#the marran

[globalcooldown]

Ohhhhhh shit there's actually a Marran tag here on tumblr.

Half of it isn't even related to my SWTOR guild but it's still there.

There's even porn in it.

Ha.

Ha ha ha ha.

My fandoms and interests and circles of acquaintances are collapsing into a fucking singularity.

[globalcooldown]

I've officially returned to SWTOR, for real.

You can tell because my guildies have resumed posting dildo pictures on my enjin wall.

[huntingdowndreams]

The Dark Hours

Ty'nea sat in her comfortable chair, blanket wrapped securely around her shoulders, and stared out the window into the vast nothingness of space. For an hour she had sat perfectly still, the cup of tea in her hands growing cold, her mind racing in circles around the night's events.

It wasn't the crowd that got to her. It wasn't that Jerhal had walked away to speak with someone. It was the voice. The woman's voice, dripping with the elite crispness found nowhere else in the galaxy but Dromund Kaas. She could steel herself to hear it on Nar Shaddaa, maybe even Coruscant. But she had her guard down. She was unprepared to hear the tone cutting through the air on Carrick Station.  The harsh yet melodic Imperial accent that spoke of Sith and the terror buried deep in her heart took her out right at the knees; the blood drained from her face and her arms went tingly and she was in a panic before the voice mingled into the sound of the cantina.

She was amazed she had held it together as long as she had. She had watched Jerhal walk away with the woman with the voice. Everything went sideways then; the sounds of the cantina blending together in a roar of cacophony against her ears. But she had managed to stay standing. To finish her wine. It was only when her hand began to shake so hard that the graphite she had been idly using to sketch a bottle of brandy cracked between her fingers that she knew she couldn't hold it together any more.

Master Moirianna had walked her home; the Miraluka woman didn't know her from anyone else other than as Jerhal's fiancee and yet she didn't flinch as Ty'nea's resolve broke and she sobbed herself into sickness, didn't cringe when the vomit hit her boots.  Instead, the woman had merely held her until she calmed down with no questions, had helped her and Jerhal clean up, and had quietly took her leave afterward.

It was the afterward that worried her the most.  The hour was late, but it was even darker than usual; Ty'nea had never seen that look on Jerhal's face before - the absolute abject terror he usually held in check had bubbled up to the surface and into his eyes as he saw her.  

And now, in the dark hours afterward, she sat in her chair quietly, tea gone cold in her hands.  Jerhal slept soundly in the other room; so exhausted from the absolute emotional dump of a talk they had both had that he didn't even stir when she left their bed.  And like when she sat in the office at Coruscant, waiting for them to call her name, the what ifs began to creep around the corners of consciousness.

What if he decides I'm not worth it?

What if he finds someone else?

She looked toward the dark room beyond the doorway, listening to the even sound of sleep beyond, and took a shaky breath, looking down at the cup cradled in her hands.

Then you fight, you stupid bitch.  You fight.

You should never have stopped fighting in the first place.

She set the cup on the table, looking out the window again.  The stars twinkled against the black velvet that stretched out to infinity, darker than any other night she could remember.

But she knew then.  She remembered the old saying.

The darkest hours are just before the light shines through.

She stood, looking toward the door again.  Master Ihlrath had offered to talk to the immigration officials for her; to see if her could prod her paperwork into the fast track.  He had offered her use of an extra ship the Marran had in their growing armada.   She would comm him during the next day to accept both offers.  But first she would curl up with Jerhal until morning.

And his love would help her start to shine.

It was time for her to find her light.

[smuggle-this]

Spark of Dissent

HOLO 44.2.248://

TEXT READOUT

DISPLAY? Y/N

I'm getting real sick of the attitude of a lot of Jedi.  Just because me and mine aren't force sensitive doesn't mean we aren't worth a little bit of common decency.  We're more than just meat shields for their reindeer games, or targets to mind fuck when they get irritated.

And unfortunately, it's starting to feel like some of our allies in the Marran don't see it that way.  That just because we're not special snowflake force sensitive darlings, we don't deserve the basic respect that jedi practically demand just by their presence.

I'm getting really sick of people idly throwing around references to "mindkriffing" people like they're talking about picking up a cup of caf.  Getting really sick of patching up my boys in blue because they took a force blast to the chest and took to the air like a bird in an Alderaan spring, just to make some space for a jedi to run in and start swinging with their glowbat and get all the credit and glory.  

Sith bleed just as good from blaster fire as the next fucker, and I don't care how all powerful they are, one Sith can't deflect sustained fire from a dozen blasters at once.

And I know I ain't the only one who feels this way.

Bald nearly went to blows with Ihlrath on the Hyperion last night.  Because one of Ihlrath's people told Oz to go home... and Oz tried to walk out the airlock on their hangars.  Put that idea right in his head.  I might not like Oz - shit, that's the understatement of the year - but I've saved his ass enough to know how he bleeds. They tried to say it was "just a suggestion", but with everything Bald's going through, dealing with Red...

It was nasty.

And the thing is, I don't think any of the forcers get why he was so angry.  They don't - or refuse to - see the ramifications of being able to just look at someone and make them think "Oh, I should go" but not have any control over how they're going to do it.  To just idly affect someone's actions like that, to take away their control?  It makes them no better than Sith.  Absolutely no better than those fucks who screwed up Red's brain so badly.

And it didn't help that Bald and I were in a little tiff not thirty seconds before Oz came wandering by, brain all scrambled.  About Red.  Because I guess I don't know when to stop poking the bear when it comes to her.

And Nia's probably mad at me now, too.  I told her I was trying to track down where Dhen fucked off to when he transferred out.  I want to drag his ass back by that busted nose of his so Nia can properly kick it for treating her like shit.  For fucking off without even saying so much as goodbye.  I deserved a goodbye, and she deserved a whole lot more than a shitty letter.

Fuck, man.  Last night just sucked.

[jeraxteral-blog]

Entry Twenty-Four

It has been a while since I could pick-up pen and flimsi and actually write anything down. We won our last battle, but Vy was hurt. Bad. She is okay now, but I was scared. Afraid I'd loose her. The walker she was in was hit by an RPAT. It ripped it apart. One of of the Jedi that was with us saved her. I owe him so much for saving my Vyen'a. When we got to the ship the Jedi were working feverishly on her. I was in shock. Then they moved her to the tanks. I had taken it as a good sign. I sat there for a few hours. I would have stayed, but I needed to head to my quarters to unpack and return my weapons. Orderlies don't like guns in med-bay. I came back and stayed there until they let her out. I was so thankful she was okay. Now she's back to full health and her bright old self again. Mostly.

She freaked out again about me after the gladiator fights on some God-forsaken planet. She fought as well but only had a minor leg wound. I on the other hand, narrowly defeated my opponent. I collapsed afterwards and apparently was badly wounded. After a small skirmish after the fights we were on the ship and I was tanked for the first time. This is second time I have been badly wounded. The first being on the Chimera with broken ribs from a blaster shot to the chest. Thankfully my body armor stopped most of it. Anyway, she was freaking out. I had been wounded in places I didn't think you could hurt or even existed. So she was very well justified. She  took care of me the following few days. Rarely left my quarters except to get something from the mess hall or the med-bay. Just one of the uncountable reasons why I love this girl.

After I was healed enough, the two of us went to actually enjoy our R&R we've been given. Went to Nar Shadda to a Masquerade party one of our friends was hosting. Had a blast there. Vyen'a dressed up as my sexy slave (Got to love that girl) and I as a Alderaanian noble. Met with the hostesses and then this idiot blurts out that he had some massive bounty on his head to impress some twi'lek Jedi. idiocy does not begin to describe. But to his salvation the barge was mostly empty and the hostesses were not allowed to kick his ass until he left the barge. Was a rather fun night, oh wait. Cannot forget Vyen'a giving Sedryn, a Jedi in the Marran, a proper taste of what a woman can provide. She went up and against his protests, shoved his face into her breasts (Can you say, awesome girlfriend?) and held him there. To say he was broken after that was probably an understatement. All in all it was a blast. good way to use up some of one's R&R.

Now with my R&R coming to an end. It is back to training and missions. The Empire is on the ropes on Corellia and we look to be preparing to help finish them off. I'll be glad to back to Corellia. Can actually make a difference. Have not heard anything from my family, but the Empire probably still controls the Holonet on Corellia. We'll just have to see what comes our way. We always manage to pull through.

((Finally writing more here. Not sure when I will write something else. Just have to see about School and in-game matters.))

[smuggle-this]

A Moment in Time

0322, Galactic Standard time.

A med bay.

A row of kolto tanks, each filled with bodies, some two to a tank, the healing properties of the liquid silently working, the only noise the beep of machinery and droids.

It was late.  Or early.  All the other living souls on board the Hyperion were asleep.

Except her.

The chill of the glass seeped through her fingertips and crept up her arms, causing Vyen'a to shiver slightly in place.  Still, she stood, hands pressed flat against the outside of the tank, forehead resting against the thick glass.  She hated med bays.  She hated being tanked.  Right now, though, she would trade everything she'd ever had to be inside, floating unconscious.  Instead of him.  The cot she'd made up lay untouched; the blankets, unfolded.  

She shivered again but didn't recognize the motion, eyes squeezed tightly shut as she silently mouthed the almost forgotten words from her childhood.  The prayers she had learned, drawing figures with the edge of a stick in the hard-packed dirt of the grotto's floor, carved from the thick rock halfway up the mountain.  A place to meditate and become a part of the life force with the goddesses, the gentle old priest had told her.  

And she had. 

The memory of the warmth that came with prayer never left her; how after she felt as though she glowed brighter than any star in the night sky.  How she felt so peaceful - so right.  Like her face turned toward a warm spring sun after months of rain.  When she was removed from training after her parents were gone, the feeling was gone.  Lost forever to time, she'd assumed.

Until she met Jerax.

And then the warmth came back.

She took a shuddering breath, tear slipping out from the corner of her eye to creep down the bridge of her nose, hanging from its tip until it broke free and fell, splashing against her boot.  A droid rolled near, beeping, and she shook her head.  

"No.  Still stable.  I'm watching this one."

The droid beeped in acknowledgement, moving to the next tank.  Vyen'a let out a shaky breath.  She'd not let Jerax know how bad his injuries really were.  She may have even tried to play them off, urging him to have a drink with the rest of the less-injured.  But now her eyes opened to stare down at the readout, the scan results flashing across the screens.  She knew how close he'd come.

Her eyes raised to look at his face through the thick glass and greenish liquid, still somehow peaceful in artificial unconsciousness, and her breath caught slightly in her throat.  The prayers started up again, haltingly, before trailing off into a shuddering sigh as she pressed her forehead against the glass again.

The droids beeped their readouts.

The kolto tanks hummed.

A minute clicked on the chrono hanging on the wall.

0323, Galactic Standard time.

[jeraxteral-blog]

Entry Twenty-Three

It's been a while since i wrote in here and it may be my last. We'll be assaulting the Traitors that fled after a failed coup in a few hours. Our armada against theirs and our land army against theirs. No faction, Empire and Republic working together on both sides. Only difference is they're traitors bent on genocide. 

Vy isn't taking this all too well. I can tell she fears the worst. I don't blame her. We're going up against a bastion. Heavily fortified. Our only benefit is that the Traitors have only had a few weeks to prepare any defense. I just hope when I told Vy that we'll make it through, that it will be the truth. A lot of men won't come back today. I just hope my men aren't a part of them.

[smuggle-this]

Everything is Wrong

HOLO 2.245.23://

It's taken me a week to process this. An entire week.

We've been moved off Voss. Everything is wrong.

A few days after Jerax and I got back from Corellia, back from visiting his family, the seventh was escorting Ihlrath and that bitch Alysen or whatever her name is to some fancy-ass Jedi or Voss temple. I don't even know. They were taking that holocron that they found there for safe-keeping.

And we were ambushed on the way. Fucking Sith. And it was a total clusterfuck and Jerax... he panicked. Morgan had more in-field experience and he screamed for a retreat while still standing his ground and Jerax listened instead of stepping up and taking charge.

Morgan and Jayl were captured. Sargis and Lugah and Astor were injured, badly.

And that fucking bitch Alysen thought that her little glowbox was worth more than the lives of Morgan and Jayl. And she half got her way. They traded it for Jayl.

We didn't get Morgan back. He's gone. The Sith took him.

We'll never get him back. I know what Sith do; all I have to to is ask Bald's girl, still huddled in my cargo bay. Her eyes turned even more haunted when I told her what happened.

And she's got a roommate now. Morgan's girl Katalin didn't take the news well. Obviously. She's some little Jedi padawan but apparently she and Morgan had a little something going on the side. So now she's in my cargo bay with Ty'nea, both with their little corners and their little bunks and crying themselves to sleep every night.

Jerax is a mess. I've never seen him like this. He completely blames himself for everything: the ambush, the captures, losing Morgan. I try to do what I can for him, but there's only so much I can do. He's not sleeping; when he does, he has nightmares.

And I feel horrible because I still have Jerax here with me. He's not on the other side of the galaxy. He's not been dragged off by Sith to an unknown end. But I don't know how long that'll last. Every day brings a fresh new hell and I'm terrified that one day soon I'll be curled on my bed weeping along with Nea and Kat. I've half a mind to ask him to marry me; so he'll know that even if that day comes, I wanted it to be forever with him. So he can have some security out here.

Maybe so I can have some, too.

And the Marran retreated to Tython. Ihlrath packed them all up off Voss to recuperate. Less than impressed with him right now; all he lost was a glowbox. He's not answering his comm. Jerax needs strong allies right now and he took his jedi club and left.

I wish Bald was here. I wish Morgan was here.

I wish I never heard of Voss.