After all they've been through, I figured these jedi deserved a nice day out on Odessen :)
Featuring @crqstalite 's Cele and @understorysunflecks 's Mirris :)
Indesa has been making daisy chains, Mirris is talking about the plants around them, and Cele is Definitely listening - but the sun is warm and she's just resting her eyes for a moment...
~
I've been thinking about them hitting their breaking points and starting the process of recovery, and Indesa going hiking has been on my mind, so voilĂ ! This happened :)
Presenting filler episode-esque clownery for your perusal as I interrupt my wallowing in angsty and bloody wips with this drabble tonight, just because~. This is some looney toons in haunted house type of shitâŠ
The context is that I have done the Dantooine Spring Abundance Festival with Faro and Qyrhu, the two characters least likely to ever want to own a farm and do farming stuff. But alas, here they are, for a little while. Old farmer Ozo took one look at those two black-clad assholes asking about his secretly haunted farm and thinking âOh, good, they deserve this.â So, yay, farm acquired. Faro mostly busies herself with growing special crops. When heâs not intimidating recruiting farmhands to work for Faro, Qyrhu attempts to bake pies. When they stay there longer than Vette and Theron thought they would (they both lost bets because of this), they come for a visit. They didnât anticipate the decoration on display there, though. The beautiful, awesome Sith relic from ages past that Qyrhu proudly presents. Only lightly haunted, just some nice mood lighing, maybe some weird shapes out in the fields, nothing else...
Word count: ~ 1000, content warning: sliiightly horroresque imagery? (tho the tone is supposed to be funny overall)
Vette wakes up in the middle of the night. At first, she isnât sure why, sheâs still sleepy and comfy half in her sleeping bag, one bare leg luxuriously sticking out. But something has woken her up. Something that seems to come from her guts, an innate danger sense. She carefully peeks out from under the covers. The room is dark. The light from the moons that might come through the thin curtains is dimmer than she expects and makes the shadows in the room almost impenetrable. Good thing she isnât afraid of the dark, right?
Then she hears a dull shuffling sound and freezes.
It stops again, but it has come from outside the room, in the hallway. She tries to make out more, but itâs quiet.
Oh, come on, they said they never come insideâŠ
Sheâs annoyed now, but still spooked, too, contemplating how considerate she should be. Should she really suffer awake while the others happily snooze the night away? And what if itâs actually something else, some low-budget assassin that canât even sneak around properly?
She immediately discards that possibility again when a truly awful moan comes from the hallway, keening and gurgling like thereâs something thick and wet down its throat. The shadows around the door seem to grow.
âOh fuck no,â Vette whispers loudly, crosses over Qyrhuâs sleeping form still half in her sleeping bag, âIâm not sleeping on the outside.â
She tucks herself in on the inside of their sleeping arrangement, feeling a lot more like she wonât be the first one getting grabbed if these things come inside, sandwiched between a slowly rousing Qyrhu and a Theron whose back is turned to her. She canât see his head because itâs under an entire pillow that his arm is holding in place over his head. Wait, has he just been trying to continue to sleep like this? Next to Theron is a motionless Faro, laying flat on her back and her arms on her chest like an entombed mummy.
âWhzhgh?â Qyrhu groggily intones as he appears from out his own sleeping bag.
âThereâs things in the hallway. You asshole said they wouldnât come inside.â
âHnm?â his eyes still arenât open while heâs rubbing his face. âThey donât.â
The sound that wafts over to them now is like the splashing of vomit hitting the floor. The air in the room becomes inexplicably thick and damp. Thereâs no smell to it, but it really feels like it should smell like rotten corpse.
âYou wanted to keep that shitty relic!â Vette hisses and pulls his own pillow away from him to bury her nose into. She has forgotten hers on his other side. âSo go fix this. I canât sleep in these conditions!â
Qyrhu grumbles but unzips his sleeping bag and reluctantly rises from their mats. He shuffles through the room, collecting his lightsaber and throwing on a bathrobe over his downtime clothes. Heâs taking his sweet fucking time putting on his mismatched slippers while heinous looking shadowy goo creeps in from between the upper crack of the door.
At the sound of Qyrhu exiting the room like heâs just going to the fresher, Theronâs head comes out from bellow his pillow, sleepily looking after him as he closes the door. He doesnât seem all that enthused to follow though.
Everything is quiet.
Keeps being quiet.
Vette and Theron are straining their ears.
Then thereâs one wet slap, loud in the dead quiet, like someone just hit a huge dead fish.
A many throated scream pierces the air, discordant and dreadful. Vette feels goosebumps popping down her entire back. She watches as, out of thin air, deep scratches slowly grow downwards on their walls, and she grips Theronâs arm in horror. Theron tenses and grabs Faroâs arm in turn. Faro is still lying on her back and looking up at the ceiling with a flat expression. She simply shifts the knife she has been holding in her one hand to the other that isnât restricted by Theronâs grip.
Meanwhile, the hall is still a cacophony. Thereâs lightsaber noises, screaming that alternates between piercingly high and vibratingly low, sounds of breaking glass and shattering furniture, one enormous stomping thud that shakes the entire floor of the barn floor theyâre on. They arenât sure if the harsh hitting sounds are Qyrhuâs doing or if they are being done to him. The muffled grunts that come every now and then tell them heâs still alive at least.
As they are beginning to wonder if they should maybe go look if he needs some help the screaming changes into blubbering gurgles and finally, a relieving silence. They hadnât noticed how dark it had become as the shadows seem to return to grey instead of deepest black, and beams of cool moonlight trace the floor.
The door opens on creaking hinges. Qyrhu comes back inside, re-tightening the belt of his bathrobe. Thereâs something dark staining the front of his robe, but otherwise he looks surprisingly unscathed.
Theron releases himself from various forgotten grips and clambers over to look at the stained robe. His fingers come away red.
âJam has run out,â Qyrhu says to that.
Faro intones a sigh from deep within her chest, not having budged from her mat.
âI always thought that kitchen was lacking,â she says. âThe next one is all in stone.â
âItâs not that bad,â Qyrhu assures, âbut um⊠Iâm going to the market tomorrow. The milk is all curdled.â
âHow about durasteel for the kitchen,â Theron adds, sucking the jam off his fingers, âI donât want any more stone in this hut, feels like all of itâs cursed.â
âWhen did you say that buyer comes in again?â Vette angles her head over to Faro, âPlease say tomorrowâŠâ
âYou know it, Vette,â she says with eyes already closed again.
Unsurprisingly, Qyrhu scoffs at that and looks at them reproachfully. âExcuse me? You just decide to give away the one thing that makes this hovel look like it has some class?â
âYes,â everyone intones at the same time.
Qyrhu makes to continue his protest just as an eerie howl warbles from out in the fields. He closes his mouth and does not speak again.
S10 E4: GIVE UP WHAT YOU LOVE BEFORE IT DOES YOU IN [06:17]
With the traitor's trail leading to the world of Umbara, Lana, Theron and Zanya head there to stop a train full of precious Adegan crystals to help further the war effort for the Republic. Not everything is as it seems though, especially when they realize their mysterious bad actor is closer than anyone could've predicted -- and the three of them have everything to lose when the mission goes sideways in a shocking turn of events that leaves the fate of the Alliance in pieces.
cw: some light sexual content! non-explicit though. wc: 3.3k.
Mornings are something that Zanya is still adjusting to, especially when he has to share them with someone else.
He's never really bothered to in the past. Primarily because he prefers to keep his own schedule and not have to bend to the whims of another. Understandably selfish, for someone that had such a rigid set of habits that were part of his routine. He didn't want anyone else to be disturbing it, as one of the few things he felt he was allowed to decide for himself between everything else he was already dealing with.
But also, he had never been able to be that vulnerable with another person before save for a select few times that had never lasted beyond a single tryst that he would barely remember the fleeting feeling of. To shed all of his armor, everything that clothed and protected him, to be that close to another and accept whatever may have come of that was almost too hefty an ask. It was an impossible thought to even put into practice for most of his years.
Truthfully he may have just been too scared of the consequences of such a decision. It makes him feel uncharacteristically weak to even think to admit it, because if someone got that close, it meant feeling as if he'd bared his soul completely and utterly. Everything about him would be on full display, and it would no longer be his choice on whether or not the person before him preferred what they saw compared to the intricately crafted persona that he wore. Every single scar, bruise, misaligned joint and the secrets that only a bare body could show, he would not be able to decide what the other person would see and take away from that.
That certainly couldn't stand, he refused to be known on such a level because the power that person would have over him felt insurmountable. It demanded a level of tenderness that he felt he just didn't possess. Would never be able to possess.
He supposes that was then, and this was now.
So, perhaps he feels a little bit gummy in the middle when he's still blinking awake to lidded hazel eyes that pin him down on the mattress beneath him. Still full of sleep with the early morning light spilling into the small commander's quarters tucked away on the far side of the base, but full of affection too when they crinkle at the corners as their owner smiles. They roam over his form, trailing from where a stray hand rests on his hip, up the dips and valleys of his chest, before landing square on his face with a softness he doesn't deserve. It makes him feel seen in a way that should make him nauseous, and yet all it does is have him mirror the expression of fondness clumsily.
On the contrary to many of the concerns he harbored when he was much younger, he relishes in being the center of Theron's attention this morning. He wants to be seen by him, fully and completely. The fear he once had of such a thing recedes away along with gentleness that he he experiences at his hands and his heart. The man was threatening to make an honest woman out of him if he let his mind wander away into the clouds. If he let himself be taken away by fantasy, this newfound reality would be one he wouldn't want to leave.
His eyes flutter back shut a moment later when Theron dips his head to kiss Zanya again, and against his refined control, a soft groan escapes him in contentment. His third this morning, each one lasting longer than the last somehow.
Not that he's exactly complaining.
Starting with one to tell him a wordless good morning, having still been wrapped up in each other. A sweet gesture, even if Zanya had been attempting to escape unseen to pursue his usual opening to the day. At that, he hadn't been able to leave, as Theron had just threaded his arms around him with an affectionate, tired look in his eyes and forced him into another fifteen minutes of dozing back off because Zanya was incapable of saying no to such a request.
He'd gotten another kiss when Zanya had indulged his own want for just one more before he got up for the day. An already unusual occurrence, considering he would've just lulled him back off to sleep before leaving so he wouldn't disturb him, but the light chuckle that had sounded from deep in his chest made an impossible warmth spread through his very being. Laughter wasn't exactly something in short supply between the two of them, but the kind they shared, when they were able to hide away from the galaxy for a little while, it was special. Special enough to make him weak in the knees and actually consider not moving one more time. To stay, and pull Theron into him to rest his eyes for a few minutes more.
So he hadn't left. Against all of his better judgement, he had stayed. And if his internal clock was correct, it was a full twenty minutes later and five before he usually began his typical trail route. Zanya should have been halfway out of the base by now in his training wear, stretching all the while. He is still in his â their bed though, tangled underneath sheets and the body weight of Theron Shan.
Though he should certainly playfully push him away and actually start his morning, considering he's late by quite a while, he sighs into this kiss all the same, like he's a parched man drowning. Lets himself tangle his fingers in his partner's unstyled, messy auburn hair to tug him impossibly closer as they sink into each other. It's sweet, slow, with no expectations behind it except a want to bask in the moment. Zanya absolutely relishes in it, feeling as if he's finally allowed to have this. This, being the peace afforded to him that allows him to trust. Allows him to trust that Theron isn't going anywhere, allows him to trust that he can take from him and be supported regardless, and allows him to trust that he will be there, no matter what.
It's terrible. He's compromising him, and Zanya just allows it.
Though he supposes, after everything's been through, he's allowed one weakness in the galaxy. And if that is the the messy haired man who seems far too devoted to him, then so be it.
This yearning is ill-fitting for him, a sort of passion he's never fully experienced before, but it is invigorating. Confusingly, he aches, but it feels like a good ache that only his presence completely settles. It's the only other way he manages to convince himself it isn't a terrible idea.
They break apart for a brief moment, just for air, until connecting again with shared smiles gracing their expressions. The fourth time, and he's no longer counting the minutes. Perhaps his usual morning run can wait for a little while longer, and the council would understand moving the brief further into the afternoon.
A terrible thought, but one that he can't quite shake. He doesn't want to leave right now. An utterly selfish addendum that he is uncaring to rectify. The world outside his quarters demands his attention all of time â it wouldn't hurt to claw back some of it for a relaxing start to the day.
Zanya is, officially, completely and utterly vulnerable to this habit of Theron's. Waking with him, that is. The way that he's taken to his quarters in the weeks after his discharge from the medbay has been nothing if not comforting and all-encompassing in a way he didn't expect when he transferred the access codes to him. An invitation to stay with him and the consequences of that decision were ones that he was still adapting to.
His things litter his place in ways that would drive a younger version of himself up a wall. The admittedly minimal and curious amount of products that have been added to the fresher room's counterspace, the slicing tools next to the holoterminal, the jacket slung over the back of the small couch in the corner â they're all so visibly Theron melding with his own things until he can't begin to complain. He's surprised that he wanted this.
Not disappointed by the results though.
His space feels lived in.
How odd.
Nor, is he disappointed by the fact he now gets to fall asleep with him and start the day with him. He would have thought he'd be more annoyed by it, having to deal with all of his tiny quirks and habits that were incongruent with his own. Would've thought that frustration would've boiled over by now with his in-the-moment decision that he hadn't given too much thought to before offering. Some still did make his eyebrow twitch, admittedly his sleep schedule was the worst of it, but there were other things he was learning to overlook, at least.
"Theronâ"
He's momentarily snapped out of his thoughts when his fifth kiss turns into multiple, trailing down his neck to land in a particularly sensitive spot, right at the crook of his neck. It makes all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, goosebumps running up along his arms.
Theron raises an eyebrow, all too innocent for what Zanya knows is a cover for a very intentional distraction, "Yes?"
"You have already used your allotted extra fifteen ⊠no, thirty now, minutes this morning," Zanya lets his nails drag along Theron's scalp, a content sigh on his lips when he does. With all the conviction of someone who absolutely knows what his partner is doing, he smirks, "What are you doing?"
His gaze flickers from Zanya to some unseen point beyond him, then back again with a mischeveous smile on his expression, "Five more minutes?"
"It is already late. Both of us have errands to run this morning."
"I know, I know. But we're always going to have errands and missions and all sorts of other tasks to finish," Punctuated with yet another kiss, the sixth, this time to his collarbones. Through his lashes, something conspiratorally flashes through his eyes, "Think we can afford one day where we let a few fall to the others."
Zanya carefully trails his hand down from his head to his chin, tipping it upwards to look at him. He fears he may be unable to turn away from the tender look he wears, as if he's putting a particular effort into convincing him otherwise. He can't say it's very ineffective. He's torn between hating the fact that means that Theron has managed to breach all of his defenses, and also being quite touched that he now has a tell related to him.
"You speak of luxuries that we cannot begin to afford right now," He reminds him, "There is someone in our midst looking to undermine us. If any time is meant for us to stay vigilant, it is now."
Theron grimaces at that, and for a moment Zanya does feel bad for bringing the matter at hand up. He'd been doing it to a lesser degree than Lana, but Theron had been running himself ragged the past few days on surveillance. Unfortunately it'd put them both on edge, more than usual, and eaten into the precious time that they had with each other. A necessary evil to insuring the security of the Alliance, but one neither of them had exactly been happy to take on. To slump in to bed together was a small mercy during such a dire time.
Something else lurks behind that forlorn expression that causes him to frown, something that Zanya can't exactly read. It draws his brows together momentarily, as if he wants to say something, but thinks against it when he clamps his mouth shut. Part of him wants to read into his signature further, almost a habit that he would use on others, but he refrains. He would not pry where he wasn't wanted, and wouldn't breach that boundary without permission.
Instead, he slowly drops further down his body, pressing a seventh kiss directly to where the dark, spiralling force scar spills out between his breasts. Without fail it always makes Zanya tense whenever anyone touched it, much less Theron, but he does wait until he's collected his thoughts enough to respond.
"We've both been under enough stress lately with all this traitor business and we've done all we can for right now. No reason to make it worse with not taking a break here and there," His voice quiets, a bit strained on the edges but clearly meant to comfort above all else. His tone shifts a moment later, a pointed look in his gaze, "Plus, you could use the rest. You're still technically under medwatch by Oggurobb's orders, you know."
"Watch, yes. I have followed most of his requirements to his specifications. I have yet to properly overexert myself," He catches himself, then remembering the fight with the half dozen droids that had taken him across Iokath. He awkwardly smiles at that thought, a necessary breach of protocol to keep the galaxy from collapsing in on itself, "Again, at least."
That seems to return some of the amusement to Theron's expression, though some of the stress lingers where he surely thinks Zanya can't see it. The disbelief in his voice distracts him more than anything, "Really?"
"Paced runs through my usual trails is not overexertion."
"Right, right, of course," He doesn't believe him, much to Zanya's annoyance, but its a battle he's learned he won't ever really win with Theron. For someone who got into as many scrapes as he did, he's discovering the man is an oddly protective person to him. Which included assuming quite a lot about his physical condition. Another, newer trait that he'd managed to tease out from him. Annoyance that he would even begin to try to determine what he needed without consulting him, but also feeling a bit known that he can semi-confidently guess where his limits are. It makes him feel cared for, which is still a confusing emotion that he doesn't quite know what to do with. The scoff Zanya lets out only makes Theron knowingly snort, "Still. I have some better ideas on how we could spend the morning."
"Oh?"
"Might still be some overexertion involved but," He returns back up to kiss him proper, this one the eighth time, and it's a bit more charged than the rest when he thumbs the scar on his breastbone, then trails his hand towards the inside of his thigh on the edges of his sleep shorts, making Zanya shudder beneath him, "I think we can keep this one between us."
Another one of his habits that he finds he isn't opposed to either.
"I think what you have in mind may violate some of those rules," His amusement gets the better of him, the earlier thoughts of concern disappearing as he lets his hands wander over his partner's form. If he's blatantly ogling him, well that's between the stars and him when he tracks a hand down his chest, entirely aware of what he's doing. Warmth pools just beneath his torso when Theron shivers, his breath catching for a moment the further he goes, landing directly on the edge of his hip bone, "I will take responsibility for it, should it get out of hand."
"Seems like we've got a deal then. You don't tell Oggurobb you glossed over a few of the rules in your treatment plan," Theron swallows thickly, then sits back enough to take both of Zanya's wrists and plant them above his head, securing them with one of his hands. He's halfway to protesting this turn of events, quite annoyed by being stopped in the act, until he hooks the thumb of his free hand into the waistband of his sleep shorts, tugging them down with a telling glance. So that was how his morning was going, "And you let me take care of you. Sound fair?"
He wants to say otherwise, that he would prefer to look after him. And tease him. And perhaps push him over the edge a few times, a fair reaction to having his morning completely upended. It also isn't often that Theron takes the lead away from him, which does admittedly unsettle him, but something in him won't let him say no immediately. Zanya would be remiss to say that it had nothing to do with the fact that he's already halfway to helping him shimmy off the only clothing he still has on, and that he is not fool enough to believe that Theron has anything fair in mind for him.
Really he feels more manipulated than anything. The entire morning being this slow and warm, he's realizing he's exactly where Theron wanted him. Not the first time he'd done this.
If it excites him a bit as he shakes off the last of the sleep still clinging to his form though, he didn't have to share that right away either.
He blinks, his voice far more syrupy than he intended, "And why is that? Why not let me look after you, if you are the one that demanded so much more time from me?"
There's that uncertain look again, the one that makes Zanya uneasy even considering the circumstances. The hold on his wrists shifts, but its gone as soon as it'd appeared. Still, the confidence wavering makes him worry even as his voice softens, "Maybe I just want to be able to appreciate the time I have with you, by ourselves, away from everyone else. That's all."
"You act as if it is in shorter supply than it is."
"Who knows when we'll have time like this again?"
Zanya shakes his head, as much as he can from where he lays, "Somehow, I have the feeling this will not be the last escapade you manage to convince me to take part in."
Theron's off by a beat, either caught off guard or lost in his own thoughts. Hazel eyes drink him in, with the echo of a soft sadness behind them, "I just â I think we'll be pretty busy the next few weeks. Should take advantage of the chances that we have."
Zanya can only lightly smile at that, furrowing his brows, "That is quite ominous. What have you and the others put on my schedule when I have not been looking?"
"Nothing, nothing," He pauses, sounding far away all the while until he squeezes his eyes shut, then continues with a renewed, if not also sly, smile, "Do you want me to ask to pencil it in somewhere? A request from your spy boyfriend to let him love you for a little while before everything inevitably goes sideways?"
Anything else Zanya intended to say, whether to argue, respond to that word that always makes his heart skip over a beat or two, or to attempt to convince him otherwise, dries in his mouth when after a moment where he asks more questions with his eyes. A request to stay still, he tentatively releases his wrists to slip further down his body and press his ninth kiss of the morning square to just below his navel without another word. He watches him all the while, then presses the tenth to just above where his skewed waistband sits. The eleventh comes after Zanya's given up completely on any other outcome and helped Theron to pull off his shorts, and the twelfth has him thinking that, perhaps, he could clear his schedule for the rest of the morning because he doesn't think he's letting Theron go anywhere else.
The thirteenth convinces him completely, when it's open mouthed, needy and makes his back arch off the mattress â completely betraying his earlier agreement when his hands shoot down to fist into Theron's hair.
Yes, he could get used to these kinds of mornings.
S10 E4: GIVE UP WHAT YOU LOVE BEFORE IT DOES YOU IN [32:26]
With the traitor's trail leading to the world of Umbara, Lana, Theron and Zanya head there to stop a train full of precious Adegan crystals to help further the war effort for the Republic. Not everything is as it seems though, especially when they realize their mysterious bad actor is closer than anyone could've predicted -- and the three of them have everything to lose when the mission goes sideways in a shocking turn of events that leaves the fate of the Alliance in pieces.
Episode Soundtrack
â After the untimely demise of the late Empress Acina on Iokath, Darth Nox has risen to take her place as the interim Emperor of the Sith Empire. What this means for the state of galactic politics as war brews on the horizon is yet to be seen, but having secured his loyalty during the campaign against the Eternal Empire, the Alliance can afford to rely on his goodwill in upcoming negotiations. However, he may not be the only shadow lurking in the power vacuum Acina left, and how long his reign may last is dubious at best.
Okay. So. @zod-off this may be a bigger yap than I first intended it to be but-
Hasty late-night essay about baby nautolan headcanons under the cut: (and free nautolan baby doodles at the bottom!)
As we all know, nautolans are semi-aquatic oviparous mammals. The growth of breast tissue seems to suggest that they do have nipples contrarily to the other oviparous mammals we know of.
(I did not define if as genitals they had four-headed penises like echidnae or cloacas with hidden genitalia inside like platypuses but I'm sharing these very specific informations about the only two known oviparous mammals for the perverts (affectionate) who want free headcanons)
Now, in legends canon, nautolans spend two years chilling as tadpoles underwater, before growing limbs to become a fully-fledged humanoid toddler. And even then, they still spend a little more time underwater because their muscles are a little too weak to support them on land properly
BUT I want to draw fucked up freakish amphibian newborns so here's MY take on nautolan babies' development:
Underwater growth vs land growth:
As semi-aquatic creatures, nautolans have the ability to survive both on land and underwater. However, for baby nautolans to develop right, they require a strictly underwater environment from after the egg hatches to the end of their second to third year.
The first reason being that they come out of the egg without any way to breathe on land, and the second being that even out of the tadpole stage, the mortality rate is higher when they are taken out of the water before having developped a higher bone density (second year of development, see below). And if you need a third reason, they develop numerous problems later in life if they do manage to survive: nautolans who grew up on land have a higher risk of articulations hurting and being hard to use as they grow older, a higher risk of developping bone structure and muscle mass issues, a higher chance to develop heart and lungs problems, and without fail, lower sensitivity in their tendrils, and troubles with the underwater motion that they should have learned as newborns. It takes years for a nautolan who grew up on land to get a full reeducation to underwater motion, and very few of them get the sensitivity back in their tendrils.
A nautolan baby is usually forced to develop on land because of slavery. As soon as they're out of the tadpole stage, they are either put in an underwater work camp, or straight on land. Getting a baby out of its underwater environment a few months in its development has a lower mortality rate, but a higher chance of causing issues to the bone structure.
Some parents raising their child on land have tried to develop alternatives to help lessen the risk of their offspring developing life-threatening issues later in life, like always keeping a source of water close by to keep their child in as much as possible, making them drink more water, etc. If it does make a change, it is only a small one, as statistics tend to show that these practices as wishful thinking at best.
Mobility:
The nautolan babies develop mobility faster than human babies.
In their underwater development, they are already able to easily move around a few weeks out of their tadpole stage, and get more and more agile every month. They become casual swimmers by the end of their first year, so the next one can be about developping communication through speech and their tendrils while practicing swimming a bit better.
They develop the bone density necessary to go on land by their second year, after which they learn how to move on land. They are very disgracious at first, but learn how to walk faster than human babies, as they have already developped a little more understanding of their own bodies and agility. It takes them a few months to waddle away like little toddlers, and their growth continues as normal. By age 3-4, a nautolan's mobility on land is indistinguishable from a human's if it has had enough opportunity to develop its land mobility.
Learning to walk on land is considered an important part of growth, as, the later a nautolan infant learns how to be on land, the harder it will be for them to pick it up.
If they were forced on land after the tadpole stage, they will stay weak newborns for six whole months, their body focusing on creating a better bone density to survive the surface, and suddenly go through all the on-land human-like baby developments at record speed, sitting barely a few weeks after learning to raise their head, and being able to stumble around on their feet with ease by their first year, if not earlier. This accelerated growth is the reason for a lot of the problems most of them develop in their articulations, bone structure, or muscle mass.
Tendrils:
In underwater nautolan babies, tendrils grow in the first few months and develop at a steady pace. The speed of that growth can vary, until puberty: after then, the tendrils grow less than one centimeter per year in average.
In land nautolan babies, tendrils struggle to grow until the second year of development. Once they really start to grow, they sometimes do so at a much slower pace than they should, or a much faster one, causing nautolans growing up on land to have shorter or longer tresses in adulthood. Puberty seems to stabilize their growth as well, thankfully, to a similar pace of a little less than a centimeter per year.
One day, one day i'll make a more comprehensive document about all of this. Maybe even illustrate it if I have the time haha
And because conclusions are hard, instead, have doodles of my OC's baby daughter for who he learns how to swim for so she can have a normal development:
And she's not ugly enough yet.
(I. I have more, but I'll post them in a separate post because it's more about her than nautolan babies in general)
But seriously, this was so much fun to write. Thank you so much for asking me about this :)
Sooo I've been procrastinating my pieces to work on my refs for Artfight soon! Hurray!
You can find the full Artfight profile of this character over here! :)
Will start on Sarh'el's for sure next week (I CAN FINALLY DRAW HIPS WITH HER GIMME GIMME GIMME) but I don't think I'll have the time to do the 7 others :( They're all my babies but alas, I have limited time and energy.
Ignore my png cutout of the saberstaff it don't bite
basically the best thing any character can do is decide they don't want to be afraid anymore - in fact they never want to be afraid of anything ever again - and take action so drastic they fail to realise that this too is a decision motivated by fear. or to account for the Consequences of that.
[with obvious perverted intent] hey. don't you want to release the safety catches on that character. don't you want to flip off all the switches holding them back and let the control rods descend.
Okay this is might be a long one but! Kids, Change, Control, Body for Qyrhu, Faro, Tev and whoever else you would like to talk about :)
(I'm curioussss)
A shadow falls over your face. You look up and see a massive wave blotting out the sun. There is a figure on the very top crest of this gargantuan tsunami, their arms outstretched, hair violently streaking behind them akin to wrathful Eris come to flood the mortal plains. You zoom in and --- itâs just me! going :D :D :D âtHanKs fOr tHE aSk!â
This is a small novel. Come on a journey with me, get whiplashed left and right by tonal shifts. And most of all, take it easy and donât feel like you have to respond right away, or ever. I had fun :)
[rakghoulâs ask game]
Kids: do they want any, or would they mind if they had to take care of one? how does their own relationship with their parents affect this?
Faro
Faro does not want to be a parent, isnât interested in the role. She had to kiss parenthood goodbye when she signed up for more hardcore agent work*, and that was it then to her, she never feels the need to revisit it later on. For rational reason like her life just not being suited to offering the things children need to grow well, but also because she shrimply doesnât want to. Unavoidably she was very aware of how her own mother evidently didnât want to be a parent either, and has asked herself why she did in the first place. Did she not know this beforehand? She wonât be this stupid.
*I might overdramatise here but I think Intelligence is pretty strict with birth control, they have full say on that topic on their agents (well, thatâs far from the only thing). I think on uterus havers itâs more strictly policed, and the many stims that are part of an agentâs arsenal would stifle this even if they werenât on hormonal birth control. I wonder if it has long time effects. Iâm that meme: Iâve been pondering the elfâs uterus removalâŠ
Faro looking after some children: she could do it, theoretically, it would go fine, but itâs not something that she would want to do repeatedly for enjoyment. Though as with hanging out with adults, it would also really depend on the kid. Her first plan of looking after a kid would be to give them a crosswords & sudoku puzzle book and leave them to it. Did she like that as a kid? She doesnât really remember. But isnât it kinda neat and also easy? (she gave them the hard mode version, didnât sheâŠ)
Tevuuk
Hasnât thought much about it, but if confronted with the idea of parenthood, they would not find the thought appealing. They already got enough responsibilities, adding one more sounds terrible. Also their parental role models were in no way encouraging about this.
They arenât interested in babysitting some kids, but if they had to, they would probably tell them age-inappropriate stories. The kids are coming home disturbed and with many questions.
For future, older Tev (not class story or expac Tev) I could see them taking some youth (older teen or twenty-something) under their wing, be some kind of loose mentor to them, because they actually like showing people the ropes, and definitely see themselves in some youth with no way out of crime. They wonât go around fixing this in any structural way, but there might be a chance encounter where theyâre like âAlright kid, you shoot like ass. Let me show you some tricks so you donât shoot yourself next timeâ and it becomes a regular thing. (Bonus if that âkidâ had originally been pointing their gun at Tev. You know. The classic).
Qyrhu
Growing up in the traditional, bloodline obsessed Sith circles, he knew that he would one day have children to continue the legacy (his mother certainly was reminding him often, her only child), but that notion soured the more real it became, and it was one of the big topics that made him distance himself from his family. He really doesnât want children and heâs proud that his imbecilic bloodline will one day die out with him. Itâs a bit of a touchy subject, he clearly chose what was important to himself and is glad of it, but deep down thereâs a little nagging, hurt feeling that he failed something. (failed his family, failed his society, failed at being a good Sith). He doesnât like failing. Itâs going to evaporate some day, especially once heâs out and away from imperial society.
(I had an AU where he marries traditionally with another Sith and has a child to satisfy the expectation placed upon him. Itâs the difficult divorced parent AU for pain and suffering. Because he wouldnât be indifferent to any child of his. this little person hasnât done anything to deserve this. But he would feel so caged. And would feel so guilty about that.)
Even when we untangle having kids from legacy (difficult for him), his idea of fulfilment isnât him nesting and raising young, he truly wants different things from life. Heâs someone who really likes going all in on his projects and career and campaigns and having children on the side would stifle or distract from that too much.
However, this evil question (kidding, i love it) has prompted me to think about when Qyrhu would ever be confronted with looking after kids. Which, you know, he doesnât have any experience with. Theyâre a type of small civilians to him. I concluded that it would be when heâs running with Vette and the growing organisation for Twiâlek culture and liberation that sheâs a part of (and that sheâs heavily funding with her share of that heist pay out she earned). It consists of mainly adults but has some families and children in their more secured places. And for some cruel reason (groceries? meeting someone where a human/sith was not welcomed?), Vette and the other adults leave him with a handful of Twiâlek kids for like half an hour. He can do half an hour right? (itâs never just half an hourâŠ)
(Mister Khovar, whatâs your favorite color?â â âPink. Now go play with tooth-gap and bogey-eater over there.â *the kid runs off yelling âItâs pink, I knew it!â to the others*)
âMister Khovar, I need to pee.â
âThen go pee.â
âCan you come with me?â
âNo.â
âThereâs weird noises in the toiletâŠâ
âThis is just the dianoga.â
ââŠâ
ââŠâ
âIâm scared.â
*supressing a sigh and lowering his magazine* âThis is a good day for you, Bog- nevermind. Do you know why?â
*the bogey-eater is shaking her head*
âYou have an opportunity to raise above the mediocrity of your peers. You can go out there and piss on a beast. Who can say the same among us here? Your ferocity and daring will strike fear and respect in the hearts of your enemies. So. You know what to do.â
ââŠâŠ..I canât pee when Iâm scared.â
âThen problem solved.â
*another kid* âWell cousin Evin has peed on an ant!â
*other kid jumping in* âI want to go pee on a dinagona!!!â
Tearing my hair and thinking about Qyrhu kickstarting the dianoga pet mission not while buying an abandoned cantina but with the three kids he has privately dubbed Tooth-gap, Bogey-eater and Gundark-on-sugar during their adventures of peeing and plumbing. [No Dianogas were urinated on in the making of this scene.]
Change: if they could see how much they've changed over their life, coming face to face with a past or future self, how would they feel?
Qyrhu covered here
Faro
She imperatively doesnât want to face her past self. She will just not look at her. (stop being childish faro cmooon. you coward).
Her past self is confused about this, she would love to question her. Is it worth a try to use the tactics that she obviously would know about, because sheâs her? Should she test if old spies are forgetful? Sheâs pleasantly surprised that sheâs still out there and kicking. Thatâs⊠a good sign. Sheâll take it. :)
Man. This could be a weird kind of fic. The only one who could make old dog Faro look at her pre-brainwash self is that very self! Pity sheâs dead. Maybe I could actually pack that into the Voss ritual thingy the agent can do there⊠Although thatâs probably too soon for that. Hmmm⊠It would be nice if Faro did some more introspection, but it might be she never will. I cannot say more for the moment.
Tevuuk
Tev would feel all kinds of sad, and also kind of guilty, if they met their younger self, probably the one who freshly dropped out of school and left home to join their first gang. This kid is so green, and they shouldnât have to go through all of this, they shouldnât have to do all of the things they did to survive. But they will, because they did it, and it seems like it was the only path to somewhere better. Or would it be? Theyâd feel protective, and they wouldnât like that feeling.
Teenage Tev would be a bit shocked by the gender. She hadnât been considering that at the time, that this was a thing people, even less herself, would do. Sheâs not sure if she likes it? I think this would make her quite unsure about herself, even though she normally is rather self-confident. But what she likes to see is that she looks like a hardened, badass bitch that wonât fall over at the first gust of wind. She wouldnât realize why her future self was like that.
Control: what do they think of mind control? would they use it on others? do they draw lines between acceptable and unacceptable versions of it?
Faro covered here
Qyrhu
Ramping up fear and stress is a Force technique that Qyrhu uses regularly. That could be classified into a form of mind control, right? He doesnât use its subtler form (Force persuasion) much, but not really out of some moral reservation but because he doesnât see much use for him. Heâd rather just outright threaten people. Itâs a Force technique, fair game for people to use it. Would they rather he crushes their windpipes about it? He can do that, too, he thinks heâs being considerate to just disparage them with fear. The damage seems less permanent.
He has been on the receiving end of the fear thing (Baras a bit, but especially Dread Masters) and he would agree it is not pleasant, but so is skewering you with a lightsaber, and he wonât stop doing that either. The force persuasion probably never really worked on him, heâs too wildly stubborn and strong in the Force. Maybe Valkorion managed it, but it was probably just regular manipulation tactics with a bit of Force juice behind it.
Anything that changes people for longer or for good is going too far to his liking, the way the Dread Host was, Valyn, (trying to think on what he knows, he definitely isnât aware of ImpInt brainwashing for the longest time, but similarly he would think it cruel). He doesnât approve of this and might even try to stop it. Really depends on if these are colleagues/allies or actual enemies. With the latter he wouldnât want to sacrifice too much for it, but still. He really doesnât want to use the control word on Valyn. He is full on planning to undermine her through her subjects. He is also terrified of her, her Force power is on another league altogether. So if she backs him into a corner too heavily, he might get desperate and reach for anything.
Tevuuk
Tevuuk hates and fears it and will get violent whenever he comes in contact with it, as much as it is possible. Which he is lucky about. If he lived in the Empire, this would be much harder. (If I ever manage to do put Tev in fic I want it to be the Tatooine smuggler story finale where he effectively comes in contact with Force persuasion for the first time in his life, getting yanked around by both a Sith and a Jedi and he will crash out. Brutally. The ingame scene is kinda funny. This will not be funny.)
Body: if they were made physically unrecognisable, what would they do?
Help idk if Iâm interpreting this question like it was intended or with enough seriousness dkjfdfkf
Faro covered here
Qyrhu
He likes how he looks and would be very sad about that change. Undoubtably. I donât want to give any false impressions; he likes his body. There just might be something about it that would console him. He has fantasized about having a completely different body on more than one occasion. That would be fascinating to him. What if he was a different species, what if he was a different gender presentation. Or also, what if he looked like someone else who exists? What if he looked like Theron all of a sudden?? Yeah, this turns into kink very fast, I am so sorry you find out about it like this. He will get kinky with it. Might as well profit from it, and once heâs bored again, he would clear his throat and motion to give his body back. Or else.
(dude, what did you do with Valkorionâs body in your own mind in the final fight *I get resoundingly slapped bc No, thatâs different!!!!* ok ok, fair, fair⊠not the traumaâŠ)
Tevuuk
Noooo, they will go on a rampage. Give back their ugly body, itâs theirs!!! They would get the same tattoos in the same spots as their old appearance had, and bleach their hair the same way, to at least feel a little bit like themselves again. Their body is important to them. Maybe when they were younger, they wouldâve cared less. But now, they would grieve. Tev and the way they hold on with a white knuckled grip to the things that once changed their life.
Qyrhu consoling an unconsolable Tev: âThere, there, captain. Itâs alright. ⊠There might be ways to get to know your new body better again. um, if you know what I ââ
Tev through gritted teeth: âYou better Not be meaning what I think you mean, darling sweetie honeybunch, I will hold you out to the next black hole and watch you get spaghettified and then eat your sorry ass with fucking parmigiano on top!â
ââŠ........If that is what makes you feel better.â
(qy is not insinuating anything unprovoked. Tev has rizzed him up enough on other occasions. Revenge of the sith.)
she'll deny up down and center that she isn't a princess or anything like that, but her family's net worth probably makes her effectively one in comparison to the gdp of a small hutt world. so. not a princess but definitely corpo royalty
lux in tenebris lucent, et tenebrae eam non comprehenderunt // the light shone in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not.
a redraw/sequel to my 2024 artwork of the nemeses ever, my alignment-challenged Jedi Knight and Sith Warrior - mortal foes of the Emperor, each other, and themselves.
if you're interested in doing more dialogue prompts how about "okay, now i'm begging." or "i would never let that happen."
no worries if not! i am just eating them up.
Aaaa, thank you for the promptđ!
So... care to read an angsty break up scene of Qyrhu and Theron after the traitor arc? Tadaa *Takes the cloche off and it's a fucking mess*
Iâm angry because once I started putting it on the page, the glowing version in my head could not be conjured again. I hate that it does that!!! *through clenched teeth* this is what art is. now move on.
A bit of context: The time following the Allianceâs victory over Zakuul is rough for Qyrhu due to him going through a terrible mental health period (the mind takeover in the thron room fucks him up. forever). He keeps trying to brute force through it, running on fumes, doesnât want others to know whatâs up, and is therefore isolating or taking it out on the people close to him that try to help. Theron is taking the brunt of thankless care work during that time. He doesnât really blame Qyrhu, but it makes him a bit desperate to protect him from more shitâŠ. Theron going rogue slaps Qyrhu out of the idea that he can just keep going like that, he puts down most of his work and duties, tries to be more open about it to trusted people. He feels a bit better after that, because he finally stops pretending. His house of cards has collapsed and the relief of it takes off a significant part of his suffering. Still not exactly recovered. And his usual shit is incurable unfortunately.
word count: ~ 2300 (help), cw: none
"I would never let that happen."
Despite Qyrhu keeping his pace deliberately slow, Theron seems to struggle while walking next to him, gait careful, pain hiding in the rigid lines of his face. A slight sheen of perspiration starts to cover it, and his puffy eyebags look redder than usual. He looks awful and Qyrhu canât believe Theron suggested going for a walk outside. No, the only place Qyrhu will be speaking another word to him is at his bed in the med wing. He has told him as such, and Theron has had to relent.
Qyrhu could have dropped by for a visit sooner, so Theron wouldnât have felt the need to abscond from the med bay and ambush him in the halls, nearly making Qyrhuâs heart seize up. The bastard. But Qyrhu admits that he has been delaying meeting Theron again, even after he had recovered enough to receive visits. The conversation that will need to follow weighs heavily in the pit of his stomach. He doesnât trust himself not to botch it, draw too much blood. Not after all the previous ones with him, long ago now, but not long enough.
Letâs get this over with.
Theron sighs when they enter the med bay, and Qyrhu spends a few minutes idling in front of his room, picking at his gloves, while Theron receives a dressing-down from the annoyed nurse on duty. The satisfaction of it makes Qyrhu break into smile.
He enters the room when he finds it has lasted long enough. The nurse really hasnât done anything other than scan him and remind him sharply that his state is still fragile. Theron bears it with an air of someone used to medical personnel being angry at him. No remorse.
âThank you, sir. He will adhere to your professional recommendations in the future,â Qyrhu says, though only for the nurseâs sake. It is not likely to ever happen.
âNow, leave us.â
The nurse exits the room with delightfully insubordinate commentary under his breath. Something sounding suspiciously like âsee if I care next timeâ and âheâs as bad as Shanâ.
He canât dispute that.
Qyrhu lets the door slide close and leans against the wall, so as to face Theron, who, for the lack of other seating options, has perched himself at the far end of his bed. He seems like he really didnât want to touch that bed again for a while, even though he looks less sickly now, sitting down.
Qyrhu takes note of his rumpled downtime pants and oversized shirt that were hiding under his cloak, now discarded. His mop of dark hair messy and unstyled, his sidecut less neat than when he had first seen him up close on Nathema. Theron takes him in in the same way. There hasnât been much time to truly look at each other until now. Not in the last nine months. Something inside him aches for this kind of silence between them, Theronâs eyes on him, and his on Theronâs, no words, just their familiarity, their appreciation, their sanctum of the otherâs presence. Both of them seem to briefly conjure it among the strangeness of his long absence, among this nervous, uncertain quiet before a storm of their own making.
âIâm glad youâre okay,â Qyrhu says into this silence.
Theron looks up, into his eyes. Qyrhu holds his gaze, willing to show him he means this, his own eyes softening around the edges for a moment. Theron needs to know this, whatever follows, heâs glad heâs here, and alive. He doesnât want to think on how he would feel if Theron hadnât survived his injuries. He canât⊠It is too horrific. He clamps this imagined despair down again. There is no need for it, Theron is in front of him, calmer now, his skin tone healthier again as he has had time to recover from his walk.
âI⊠yeah. Iâm glad, too. That youâre safe.â
Theron looks like he has words bubbling in his mouth that he has wanted to say for forever. Qyrhu lets him speak them out.
âLook... I know I put you through hell. I was reckless and stupid, and it almost cost us everything. Leaving you there on Umbara... Saying these things to you⊠it destroyed me.â
Qyrhu keeps his face impassive. Heâs surprised how hard it is to take his words for the apology it is. He had been waiting for an apology. Theron truly owes him one. But he just hates it now, hearing him do it. He hates his contrite look, how his eyes jump around before returning back to him. Theron looks like a trapped animal, and thatâs quite literally what he just did to him. Maybe he should have had this conversation outside, as Theron had suggested. Theron leans his arms on his knees and looks up to him, looking everything like an abject supplicant. It makes him want to taste bile.
Qyrhu should at least have sat down, too, so to not make that comparison starker, but he hasnât wanted to sit next to him. He slowly breathes out his discomfort through his nose. Since when canât you take one sincere apology, from the person who wronged you? Not in every way, but it had been insane, what he did. Telling no one. Leaving everyone blind in the wake of this. Leaving him with this much guilt.
Theron has straightened up now, trying to decipher his silence. His hands are gripping the edge of the mattress unconsciously.
âI know I donât deserve it,â he continues tentatively, âI donât know if you⊠where we stand. If we have another chance ââ
Qyrhu halts him with a raised palm. He has heard enough, and he doesnât want him to say things he will later regret. Even without any Force behind it, Theron falls silent immediately, as if he has squeezed shut his windpipe. Qyrhu cringes inwardly, hurt to see that display of anxiousness before it is hidden behind a neutral expression again. Itâs Qyrhuâs own fault, for always being so imperious, so exacting. For making everyone be wary of his reactions. It affirms what he has to say.
âMy turn.â
Theronâs expression slips again, into confusion now.
âThe way you have gone about this whole solo operation is terrible, and weâll need to pick that apart more when youâre on active duty again.â
Well, the others will. Iâm sure Lana has already started.
Theron nods feebly, valiantly covering his unease about that prospect. âAlright.â
âAnd I fault you for the way you broke up with me. It was cruel.â
âI know.â Theronâs expression is pained now. âI know, Qy. Iâll never forgive myself for thatââ
âBut I donât fault you for ending our relationship in the first place.â
ââŠWhat?â The word escapes in a startled breath.
âYou should have done it long before that.â
There had been many reasons to do it. For the many times he had rebuked his comfort, his help. For all the venom he had lugged at him for trying. For Qyrhuâs weakness at falling apart in the first place, not strong enough to keep himself together, to weather the hardships he should have been able to weather. He had been waiting for Theron to distance himself the whole time, even though it was Qyrhu who should have been the one to end it, assume responsibility, when Theron couldnât do it, but he had been blindly clinging to the idea to try again, try every day to be better, to make it up to all of them. In vain.
âQyrhu,â Theron shifts abruptly, to stand. Qyrhu holds out his hand as quickly to stop him in his tracks. He doesnât want him to come closer right now. Theron keeps himself seated, tense and poised to jump. He looks distressed.
It had been a brutal wake up call. He had realized that if he kept this up, he would end up hurting everyone around him, until they all turned away from him, or worked themselves to death because of him. He canât be thankful to Theron exactly, but in this last act, he had finally done what Qyrhu had expected him to, and made him realize how awful that was.
âI canât let you go on flagellating yourself without bringing this up,â he says, too lightly for the taste of blood still in his mouth.
Qyrhu looks down at Theronâs unhappy face and breathes out. He didnât think heâd ever have the opportunity to tell him this. It helps to ease the sting of it.
âI am sorry, Theron. For how I behaved. For trying to force it for this long. You didnât deserve this. You didnât deserve me like this.â
âQy, you were going through shit. I never held that against youâ, Theron says, grief in his voice.
âAnd why shouldnât you?â, Qyrhu is tired. He swallows down his irritation at having his own past state acknowledged, even when he has just admitted it himself.
 âThe circumstances are excuses. This is about how much one has to put up with someone elseâs issues, excusable or otherwise.â
Theron puts his face in his hands. âFuck. Iâm trying to apologize here.â
âIt is noted. But Iâm not finished.â He wants to say his piece before Theron can divert from it. Some detached inner voice is noting that he isnât being considerate once again. Well, that isnât news.
He overrides his instinct to remain unmoving and brings his hand to his face to smooth over his forehead, closing his eyes for a moment. Trying to soften himself into something less harsh.
âMy point to all of this is⊠I donât want you to feel like you owe me a relationship.â
Theron lifts his head again, his face carefully still.
âI donât want to resume whatever we were doing just because it was so before. Honestly, I donât want to go back to that.â
Theron chokes out a sound; it resembles a mirthless laugh.
Qyrhu doesnât like who he has been then. No one would have. Theron is just being too nice, too forgiving. He doesnât want that. He wishes he was angry at him at least a little. He used to be. When did it change? When did he stop to take him seriously? He thinks to know when. From the moment he had been snapped in half like a dry twig. The moment he started coasting.
âI donât want you to come to me out of a sense of loyalty,â Qyrhu keeps going, trying to keep his voice even, through his chest constricting, âor guilt.â Â Or pity. His nostrils blow out involuntarily. âI would never let that happen.â
âYouâŠ,â thereâs a oh-so-slight hint of anger in Theronâs distress now. He wants so badly to lock his jaw around it and shake. âStop assuming things. Iâm not thinking that.â
âI donât believe you, Theron.â Qyrhu keeps his tone quiet, but the sharpness is undeniable.
Theronâs mouth clicks shut.
Their silence is thick now. Hope drains down slowly, marring the floor.
Qyrhu is still mad at him and he canât pretend otherwise. He canât swallow down these long months of misery and doubt, feeling like he failed him. He still failed him, but apparently not as much as he had thought. How stupid. All of it was stupid.
Another part of him wants to fall on his knees for all those words, clasp his boots and apologize for making him sad and hurt once again. He knows how much Theron has sacrificed, how much he has risked, how lonely and arduous his last year has been. And now, after everything heâs done, wounded and still half on his hospital bed, he comes to him for reassurance, to mend bridges, and he is met with this. His mess. Again. If he was a better man, a better friend, he would stand by him to get through this time of convalescence, at least wait until Theron doesnât feel as jittery as now, covert op nerves still in his veins.
Qyrhu cannot smile at him and pretend itâs fine, however. He is tired of pretending things are fine. It is unfair, but he canât change that.
âThis is a chance. For both of us,â Qyrhu keeps dropping stones into the pond of Theronâs resigned silence. They splash in with a dull finality.
âI don't think we are who we need to be for each other.â
It will be better if both of them realize this, and leave each other be, donât cling to something out of sentimentality that doesnât actually make them happy.
âI want you to think about it. For longer.â plounk âAnd I will be doing the same.â
Theron nods calmly, a conscious act, his gaze looking at nothing. It hurts to see him like that. Doesnât he see the chance in that? That heâs free of him, of his expectations? He hopes he will realize it soon.
He wishes to be someone who makes him happy. And he doesnât want either Theron or him to squirm and change too much to be able to fit with the other. I just want both of us happy. But he isnât sure how possible that is. He wonât make up his mind now.
Qyrhu pushes off the wall and makes to end this. Finally.
âIâm leaving Odessen.â
Theron looks up at him again, sharply.
âWhere?â
Itâs a hastily tumbled out word, not much hope for an answer behind it, as he watches him walk over to the exit.
Qyrhu stops in front of the door when it has swished open.
âDonât follow me.â
He leaves, the door closing behind him. He is staring straight ahead, blinking too many times in the harsh bright light of the med center. When heâs out of there, he gets out his comm unit and quick dials the first contact.
âIâm done here,â he speaks into it.
âGood,â the line on the other end is briefly drowned out by a clattering noise, someone throwing down something with finality. He feels more certain again, hearing Vetteâs voice.
