#sith doing sith things

[squidsponge]

I know we haven't had a Sith who isn't miserable 24/7 about being set on fire after having his limbs cut off by the man who raised him since 2020, so here's a gentle reminder that Sith have fun being gleefully evil assholes and that if anything, The Acolyte is a return to form.

Love what you do for a living.

[tk-duveraun]

Bloodlines 3/?

Title: Bloodlines Fandom: SWTOR Rating: M - Implied sexual content Genre: Romance & Drama Summary: Aquila and Malish just need to talk. Please, by the stars, the ancestors, just talk to each other. Yes, research is consuming, yes, being a bodyguard is complicated, but you’re only making things worse. Communicate, you idiots. At least before you fall in love. Parts: 1 2 Notes: I’m making shit up, just roll with it.

Two weeks into the contract, Aquila brings Malish’s work coverage down to Tier 1. Three weeks in, she sits with her boots up on his fancy Sith desk doing a crossword puzzle while he works. She yawns just as her chronotimer goes off. With a stretch and a second yawn, she hops out of his chair and replaces her helmet. She crosses into his lab, but the idiot’s not there. On alert, she pushes her Force awareness through her armor and Senses the office. Then she slaps the front of her T-visor with a clank. “Sith… Why are you on the ceiling?”

He looks up from his work, or down at her, or- He looks at her, eyes still glowing from whatever technique he was using. “Why are you on the ceiling?”

She gestures to the tables, firmly on the floor she’s standing on.

Malish blinks, the power winking out of his eyes. He pokes the Force crystal hanging closest to his face. “I don’t know why I’m on the ceiling.”

“How long have-”

“If I didn’t know I was on the ceiling, I certainly didn’t notice when I got here.” He tugs on his ponytail, but it continues to lay down - up? - his back as if gravity doesn’t particularly notice he’s upside-down. He holds the day’s relic, a staff, out to her. “Take this. I don’t want it breaking while we figure this out.”

“I’m not touching the spooky Sith weapon. That’s probably what got you stuck there in the first place.” Aquila steps around a crate of more relics and digs through his tool drawers for a neutralizing cloth or something she can use it take it from him.

“It’s not a Sith weapon; it’s a Sith weapon.”

“Do you even listen to yourself talk?” She asks.

“I mean the race, not the… I meant the race. And you’re in the wrong drawer. Left and down one.”

The drawer opens with a screech, but the cloth is on top. She wraps it around both hands and holds them up for the staff. “We just call ‘em ‘getal’pelgam.’ Less confusion.”

“And what does that mean?” He hands it to her.

“Red skin.” Aquila barely gets the words out because as soon as he releases the staff, Malish falls from the ceiling. Even with the Force, her muscles ache from how quickly she has to set down the stupid relic in order to catch him. Since he can’t see her smirk, she tilts her head at him. “We’re a simple people.”

“I could tell.”

Rougher than strictly necessary, she sets his feet on the floor. “I’ve been called worse.”

“I’m sure you deserved it.” He reaches for the staff, but Aquila bats his hand away.

“I’m already over time. Seal it up and play more tomorrow. And don’t even think about-”

“Opening the crate until you get here? I have a mother. She’s quite lovely. You can ease up on…” He trails off and she feels why a moment later. Just a tickle of warning from the Force and then a loud snickt and quiet hiss.

Before her armor’s sensor can ever identify the gas, Aquila shoves the staff back into his hands, launching him back onto the ceiling. She grabs a device from her belt and slaps it over his face before he can protest or ask questions. When it makes contact, it sprouts legs like an irradiated sleen and clamps over his nose and mouth in an airtight seal. The sensor finishes reading and the results flash across her T-visor’s display. “Crouch up there; it’s wreller gas. It’s barely lighter than the air here, so it’ll take a while to get to you.”

Muffled exclamations answer her, but she’s too busy digging through her gear to read his face. “Relax and breathe normally. That can filter wreller gas for five hours and we can leave the suite long before that.” Biting her tongue, Aquila pulls out a canister of air cleanser. With a bit of rubber pipe, she hooks it into her flamethrower. It spits out a burst of fire before the fuel is replaced with the cleanser. It hangs in the air like fat snowflakes and she sprays it in the lab and office until her HUD reports the right concentration.

Force Sense and experience both tell her Malish is about to do something dumb, so she barks into the lab. “Don’t take it off yet. I need to make sure wreller gas was the only thing in there.”

She sets the bulky advanced sensor on his desk and hooks it into the power core. It whirls to life with a belch of smoke that Malish must see through the door because he gives another loud protest. Ignoring him, she lets the machine run while she sprays the booby-trapped crate with carbonite sealant. When she’s satisfied with the coverage, she checks the sensor. She replaces the first cleanser with a second canister and sprays the rooms again. It takes the gases several minutes to settle. “Looks like we’re bumping you up to Tier 3, Sith. This is no amateur with a grudge.”

Back in the lab, Malish is sitting on the ceiling eye glowing as he works on the staff.

She claps her hands until he notices her. “Do you have a death wish?”

He points to her, gestures around the lab and then shrugs.

“Yes, I did have it covered, but you could have some sense of self-preservation.”

He starts to cross his arms over his chest, but almost drops the staff. He settles for rolling his eyes at her.

“Fine! Get back to it while I air out the place and make sure it didn’t get into your living quarters. You’re lucky I didn’t leave on time. And don’t even think about saying ‘There are no coincidences in the Force.’”

[tk-duveraun]

Bloodlines 18/?

Title: Bloodlines Fandom: SWTOR Rating: M - Implied sexual content Genre: Romance & Drama Summary: Aquila and Malish just need to talk. Please, by the stars, the ancestors, just talk to each other. Yes, research is consuming, yes, being a bodyguard is complicated, but you’re only making things worse. Communicate, you idiots. At least before you fall in love. Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

“What have you done?” Malish drops his cup of tea. The porcelain shatters on the floor.

Aquila checks a datapad and adjusts the settings on her armor from the vambrace console. She flexes her fingers to feel the change and tweaks the numbers again. “Your father gave the order. Sai can’t barely carry the weight of the Family now. She’ll collapse from the feedback in Rencarn’s ritual hall.”

He crosses the room with Force-lengthened steps before grabbing her arm. “What feedback? What haven’t you told me? Since when is Sai’s condition so bad? Is she alright? I thought Vee was siphoning off enough of the curse.”

“It’ll be alright, Malish.” Prying his fingers off one by one, she detaches him and squeezes his hand. “With your research, I thought you knew the implications of being Head of the Family.”

“I’m trying to get rid of the blood bonds, not figure out what they do. And, and every family is different and-”

“But you have Dad’s research.”

“And he already knew what the Sa’alle geas did. He didn’t need to put it in his notes. Aquila, please, is Sai okay?”

After closing the vambrace console, she pulls him into a hug. She presses her forehead against him. “As fine as she was the last time you saw her. She was hiding the strain behind her stoicism, but your father noticed and ordered me to take control of the Family back. The weight is… It’s a vague awareness of everyone with the blood. It gets sharper when they’re in danger or performing complex sorcery, but it’s a Force presence… Inside. Harder to block out.”

Their bedroom is cold and silent as the information sinks in. Malish’s voice trembles when he whispers, “Father said there were others. Others under Rencarn’s power. They’re in danger, aren’t they? Constantly?”

“In agony,” she agreed. “Three, unceasing howls for salvation. They are likely trapped inside their own minds, able to act, because it never wavers. Aucht lied to the Jedi, Malish.” Her voice falls to a whisper. “Sybil gave some of her daughters to Rencarn before her death. Even when Sai had the strength to block the screaming, there’s the creeping fear that it could have been her suffering this eternal torment.”

“Horrible, horrible.” Tears fall from his eyes and he pulls away to hide the anguish clawing at his face. “How could she? Why? I don’t understand.”

“There’s no logic in it, cyare. Look at Rencarn’s plan. A curse spread through Force bonds? Aaron’s gift is so rare as to be unheard of and even he formed only one. It just doesn’t make any sense as a distribution method unless every vector he infects also shares his gift and even then most minds can’t handle more than a few bonds. Overuse of the Dark Side causes this… madness. Self-sabotage. It’s only thanks to these blood bonds that the old Families have mostly-linear succession.”

“I knew the Dark Side corrupted, but I didn’t think this was how it manifested.” Malish pulls at his ponytail. “Father skirts the line regularly. His eyes are yellow as much as blue. Is he still…?”

“Aucht’s talents make him less susceptible. If he ever loses himself, it will be intentional.” Aquila drags him close again and touches his cheek. “Dad almost died because he wasn’t willing to cross the line. He says that if he did, if he ever goes too far, then he may as well be dead. Papa told me how he was back then… It was the only time I’ve ever been afraid of our gift. We’re so strong, Malish, but there are limits.”

“And all these years, I’ve just been tinkering in my lab without a thought for-”

“Stop. You can’t start thinking that way. I watched you work for six months-”

“You’re not a sorcerer-”

“It needs a sacrifice!” The word ‘sacrifice’ bangs into the metal walls and echoes around them. “I hope you already knew that your father killed people to do what he does because there is no doubt. Buir and I have brought him slavers over the years. I’m complicit; I’m not calling him a monster. I just need you to know, to really know, in your soul, that you’re safe from the madness.”

His fingers dig into her cheeks and he stares at her like he’s reading her soul. He could, with his talents. He could knock on the vault and she’d let him in, but he doesn’t. His voice is as thin as leaves at the height of autumn. “I knew he did. I just thought it was Dark Side-”

“The Dark Side is just chaos. Chaos is creativity. Change. There’s nothing inherently wrong with the Dark Side. It’s how most Sith use it that causes… problems.”

“I know. That’s why the corruption never made sense to me. Why wouldn’t father just explain it like this?”

“He has a soft spot in his heart with your stupid name on it. He probably didn’t want you to know anything bad about him.”

Malish tucks his head under her chin and wraps his arms around her. The net of Force crystals above them glows sharply blue. “My family needs to sit down and have a lot of talks when this is over.”

“That’s what buir’s been saying for years.”

[tk-duveraun]

Bloodlines 19/?

Title: Bloodlines Fandom: SWTOR Rating: M - Implied sexual content Genre: Romance & Drama Summary: Aquila and Malish just need to talk. Please, by the stars, the ancestors, just talk to each other. Yes, research is consuming, yes, being a bodyguard is complicated, but you’re only making things worse. Communicate, you idiots. At least before you fall in love. Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

The Force flows through Aquila like blood, beating in time with her heart and lending her strength. Still, when she and Aran are together they move with the synchronicity of creepy twins from a horror holo. Their armor snaps and fastens together with singular, loud snaps that echo in the mining base. Aran takes after their father with lighter skin and hair that’s red without sunlight. He wears it pulled back in a tight ponytail that explodes in a complex mass of braids - Morathis’ handiwork.

“Missed having you around on ops,” he says.

“We’ll go on a hunt once Sai’s better.” Aquila checks over her weapons and loads them one by one into her armor. Her hands linger over her lightsaber hilt, normally hidden in her cuirass. The crystal is one of Malish’s. One he plucked from Ilum with his own hands. One that resonates for both of them like a song binding them together.

“You’ve been throwing a lot of stones at Galaar, considering.” Aran gives her an open-handed slap on the shoulder.

Aquila shoves her own mass of braids into the back of her chest piece and shrugs. “Our situations aren’t analogous. Their relationship is based on working together. If buir reassigned him, everything would fall apart. Spectacularly, I might add. You’d think Xalonie was Aucht’s kid with how much she postures.”

“And yet, you and Dad still have all of the charisma in the entire Sa’alle family.” Aran poked her cheek when she scowled at him. “That’s a good thing! But you’re changing the subject. You’re back on regular duty now. What are you going to do?”

Metal clinks as Aquila straps down her last weapon - a vibrosword. “Holocalls.” She shrugs again. “He’ll come by the yaim when he has time. I’ll drop by when I’m on Kaas. Send him chintzy garbage that sparkles real nice.”

“Just… Like that?”

“Just like that.”

“Ancestors in the sky, you really are Dad.”

They knock their foreheads together and laugh. “You came out like Papa, somehow.”

“And that’s why I’m buir’s favorite. The only one of the brood with any sense.”

“I’d argue that Vee’s the favorite.”

“She’s making him the next leader; she can’t love him that much.” The clack the backs of their gauntlet’s together and leave the armory. The mining base has only Aucht’s soldiers and the Mandalorians. Lestére’s forces, and Galaar Cerar, are preparing on his capital ship with the jetii zealots. Part of Aquila misses the cold disdain of Xalonie’s soldiers, if only because it’s so familiar. They might not get along personally, but her men are top notch.

Malish waylays them in the corridor, pulling them off to the side. He clearly hasn’t looked in a mirror because he still has the eyebrows Aquila drew on his face with felt-pen while he slept. The right is smeared and smears more when he rubs the ridge. “Aquila.”

She signals for her twin to stay and then squeezes Malish’s shoulder. “Yeah?”

“I know you know the plan, just let me talk. I’m staying here, in the base, to provide mental protection since Father is… Anyway, I can’t be there. It’s for the best. I’m useless in a physical fight. I don’t even know any combat sorcery outside of Force Lightning, but-”

“I’ll keep an eye on her. And Aaron. I can’t promise they won’t immediately fuck off to go do Sith things after, but they’ll be fine.”

“Thank you.” Malish stands on his tiptoes and presses their foreheads together. “She means so much to me.”

“I know. And I’ll make sure someone sends you a holo if I have to throw her across the battlefield.” She kisses him, smears his left eyebrow and rejoins Aran. “What?”

“Nothing!”

“You’re making a face.”

“A little. I guess I expected him to ask you to stay safe.”

Aquila snorts. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m mando’ad.”

“I know, but he’s not.”

“No, but he loves me. That’s enough. And if it wasn’t, he trusts me to take care of myself. He wouldn’t dishonor either of us by telling me to be careful. I’m always careful. And good thing. If I wasn’t-”

“Are you gonna brag about the headcrab again? Because If you’re just going to retell that story-”

“It’s funny!”

“-then I’m gonna call Vee. Cakara brought something up in training I wanted to clarify.”

Aquila crosses her arms over her chest and pouts. She shoves her face in her brother’s to be sure he can see her pouting and then pouts more, lips sticking out comically.

“You can tell everyone when we’re in the launch ship.”

[tk-duveraun]

Bloodlines 2/?

Title: Bloodlines Fandom: SWTOR Rating: M - Implied sexual content Genre: Romance & Drama Summary: Aquila and Malish just need to talk. Please, by the stars, the ancestors, just talk to each other. Yes, research is consuming, yes, being a bodyguard is complicated, but you’re only making things worse. Communicate, you idiots. At least before you fall in love. Parts: one

Aquila bites her tongue as she punches the secondary authorization code into Malish’s bioscanner. Once inside, she enters the tertiary code and checks the Force switch on the frame. With her foot holding the door open, she drags in the supply crate. She cracks into it with the access code and a kick of metal on metal. The sensors are packed tight with expanding electrogel. Tiny sparks from her gauntlet free them one at a time so she can check for damage. They power-on with a beep and whistle. She’s still examining the third one when the false wall behind her slides open.

“The kriff are you doing? Why are you here? It’s not even daybreak!” Malish rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand. He’s wearing black and red plaid pyjamas and fluffy orobird slippers. He yawns. “And I swear on the ghost of Tulak Hord if you say anything about the karking contract I will Mind Crush the words out of your head.”

Aquila holds up one of the sensors. “You’re the one that paid double to buy these from a dealer in Kaas City instead of our usual source. And you’re the one that selected immediate installation.”

“I never-”

“So you do have a mysterious benefactor. I knew you couldn’t afford me.” She laughs and goes back to checking the devices. “These are made of Rholaran clay, which is-”

“Extremely rare and expensive because it conducts ambient Force energy identically to human-breathable air. I use it in my work. My very important and valuable work. Yes, I have benefactors, at least one of whom is paying you ensure my work continues.” He stands at his full height, which isn’t impressive, and glares down at her, which is even less impressive when the tie holding his hair back snaps and his view is blocked by a curtain of black hair.

Aquila deserves a medal for not laughing. She makes a mental note to tell her mother later. “Do you normally greet people in your PJs?”

Color stains his cheeks and he fumbles with his hair. “I could feel it was you.”

“No wonder an assassin got all of the way into your lab.”

“My Force Sense is- Forget it. I’m going to get dressed and start working.”

Once she’s done testing the sensors, Aquila sets her helmet on his desk and installs the first one over the hidden door to the lab. The quality is poor, compared to her usual supplier, and she has to calibrate it with her gauntlet while keeping half her mind on sensing danger. Her willpower is tested a second time with Malish walks under her extended arm without even ducking. Sure, it’s angled up, but him being so resigned to his height that he didn’t even duck is just too funny. “I’ll try to stay out of your way.”

Malish grunts and answers in some language Aquila doesn’t recognize. The word swirl in her head, the sounds playing against audio clips of her vod speaking this or that language, but it doesn’t seem to fit. She files it away as a question for later and moves on to the next sensor.

It takes the rest of the morning to set and calibrate the sensors in his lab. Aquila sits in the crate on top of the electro gel packets to eat her lunch. It’s some kind of savory handpie that tastes like nothing so much as home and she can hear Papa’s voice in her head, scolding the cooks over this or that. She brushes the crumbs into the crate and pokes her head into Malish’s lab. “Do you want to eat or something before I kit out your living quarters?”

He doesn’t respond, barely moves at all, bent over some crumbling tablet. Aquila bites her tongue and watches the crystals over his head. When the energy shifts through them, she repeats the question. Malish pulls his hands and Force away from the tablet and then startles with a jump and why is everything about the Sith funny.

“What? Food?”

“Past midday.” She checks her chrono. “Quite a bit past. And you haven’t had anything to drink either.”

He rubs his face with both hands, smearing what little color he has around. “What happened to G8? It’s supposed to remind me to eat.”

“It wasn’t here yesterday.”

Malish blinks at her and then looks around his lab. His gaze stops on the scarred table. “Kriff. I forgot it got destroyed.”

“Come on.” Aquila takes his arm with the lightest touch he can, since he doesn’t seem any closer to leaving his work. “Get something to eat and order yourself a new droid. If it gets here when I’m not around-”

“Don’t activate it, I know. I’m not a complete idiot.” He stops and looks her in the eye, asking for the rebuttal.

“Monitoring your physical health is part of the job, but I’m sure the last thing you want is me pestering you ever few hours.” Aquila stops at the threshold of his personal quarters to set the first sensor.

“I was between things,” Malish calls from the next room. “Your timing was lucky.”

“There’s a reason I cost so much and it’s not my good looks.”

A loud ‘hah’ and snort come back to her.

“How many openings do I have to give you before you call me an expensive whore? Come on, up your banter game, Sith.” The responding silence sends a chill down her spine. Aquila looks over her shoulder and finds Malish glaring with enough raw emotion and power her limbs are stiff and numb.

“You’re not to joke about that, Meshurok.”

Aquila nods as much as she can without exerting her own Force. “I apologize. Won’t happen again.”

He ducks back into the other room and she nearly falls over as her muscles release. She swallows hard. There aren’t many Sith that can project that strongly with a look. He might need a mysterious benefactor now, but there’s no doubt that he’ll be a Sith to be reckoned with once he comes to his own.

But it’s not fear that makes her pulse race.

He’ll call on her whenever he needs protection in the future, she’s just that good, and she’ll be able to see his power first hand. Be able to fight at her full strength and… and earn so many points. She’s not Trandoshan, but if there’s a deity up there with the ancestors, it’s Scorekeeper and Malish will bring her the best hunts. She takes a slow breath to calm her blood and then lifts the next sensor. Questions simmer in her mind like shaclaws in a pit: each one fighting to get out first.

They have time to fight it out; Malish won’t answer anything until he trusts her.

Aquila can’t wait.

[tk-duveraun]

Bloodlines 1/?

Title: Bloodlines Fandom: SWTOR Rating: M - Implied sexual content Genre: Romance & Drama Summary: Aquila and Malish just need to talk. Please, by the stars, the ancestors, just talk to each other. Yes, research is consuming, yes, being a bodyguard is complicated, but you’re only making things worse. Communicate, you idiots. At least before you fall in love. Notes: This is a sequel to The Same Moonlight, though it starts before that story ends and won’t contain spoilers until later chapters.   

The Sith’s office sits in the second ring of influence outside of the Citadel. Aquila frowns under her helmet and checks the address again, but no, it’s correct. What kind of Sith has the the clout to hire the alor’s own kid, but not enough to get an office closer to the Dark Council? Whomever Lord Malish is, he has enough credits and enough of a reputation to get approved for the job. “Probably nepotism.”

She clears her mind before knocking on the door. Her mother isn’t the type to take on Sith that are twitchy, but mistakes happen. The door opens with no one behind it, but that’s standard Sith procedure. Behind the clean lines of the modern, metal desk sits a particularly short Sith. Not that Aquila is the type to judge, but she feels the illusion pulling at her eyes and every other blink he looks taller. She nods her head a fraction. “Sith.”

“Lord Malish.”

“Sith.”

“Lord-”

“You’re paying a lot of credits to have an argument you’re not going to win.” Aquila crosses her arms over her chest, leaving the bodycam with a clear view.

“I’ll pay someone more professional a lot of credits.” The Sith works another illusion, this one darkening the room. He stares at her through his mask.

Aquila activates the headlamp on her T-visor.

Malish snaps his fingers and both illusions fade. “Fine, Meshurok. Have it your way. As your contract says, my rivals have rotting tukatas in their labs making them send assassins after me.”

“They should hire a better cleaning service.” Aquila smirks and removes her helmet. She holds it under her arm. Her Force sense is muted by the cortosis weave in her armor, but she gets a hint of his surprise at her appearance. “We’re going to start with Tier 2 surveillance in the office and Tier 3 in the field. Our analyst thinks it’s unnecessary, but we have to start with a tight ship until I can make my own observations.”

“I was expecting more than a single agent.”

“Danger that warrants an op group is above your paygrade, Sith.” Aquila pulls her braid out of her cuirass and shakes it out. “Your illusions wouldn’t be conscious spells if you were that good.”

“Can I have a different bodyguard?”

“Not unless you get injured.”

“That can be arranged.”

Aquila taps the lens of her bodycam and then gestures between them. “If we’re done posturing, I need to have a look around to see what I’m working with here.” She doesn’t wait for an answer before dropping her helmet on his desk and turning her back on him. Malish has shelves stuffed with datacrons, datapads, Force relics and crumbling bits of inscribed stone.

“Don’t touch anything!”

“If I tried, all of this kark would be on the floor. This isn’t my first kath show. Untwist your pants and let me do my job.” She pulls a sensor out of her pack. “Before you start barking, you already agreed to this. It’s not a recording device, blah blah.” It fits over the door and activates with a signal from her gauntlet.

“Is that even necessary? Any Sith off Korriban can get around that.”

Aquila looks over her shoulder. “Can you?” When he doesn’t answer, she places two more sensors. They calibrate with soft beeps and she claps her hands, as if knocking dust off them. “Right. Contract said you have a lab connected..?” The lab entrance is concealed and it rankles against her pride that she can’t Sense where it’s hiding.

Malish answers her by opening the secret door. The shelves behind him open back into the lab. Soft, blue lights hang from the ceiling, each one haloed with tiny Force crystals. Despite being in a Sith’s working lab, most of the crystals are blue or green. The tiny sparks of power resonate with Aquila through the cortosis weave in her armor.

“Oh.”

“Don’t hit them with that rock you have for a skull,” Malish says. He brushes past her and stops at one of his worktables. Half of a vase sits in front of him. It appears like normal pottery until Malish taps a few of the crystals above his head, activating them. Then, the clay shard glows with a map of Force enchantments.

“This is amazing,” Aquila says, the antagonism having fallen out the bottom of her stomach. “Just beautiful.”

Malish huffs. “Yes, now do your job and ensure that no one makes it in to ruin it.”

“I need to touch some of the things in here,” Aquila whispers.

“Absolutely not! Mandalorian armor will-”

She dumps both gauntlets on the floor next to Malish’s feet. Hands shaking, Aquila runs her fingers over the worktables and along the shelves. Without her gauntlets, she can feel the Force in the objects and get a sense of what the Sith is working on. The relics are ancient and the Force whispers half-sensible stories in the back of her mind. Translation spells or something of the sort. A sigh leaves her lungs and curls up in the ambient Force. “I have to order new equipment to ensure it doesn’t disturb your work.”

Malish reaches under his mask and scratches his face. “So you know what you’re doing, after all.”

“I’m very good at my job, Sith.” Aquila clears her throat and tries to speak at a normal volume. “Don’t do any work in here without me present until I can get it set up.”

Without looking away from the vase, Malish points to a black and red scar on the next table. “I wasn’t planning to. Some womprat tail almost got me last week. I’ve needed to check on this for days.”

“Why didn’t you appropriate some Reclamation Service-”

“Don’t talk to me about those hacks,” Malish says. All of the crystals above him flash with his emotion. All attuned to him. “It would take twenty of them to do the job of a single Mandalorian. And they wouldn’t hand over guards without sending one of their lumbering nerf ‘professional historians’ in here rubbing their sticky hands all over my research.”

She laughs. “Papa hates them, too. Refuses to have anything to do with them. He can rant for hours.”

“Don’t get me started. They’re nearly as detestable as the Jedi and certainly worse than these assassins.” He pushes his mask up to scratch his forehead and leaves it there, face revealed. Malish is mostly human, pale skin with olive undertones and thick, black hair… except he doesn’t have eyebrows.

Aquila bites her bottom lip. His serious expression with his narrow jaw and delicate features looks comical with the clean brow-ridges. She ducks down for her gauntlets before the giggle can escape. Her features are back in her professional mask before she straightens. “I’ll send the clan leader my order; the sensors should be here in a few days. Send me your schedule for missions off-world and where we’re going so I can pack accordingly.”

“Yes, yes, I read the contract. You’ll have it tonight. Go stand watch or whatever it is you do. I need to focus on this.” He pulls the mask off fully and tosses it over his shoulder. Leaned over his vase, he pays her no further notice. The blue light reflects off his eyes and makes them look ice-blue.

Well this is going to be a fun job.

[tk-duveraun]

Bloodlines 20/?

Title: Bloodlines Fandom: SWTOR Rating: M - Implied sexual content Genre: Romance & Drama Summary: Aquila and Malish just need to talk. Please, by the stars, the ancestors, just talk to each other. Yes, research is consuming, yes, being a bodyguard is complicated, but you’re only making things worse. Communicate, you idiots. At least before you fall in love. Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19

The screech of her fingers scratching the sides of her helmet can’t even begin to overpower the screaming in Aquila’s skull. At some point, she’d fallen to her knees. She can Sense the fight going on around, but only in fits and spurts. Liquid leaks from her eyes and while it must be tears, her mind refuses to accept anything other than blood. After clawing her helmet off, she digs her fingers into the shaved sides of her scalp.

Staccato claps break through the screams. Force compulsion jerks her face up by the chin until she’s looking up at Darth Rencarn. He walks down the stairs with a courtier’s grace, holding his robes like they’re a priceless gown. “How kind of you to come, Lord Sa’alle. I knew Sailens was a mere pretender.”

With each breath ripping out chunks of her lungs, Aquila aims her palm at the first altar with a Sa’alle girl, with her cousin, on it. The marks on her face burn as she pulls on the blood curses. It’s like swallowing hot tar to manipulate the ancient bindings. Blood vessels burst in her eyes, but finally she disowns her cousin. Her body collapses to the altar, Rencarn’s own spells weakened by the removal of the Sa’alle curses.

But the screaming doesn’t stop. There are three more Sa’alle girls twisted up in purple vines of power. Aquila clutches her skull again and leans forward until her elbows are holding her up. Force washes over her and her arms give out. She rolls to her side and presses her hand over her hidden lightsaber, feeling the pulse from Malish’s crystal resonate with the power blanketing her. Eyes closed for a moment in the sudden silence of her mind, she tries to send a thank you back through the Force.

Then her Dad exerts himself.

The dim haze of Rencarn’s great hall disappears in a blink. One by one, the bodies fall onto their altars with sickening cracks. Aquila feels three members of the Family wink out and opens her gummy eyes. Fox stands at the foot of the stairs in full armor, but his presence is so strong in the Force that his face is clearly visible. His chin is raised and he looks at Rencarn with an even expression.

“If it isn’t little Faximil come out to play.” Rencarn laughs. “I didn’t need the others. That’s the only one that matters.”

Shana Ultin, one of the Jedi zealots, dashes forward and hold a hand in front of Dad. “Sith, watch what you do. Vonar-”

Dad snaps his fingers and the miralukan’s body flies through the air and crashes into her companion. Both of them speak their incantation and twist their arms through the motions, but their technique fizzles out before it can truly form. Mist curls against the floor, now ice-cold, as all of the ambient Force in the hall rushes into Dad. “You hurt my child.”

The words tear into Rencarn like saber strikes - only without the cauterization as blood drips from his cheek and left arm. Wild around the eyes, Rencarn raises both arms and purple-black tendrils of power shoot out of the bodies on the altars and wrap around him like armor. “You killed these innocent chil-” His voice fails.

“They were already dead to your machinations,” Dad says as Rencarn touches his face and throat, jaw working, but no words coming out.

The shadows behind Rencarn solidify, first just two yellow eyes over his shoulder, but then Aucht’s full form holding a black-bladed dagger to the Sith’s throat. “And your fate was sealed the moment you thought to hurt my daughter.” He stabs the cursed metal through the bottom of his jaw. “Now suffer for eternity in your worst nightmare.”

Despite the wound, when his body falls to the floor, it retains a pulse of life and his Force doesn’t dissipate.

Aucht sheaths his dagger and his body contorts, shifting down to its normal size. Eyes glowing like candles, he looks around the hall for his daughter. “Cassandra?”

“My name,” she bites out, “is Sailens.” The mottled discoloration is already fading from her skin. Aaron stands with her arm over his shoulders and his lightsaber held up in defense.

“Foolish child.” He sweeps his arms out and illusions cover the grotesque remains of Rencarn’s sacrifices. The Force corruption in his eyes dims. “At least speak to your brother before you leave.”

And it’s over. Dad helps Aquila off the floor and carries her helmet with one arm. “You alright, kit?”

“I’m so tired, Dad.”

“Let’s get you back to your riduur so you can recharge.”

She leans all of her weight on him and nods.

[tk-duveraun]

Bloodlines 13/?

Title: Bloodlines Fandom: SWTOR Rating: M - Implied sexual content Genre: Romance & Drama Summary: Aquila and Malish just need to talk. Please, by the stars, the ancestors, just talk to each other. Yes, research is consuming, yes, being a bodyguard is complicated, but you’re only making things worse. Communicate, you idiots. At least before you fall in love. Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Predawn light diffuses through the trees surrounding Clan Meshurok’s yaim. Aquila’s eyes are sore and crusted with the salty remnants of tears. She’s left her twin to stew in his hangover because she’s expected. The trees give way to a cliff, roots hanging over the edge grasping for chunks of land long-lost. With his legs hanging over the edge sits her dad, red hair tied up in as many twisted plaits as her own. She sits next to him, their armor scraping together at the closeness. He puts his arm around her waist. “Hey little bird.”

She swipes at her eyes. “My heart hurts.”

“It’s like that sometimes,” he says, kissing her temple. “With Rathi, especially. Before we had Carina to crack our heads together and make us talk, things got iffy.”

“I can see that.”

Fox’s laugh is as clear as the morning sky. “What a bad child. You’re supposed to say it’s unbelievable. We’re perfect! Perfect!”

“You and Papa are a menace. You should send Uncle Ivan another fruit basket.” She grins and ducks her head.

“I will. And one for his boyfriend. You know Ilena, right? Miri that flirts with the Dark Side like your mother flirts with caf? It’s her father.”

“So they bond over recalcitrant children?”

He taps her on the nose. “I’ve never been fired quite as spectacularly as you were.”

In a flash, she grabs her dad’s hand and holds it in both of hers. “He’s an idiot.”

“Runs in the family.”

“Aucht may be a little dramatic, but he’s not stupid. Na’li’a wouldn’t tolerate it.”

He chuckles and turns to watch the sunrise. “You’d be surprised how much she puts up with. Sailens was planned. Sybil didn’t catch him; he went to her.”

It’s such an unbelievable claim, Aquila can only shake her head. “I suppose you would know.” She sighs. “I just… I was so afraid. It hurt. Like having my intestines ripped out through my nose-”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Rathi.”

“-but that wasn’t the bad part. The worst was thinking I’d hurt him. That I’d done something wrong and broken something fundamental between us. He’s so good for me, Dad. Papa says I deserve better, but he’s perfect. He doesn’t understand. I need him.”

With a comforting noise in the back of his throat, Fox squeezes her hands. “I know, little bird. It’s not that you need him to be whole. It’s that when you’re together, there’s twice as much of you.”

“With Aran, it’s- He’s just another me. Two little birds: one with the Force, one with Papa’s brain and we just- We don’t have to talk, we just are. But that’s all we are. We’re just… Little bird.” Words crowd in her mouth with a sob. She keeps one hand twined with her father’s and wipes the tears away with the other. “I don’t know how to explain it. How good we are together. How it’s just meant to be.”

“You don’t have to explain it to me. I understand. I feel it every day. I’m more myself for having your mom and papa in my life. Doesn’t make sense, does it? You’d think other people would make you more like them and less like yourself, but love doesn’t make sense at the best of times.”

“What do I, Dad? It’s so, so fucking stupid, but I still feel like I’m bleeding out.”

Below them, birds chirp their morning greetings and rustle the leaves. The forest teems with life and the Force. They bask in it while Fox thinks of how to answer. He moves his hand to her shoulder. “Carina would tell you to find him and talk it out.”

“You don’t think I should?”

“Your mother… Riduur, alor, she doesn’t really understand the kind of power you and I have. How important it is to be absolutely sure that the ones we love will come back when it hurts and aren’t just… enthralled by our everything.”

The rising sun holds her gaze until it hurts, then Aquila looks down at her hands. Her gauntlets are cyan and white, but their own harshness is lost in the sunrise. She swallows. “I think she does know. Vee’s the one she’s training as her successor, not me. She knows I’d never be secure in why they follow me.”

“A whole clan is different than one, silly researcher.”

“So what do I do?”

“Forgive him.”