The fighting done, the throne finally under some semblance of calm and order, meant a great deal to a great many people. It meant a new era, a new age of cooperation and prosperity. It meant a chance for peace, a time for rebuilding.
It also meant a time that Vayllaa was thrust into a spotlight she’d never wanted.
Suddenly, everyone wanted her attention. It was press conferences, and holocalls, and conversations with more heads of alliances and planets that she, frankly, even knew existed.
But the worst was Zakuul.
Despite all the terrible things that they’d gone through, they still wanted to throw her a party. And she couldn’t understand why. It seemed like such a waste of resources. But Indo was quick to point out that Zakuulans had always celebrated with a party. It was imbedded in the very culture - and with a new leader, meant a new party!
Vayllaa let Indo organize the entire thing. Something she immediately regretted when she saw what he wanted to put her in.
“No. Absolutely not!”
“But–”
“No.”
Indo didn’t ask again, and she prepared more proper uniform to wear for the event. But she had to admit that she was curious.
Later that evening, her fingers ran along the dress, watching as it caught the light in ways that she didn’t think possible, seemingly shimmering with the slightest movement. She knew it was a very pretty dress, but she had no desire to sport it in front of so many. However…
…Seeing the look on Theron’s face when he entered their quarters that night?
Iokath was a damn mess. And that was saying a lot, considering how much Vayllaa felt the entirety of her life was a mess. But with both sides scrambling for power, plus a machine that could destroy entire planets, things were not exactly under any semblance of control.
Nonetheless, she could resist taking one moment in the chaos to slip her arms around Theron’s waist, pressing her forehead against his back. He’d initially stiffened, but she felt him relax as she murmured a muffled “It’s me.”
“Hey. You holding up alright?”
“Hanging in there. I just needed a moment to anchor myself.”
He chuckled softly, a vibration she felt against her chest. “This tends to work better if I can return the favor, you know?”
“Gonna have to wait your turn, Oro. I got here first,” she teased, although after a few moment, she relented and loosened her hold on him enough to let him turn around and face her.
His arms slipped around her and he settled his chin on the top of her head. “Take all the time you need, Vay. I’ll be right here.”
Vayllaa looked up at the man, stunned that he seemed surprised by that statement. “Of course I’m worried. Wouldn’t you be, if it were her?” She remarked, motioning to the blonde that stood off to the side, speaking calmly to an angered Jakarro.
“It wouldn’t be her. She would never allow herself to be captured. His reliance on others made him weak.”
“Yea, well, not everyone can wiggle their fingers to throw people back 10 yards.”
Hm, it was a valid point. Evidently, his sister had gained none of the abilities that he had. Not that such a fact made her any less powerful - Revel certainly proved he was deadly with a gun. Perhaps she was the same.
“Is that why you worry? Because he has no Force sensitivity?”
She snorted, shaking her head. “Vyz, look... I... I just know I wouldn’t want to be in his position, alright? Implants or not, he’s gotta be hurting, and I---”
“You’re blaming yourself?”
“Well, I’m blaming Lana, really, but he wouldn’t be here to begin with if it weren’t for me.”
“I’m inclined to disagree with that statement. He would be here due to the Colonel, whether you were involved or not.”
She looked up at him curiously, wondering if that was a means by which he was attempting to comfort her. “Thanks, I think. So, we getting a move on, or...?”
“Quite. After all, it is up to you to harm your lover as you wish, not Revan,” he informed her, turning heel and moving off, leaving her sputtering for a couple of moments.
“I don’t want to hurt him!”
“No? I think he would look ravishing with a few bruises, which, of course, would need mending.”
“Not if I’m the one that put them there! That’s just abuse! I can mend his wounds from someone else, thank you!”
Vyzare smirked down at him. “And that is why you are worried about him. He is one you desire. Be honest, it is foolish not to be.”
Vayllaa groaned, reaching up to rub her forehead. “You’re back in my life for a couple of hours, and we’re back to the ‘holier than thou’ business.”
((Takes place shortly after their reunion, post Asylum))
“I should’ve been there,” he murmured, his fingers spread against her waist.
It was obvious to her what ‘there’ meant - Asylum. Her abdomen and back were still tender (even though she would never admit it), her skin marked with angry blue* scars that showed the entry and exit points of the lightsaber that had pierced her. In retrospect, she had no idea how she survived. In the present moment, though, she was eternally grateful for it, or else she wouldn’t be having a lazy, post-coital morning with Theron curled up against her.
“You were busy, I understand that. Besides, you being there might not’ve made a difference. That confrontation was going to happen at *some* point or another.” His fingers gently moved along her stomach, as he sunk down to place his head at the level of her waist. She squirmed a bit, not quite accustomed to the level of inspection that he was putting her through just then… nor entirely comfortable with the newest scars that would likely prove more permanent than she would care to admit to. For so long, her body was all she was good for. She’d never willingly admit to it, but vanity was a weakness that hit her now and then. Oddly enough, even though she would die before she was a slave again, the idea that she was worth less somehow, because of the new scars she sported, bothered her more than she wanted to let on.
Somehow, Theron seemed to understand that. At least, it certainly came across that way. His head shifted once more, pressing his lips against the scarred skin, ever so gentle as his fingers gently outlined the area. “Maybe so, but I’m not going to let it happen again,” he assured her, interrupting his sentence with the peppering of kisses on her skin. “I’d do anything to keep him from hurting you again.”
She sighed softly, some of her anxiety easing as his attention served to calm her rather than wind her up. “I know, Oro, I know.” Her hand shifted, coming up to comb through his hair lovingly; with the recent activities of the evening, his usual look had long since been left in disarray. She liked seeing it like that… simply because she knew she was one of the few that did.
Her finger twisted about in his hair, before tightening a grip and tugging at it just sharply enough to get his attention. “But stop trying to tickle me, huh? I’d rather you put that talented mouth of yours to better use.”
Theron smirked up at her at that statement. “As you wish, Commander.”
((*Best I can see, Twi’lek blood is hints of blue/purple. So going with that train of thought there.))
4/10 - Do not recommend. She’s charming and usually smiling, but don’t surprise her with physical contact. She’s warming up to it though, and she loves cuddles from Theron. Which is convenient for him, because she’s quite warm! But she doesn’t need to be curled up against him to fall asleep. It’s just nicer that way.
Breanna
9/10 - If you’re not careful, Breanna will jump on your back for a piggyback ride while walking around Odessen. She’s also prone to shoulder bumps, arms slung over people’s shoulders, or even the occasional shoulder massage if someone looks particularly tense (in increasing level of familiarity). She’s all about physical contact, so she’s gotta have one of her boys in bed with her come the sleeping hour (both is preferred, though). She has a hard time sleeping when they’re not around.
Jiriata
3/10, initially - Would rather you didn’t, thanks. But when she discovers how very warm Vector is, she’s all about it. When they’re apart, she has a very hard time sleeping, actually, because he’s such a comforting presence. When she hooks up with Theron, it’s initially just for convenience - he’s much cooler to the touch than Vector is, but warmer than her (For the record, I haven’t decided yet if she stays with Theron after Vector comes back. I’m on the fence about it).
Raexya
1/10 - No. Quinn sleeps on his side of the bed, and she sleeps on her side.
Vamien
7/10 - He’s completely not used to it, at first. Jedi are so insular, that physical contact is not something they often participate in. With Doc and Kira being his initial sources of physical contact (not romantically, just the idea of camaraderie), Vamien started to warm up to the idea. By the time he got to Theron, he realized how much he enjoyed being the big spoon at night... but sometimes he lets Theron be the big spoon, instead.
“Regardless of what they think, I know you’re an amazing person.” from the angst/fluff prompts?
(Cont’d from here - I told you that I’d continue this sooner, rather than later!)
She couldn’t control her tears, not now that they were finally in the open. She’d been trying to keep herself composed for so long, months of keeping emotions locked away flooding past the gates that had finally been opened.
In the back of her mind, she knew there were some energies upon her. Valkorian had been in her mind for too long not to identify it as a use of the Force. She just didn’t care. She was in no position to, not when she felt beaten and battered, and otherwise useless. A touch against her face, down her neck - rougher than she was used to. A cloth? She only absently noticed it at first, but immediately recognized warmth as it settled down beside her. She ducked her head sideways, burying her face against his chest, gasping for breath as she attempted to calm her apparent hysterical break.
She had no idea how much time had passed, ‘coming around’ to the sensation of a warm hand rubbing her shoulder patiently. Her own hand came up, settling on his chest lightly, scarcely registering that her cuts no longer bled.
The warmth of his was welcome, something that filled an ache in her that she scarcely had acknowledged that she missed.
Her bed always felt so empty, lately.
“…Arcann…?”
“It does not seem wise to pursue that thought, Commander.”
She pouted a bit, dropping her head against his chest again as she lapsed into silence, one that was much calmer than it had been before. She had absolutely been about to solicit him for sex, but she admittedly was greedily soaking in the presence of another while she still could. He seemed quite content to let her have that.
It was some time before she spoke again. “How did you manage it alone for so long?”
She heard the intake of breath, the slight tensing of his hand upon her shoulder. Slowly, he released it, his touch easing as he spoke. “I knew nothing else. Valkorian relied on no one. Since Thexan… neither did I. Not even Vaylin. Senya would not have been more than a passing thought, but for Vaylin’s singular quest to defeat her.” His hand squeezed her arm as he continued. “I have never experienced what you had with Theron, nor with any of the others that stand at your side. It is simple to continue in such a fashion when it is all you have known.”
It had been all she had known for so long, herself. She’d never had anyone to turn to on Hutta, and escaped from her circumstances with the Hutts by her own skill. While she found friendship with Corso and Risha, it was Bowdaar that she had formed a true camaraderie with. The pair worked well, shared a similar past, and seemed to comprehend one another with ease. But even that was not what she’d found with Theron. The two worked naturally, flowing together both in battle and in bed in ways that didn’t seem real. They had clicked from the start, but it was their reunion on Odessen that made the bond deeper.
“It would be so easy to say I wished I had never met him. This hurt would never have happened... but I can’t. I was always chasing the next big prize, in my youth. Chasing credits wherever I could. But I found my prize when I met him.” She laughed then, a genuine one that had been rare to escape her as of late, and she straightened from her spot against Arcann’s chest. “Force, that sounds so incredibly cheesy.”
“And yet, it strikes me as the truest thing you have said in some time,” he countered, looking down at her. “Vayllaa, I cannot begin to explain his actions. But you knew him better than us all. Look past the doubt that threatens to overwhelm you. You know the truth. You simply need to listen to it.”
He was right. Deep down, she did know the truth. She just couldn’t hear it over the endless cacophony of noise that contradicted it.
“’I’d do anything to protect you.’“ The words were breathless, scarcely audible at the level she said it at.
“Pardon?”
“He was telling me then, wasn’t he?” It made so much sense, now. She’d thought he was flirting, went in for the kiss, instead. But he was trying to tell her something. And she hadn’t been listening.
A laugh escaped her, and she shifted once more, this time to throw her arms around Arcann. “You’re amazing! Arcann, you’re a genius!”
As taken aback by the hug as he was, he couldn’t hide his own laughter at her sudden turnaround. “I simply narrowed your focus. The credit is yours.”
She grinned, withdrawing from the hug just enough to meet his gaze. It wasn’t that long ago that she had wanted to strangle him for what he’d done. But now? Force, she could kiss him. “Arcann, if you’re going to give me the best advice I’d heard in months, then you’re going to have to listen to my shitty one. Regardless of what they think, I know you’re an amazing person. You made me remember something I willed myself to forget. Thank you.” She did kiss him, but it was one of friendship, of gratefulness, not one of desperation and loneliness like it would have been mere minutes earlier. With one more hug, she hurriedly slipped out of his room and ran to a place she hadn’t dared go to for months.
Shedding her jacket, she slipped into one that was far less comfortable, and certainly fit her significantly less properly. But it, itself, hadn’t been worn in quite some time, either, having lost favor to another red jacket that he’d been wearing in recent months.
It smelled of him, still, and she couldn’t help but smile at the memory it brought forth. Theron Shan’s support had always made her stronger.
It was time for her to return the favor, and show her support for him.
Vayllaa doesn’t like to dance. Not in public, anyway. For too long, it was the means of her subservience - what she’d been forced to do back on Hutta before gaining her freedom on Nar Shaddaa. She hated dancing and associated it with a lack of control; associated it with a state of helplessness that she endured for most of her early twenties.
Even during those first few years, after she’d taken her ship back from Skavak, whenever the crew would dance (Risha calling up some tune or another while tinkering in the engine room, and then Corso humming along, and soon it would spiral out of control), Vayllaa always would make it look silly. Her gestures erratic, her movements seemingly clumsy. It was her way of coping with it: she danced for herself now, not for customers she didn’t want slipping bills into her so-called skirt.
But as the years passed, and Vayllaa found herself with a new ‘crew’ on Odessen, the lie didn’t last very long. It was one of those days, where Lana had been corralling Oggurobb into cooperating with their latest mission (stubborn Hutt, ‘not worthy of his time’), and Theron had a source that was being equally uncooperative. So with Koth’s help, she convinced them to take an evening to themselves and hang out at the cantina, even if it was one of the side rooms that was less trafficked. It was good for morale to let everyone see them hanging out together in a social setting, after all.
Theron wasn’t the only one that knew information about everyone. If there was one thing Vayllaa observed about people it was their reaction to music; she spent too long doing so before that she didn’t even realize she still did so at times. In this case, it was intended to help calm the group, so she queued up songs that she knew the pair had relaxed to in the past.
What she didn’t expect was that into his third drink, Theron would rise to his feet and ask her to join him. In retrospect, neither would be able to explain what possessed them, just that her hand slipped into his and he tugged her towards him.
And they danced. Truly danced. Better than they thought the other was capable of, her with her previous erratic movements and him with his inability to put his work aside. Her hips moved in earnest, swaying as her body spun in time with the music, and occasionally her arms would find his, fingers moving along his shoulders or his neck as she would draw herself close.
It was the closest anyone had ever seen of her former self, but for the first time in her life, she was enjoying it. Seizing the power she had on the dance floor as her own will... and admittedly savoring the way Theron was looking at her as she displayed her skills.
One song turned into two, then slipped into a third. She was about to move away as the third song died out when he reached out for her hand once again. “One more?”
She couldn’t deny him. Especially when the music slowed and he tugged her close, her head nuzzled against the swell of his chest. She could hear his heart pounding, even over the music, and she knew her own must be as well.
“You’re a great dancer,” he murmured softly, sinking his head to rest against hers lightly.
“You’re full of surprises yourself, Theron. I’ve never met anyone that could keep up.”
His lips brushed against her temple, and she found herself sighing softly at the act. Nothing else was said, for nothing else needed to be said. The two swayed together, content in the other’s company, each hoping this wouldn’t be the last time they had the opportunity to do so.
Worries "I love you" prompts: Letting them warm their cold hands under your shirt.
Gloves were never her thing. Perhaps it was years spent needing to have a proper grip on things? But whatever the case may be, she always liked feeling the object against her skin. Thus, when she found her fingerless gloves, she knew that she’d found the perfect set. Kept her palms warm, but allowed her to feel like she could actually *grip* things. How Theron managed with those bulky gloves, she never knew.
However, finding the perfect pair of gloves didn’t mean that she loved them *all* the time.
“We don’t really *need* to recruit Blizz, do we?” She muttered to Theron, bringing her hands to her mouth once more. The cold on Hoth seemed worse than she remembered… likely because she tried to forget the planet as soon as she’d left it.
Theron chuckled, reaching over to take her hands in his, rubbing them between his palms. “Yes, we do. Think you can manage a bit more snow? Or should I call for the cavalry for a space heater?”
If there was one challenge that Vayllaa never stood down from, it was a questioning of her work ethic. “No. I’ll do it, dammit.” But as she withdrew her fingers from his palms, she contemplated getting revenge.
Sure enough, it was after the next Jawa’s delivery that Vayllaa saw her opportunity. Mounting the speeder to their next destination, Vayllaa slipped into the seat behind him and waited until he was off… and then slipped her fingers under his shirt to press them against his skin. For a brief moment, she almost regretted it, as the speeder took a sharp swerve before nearly missing a snowbank. Thank goodness for his incredible reflexes.
“Vay, what the hell!?”
“I don’t need the cavalry or a space heater, Theron! I have you!”
