat they are, and watch closely for any sign of danger. This leads to his staring long and hard for inappropriate amounts of time.
Another habit he has is tapping his claws or shifting position often. Folding and unfolding his arms, flexing his fists, cracking his neck, rolling his shoulders. Despite the transformation, he has a lot of pent of energy. He feels the urge to constantly be moving, constantly be looking and patrolling for threats, scouting out danger or watching the perimeter of his "territory." He sometimes has to be refocused.
Mumbling. Savage has a very low voice and while he can project it, he leans towards being more submissive despite his size. Thus, he speaks quietly and softly - unless he's facing an adversary. This means that, at least around Maul and Feral, he tends to mumble.
Rubbing his crown against surfaces. As mentioned previously, he's a little bit obsessive about his crown. He tends to it incessantly when he can and that means whenever he makes himself at home in a new place, he frequently rubs the spikes against surfaces. It has a dual-purpose, sharpen them up a bit and keep the circulation good, and also to leave his scent and let others know that this is his territory.
▸ HAS YOUR MUSE LOST ANYONE CLOSE TO THEM? HOW HAS IT AFFECTED THEM?
Nightbrothers are told not to form attachments. They're soldiers, weapons. Weapons can't feel. But oh, Savage feels. He feels more than either of his brothers, and no amount of transformation can take that from him. He does not remember his mother, but he remembers Maul and Feral. He remembers raising both of them from the time they were infants and while he himself was still a child. It was brutal, unforgiving, but beautiful - and he would not trade those days for the galaxy. He did not show it, but when he killed that construct of Feral the Nightsisters conjured, he genuinely though he had killed his brother. And he sobbed. He snapped out of that spell just long enough to weep. He was devastated at the realization that he thought he had murdered his own brother. And when he came too after the fight with Palpatine and Maul wasn't there? He cried even harder, because he loved Maul, he found him, and he lost him again. He thought he'd failed to protect him. And that hurt him more than the thought that he was alone and had no one now ever could. (At least there is a small comfort in the fact that it was Feral who found him, so not all hope was lost. But God, losing Maul altered him. He regained some of his previous heart. The softer, more sensitive bits of himself that the spell repressed.)
▸ WHAT ARE SOME FOND MEMORIES YOUR MUSE HAS?
Savage's fondest memories come from his brothers in their childhood. Carrying Maul on his back and Feral in a pouch slung across his chest while out foraging in the fens. Teaching Maul how to talk and walk. Teaching Feral how to tend to his little nubbins. Teaching both of them to fight using sticks. Teaching them how to climb and having to be the one to help them jump down when they got stuck. Teaching them how to hunt small game and prepare it for meals. Hands down his favorite memories are the ones where both of his brothers are snuggled into him and dozing off while he lays back and watches the stars above them.
▸ IS IT EASY FOR YOUR MUSE TO KILL?
It's harder for him not to.
▸ WHAT’S IT LIKE WHEN YOUR MUSE BREAKS DOWN?
No one will ever see it. You will never know if Savage is deeply and truly upset. He's too good at playing the stoic facade. Not even his brothers have seen him cry. He waits until he is well and truly alone and even then, he fights the tears. Tries to wipe them away and just sniffles as he does. But when he is well and truly at his limit and the burden on his heart becomes just too much to bear any longer, he falls to his hands and knees and just sobs. It's not pleasant to hear. It sounds like a wounded animal screaming out. The tears come fast and free and his teeth are bared like a snarling wolf's. He claws at the ground and just screams until it all comes pouring out of him like a fountain of emotion. And once his vocal chords are raw and he has nothing left to wail out, once his chest is empty, he heaves in breaths, picks himself up, wipes himself clean, and carries on like nothing happened.
It never really helps though.
▸ IS YOUR MUSE CAPABLE OF TRUSTING SOMEONE WITH THEIR LIFE?
Yes. But only a select few. You'll never guess - his brothers. His kin are the only ones he truly and completely trusts his life with.
▸ WHAT’S YOUR MUSE LIKE WHEN THEY’RE IN LOVE?
Stupider than usual. Savage does not understand the concept of attraction or romance. Those just don't exist in his society. He was raised in a cult where he was viewed as breeding stock and nothing more. Any coupling that occurred was for the express purpose of producing strong offspring. There was no love or romance and affection or connection. No deeper emotional attachment to it.
He doesn't believe that someone would or could have feelings of romance or affection towards him. His mind can only comprehend the idea that they might be experiencing physical attraction and want him to be the sire to strong children. Emotional sentimentality does not make sense. Likewise, any attraction he experiences is strange and confusing. He understands only that he might be having a biological response to physically attractive qualities. That doesn't get him to act. He just waits for it fizzle out.
The worst part is when it persists and becomes an emotional attachment. That's when the confusion becomes frustration. He doesn't things anymore. Doesn't understand why he wants to be near the person more. Why he wants to hear their voice. Why he suddenly feels so protective over them and thinks about being aggressive towards people that engage with them, even if he's familiar with them and would never think so otherwise. All he knows is that when he's with them, he feels comfortable. Soothed, even. And he doesn't know why. Nor does he seek to know why. He just sort of keeps an eye on it and waits for it to pass because, per his culture, it's not his place to engage. Man will pine forever and never even realize it.
And flirting? Don't even think about it. He doesn't know what flirting is and any sort of flirting or even bold displays of romance will go right over his head. Go ahead - give him a bouquet of roses and a box of chocolates and kiss him directly on the mouth. He has no idea what you're on about. This could be a sign of friendship for all he knows. Unless you're going to sit him down and tell him directly and to his face that you're in love with him and want a relationship with him, and then take the time to explain what that means in detail with comparisons to his culture, he is lost. He's that dense and inexperienced.
Because why would a weapon need to know what love is?
Tagged by: @mayxthexforce
Tagging: @tacticalvalor (Ghost), @ambitchouss @valorums @fledermuse (Jane) @rathalascendant @calibratedafflatus (Dani) @heroinesjourncy (Doc Ock) and anyone else who feels up for it!
