Noctin looked up quickly as Shiron joined him on the roof of the small house, then looked down at the ground as she sat beside him. “I don’t think I’m a very good teacher,” he admitted quietly. “It would be better if he was being trained by a real- by another Desolate.”
He wasn’t trying to beat himself up over it, it was just true. He’d barely been able to get a grasp on the broad aspects of his abilities before he’d had to leave the Desolates. He knew more about how to teach Chito how to physically fight than he did how to use their powers.
And then of course he was simply afraid. Afraid he might hurt someone. Afraid he might tell Chito to do the wrong thing. Afraid he might pass on poison from the Hunters.
Shiron hummed. “He looks up to you.” Noctin risked a glance at her, finding her looking up at the night sky. When he didn’t answer, she chuckled, though it lacked humor. “Honestly it was probably for the better that you turned up on our doorstep. He was ready to leave and find someone to teach him.”
“Is that why you let us stay?” Noctin asked.
“One reason,” she said, making Noctin blink in surprise at the straightforward answer.
“What were the other reasons?” he asked after a moment, testing the waters.
“Mika,” she said flatly. “I don’t know what it is about that kid, but she’s got a knack for people. Can tell who’s got good in their heart and who doesn’t.”
Noctin agreed. There was something about Mika, he knew. Though whether she simply had excellent intuition or it was something more, only time would tell.
“And then there was you and Alé.”
Faint amusement flickered through him upon hearing that. “Us? You wanted us to leave,” he teased lightly.
Shiron flashed him a narrow eyed smile and nudged at him with her elbow. “Yeah, I did. At first I was just thinking of Chito and Mika and how I didn’t want to put them in danger, but while you were healing I realized that sending you both back out would put you in danger too.” She shook her head. “You’re both still little. Maybe not as much as Chito and Mika, but you shouldn’t have to fend for yourselves. Especially not against the Hunters.”
A lump rose in Noctin’s throat. “You risked a lot letting us stay,” he murmured.
Shiron shook her head. “It was the right thing to do. If I could go back I’d do it again and make myself take you in without being an ass about it. Which I’m sorry for, by the way.”
“No it’s okay,” Noctin said firmly. “You were just trying to protect your kids from the Hunters. It’s- it’s exactly what you should have done.”
“Hm,” Shiron said, then reached over to pull him into a one armed hug. “And now I have two more kids to protect.” Tears flooded Noctin’s eyes, seeping into Shiron’s shirt. He stayed silent, not trusting himself to speak.
“It’s safe here for you,” she said. “I’ll make sure of it.”
@shawsnires the smile said angst but you said fluff so here u go
“Raksha!”
Raksha flashed an irritatingly bright smile back at her. “I need you to stay here okay? I got this.”
She sounded so damn sure of herself, and before Sahmira could even answer, she was gone. An exasperated huff left her. It was good Raksha was starting to come out of her shell. The other girl even had a personality now, though it swung wildly between tentative and reckless.
She glared over at Roen. “If she gets caught it’s your fault.”
Roen cackled, her smile all sharp teeth. “It’s just swiping Koe’s declaration of love.”
Sahmira’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t even know if he likes you.”
“Which is why I need the note.”
“Then you should have gotten it yourself!”
Roen scoffed, waving a hand at her. “You know how bad I am at sneaking around.”
A snort left Sahmira and she rolled her eyes. “Yeah. I’m surprised you haven’t already walked up and demanded an answer from him.”
“That’s rude-”
“Spirits help me.”
“-and this is more fun anyways.”
Soft footsteps snagged Sahmira’s attention. Both of them looked sharply over as Raksha rounded the corner, a wicked gleam in her eyes and a teasing smile on her face. She gave Sahmira a faint nod.
Roen leaped to her feet. “Did you get it?”
“Yep,” Raksha said, lifting a small piece of paper. Roen bolted over, but Raksha lifted the note high above her head out of Roen’s reach.
“Raksha come on!” Roen whined, jumping uselessly to try to snag it. “You read it didn’t you!” she accused.
Raksha’s grin only grew. Sahmira, though she had an idea of what was really happening, had to admit she was curious. Very. Curious. Standing up, she slunk over to the two of them. As Raksha lowered it to avoid Roen, Sahmira lunged, grabbing Raksha’s arm and pulling it down, quickly snatching the note out of her hand.
“Hey!”
“Sahmira!”
Smirking at them, she lowered her gaze to the now very crumpled note. A bark of laughter quickly left her, making Roen rush to her. Sahmira backed up quickly, holding a hand out to stop Roen. She cleared her throat and, in her best impression of Koe, began to read.
“Roen,” she drawled. “Your smile is radiant as the sun, your eyes as stunning as the desert sand at dawn-”
“Shit does it actually say that?” Roen interrupted, trying to push closer, color rising in her cheeks.
Sahmira snickered, holding the paper out of her reach, and continued. “You’re the funniest person I know and,” her voice dropped to conspiratorial whisper as she leaned in closer to Roen, making direct eye contact. “I love you.”
Raksha was near tears, trying desperately to stifle her laughter as she rested a hand on Roen’s shoulder. Roen snatched the note out of Sahmira’s hand, immediately scanning it with wide eyes. Sahmira took a couple steps back as realization flashed across Roen’s face.
“THAT’S NOT WHAT IT SAYS!” she screeched, tossing the note aside and lunging at Sahmira.
Sahmira fled, cackling. It definitely was not, but Roen’s reaction had been beyond priceless and definitely made stealing a reminder to wash the saddles worth it.
@gracelingdesolate I accidentally deleted your request so here also it’s late please forgive typos
4. The one where the soulmates have matching glowy marks.
A Jaig’s eye was ingrained on his wrist, that developed in his childhood. “You have a soulmate,” his older brothers would tell him, grinning at the child’s confusion. Soulmate? Rex was hopeful then, tracing the shape over and over at night, letting his fantasies run free. The stories said it would glow when you met them; matching the lovers who were destined to be together. What would they look like? Who would they be? Endless questions would circle in his head, chasing away sleep. One day, he would tell himself. One day.
Others told him he was special then, and lucky that the universe chose him and his soulmate at such a young age. Now, though, it was different. The war dragged ever onward, and with each passing day Rex doubted more. Nobody in a life like his could find someone realistically. What if they had died already? He shuddered at the thought, and shoved it down, turning over in his bed. There were more important things to do. He had a duty.
Time still ran forward, with Rex at the end of its rope. It seemed pointless, he told himself, to want for something so pure when there was so much death. Yet still there was an empty space in his heart, waiting to be filled.
The moment finally came at the time all moments do- when we least expect it.
“This intel better be worth it…” Rex grumbled under his breath, rewiring a ship’s navicomputer. Why they had to build this one in underneath the piloting systems, he didn’t understand. Above him, Jesse was slicing into their systems, grabbing locations and downloading anything useful he could get his hands on. It was Rex’s job to make sure they didn’t leave a trace.
“Got it!” Jesse exclaimed. He ejected the holochip. “Are you done yet Captain?”
Kriffing thing- “Almost,” Rex gave it one final look. “Alright. Let’s scram.”
The pair of them left the smuggling ship as soon as they came, covering their tracks. It was a job well done, as far as he was concerned.
“All that’s left is getting to that drop point.” He said to Jesse.
“Var’Shae should be waiting for us at Omega station.” Jesse imputed their course into the ship.
“Good. Won’t take us long then,” Rex tugged his leather jacket on. He had to dress in civilian clothes this time. Definitely wasn’t something he was used to, but everything was running smoothly so far. “Do you think this will be worth it?”
“I think so,” came the man’s reply. “Commander Var’Shae always has good intel. Keeps her missions clean. You’d like her.”
Var’Shae… If there were complaints to be had, Rex was completely unaware. The commander mainly worked with special ops, sending in spies or intel here and there, pulling the strings when needed. From what he knew, she was clear cut and always got to the point, no typical Jedi mysticism. The two had corresponded before but never officially met. Rex normally felt uneasy going cloak and dagger style, but she was short on agents and this needed to be done. Jesse and the Captain were more than capable for the job.
Soon enough they were docking in the space station. Rex quickly left the ship, leaving Jesse behind. He’d call for backup if needed. After breezing through checkpoints, Rex finally arrived to the drop off location, a small abandoned apartment room, one of several on Omega. He keyed in the password and quickly stepped in.
“Captain Rex,” A low, but pleasant voice greeted him. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“Commander Var’Shae.” He stood a little straighter on instinct. “The pleasure’s all mine.”
“You can call me Sarin.”
Now that part was surprising. It was nice of her to remember my name though, he thought as he grabbed the holodisk from his jacket’s pocket. She was certainly living up to standards, he definitely wouldn’t complain about working with her again, perhaps-
Their hands touched as Rex transferred the disk and he froze. A sudden warm feeling sparked, flowing up his arm and electrifying the room. And she could feel it, too. Looking down, he could scarcely believe his eyes. There, his mark, glowing white-blue. And hers, matching his in every line and curve, on the inside of her wrist. It was as if the stars aligned, painting a picture clear as day.
“You’re my soulmate….” his voice was a whisper. Overcome with awe. Relief flooded his chest, followed by joy. Rex was not used to these feelings, but he didn’t care. This felt right.
“I…” hers was just as soft. “I never thought I would find you.”
“I know.” He didnt know how, but he did. She knew too. They both felt it. Somehow. Their fingers were still trembling, brushing ever so softly together, as if they were afraid to break the moment
“Sarin. My name is Sarin.” She said, looking up at him. Her eyes were blue, searching his intensely. There was something in them he found to be soothing.
“Sarin…” he tasted the name on his lips. It felt as if he had known it for a long time.
As soon as the words left him, he felt relaxed. Their hands were touching now, unafraid as she laced her fingers with his. Despite the war, and all that loomed on the horizon, Sarin felt at peace here with him. She knew the Force guided her to him, and that they could start something together.
“Well,” Rex was starting to feel embarrassed, but not in a bad way. “We uh, got that intel you needed.”
“Thank you.” Sarin just smiled, and placed the holodisk in her pack. Stepping around the desk, she closed the distance between them.
Rex grabbed her other hand, holding both in his own as she stepped closer. Normally, he wouldn’t even think of being so forward with another partner, but this was not a normal situation. “Do we have time? Can I stay?”
“Of course.” Still holding his hand, Sarin led him to the couch, so that they could both sit down. “We have some catching up to do.”
He was smiling ear to ear. “It’s definitely been long enough.”
For the first time in his life, Rex could see the path ahead. And he no longer had to walk it alone.
1 with jessala because I'm an actual cheeseball and love soulmate prompts, especially when Jedi and clones are involved
the one where you only see color once you meet your soulmate.
He’s pinned down behind a planter, with a column of droids coming down the street at him (Yeah, he’s fucking pissed; intel said there wasn’t a base here, just a small outpost. Fuck intel, honestly.), when a chipper voice bursts over his comms, “Calvary’s here.”
//crawls out of the grave with this in hand helo @celebrate-the-clone-wars i have eye of the storm
Blue paint dripped from the frozen brush to the floor, hitting it with a soft splat.
Rex stared down at his helmet and the scuffed jaig eyes. A mark of courage. Bravery. A great leader. It seemed like a lifetime ago that those traits had been assigned to him. Seemed like they had been assigned to a whole different person, he thought bitterly, not entirely sure who or what exactly he was so infuriated with.
That wasn’t true. Most of it was at himself.
The brush trembled in his fingers, bleeding more paint onto the ground. Pat, pat, pat.
Fives had been by. “Not your fault,” he had said. “Did the best you could in a shitty situation.”
Had he?
There were a thousand things he could have done differently if he’d just been a little more brave, a little more of a leader, just a little more worthy of his title and award.
How could he have let the execution get so far?
The helmet hit the table with a heavy thunk as he dropped it to wipe roughly at his eyes.
How had he not realized sooner it was the 212th?
“Wasn’t your fault,” Cody had said after he had dragged himself to face his friend, shattering as he apologized for killing his men, his brothers. “It was a horrible trick, it wasn’t your fault vod, it wasn’t.”
But that didn’t stop the nightmares where instead of facing Waxer, he was facing Cody, watching him draw his last breath, knowing that he could have stopped it if only if only if only-
He dropped the paintbrush onto the table and picked the helmet back up. They didn’t trust him anymore. And why should they? He’d failed not only in allowing the execution to get too far, but he hadn’t pulled the trigger either. Or rather, he’d pulled it too late. If Dogma had just waited one more second-
It wasn’t Dogma’s fault. He couldn’t blame his cowardice on Dogma having the strength to not hesitate.
He ran his thumb over the barely raised patches of paint.
He was not worthy of this mark anymore.
Fingers curling, he scratched the remainder of the eye off. Chips of paint stabbed under his fingernails, flaking away in pieces as broken as himself, drifting toward the floor until the lie was gone.
Staring at the now empty space, something akin to relief crept into his battered heart. He no longer bore a mark that wasn’t true. Nobody was going to look at him now and be able to scoff at a lie.
He set the helmet down and wiped at his eyes again. He would prove himself worthy of their trust again. Some bonds were broken beyond repair, but perhaps they could be healed. He could work harder, be better, win their trust back. He had to.
Not so friendly fucking reminder but if you ship rex/soka don’t fucking interact with my art or writing it is not, has not, and never will be for you goddamn creeps
truth be told i didn’t get the idea for this until yesterday so apologies if it’s rough ANYWAYS here’s the cute thing i wrote for today’s writing wednesday “copycat” @celebrate-the-clone-wars
Petal sat cross legged on the floor in the room with the door open and his armor strewn haphazardly around him as he painted. Focusing carefully on getting the line of pink on his hand guard right, it took him a moment to notice the small, nervous presence hovering by the door. Looking up, he found one of the cadets they were showing around the cruiser peeking in.
“5499 right?” he asked after a moment of trying to place them.
“Oh-” she said softly, brown eyes widening. “You’re the commander. I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to bother you...”
“You didn’t, don’t worry,” Petal reassured her, stretching a leg out to sweep pieces of his armor out of the way. “You want to join me?”
The cadet blinked, then after a long moment of consideration, slowly stepped into the room and sat down. Petal returned to carefully drawing the brush over his armor. “How are you liking the tour?” he asked conversationally.
“It’s alright,” she murmured, hugging her knees to her chest as she watched.
“Better than Kamino?”
“Everything’s darker out here.”
Petal hummed in agreement. Compared to the rest of the galaxy, Kamino’s entirety of stark white walls was blinding.
“What’s that color?”
Petal found her staring at the small can of reddish pink paint he was using. “It’s like a rose color,” he decided after a moment. “Have you ever seen a rose before?” She shook her head. “It’s a kind of flower,” he explained, a half smile creeping across his face. “The prettiest ones are this color.”
“It’s a pretty color,” she murmured, edging forward. She reached one small hand for the paint, then dipped her fingers into it. Pulling her hand out, she studied the paint dripping down her palm. A tiny smile crept onto her face. “This is my favorite color.”
“Oh yeah?” Petal asked, amusement flickering through him.
“Yeah,” she decided, smearing the paint across her hands and down her arms.
Alarm flashed through Petal. “Why are you doing that?” he asked, reaching out to stop her. The long necks wouldn’t like a paint covered cadet returning to them. He was going to have to clean her off before they got back to Kamino. Luckily they still had a couple hours before that, but armor paint was a pain to clean off.
She blinked up at him. “I don’t have armor to paint,” she said as though it were obvious.
Petal stopped, then withdrew, a weary chuckle leaving him as the simple answer defused his stress. “Okay I see,” he said, considering his armor for a moment before pushing the biggest piece, his breastplate, toward her. “Here, why don’t you help me paint mine instead?”
Surprise flashed across her face, her hand freezing on her arm. “Really?” she asked, awestruck.
“Sure,” he said with a smile. “You can practice for when you get your own.” Staring at the breastplate, she reached out slowly and took it, resting it in her lap. “I don’t have another brush,” Petal admitted after glancing around uselessly for a spare. “But you can use this one.”
“Can’t I use my hands?” she asked.
Petal relented. She was already covered in the stuff. A little more wasn’t going to change anything. “Yeah why not,” he said, moving the paint can to rest between them.
She shifted uncertainly, gingerly moving the breastplate so as not to get any paint on it. “Do you want it to look like anything?” she asked carefully.
“Nah,” Petal said, waving a hand dismissively. “Knock yourself out, kid.” She was already a bundle of nerves. No point making it worse.
Cautiousness vanishing, she grinned widely and thrust her fingers into the paint. Petal watched for a moment, amusement and affection swelling in his chest as she spattered pink haphazardly over the dull, off white armor, then went back to his own work.
“Did you pick your name because you like roses?” she asked, curiosity suddenly bursting from her like fireworks.
A laugh escaped Petal. “No, not quite, but I do like roses.”
“I want to see a rose someday. A pink one, like this. Are other flowers this color?”
“Oh yes,” Petal chuckled. “Once you get off Kamino for good, you’ll get to see plenty of flowers that are all kinds of colors.”
She clapped her hands together excitedly, sending little specks of paint flying. “I can’t wait! What’s your favorite color?”
A snort left Petal and he waved toward his helmet, which was carefully painted pink, red, and purple. “Take a guess.”
She paused in her painting, reddish pink hand hovering over the breastplate for a moment before reaching out hesitantly toward the helmet. She stopped before she touched it. “It’s pretty,” she whispered, then quickly drew her hand back to her chest. “Do you have those colors?”
“Yeah,” Petal said, glancing back toward the open cabinet where the other paints were. “You want them?” She nodded quickly, the excitement from before sparking back to life around her.
Hauling himself to his feet, Petal made his way over to grab the paints. “Are any of the other cadets going to join us?” he asked as he opened the red and purple cans and set them down.
She didn’t answer, save for a shrug as she dipped her fingers into the purple, then silently went about tracing the paint onto the armor, small shoulders hunched over as she worked. The bursting, colorful aura had vanished again, retreating into her. Something was there between her and the other cadets. Petal waited.
“They all already have names chosen,” she said quietly. “I don’t.”
Taking his brush back up, Petal dipped it into the red. “Names take time to find,” he said. “Some people take longer than others.”
“But it’s embarrassing!” she burst out. “They all get to say their names and I still have to use my number.”
Empathy twinged through Petal. “Yeah that can be hard,” he admitted. The pressure to choose a name was heavy, to say the least, being one of the very few ways they had to claim an identity. “Have you thought of any names you like?”
She shrugged again, working the purple into the pink. “I don’t know. I don’t want something stupid like Storm or Rain because that’s all that’s on Kamino. There’s more things out here and I want to see them before I choose.”
Petal knew for a fact that the farthest she’d been outside Kamino was this cruiser for the tour. She really hadn’t seen much of the outside galaxy yet. “There’s a lot outside Kamino. Even I haven’t been everywhere.”
“I want to go everywhere,” she said, brushing her hair out of her face. Purple smudged across her cheek, but she didn’t seem to notice.
Deciding against shooting her hopes down, Petal nodded slightly. Who knew, maybe the war would end and she would be able to. “You’ll be able to see a lot of new things then.”
“Like paint,” she grinned, stretching her pink and purple stained hands out toward him and waving.
“Yeah, like paint,” Petal laughed, waving his brush back at her.
“You should use your hands. It’s more fun,” she said decisively.
Petal’s painting slowed. Was he really going to get paint all over his hands just to please this cadet? It wasn’t even a question.
“You’re absolutely right,” he declared, putting the brush on the ground. Reaching for the purple, he could feel her watching with razor sharp eyes. The paint felt cold and wet against his skin and dripped messily everywhere. Cleanup was going to be a nightmare.
Grabbing one of his shin guards, he spread his paint covered fingers over the hard surface. Satisfaction was rolling off the cadet in waves, as if the smile on her face wasn’t testament enough of her pleasure at getting the commander of all people to fingerpaint with her.
They settled, contentedly smudging and smearing and tracing away, trading stories and facts until Petal felt the faint tremor that meant they were coming out of hyperspace.
“Alright little one we gotta get you cleaned up,” he said, setting his piece of armor aside and flexing his fingers against the stiffness of the half dried paint.
She pouted. “Can’t I stay a little longer?” she asked, giving him the same look Scree’s dog did when it wanted something.
“Afraid not kiddo. We have to get you cadets back.” He stood up and made his way over to the sink.
She rolled her eyes and set the piece of armor she’d been working on aside, then stood up, admiring her painted arms and hands as she wandered over to him. “Can’t I keep it?”
To be honest, Petal wouldn’t be surprised if the colors had stained her skin and allowed her to keep the ghost of the real colors for a day or two. “Maybe some of it,” he said, ushering her to the sink. “We’ll see.”
The scrubbing wasn’t as bad as Petal thought it would be. The paint came off reasonably well, and, just as he’d guessed, if someone looked close enough they would be able to see a faint reddish purple tinge to her arms and hands.
Delight streamed from her like sunlight. “It’s still there!”
“Yeah a little,” he chuckled, leading her out into the hallway to take her back to the group. “You’ll have proof that you got to paint armor like a real trooper.”
She laughed, skipping down the hallway beside him, every trace of the nervous kid who’d peeked in a couple hours ago gone. “They’re gonna be so jealous! I got to paint the commander’s armor,” she said with relish.
Amusement flooded Petal. She was going to be holding that over her team’s head for a while.
“Will we see each other again?” she suddenly asked, looking up at him.
The question startled him, though he should have seen it coming. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. They were very busy. Missions like this where they simply showed the top cadets around were few and far in between. And then of course there was the fact that he might not make it out of a battle.
“Oh,” she mumbled, gaze dropping to the floor.
Petal felt his heart crack. He didn’t have the strength of will that some people did when it came to making promises he likely couldn’t keep. “Hey,” he said gently, smiling down at her. “Tell you what, if I’m ever around Kamino I’ll see if I can see you. How’s that sound?”
Her expression lit up and she bounced in place. “Yes! Good! And then I can tell you when I get my name!”
“There you go,” he said, patting her head affectionately. “Now come on, let’s hurry. We’ll be landing soon.”
For @celebrate-the-clone-wars writing wendesday prompt “copy cat”!
For a good ten minutes or so, Rex was engulfed in his own work. He was looking over his datapads and studying some information about the current planet he was stationed on when the door slid open. Over the threshold stepped a tall man. His skin was dark, with his hair long curly hair was pulled back and his blue robe dragging on the floor behind him. He too looked down at a datapad until he entered the room. He tossed the device on the bed right before groaning.
“Is everything okay?” Rex asked mildly concerned. “The meeting couldn’t have been that bad.”
“Politicians are like packs of spoiled children.” The man admitted, sitting in one of the spare arm chairs. “As predicted, nothing got done. I can’t believe there’s actually going to be a banquet tonight.”
Rex nearly chuckled. “Not with the same people you just got done arguing with?”
“It will be the most tense banquet I’ve ever been to.”
Rex went back to reading the datapad as the man continued to speak. Varik, was the man’s name and he was a politician from Alderaan. Sometime after the Umbara mission, Rex was assigned to be his bodyguard while the rest of the 501st got a well deserved break. Normally, Rex would argue against an assignment like this but he needed some time…away. After what he’d been through, after there was a clear sign of distrust between he and his men, he needed to put some distance between himself and Coruscant.
When he heard he’d be guarding a Politician, he expected the mission to be frigid and the politician to be strict and even rude to him.
Varik however, was completely different from what he imagined. He was calm and collected, but funny and kind. He enjoyed Rex’s company, treated him to dinner (dinners which Rex refused at first) and involved him in the mission as more than a bodyguard. Rex felt as if he found a friend…and as time went on, he wondered if that friendship would turn into something more.
“And the worst part about banquets is that I have to dance.”
Rex came back into reality, placing the datapad down. “Sir?”
“Dance. At banquets there’s a moment when every dances. Just ballroom dances.”
“You can’t decline?”
“I mean–unless I want to be standing there like a stick. It would be better if I had someone to dance with….someone I actually liked.” His voice drifted until his violet eyes rested on Rex. Rex, knowing full well Varik was looking his direction, turned to face the window.
‘ less than six months in the imperial service and you desert. ’
far from accusation to be found within zahyana’s statement —— rather if there is anything, it is a hint of wry amusement that attaches itself to her voice. half a year of being beaten to the bone, work consuming all of his life and haunted with the faces of his dead brothers. all of them gone now —— save perhaps for boil, however there is strong doubt that lingers within cody.
it is far from any wonder that he appears older than his twenty-six years (technically, in reality he is a mere thirteen years and the implications are even more horrifying).
‘ if we were less than men to the republic, now… our life does not even warrant the smallest of value. ’ bitterness touches each word in clashing with the cool composure in which he had previously held a reputation for.
not anymore. not since the fall of the republic.
not that either cody nor zahyana mourn for the republic’s loss, hardly seen as people of worth in the eyes of the war mongering controllers.
‘ you make a wonderful brother, cody. ’ zahyana is gentle in the rocking of the small bundle held within the safety of her arms, and there is a peak of thick, dark curls against the shocking white.
cody does not think so, he has let his brothers die and he has failed his brothers, this is merely a hint of his redemption (or so in his eyes, despite his everlasting fame as an excellent general in the clone wars). however, argument will not be made here, for he has a request to make of the woman who he once shared an intimate relationship.
it is much more than either of them, for the protection of the most innocent of all in this war.
‘ have you given him a name? ’ zahyana is almost mysterious in her ways in searching his thoughts, it almost brings a smile to cody’s battle roughened features (most likely his first smile in a year).
‘ vercopaanir. ’ there is no hesitation, his gaze intent upon the shared amber eyes that are so familiar yet so familiar. ‘ it means hope. ’
rex sees his brother within her, a ghost that has never moved on. excitement lights amber eyes to a molten gold, the dimples she has developed all too familiar of a former smile. perhaps he sees too much of him within her, a brother who has yet to let him go even when within the arms of death.
the first brother who had passed in his arms (and by far from the last.
‘ daddy! ’ her cry is brittle, full of hurt, yet a longing —— no a need for his presence to come sooth her. memories flash before his eyes and he finds himself peering into a pallid face that should have been so full of life. a blink in a moment shifts the scene away, presenting him once more a situation in which someone needs him.
she is yet a toddler and he is all she has (a sacrifice from her mother ensures them this some sort of peaceful life).
he sighs, running a hand over the tired eyes that have seen far too much, and continue to remember the memories that will continue to haunt him. however, there is a child that needs his presence —— his assurance that he will be there, and he cannot bear the cries that are desperate for him (so different so yet similar to the dying cries of his fallen brother).
i won’t abandon you. that is a promise. words are words and may not hold significant meaning for the speaker. yet they are for him.
he cannot —— no he will not fail his child as he did his brother, a promise that he makes upon the ever present ghost of his elder brother. with conviction, he holds the tiny toddler to his chest, no cries heard from his daughter again.
My submission for @celebrate-the-clone-wars‘s Writing Wednesday prompt Red Handed! I went through like. Three fics before writing this one. I needed something cheerful and soft and sweet.
Miyala was reaching back into the jar of candy when her husband’s arms slid around her waist. “Are you eating Sidhi’s chocolate?” he asked, his voice a low murmur.
Miyala mumbled through her mouthful of chocolate, leaning back into him, “I’m helping manage her sugar intake. I’m being a responsible parent. You’re the one who got her a big bag of chocolate.”
“Oh, is that what this is all about? Being responsible?” Miyala twisted to face him, and Jesse leaned down, smiling, his eyes crinkling at the corners in the way Miyala adored. He raised his hands to cup her face, and added, “You’ve got some chocolate.”
“Oh? Where?” Miyala asked, wrapping her arm around his waist as she smiled softly up at him. Ross had taken his niece for the weekend, and for once, they didn’t have to worry about their two year old daughter interrupting or needing supervision.
Jesse rolled his eyes and kissed the corner of her mouth before turning the kiss deeper. One of his hands dropped back to her waist, as he slowly pulled back, and then kissed the tip of her nose. “And you know I can barely say no to her.”
On my clone centric blog i’ve been writing headcanons about how rex deserts and how that takes and emotional toll on him. So like, here is something i came up with! for @celebrate-the-clone-wars mirror prompt! (also i hope the grammar and all is alright. i’m exhausted)
Rex vividly remembered seeing himself in the mirror the first time he wore his armor.
He was filled with a sense of pride and honor. From the moment he was brought into the galaxy, he latched on to the idea of risking his life for the Republic. He and his brothers would be the driving force that stopped the Separatists in their tracks.
For years, that idea was what pushed him. He and his brothers, together, unstoppable against droids and eventually the sith. He wore his armor that day, so gratified and certain that he was going down the right path, serving the Republic.
Now as he looked at himself in the mirror; his eyes tired, his expression empty and his armor weighing heavy on his body, he felt lifeless. Half of him regretted putting the armor on, the other half simply didn’t care.
He wasn’t the same man he was years ago–certainly not the same man he was when he fought in the war.
And now that he deserted the army, he was just a ghost of what he used to be.
Perhaps he wouldn’t think this way if he didn’t watch Fives die in his arms, if he didn’t know that his men trusted him less and less with every passing day. He’d heard the whispers, had seen the glares; at a point he accepted that he wasn’t their captain. Not anymore. He failed them far too many times, and after Fives died his words meant nothing to them.
Now, everything about him had changed–not even his hair remained the same (which he had to dye and let grow out just a bit to keep his identity hidden). He knew Captain Rex was a proud soldier in the war, and a man who had his brothers with him every step of the way but. Yet this man he was staring at in the mirror, this reflection, puzzled him.
Who was he? He certainly wasn’t Rex.
“Rex, just wanted to let you know….woah…” The owner of the voice was Varik, a Tholothian and a friend Rex had made during his recent journeys. He was one of the few people aware of Rex’s identity, and one of the people who was willing to offer him aide and help as he got back on his feet. He was kind, and a former politician from Alderaan, perhaps the kindest politician Rex had ever met. Varik by far was Rex’s closest companion.
“I could never picture how you’d look in your armor.” Varik stumbled in over the threshold. He approached Rex from behind, and his reflection grew clear. He looked down at Rex, his smile widening at the sight of his partner’s apparel change. “You look nice.”
Rex shrugged. “I just look like any other trooper on the field.” He began. “But I’m not like them…they’re brave, capable…I’m…” He drifted off, not meaning to say that much. He didn’t meet Varik’s eyes, too afraid of being judged or pitied.
Here’s my Writing Wednesday prompt fill for @celebrate-the-clone-wars. Jesse and Miyala again- I try to vary it a bit, but I keep coming back to them.
Jesse hadn’t bothered asking what excuses Naida had pulled to get them some time off after their fourth mission; he was just glad for the reprieve. His first guess would have been some vague “disturbance in the Force” excuse Jedi loved to use for anything they wanted to get away with.
Normally, he hated it, especially after being used to General Skywalker using it for his glory-seeking tendencies, but after Naida used it to get them some time to meander through markets in civilian clothes, he was moderately less opposed. The markets had been warm, and crowded and noisy, but Jesse had enjoyed it.
She’d kept her promise and handed over access to a few accounts, which made Jesse respect her just a little bit more. Usually Jedi were made of vague promises that were never quite fulfilled, if they bothered to even make them to troopers in the first place. And the karking accounts she’d handed over had nearly made his eyes pop out of his helmet when he’d looked at the sum total.
Not that he was willing to ask how she’d gotten enough money to casually hand over an account with enough money to buy a shiny new cruiser without a care. Talkative Naida might have been, but she had yet to let slip much at all about anything important.
Written for @celebrate-the-clone-wars prompt Your Reputation Precedes You.
NGL, I convinced myself that somehow the prompt was defying expectations, so I’m glad I double checked. @ my brain: stop that. Anyways, I’m glad I wrote two fics, because this one fits the prompt better.
She was late. Jesse irritably checked his chrono again, leaning against the wall of the hanger, and then glared back at the Coruscant sky. His new partner, some Jedi, was supposed to be here half an hour ago. He paced, grumpily coming up with new and vitriolic phrases in his head.
Typical Jedi: inconveniencing others at every opportunity. He could have been in the barracks sleeping, or eat, or in the armory, but he’d been ordered by General Zey to wait here for her, so he paced in an empty hanger, alone with the refueling droids.
"Nobody is strong enough to stop this. Not even you," Sahmira said urgently, her grip on Raksha’s arm tightening painfully. Raksha let her gaze fall to the floor, unable to meet Sahmira’s pleading gaze.
"It doesn't matter," she said quietly. "You know what I am. What I represent." She shook her head slightly. "This is what I have to do."
"No it's what you've been told you have to do," Sahmira snapped before her voice broke and she closed the distance between them, gently cupping Raksha's face in her hands. "Raksha please listen to me," she whispered. "You can't save the kingdom by yourself. It's impossible."
"It’s not my choice," Raksha whispered, trying to ignore the lump in her throat. "I've told you before, my life belongs to our people. I can't-" she broke off, blinking hard. "I was never going to escape this destiny."
“Raksha-”
“Sahmira please,” she said desperately, reaching over to take Sahmira’s hands in hers. “I don’t have a choice. Not when my life can save thousands. It’s not my choice to make, it’s just the right thing to do, and it doesn’t matter if I am strong enough, it just matters that everyone thinks I am.” She broke off as the ugly truth escaped, her throat closing as tears burned her eyes. She knew she wasn’t strong enough to do what they wanted without losing herself.
Sahmira was silent, staring at her with wide eyes swimming with tears.
“Don’t cry.” The plea left Raksha in a whimper as her body betrayed her, sending hot tears down her cheeks. Sahmira blinked hard, then rushed forward to wrap her in a tight embrace.
“Raksha you’re not fighting alone. We are all with you and we will stand and fight by your side.” Raksha felt her grip tighten. “So don’t you dare try to fight this alone. I won’t let you.”
“But there’s a way I can do it by myself. Nobody else would have to risk themselves. If I just-”
“No.” The word left Sahmira in a snarl. Raksha looked up to find fury twisting her face. “You hate that form. You always say it makes you into a monster. I hate it when you’re in that much pain.”
“Maybe the kingdom needs a monster,” Raksha replied dully. She could feel the memory of the late leader at her back, his fingers digging into her shoulder. Don’t be selfish, he would say. Only you have the power to turn all of this around.
“They already fear us. Making them fear us more won’t help us, Raksha,” Sahmira said. Raksha knew she was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to take. It was never going to be easy to take.
“Then I don’t know what to do,” she admitted, her heart aching with shame.
“We’ll figure it out,” Sahmira said, resting her forehead against Raksha’s. “Trust me.”
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