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mortallyclearwonderland · 2 years

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Sentient species that are food in Star Wars

In the galaxy far far away food is like in most sci fi properties:

- some colorful fruits and vegetables

- soups and blobs with unrecognizable ingredients, sometimes disgusting and played for laughs

- regular food, like bread or milk

- regular food/dish but written/pronounced in a different way etc. (sandwich called sliders)

- regular food/dish but made of different ingredients/from a different animal, like bantha butter etc.

What's most unique about star wars is that it addresses that different species might mistake/see other species as a potential lunch.

Unlike our definition of cannibalism, which is also mentioned in star wars, one would be considered a cannibal not only for eating someone of their own kind, but also other sentient being.

You are not a cannibal because you ate a steak from a cow, despite what some vegetarians might say.

But what if someday we meet an alien species that looks like cows ? Obviously we wouldn't eat them, but if they saw themselves in creatures that we eat that would make future interactions awkward for both of us.

Now I'm going to list every instance of cannibalism (both types) in star wars that I know of. Also I'll try to guess which species eats others the most and which gets eaten the most. Feel free to add more if I missed any.

1. Bossk had cannibalistic tendencies. He ate his siblings before they hatched and later his father when he defeated him. He also likes to eat Zanibar and Wookiees. It's not really clear whether it's a norm for his kind or just Bossk being a ruthless killer. It's well established in legends and cannon that Trandoshans hunt sentient being for trophies, not so much for food. They also have a costume of eating their shed skin after a long post. Trandoshan liver is also apparently a delicacy for some people. Unless it's just a sick joke.

Those lizard are very versatile, they eat others, each other, themselves and can be eaten.

2. Previously mentioned Zanibar, their religion demanded frequent sacrifice of sentients. It was believed that the rituals involved a feast of their enemies' bodies to give their life forces as a sacrifice to their gods. Maybe it's better for everybody that they are one of Bossk's favorite miles.

3. Certain Hutts were known to eat their enemies. They are also fond of a drink made off Rodians. Maybe that's why Jabba got so many Rodian bounty hunters, if they died or failed him, he could just eat them.

4. Humans aren't much better. Dezono Qua who lived during the rise of the Galactic Empire, was a known cannibal; he purchased slaves at market and had his droid cook them. Resa Greenbark, a Nosaurian, was one of the unfortunate slaves bought for food. "She was something…special."- Dezono Qua

Certain Human cannibals were known to roam throughout the cities and wilderness of the planet Tatooine. Where else, am I right ?

5. The insectoid Colicoids were known cannibals, eating off-worlders who landed on their homeworld and sometimes capturing vessels which passed too close.

6. The Rakatan individual known as The One forced many species to revert to this practice.

7. Karkarodon are known for ripping apart their enemies with their teeth. They can also go on a feeding frenzy on sentient beings when hungry or in rage. Riff Tamson munched on Mon Calamari, Gungans, Quareen and Clone Troopers aka Mandalorians aka Humans.

8. Ewoks considered humanoid flesh a delicacy, they prepare fires in anticipation of eating Han, Luke and Chewbacca to absorb their power. They were about to eat some Stormtroopers/Humans but Leia and Han stopped them and gave them ration sticks instead. At least one member of the species wanted to eat a Nautolan and a Rodian.

9. Chewbacca, a Wookiee, was fed Han Solo, a human. Of course he didn't eat Han, but how long was he there and what was he eating till their meeting.

10. The reptilian Marits were traditionally cannibals, as well, though the Marits' only ate those who had already died, and did so as a means of disposing of the bodies in a way they deemed beneficial to the living.

I would say that Trandoshans and Hutts are the ones that eat other species the most. Going by how common both species are, how much Hutts eat and Trandoshans hunt.

The ones getting eaten the most are Humans and Rodians, because they are one of the most common species, are rather easy to kill and come up multiple times in my research.

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars rebels #star wars aliens #star wars species #Bossk #Trandoshan #Dezono Qua #Ewoks #leia organa #han solo #sci fi books #sci fi #chewbacca

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hunnybadgerv · 3 years

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Free Consultation | SWTOR | JK/Doc

Summary: Doc recommends a full night’s sleep for the Jedi Knight.

a/n: This idea just kind of wandered into my head and took up residence.

Link to AO3

Free Consultation

“As the ship’s new medic—”

Amaryn jumped when he set the cup of energy pudding and the spoon down near her elbow. She blinked up at him from her seat in the central hub of the ship, surprised that someone else was awake and wandering.

“—I cannot in good conscience not recommend less that at least seven hours of sleep on a regular basis.”

She tried to smile, then looked down at the light-colored beige surface of the table. He seemed to notice the tension in her movements and slid into a seat opposite her.

“Seems reasonable,” she agreed.

“Then why aren’t you sleeping soundly?”

The question felt rhetorical and she let it linger. He didn’t say anything for a long time, she could feel his gaze on her, like he was studying her. She’d known other medics that did the same—it felt innocuous like she were a specimen in a petri dish that he was trying to decipher.

“Doesn’t the droid have the controls?” he finally added.

“Tee-Seven is keeping us on course.”

“Still doesn’t explain why you are wandering around the ship like some kind of thief.”

Amaryn couldn’t help but laugh and look at her hands clasped atop the table. “I did not mean to wake you.”

“Eh. I barely sleep.”

“What about those seven hours?” she asked, looking up at him.

Doc smiled at her. She liked the way his eyes twinkled when he donned that smug crooked smirk. “My body requires just the right kind of exertion to achieve that kind of rest.”

Amaryn had to look away, she could feel the heat in her cheeks at the innuendo in his tone. Though honestly, she really ought to be used to it by now. He had used that tone with her since they first met. Even so, it still affected her the same way, making her pulse go wonky and her stomach flip-flop about like something suffocating.

“Won’t that defeat the purpose of trying to get back to sleep?” she asked, gesturing to the cup in his hand.

Doc tipped his head and pulled the thin lid off his cup. “Well, you’ve already done two laps around the ship checking on everyone. So, I’ll wager you’ve already surpassed the threshold for going back to bed. And I got my usual four, so I’m ready to face whatever you’ve got planned for us.”

The smile that flashed across her face was followed by a hint of a blush; she was nearly 100% sure he had not noticed it—the advantage of her deep crimson skin tone. It hid embarrassment very well. Though she wasn’t as confident as she might have been; she’d also thought no one had heard her wandering around the corridors either.

“So, what woke you?” he asked, as he scooped out a chocolatey mound. He stared at her, waiting for her answer.

“It has been a long time since I slept according to your suggestion.”

“Trouble getting to sleep? Or staying asleep?” The question sounded almost clinical … almost.

Amaryn couldn’t help but notice the business-like turn of the conversation. A part of her was thankful for it. She reached over and pulled open the energy pudding he’d set beside her.

“A little of both,” she finally admitted. She dipped her spoon into the pudding a few times, mainly just stirring it around.

“Been like that for a while?”

“As long as I can remember.”

“Really?”

Amaryn just raised her brow at him as if he should already know of her candid nature. Her gaze dropped to the container, which she only stared at. Chocolate. Doc hoarded those; said they were his favorite. She stirred it around once more, before pulling her spoon out. The thick viscous concoction clung to the utensil, allowing her to nip a test taste.

She was aware that he was watching her again. The heat crawled up her next once more and she stuffed the spoonful in her mouth and returned it to the cup. Cool and fluffy, it coated her tongue. She tried to think more about the creamy flavor of it than that prickling heat radiating along her spine. A part of her wondered if he knew, if he understood that she could sense him.

“What disrupts your sleep? Nightmares?” His voice snapped her out of her head.

“Uh.” She swallowed hard, and blinked at him a few times as if she hadn’t quite heard what he said and had to hit the rewind button on her memory to replay it. “Yes. Sometimes.” She shook her head. “Not always.”

“I didn’t figure Jedi got nightmares. Aren’t you guys all aligned with goodness and light?”

Another swallow to deal with a tight knot forming in her throat. “Doesn’t mean we haven’t seen things that stick with us. And sometimes, we can’t always deal with a situation the way we would prefer. It can leave one with scars … regrets,” the final word came out more quietly. She stuffed another spoonful into her mouth hoping it might keep her from saying anything more.

“Isn’t that the truth?” Doc agreed with that casual relaxed tone of his. It suggested an understanding, but he didn’t expound on the subject.

Instead, the silence bloomed again. Not uncomfortable, but natural, at least until she felt him looking at her again.

“What about you?” she asked, keeping her voice quiet.

“I have my fair share of sleep disruptions,” he offered with sigh. “Hell, you were on Balmorra. The colicoids alone were more than enough nightmare fuel for one lifetime.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she chuckled. He laughed too, leaning on the table and smiling at her when she finally looked him in the eye again.

“Of course, I am. Ol’ Doc’s never wrong.”

“Never, huh?”

“Never,” he insisted with a cocky smile.

Amaryn liked his smile, maybe a little too much.

#Badger Scribbles #SWTOR Fanfiction #Archiban Doc Kimble #Jedi Knight #Doc #archiban kimble #swtor #Amaryn Rha #Free Consultation #mutual pining #Fluff #Comfort

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swtorpadawan · 3 years

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Kayeh Antilles for the "send me a character and i’ll list..." thing?

send me a character and i’ll list:

Thanks for the ask, @the-raven-of-highever / @raven-of-domain-kwaad !

least favorite thing about them

Story and head-canon wise, it would be the wholely understandable attitudes she takes when she gets burned for putting herself out there. She grew very close to Ranna Tao'ven on Tython before the pilgrims betrayed her, and what happened hurt her a lot. So later on, when she started working with Kira, she was perfectly cordial but somewhat cold and distant. It was only when Kira's past came up and Kayeh was worried she'd lose her that she realized how much she'd come to appreciate her. Ultimately, they became best friends.

Also - given the limited choices we sometimes get in the game, its sometimes difficult for me to fully differentiate her from Corellan. The characters are VERY different but 90 percent of their choices seemed to be the same. That got frustrating after awhile.

Game-play wise... my style just doesn't mesh well with Vanguards / Juggernauts. I miss having Force Camouflage, etc.

Favorite Line

"Call me 'gorgeous' again, and you're Colicoid dinner." - to Doc, on Balmorra

brOTP

Kira becomes her best friend, with Teeseven a close second.

OTP

Just because she was originally a Green Jedi doesn't mean she goes around pining after people. Its ridiculous anyone would think she swallows every time she sees Scourge with his shirt off.

nOTP

Never Doc. Never, ever, ever. Just no.

random headcanon

She had a tiny crush on Vette when they met. (Not a big deal.)

unpopular opinion

Up until the Zakuulan invasion, she might have picked Corellia over the Republic at large. The Republic's defeat - and Corellia's capitulation - freed her of all that. Now she chooses the Alliance.

song i associate with them

Liz Phair - Why Can't I

favorite picture of them

#swtorpadawan asks #oc: kayeh antilles #send me a character and i’ll list:#the-raven-of-highever #raven-of-domain-kwaad

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rangerslayer-97 · 3 years

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Swtor OC ask thingy time again huh? These seem to resurface every now and then. I choose Violcrik for question numbers 10, 15, and 25. Answer if you wish. :)

Qs here

Sorry for the wait. I was procrastinating. Lmao

~~~~~

10) What is their specialization class? Was there a reason they picked that discipline?

Ans: Violcrik is a Jedi Knight Guardian, who specialises in Vigilance discipline. Vigilance mechanics wise was probably the easiest for me to master as a pretty much still a rookie to the SWTOR community and the game. Suffice to say, vigilance was very easy to master and I was pretty hooked on its single target DPS mechanics. While I tend to hum and haw about the limited AOEs, Violcrik shines in her displine when she focuses on a single target and heavily relying on Vigilance Thrust (formerly Force Sweep) to stun weaker enemies when she is surrounded. Since Violcrik can get overwhelmed in unfortunate and unlucky circumstances, especially if she generates more threat according to the game's algorithm, she needs to defeat an enemy fast. By fast in at least 20-60s minimum. Satele in KOTFE Chapter 2 was a record 17s, but on Story, so I need to time it for Veteran. Otherwise, being a half tank means she can take a few hits. Following that, her rotation relies on her heavy hitting attacks such as Overhead Slash, Blade Barrage and Blade Storm. Plasma Brand is useful for ticking fire DMG and most importantly for some who use Vigilance, need it to complete the cooldown of Blade Barrage. If needing filler attacks, Strike, Slash, Sundering Strike and Riposte are the go-to, if there's time, the finisher is Whirling Blade.

Otherwise, Violcrik likes to dish as much pain as possible with maximum DMG she can inflict and take down an enemy fast. With that style, she pours passion into it. Mechanics wise, it's easy for a beginner like me to grasp and even my SF server Knight is the same discipline. So it's my favourite.

15) Who is/are their least favorite companion(s)?

Ans: Least favourite companion? That's a hard one. For knight class alone, between Kira, T7, Doc, Rusk and Scourge? Violcrik is very attached to her crew, she really say one of them is her least favourite. They're her family, a family she never really had. If she were to admit her least favourite, it's Doc. As Kira says, he's a "walking hormone", even before Violcrik realised she is more gay than bisexual, Doc was not her cup of tea. Sure, she flirted with him, once, before threatening to turn him into Colicoid dinner. He kinda just grated her nerves with his not so subtle advances, when she probably would rather kriff the same sex and probably in front of him to make it clear she's gay. Otherwise, she and the others would be lost without a resident medic to patch them up on a daily basis. Violcrik being most accident prone out of all of them.

KOTFE/KOTET, was a different ball game. Of all companions who joined her, she HATED SCORPIO. From the get-go of KOTFE Chapter 6, Violcrik did not trust the droid. She could tell SCORPIO had her agenda and wanted her deactivated as quickly as possible when she served her purpose. However, Violcrik was willing to give SCORPIO the benefit of the doubt, until the tail end of 21 ATC at the end of Chapter 15 & 16. Violcrik already had Koth to deal with if he showed his face (ans he does by hijacking the Gravestone!) and SCORPIO pulls her little stunt. From there, SCORPIO also joined Violcrik's "Must Kill" list. Yes, she got her revenge in the most satisfying kill on Iokath in KOTET Chapter 5.

Two least favourite companions: Doc and SCORPIO.

25) Do they have any deep dark secrets?

Ans: Another hard one, when it really shouldn't. Violcrik has always been dark for a Jedi until she completely fell during the expansions. Her well known dark secret, kept by Lana herself, is her status as a Republic saboteur. Violcrik has made it clear she lost her love for both the Jedi and the Republic. Would they expect her to completely turn on them and offer her servitude to the Sith Empire? Probably not, she's the Hero of the Republic and that still stands for those who still look up to her and no doubt, even young, new Jedi.

Another one, unknown to T7 and Doc, she has lied to them. Back during the Prologue, when the Twi'lek Matriarch and her bodyguards betrayed her, T7 was temporarily out of commission due to a stun bolt. Violcrik killed them all, including the Matriarch out of anger and feeling hurt by her betrayal. Violcrik lied to T7 that Flesh Raiders killed them and T7 believed her. During Knight class Chapter 2 on Balmorra, Violcrik slaughtered the injured Imperials when the Colicoid swarm attacked. She told Doc to run ahead and she'll administer the medpacs after dealing with the swarm. Doc believed her and to this day, 16yrs later, he still doesn't know she actually slaughtered them like animals.

So yeah, those are a couple of dark secrets Violcrik kept hidden. Plus, she's a liar, she'll lie when it's necessary.

~~~~~

Hope those answers are suffice! Sorry for the delay again. Lmao

#star wars #swtor #swtor oc #jedi knight #violcrik #rangerslayer 97 answers

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blueburds · 3 years

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The Vision

Set a couple of weeks before the chapter Bloodline of my fic, To Reclaim what was Ours.

Word count: 979

Fendithas was unaware of his Force-sensitivity for the majority of his youth. Yet even now, at his age of thirty-three, he still experienced visions he’d not yet seen before. As it came into focus, he saw a flash of red; the chill of the night air made him shudder as he suddenly plummeted into darkness. Despair.

This was certainly not the first vision in which he saw his own demise. And while Fendithas knew that visions could always be misinterpreted, he felt… certain about this one.

He was running out of time. Quickly.

The front door to the cabin swung open, taking Fendithas out of his thoughts. He watched his owl companion flutter inside, perching atop one of the chairs. Zenith entered after and carried a limp, large-sized animal around his shoulders. “Got lucky today.”

“Mind the blood, please. I just cleaned the floors this morning.”

The other man huffed and moved into the next room, plopping the mammal atop a stone counter. Fendithas held out his arm and his bird fluffed its wings before flying over and sitting upon his wrist. “Thank you for bringing him home safely,” he muttered with a faint smirk upon his lips.

“Hey- your buddy almost blew our cover,” Zenith called from the other room.

“Nonsense. He’s an adaptive creature; everything he learns is from you and I.”

“Well last time I checked, we were both pretty good at keeping our mouths shut while sneaking up on things.”

Fendithas clicked his tongue in annoyance, sarcastically shaking his head, “I’m certain you were doing your best, my dear Evanescent.” His fingers gently brushed the owl’s back feathers.

“Nadia’s scheduled to come by today,” Zenith said, coupled with a sound of a crack. “Should probably check her ship again. Something seemed off with her navicomputer last time.”

“I trust that she’s gotten it fixed,” the Jedi replied.

Zenith chuckled dryly, “Glad you do, but I’ve got a feeling that won’t matter.”

“How do you mean?”

“It was tampered with,” Zenith leaned back to meet Fendithas’ eyes, “meaning someone’s on to her. Or, us. We can’t stay here for a lot longer, otherwise we’re gonna have trouble.”

Fendithas pursed his lips, his gaze falling below in thought. He recalled his vision from his early-morning meditation; someone would indeed come, but he knew not who, nor why. He could only tell that their intentions would be malicious.

“Fen?”

“Apologies,” he muttered, standing and letting Evanescent flutter off elsewhere. Zenith arched a brow, but the he waved his hand dismissively, “Perplexing Jedi thoughts. Nothing you should concern yourself with.”

And Zenith shrugged then went back to work. He learned to just leave it at that; often the majority of Jedi spoke in weird, cryptic ways. Trying to understand them was more effort than it was worth, so he was content with just dropping it. He trusted Fendithas to address his thoughts if they were indeed something he should be concerned with.

Fendithas turned and looked out the window, watching wildlife drink from a nearby spring: the spring he used as his meditation spot. His jaw clenched lightly and the pace of his heart began to quicken-.

“Hey, no! No, absolutely not! Fuck off back to your master, would you?”

Fendithas sighed and turned to investigate whatever his companions were doing. Evanescent had a chunk of meat in his beak, no doubt torn from the dead animal’s carcass. The Jedi shooed his owl away and into the other room, to which Evanescent was content to just snack on what he was able to grab.

“The thing’s driving me up the wall,” Zenith grumbled, pointing the tip of his knife toward the owl. Fendithas gently lowered the man’s hand but said nothing. Zenith gave him a quizzical look, “Are you sure you’re all right?”

The Jedi wouldn’t lie to himself: he felt awful. Panicked, flighty, nervous. Everything in his vision felt so real. He’d felt his own heart stop, witnessed himself drawing his final breath. Unnerving was describing the sensation lightly.

His eyes flicked up to meet the other’s, his brows knit in concern.

“You look like hell,” Zenith said, “What’s wrong?”

“I do not know,” Fendithas lied. “Anxiety, I suppose. Stress, perhaps.”

Zenith exhaled a soft sigh through his nose. “Okay, so what can we do to get you to relax?”

“Talking is soothing.”

“We can talk about whatever you want.”

Fendithas paused. “Tell me of a mission you went through on Balmorra.”

“Think you’ve heard just about all of ‘em by now,” Zenith said, but noted the look in the other man’s eyes. “… But I can think of another. Had a scheme to funnel a bunch of colicoids in Sobrik. Pulled it off somehow, guess we got just the right people.” A faint smirk found his lips, “One of the big wigs even came out to personally see to us. I always thought I knew exactly what a stereotypical Imp looked like, but this guy? He was the spitting image of what every Imp probably wanted to look like. And he had a really punchable face.”

Fendithas managed a small laugh, “Did you have a chance to?”

“Punch him? No. Drove a pack of colicoids his way but never actually saw him die. Probably got eaten.”

“I would imagine so.”

“Had to pull back eventually, but it felt good to hit ‘em right at the heart.”

“You’ve always excelled in the battlefield. I am sorry that I’ve taken you away from that life.”

“It’s what I wanted, Fen. And for now, it’s the best call for both our sakes.”

A lazy smile curled the Jedi’s lips. His head fell forward, pressing gently against the other man’s neck. And Zenith wrapped an arm around him, holding him securely, before Fendithas stood up straight once more. He tentatively leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Zenith’s lips.

#swtor #swtor fanfiction #jedi consular #swtor zenith #i had this sitting around for a while - and i wanted to write a sad scene with him and Nadia too #but eh. maybe i will! yall can have this for now tho haha #gives some insight into Fen's relationship with Zenith c':

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tishinada · 4 years

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Six Sentence Sunday

I was tagged by both @curiousartemis and @kunstpause, thanks!

I’ll tag @sleepswithvillains, @rainofaugustsith, @cinlat, @shimmersing, and @gerdavonrinnlingen

A few more than six, from the next chapter of Dance in the Shadow of Honor (done and being edited currently :D)

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Khem Val had spent the entire meal leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, positioned to silently glare most effectively at everyone celebrating. Now he grumbled out a few words that made Zas grin at him. I don’t think anyone else here can understand whatever language he’s speaking. I wonder where she learned it?

“What, you didn’t enjoy taking a dip in toxic goo?”

Ucevi raised a brow stalk, her lips twitching. “Colicoids? And bathing in toxic goo? Your mission on Balmorra was at least unique.”

“Be glad I didn’t insist on skinny dipping, Khem. Of course, that was mostly because there are things about you even I’m not that interested in learning.” The Dashade growled something that was clearly not flattering, but she just blew a kiss at him. “Love you too.”

#swtor #fanfic #Dance in the shadow of honor #six sentence sunday #khem val #oc: ucevi #oc: zastelar

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hydrospanners · 6 years

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filling the table They have a saying back on Corellia that the only way you can ever really know a man is by taking his credits. They also have a saying that you should never play cards with a Corellian because Corellians always cheat, but she's betting Doc never heard that one. SWTOR. F!Jedi Knight x Doc. 1800 words. AO3.

Filling the table: In some rare occasions, a round of pazaak could be won if a player could place 9 cards on the table without busting.

It’s well after lights out when Rea wanders into the mess, her fingers tapping out a nervous rhythm against her thighs. The base is like a graveyard at this hour, dark as a black hole and damn near as quiet. With the generators offline for the night, there’s no sound but the distant echo of blaster fire and the rumble of answering explosives. It’s fucking unsettling. She’s too used to the not-quite-quiet of ships and stations and cities. Too used to the hum and tick of machinery, to the murmur of distant voices, to the sounds of life.

This quiet makes her skin crawl. It’s got her itching to go somewhere, to do something, but there’s nowhere to go and nothing useful to do. Not at night. The Imps have eyes everywhere on this planet. Too much movement, the slightest pinprick of light… The last thing Rea needs is to draw an air raid down on the only people who can get her that stupid fucking prototype.

At this hour, after a day like this one, she’s expecting to find the mess empty. She figures the Resistance will be tucked away in their drab little cots, dreaming of better days. When she spots the figure settled at a table in the center of the room, she almost turns around and walks right back out--she’s not really in the mood for another lecture on duty and ethics and the moral bankruptcy of the Republic--but then she sees the outline of a familiar mustache in the dim glow of a datapad screen.

That changes things.

Rea finds herself smiling as she settles onto the bench across from the doctor, pushing away the empty packets of energy pudding he seems to be eating direct from the wrapper. She’s never minded much about the taste of her food, but even her stomach protests the thought of that. Poor bastard needs it, though. She hasn’t seen him since their meeting with Warren, but the dark circles under his eyes tell her he’s been keeping himself entertained. No shortage of work for a doctor in a combat zone.

At least one of them has something to do.

“Long night, Doc?”

“Is it night?” He asks, looking up from his datapad to toss her a tired smile. He starts to turn back to whatever he’s reading when he freezes, looking at her again like he’s just realized she’s there. His whole demeanour shifts to something more open and relaxed. “Time really flies when you’re having fun, Gorgeous, and we had a lot of fun today.”

“Don’t know a lot of people who think of ‘exit, pursued by colicoid’ as a good time.”

“Anything’s a good time when you’re in good company,” he says, waggling his eyebrows in a way that would be ridiculous on anyone else. Actually, it’s ridiculous on him too, but ridiculous works for Doc.

“Smooth,” Rea laughs, then gestures at the datapad in his hand. “Not interrupting, am I?”

Doc drops the datapad like a hot rock. “What could be more important than talking to a beautiful woman?”

So predictable. Rea tries not to smile too much as she whips out a deck of cards from her belt pouch and starts to shuffle. His eyes follow the movement of her finely-sculpted arms with open appreciation. “You ever play pazaak?” She asks.

“My gran used to make me play with her. Hosted a game twice a week. She liked to sneak brandy in her tea and make me listen to her friends go on about how great things were before the Mandalorian Wars. Which, coincidentally,” Doc draws his attention away from her exquisite musculature to give her a significant look, “is the last time anyone under eighty played pazaak.”

He’s been teasing her about her ‘advanced age’ ever since Kira mentioned, absolutely deliberately, that Rea’s a year older than him. The difference can’t be more than a few months, but that hasn’t stopped the torrent of old lady jokes she’s been taking from both of them all day.

She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t bother arguing. “You a betting man, Doc?”

“Only when I gamble,” he says. “You?”

"I'm Corellian," Rea grins. "What do you think?"

Four hands later, she’s fifty credits richer and Doc is rooting around in his pocket for something to scribble another IOU on. She knows he’ll never make good on it, but Rea’s happy to accept his empty promises if it keeps him playing the game. She’s overdue for a bit of fun.

Doc watches her curiously as she deals the fifth hand. “So where’d you learn to play? You can tell me they teach pazaak in Jedi school, but I’m not gonna believe you.”

Rea shoots him an amused look. “Jedi school?”

“Gotta learn Jedi stuff somewhere, don’t you?”

She almost wishes Rhese was here, if only to see the shade of violet he’d turn at hearing a decade’s worth of finely-honed skills reduced to ‘Jedi stuff’. “Afraid you’re asking the wrong Jedi. I never went to school.” Even if she had, she wouldn’t have lasted long. Rea’s always had a complicated relationship with structure. And rules.

“You never went to school?” He gives her a piercing look that quickly shifts from skeptical to horrified when she shakes her head. “ Any school? Not even before the Jedi?”

“Not all of us can be delicate Core flowers, Doc.”

Doc raises a brow. “Core flower, huh? You been checking up on me, Gorgeous?”

She can almost hear Ranna in the back of her mind, giving her that old familiar warning. Everyone will betray you if you give them the chance . She used to worry so much about Rea, about how freely she talked and how careless she was about who listened. She was always warning her to watch her back and keep her mouth shut. Always smiling that bittersweet smile, telling her ‘ you can’t trust anything in this life but family, Turhaya.’

She’d been wrong about that, of course. You can’t trust family either.

“I know money when I see it,” Rea tells him, which is true. She learned to read a mark before she learned to read her own name. She doesn’t mention she’s also had Teeseven mining the holonet for information about him since they got back to base. He hasn’t found much so far--a birth certificate, transcripts, a few publications in medical journals--and she can’t decide if that’s promising or alarming. People with posh backgrounds like Doc’s aren’t usually so mysterious.

He snorts. “Glamorous as it is, working for the Resistance doesn’t actually pay that well.”

She’d be surprised if it paid at all. “Lucky you’ve got that trust fund for hard times.”

His brow sails nearly up into his hairline. He seems more impressed than angry, which is encouraging for the plans Rea hadn’t realized she was forming until just now. “You really have been checking up on me.”

“Just a guess actually,” she grins, “but thanks for confirming. I’ll remember that when it’s time to call these in.” She gestures to the half-dozen IOUs in the pot.

“And what else have you ‘just guessed’ about me?”

“Well…” Rea folds her arms over her cards, leaning forward on her elbows. “Aside from how much you like to talk about yourself--”

“There’s a lot to say.”

“--you’re from the Core, but I’m guessing somewhere more focused on creds and culture than politics. Somewhere on the Perlemian, probably. How am I doing?”

“Ralltiir,” he confirms. “And I’m halfway to impressed. What else?”

“You’re good and you know it, so you’d only have gone to a good school. Coruscant probably, cause it’s the best of the best, and you took to medicine like light to a black hole. You had to be talented to finish school early even after blowing all that time in the underbelly of Galactic City. I’m guessing that’s where you got the notion to do this--” she gestures to the darkened Resistance base around them “--with all that fancy education of yours.”

The shrewd look he gives her tells her she hit the nail right on the head. She resists the urge to high five herself. “Are you fucking with me, Gorgeous? Or were all those banthashit stories about Jedi reading minds actually true?”

Rea laughs. “I’m no mind-reader, Doc. Not saying it can’t be done--Force shit’s weird--but it’s not my kinda Force shit. All I ever learned were the punching bits.”

Doc’s expression says he doesn’t quite believe her, but he doesn’t push. Rea starts to suspect he might actually be as smart as he thinks he is. “So if it’s not a Force trick, where’d you learn it?”

She shrugs. “Wasn’t always a Jedi.”

“Don’t they pluck you people straight from the cradle?”

“They made an exception for me. Not even the Jedi could resist all this.” Rea grins, gesturing to herself with a careless sweep of her hands as she leans back to give Doc a better view of everything the Jedi couldn’t resist. He accepts the invitation eagerly, eyes roving every inch of her he can see in the dark.

“Can’t say I blame ‘em, Beautiful.”

Rea smirks, pleased by the hungry way he’s looking at her. Every nerve ending in her body is sparking to life, tingling with anticipation. She hasn’t had a chance like this in weeks, and now that there’s a familiar, delicious heat starting to build inside her, Rea’s skin is practically itching with impatience. She’s never been shy about chasing what she wants, but she forgot how good it feels to have what she wants chasing her .

How many hours did you have to know someone before you could ask them to fuck you on a table?

She opens her mouth to ask Doc for his opinion, but two sharp beeps from her holocomm kill the words on her tongue. Warren’s ID flashes red across the screen.

The heat in her veins couldn’t have vanished faster if she was streaking through a blizzard on Hoth.

“You should get some rest,” Rea sighs, sweeping the pazaak cards into her palm in one smooth motion. “I’ve got a feeling I’ll be collecting on those IOUs sooner than later.” And not in the way I wanted , she thinks dismally.

But maybe there’ll be a chance for that later.

If she’s very lucky, and if she does her job very well, then maybe they’ll both make it out of this thing alive. Maybe Balmorra will be more-or-less in one piece. And maybe, just maybe, she’ll have time before the next crisis to show the doctor everything she had planned for that table.

#swtor #swtor fic #swtor doc #archiban kimble #jedi knight #nirea velaran #velaran legacy #my fic #my swtor fic #i started writing this in april of 2016 #so when i say i'm a slow writer #that's what i mean #anyway LOOK #it is DONE #almost unrecognizable to the original version #BUT DONE #[throws confetti]

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meanbihexual · 6 years

Text

Unintended

Chapter 1/13

Read on AO3

Aric Jorgan was not a sentimental man. He didn’t dwell on his emotions—hell, half the time he didn’t even acknowledge them. He was also not indecisive; he believed in taking action, taking responsibility, and getting results. And so it was doubly incredulous, not to mention galling, that here he was, coming up on an hour of sitting on his bunk with his fists clenched, trying to decide what to do and feeling as anxious as he ever had in his entire life.

This had seemed like a good idea at first. It was entirely reasonable to want to congratulate the captain on her promotion, and a gift seemed like the sort of thing one ought to do for a friend. And they were friends, he had realized, after all the time they’d spent together, all the missions they’d completed. It was almost impossible to rely on someone as completely as they did in the field and not become something more than acquaintances, but it had surprised him nonetheless. The circumstances of their first meeting, his subsequent demotion while she was made his CO—all of that had stung, and at first he didn’t think he’d ever feel anything other than a seething dislike for her.

But Lieutenant—now Captain—Phila Evander was not the entitled, arrogant brat that he had thought she was, and she had proven it many times over in the hunt for Tavus and the other former members of Havoc Squad. Jorgan had come to admire and respect her over the months they’d been a team, and more than that, he even liked her.

Back to the problem at hand—a gift was a good idea, he was sure of that still, but why did he have to go and pick this particular gift? He hadn’t been able to think of anything that seemed right, until one day he was digging through his locker in search of something—he couldn’t remember what—when he found a box of assorted junk that he had accumulated over the years. Inside was a jewel he had bought from a trader on a whim years ago and had then thrown into the bottom of his pack, having no use for gems.

He wondered, now, if he’d had some sort of premonition, because it was the exact same blue as Phila’s eyes.

Before he could really think it through, he had found a Theelin jeweler on Nar Shaddaa and sent her the gem, commissioning a setting for it. It had arrived via courier while they were taking leave on Coruscant, and Jorgan had to admit that the jeweler had outdone herself.

The deep blue stone was now the centerpiece of a lovely bronzium pendant. It was shaped like an elongated diamond with thin strands of the metal woven in intricate designs that reached up to enfold the gem. It looked amazing, and in his mind he could clearly see it hung around Phila’s neck, even though he’d never seen her wear jewelry before.

The problem, though, the thing that kept him holding onto it even now, more than a month after receiving it, was that the more he looked at it, the more it felt like—well, like a lover’s token.

That was definitely not the message he wanted to send. Was it?

It was true that he was attracted to her, had been for quite some time, truth be told, but lately it had been getting worse. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, and everything reminded him of her—the Balmorran sunsets were the same deep red as her hair, a smooth sip of Corellian whiskey was her voice. And the dreams—it was a miracle that he could meet her eyes after the dreams he’d had, and thank the stars Cathar didn’t blush noticeably or he would have been in real trouble. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, but either way, Phila—he had to start thinking of her as Captain Evander again if he was going to get through this—could not find out. What would she think if he gave her jewelry?

Jorgan sighed and shifted his weight, pressing a hand to the sore spot on his lower back. That’s what he got for sitting in the same position for so long, along with a raging headache that he was pretty sure was going to require finding Elara to give him some painkillers.

Finally, with a disgusted snarl he pulled himself up and retrieved the pendant from its spot at the bottom of his locker. He had never been a coward and he wasn’t about to start now—if she got the wrong idea (or, more accurately, the right but absolutely not ever admitted idea), he would just make it perfectly clear that it was a congratulatory gift from a friend, nothing more.

Phila was pretty sure military datawork was a clever ploy by the Sith to keep soldiers from having time to come after them. She ran a hand through her hair as she finished one report and flicked it off the screen before pulling up another, wishing that this was something she could delegate.

That wasn’t fair of her, not really—Elara already did all of the datawork she could; the crazy woman enjoyed it, which was something Phila was eternally grateful for. But there were some reports that only a CO could file, which was why Phila was wasting an evening onboard the Thunderclap instead of continuing the hunt for the elusive Tanno Vik.

Technically, she could have done the work at the base in Bugtown, but she hated that place. She always felt like colicoids were going to burst through the walls at any moment—even after she and Jorgan had helped to cull the population, they were still crawling all over the place. It wasn’t like it was a big deal for her to get to the ship anyway; the shuttle ran back and forth to the orbital station several times a day, so it was just a matter of catching a ride. Besides, it would be nice to sleep in her own bed again.

Taking a big gulp from the mug of caf beside her, she was mentally fortifying herself to dive into the next report when she heard footsteps behind her. Turning her head, she saw Jorgan enter the room, clutching something in his hand.

“Hey, Jorgan,” she greeted him, turning back to the work in front of her.

“Captain. Do you have a minute?”

“Of course. Anything to get out of this datawork,” she answered with a small laugh, shoving the datapad out of the way as he pulled out the seat across from her.

The corners of his mouth twitched up, about as close as Jorgan ever got to a smile. She noticed that his hand was still curled tightly around something as he sat, but she couldn’t tell what it was.

“What’s up?”

Jorgan cleared his throat before he spoke.

“I never properly congratulated you on your promotion. You’ve come a long way since Ord Mantell.”

He paused, and she opened her mouth to say thank you, but he continued before she had the chance.

“We—we should celebrate.”

He looked vaguely sick as he said the last part, as if he had said it only because it was expected of him but actually found the prospect rather nauseating. It wouldn’t surprise her if that was the case—her XO wasn’t exactly a social flutterplume—but it meant a lot to her that he would make the effort.

Her response was designed to tease, to perhaps loosen him up a little. She couldn’t forget that day she’d come back to his inquiry about weapons malfunctions with a flirty little quip about going through her things—how his voice had dropped lower than usual when he asked if she had something to hide, the almost feral way his lips had curved in a rare smile.

It was impossible to deny she was hoping for a repeat performance when she said, “You could make me dinner.”

“You wouldn’t enjoy that. I’ve spent the last ten years living off field rations.”

His eyes danced, just a little, and told her that he was enjoying their exchange. Her smile widened—it was nice to see him joke for a change, even if it wasn’t that husky, mind-melting tone she’d been hoping for.

“Well, I guess it’s ration bars and caf again tonight,” she sighed in only half mock sorrow.

“Sorry, Captain,” he said. His voice turned serious. “But, uh, I got you a little something…”

She really had to stop smiling at him. He couldn’t think when she looked at him like that, all bright-eyed and positively glowing. It was hard enough to resist the pull of her lips normally, but when she smiled the battle tripled in intensity.

She was looking at him expectantly now, curiosity shining in her brilliant blue eyes, and since his brain was being decidedly unhelpful he simply held out the hand that clutched the necklace, waiting for Phila to mirror the gesture before he dropped the gift into her palm.

Phila gasped and immediately drew the piece closer to her face for inspection. The pendant was quite possibly the most beautiful piece of jewelry she’d ever seen, and she’d seen a lot. Even though she didn’t own much of it, Phila had always admired the pretty pieces she saw other women wear. It was too bad it wasn’t really practical in her line of work.

And Jorgan was just full of surprises tonight—not only had he given her a gift, something she never would have believed if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, but he apparently had fantastic taste in jewelry as well.

She became vaguely aware of Jorgan talking in the background, and she forced her mind to focus on him.

“Bought the stone off a trader a few years back. Had a Theelin jeweler fit it for me. Thought it’d look nice on you.”

He sounded slightly awkward again. Phila didn’t know if he wasn’t sure if she liked it or was just uncomfortable giving gifts in general, but she hastened to reassure him.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, raising her eyes from the pendant to meet his. “I love it. Thank you.”

He held her gaze for a moment in silence, and Phila felt a shiver run up her spine at the intensity in his eyes. She found that she couldn’t look away, and the pendant felt warm in her hand.

Finally Jorgan broke the silence. “Anytime.”

The moment faded, and Phila found herself wrapping her fingers around her gift, trying to recapture the warmth.

She really shouldn’t say it, she thought, about two nanoseconds before she opened her mouth.

“Will you put it on for me?” He looked slightly startled, like he’d never considered that as a possible scenario, and she continued. “I’m hopeless at clasps.”

That wasn’t strictly true, but she would have to go cross-eyed to do it on her own without a mirror. Close enough, right?

It took him a moment, but Jorgan finally nodded and pushed up from the table, walking around to stand behind her. Phila swung her ponytail to the side so it didn’t get in his way and held up the chain over each shoulder so that he could take it.

When he had the ends of the chain in his hands she lowered her own, trying (and mostly succeeding) to suppress the shiver that ran through her at the soft brush of his fingers against the sensitive skin of her neck. It was probably her imagination, but it felt like his touch lingered there, just a second longer than necessary, before he released the necklace and stepped back. She missed him instantly.

Jorgan cleared his throat again. “Anyway, I should get back to my duties, and let you get your reports done. Congratulations again, sir.”

Phila shook her head and twisted in her seat to look at him. “You know you don’t have to call me sir when we’re off duty, Jorgan.”

He gave what passed as a smile and simply said, “I know, sir.”

Phila laughed softly as he walked out. “Stubborn man,” she said to herself as she pulled the datapad back in front of her. She glanced down at the necklace lying against the front of her t-shirt.

“Sweet man,” she whispered, and then got back to work.

#swtor #swtor fanfic #aric jorgan #aric jorgan x republic trooper #jorgan x phila #phila evander #chapter 2 is on ao3 #i'll put it up here too in a little bit #and chapter 3 should be posted in the next few days

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swtorramblings · 6 years

Note

7, 8, 18

Thank you.

7. Which player voice actor is your favorite and your least favorite?

I apologize for not being able to look up their names at the moment.

My favorite tends to change over time, but right now, the Female Sith Inquisitor. That voice combined with the snark the SI is capable of just really appeals. “How do you know I’m not a colicoid?” never ceases to make me chuckle.

Least favorite has been the male Jedi Consular, though that’s fairly recent. I used to be neutral, now I find it annoying, though that’s not at all the VA’s fault. I actually feel I’m being a bit unfair to him.

8. Name your top favorite companions (feel free to include reasons why).

I’ll go with the top about 20%. And if I was asked tomorrow, it might change.

Yuun: Weird guy, Yuun. I like that about him and would like to see more of it.

Andronikos: I would not have expected it, him being a bloodthirsty pirate and vengeful killer and all, but once the whole story I rather like him.

Vette: Some find her annoying, and I can understand that, but looking at the guy with the box that activates her collar and going, “Chirp, chirp, chirp” just by itself makes her endearing to me.

Kaliyo: I was neutral, but @emperor-of-eternal-sands treatise on her convinced me I liked her. She’s still pretty terrible, but the fact that she puts up with my neutral and light side IA’s with a roll of the eyes helps (I’m kind of imagining the eye roll, but it’s stuck n my head and I can’t unsee it).

Kira: For looking the monster in the haunted house in the eye and being the one to say, “Get Out”. She has moments I don’t care for, but that by itself makes up for a lot.

Ashara: She took her situation, which was totally not her fault, and tried to make something good out of it.

Koth: Because he stands up to the assholes. There are other things, but that stands out.

Senya: Mostly. I like her as a companion somewhat less than most of the others simply because I have to actively forget some of her lines, more so than the others on this list.

18. Which achievement(s) are you most proud of?

Oddly, blowing up the slot machines. I found that oddly satisfying. I’m not much of an achievement hunter, though. Well, that’s not true, I am, but too many of them require activities that I just don’t have the stamina for, so I kind of gave up on the idea over all.

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jedimasteramell · 7 years

Text

Fives Times, Cael & Astra

Original Characters // SWTOR // SFW

The four times Cael missed Astra’s birthday, and the one time he didn’t.

Sorry @uldren-sov this was so late lol, happy extra-extra-belated birthday

————

Balmorra is nothing but pitted earth, colicoid slime, and a pervasive sensation of frustration bordering on hopelessness; from the Balmorrans and Imperials both. After more than three weeks here, Cael could go another life without experiencing any more of it. Maybe if he could get more sleep it would help.

How painfully ironic that Baras was using him to hunt down his own loose ends embedded in the Republic? The murder of Rylon’s son stung him somewhere under the impassivity he’d been trained in. A Sith would have done it, and that what he was now wasn’t he? Astra had disapproved, as she did of many of his decisions. It’d been months since they met on Korriban and she remained as evasive to his scrutiny as she was to attacks during battle. And yet despite that, or mayhaps in spite of it, he’d yet to shake her. Astra had a game of her own, and he’d yet to figure if it was in his interest to play it with her or leave the board all together.

As if summoned, Cael heard her melodic drawl. “Lucien, there you are.”

“Astra.” He greeted curtly, stiffening as she brushed her fingers across his arm, mentally damning that the reaction was not entirely an act. Of every impulse he could restrain, the way he felt about being touched escaped his control more often than he was comfortable with.

She smiled in response, the barest hint of teeth feline and tsked. “It wouldn’t hurt you to pretend you weren’t so petulant all the time.”

Lucien rolled his eyes, scoffing, though his retort curled the corner of his mouth. “And what would you do if I weren’t so?”

Astra’s eyes narrowed wickedly and she flicked her hair back, golden jewelry sparking in the glow of the morning. “Fall into another’s heroic arms I suppose.”

At the memory of the other day, he summoned a flush to his cheeks. Let her think she had any power over him, that she knew who the ‘real’ Lucien was. The gesture seemed to satisfy Astra who rolled her neck and walked away towards her dashade. As she went, Cael watched and mused. For him to truly trick her, he needed to know her, and yet after months he knew nothing personal: not a last name, not an age, not even the planet she grew up on.

Seems his choice was to play the game.

ii.

A fast flight from Dromund Kaas with a half-dead Astra was not how Cael planned on continuing his day.

He’d meant to arrive with gusto, a lord, confidant, working past his months of fumbling through Alderaan and Nar Shaddaa. But all that went out the window taking her to safety, half guiding, half carrying her to his ship. She muttered things like ‘Thanaton’ ‘punishment for Zash’ and ‘doesn’t know I’m alive’. Part of him even wanted to believe the glimmer of recognition in her eyes was of appreciation as he led her up the gangplank and order Quinn to take off

Even after they cleared atmo, and the inertia shifted with the jump to lightspeed, the little twist in Cael’s heart hadn’t subsided. Keeping his expression a stern mask of unconcern, his thoughts kept slipping back to Astra asleep in his quarters.

He’d fallen so far into this game, times like these he cursed under the lull of the engines how distracted he’d become from the bigger picture. Astra came to him. She’d never done that before. In truth, he’d been the one that needed her assistance, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that had they not met on Korriban she’d have come this far regardless. Crafty, charming, an impressive actress, she’d survive, for it seemed that was what she did.

The knot in his chest tightened uncomfortably. A slick blade of cold guilt he had to toss away. Now was not the time to consider any of this. He should have never gotten this close to begin with, not to apoint where her memory wormed into his thoughts, when her smile and teasing glare was enough to blow him off course.

If Master Sen knew he’d order her death and Cael would have to comply, eliminate Astra before she became a sympathetic person in his eyes. There would be no deep questions, no pursuit of her past, no extraneous interest, or so Cael resolved himself.

Just why did that knife keep turning?

iii.

Strange how much Corellia reminded him of Balmorra, or maybe not strange at all, the carnage, separated by space and stars replicated itself over and over on each world with a breathable atmosphere. Strange how he’d gotten so used to the smoke, sounds of distant buildings tumbling to the ground, the chorus of screams and blaster fire, and the bodies in the millions; so much so that it didn’t faze him anymore. He wished he could attribute it to his composure as a Jedi, but that was a lie. A part of him had died somewhere.

Shame the rest of him refused to follow suit.

A huff from behind him, signaled Astra’s arrival, having followed him out of the spaceport. He readjusted his composure as she stopped next to him, arms crossed and her own expression unreadable as she stared out over the burning city. In her winged armor, glowing with the hazy orange-reds of the sunset and the fleeting light glittering off her jewelry, she looked like an angel of death to him. The fire in her golden eyes matched the flames eating at the city.

His heart stirred, a painful tightening of the only emotion he seemed to feel these days: guilt. Guilt for lying to her, guilt for planning to disassemble everything she and the rest of the Empire worked for. Guilt for falling in love with her and letting her see it.

Seeming to have resolved herself, Astra looked up to him, a cat-like expression on her face, and something else maybe. “Just this last place and we’ll be through with Thanaton and Baras.” Cured of the crippling effects the Sith spirits had on her body, fearlessly ready to win the Kaggath, her devious spark had come back in full. Her fingers danced up his arm, and while he stiffened, just as he always had, no longer was it from inexperience or reluctance. Though that part of him was true enough, she always seemed to enjoy that boyish aspect of Lucien. “Try not to look so excited.”

Cael summoned a small smile just for her, and Astra accepted it, strolling down the ramp towards the Imperial outpost. There was a confidence in her he wished he could mirror, and only the smallest spark of curiosity of what she’d been planning when he caught up with her in the spaceport. Only one way to find out. He followed after her, a large, dark shadow in her wake.

The ringing of her comm brought her to a pause, answering it to the miniature blue aspect of the Moff she’d allied herself with.

“My Lord,” Pyron bowed “we’ve found out more concerning Darth Thanaton’s apprentice, if you choose so, I believe he could be swayed to reveal his master’s plans. He has not been the Darth’s apprentice for very long.”

Astra’s smile was wicked. “Thank you Pyron.” Bowing once more the holo disappeared. “What a productive day this is turning out to be, Thanaton must have known it was my birthday.”

Part of him registered that, mapped the date. Before he got his mouth working, she had already walked off, leaving him with little more than a glance over her pauldroned shoulder.

Next year… He’d say it next year…

He’d be lying to himself if he thought he ever had that chance.

iv.

“I can never tell with you Jedi, is it stoicism or moodiness?” Jonas Balkar swiveled casually on his bar stool, his languid glance around the room hiding his professional vigilance. He’d dragged Cael out to one of his favored dives, one with just the right ambiance as he put it. Which was Jonas speak for ‘good booze, good music, real dancers, and at least 5 escape points’.

Cael stared into his untouched glass, like the thick amber liquid could give him some new kind of insight. He reached up to run a hand through his hair, only to be met with the short strands of his recent haircut. One of the only things that changed since he’d returned to SIS and the Republic.

“You can never tell with Theron either.” Cael countered, making the same instinctual sweep around the cantina Jonas had.

The other spy raised a humored eyebrow and downed the remains of his drink. “Shan is easy, because he’s always both.” Jonas glanced at Cael’s untouched drink but said nothing as he waved the bar droid over for another.

“He was raised like me, at least for a time, so what do you think that says?” Strumming his fingers on the bartop, Cael fought off the darkness that crept up on him when he least expected it, pretending like everything was fine for another night.

Not that Jonas bought it. “That says you jedi are all irascible philosophers with one facial expression.” He humphed, amused at his own retort.

Absently swirling the glass for maybe the eighth time that night, Cael’s heart suddenly quickened at the fleeting glimpse of vermillion skin. Stomach in his throat, he turned in time to watch a red-skinned twi’lek wrap her arms around neck of a fellow patron. When she kissed them, Cael’s gut turned to lead, that pang in his chest that refused to heal, a burning knot. He set his elbows on the counter and covered his mouth with his hands.

Having followed the fleeting moment, Jonas scrutinized him and finished his newest drink. Though he might have never read Cael’s report, and Director Trant had made the subject highly classified, that didn’t mean Balker couldn’t read Cael himself. “I thought you weren’t supposed to form attachments.” He whispered in genuine sympathy.

“Today is her birthday.” Cael admitted, tongue suddenly too heavy and awkward in his mouth. He hadn’t spoken about her aloud in months, the mere memories the subject summoned enough to demand his reticence. “Three years, I never knew, never wished her happy birthday. I… I never asked.”

Jonas pushed Cael’s glass closer towards him. “You’ll get to, someday.”

And with such comforting conviction, the sweet lie almost tasted real.

Morning sunlight chased the mist deeper into the forests on Odessen. The fresh scent of earth and dewey stone combined with the way the balanced Force cradled everything on the planet was enough to blanket Cael with one of the most profound senses of peace he’d experienced in a long long time.

There was only one place where he felt more alive, more confident, more right: being beside Astra.

She’d gotten up earlier than him, a gentle surprise. It wasn’t her movement or noise that roused him, but the caress of the bond between them. It remained, of all he had seen, the most improbable chance. The Force had bonded the two of them, an unbreakable tie that ebbed unhurriedly along like the waves that lapped at a ponds edge. So many things had come to clarity when they learned of it, and those understandings had settled flawlessly into place when she accepted it.

Cael couldn’t stop the smile that the reflection brought to his lips. It had only taken ten years, but now he knew that the part of him he thought had died, the piece that was missing: it was accepting his love for her, and all the good and bad moments, the wondrous and ill decisions, that brought with it.

“Morning.” He found her in the hanger, breathing in time to the life awakening across the planet, knowing she sensed him long before he even spoke. Astra slipped softly from her meditation, turning her brilliant eyes on him. They narrowed with affection as she smiled.

“Good morning to you too sleepy-head.” Graceful red fingers rose to run through his hair, unwinding the little tufts that tangled in his sleep.

He kissed the top of her head, settling into the calm that just came from being at her side. “Happy Birthday Astra.”

The red-skinned sith looked up in shock, yellow eyes wide. “How did you know it was my birthday?”

Cael grinned at her. “How accusatory,” he teased, “were you planning on not telling me?”

Astra’s eyes rolled theatrically, her hands on his hips. “It’s not that… and that wasn’t the answer to my question.”

“I’ve known for a long time… since Corellia.” Cael’s eyes clouded with the bittersweet memories for a second before Astra’s touch drew him out. “You said it so casually, and I, well, I hadn’t been in a good place. For a long time it was one of the few things I truly knew about you. There was so much I never asked, so much I selfishly ignored. I’ve wanted to say that for seven years now, finally got my chance. I’m sorry I don’t have a present.”

Wrapping him in a tight embrace, the bond conveyed what words couldn’t: a kittenish mix of affection, amusement, and melancholy.

Astra’s cheek rested against his collarbone and she nuzzled him a moment before turning her eyes up to his, gold melding with gold. A part of her wanted to be painfully sentimental, to say that him being here was enough, but rather she grinned, cupping the side of his face in her hand, tilting him down towards her. “I can think of so many presents you can give me, and in so many positions.

Blood immediately shot to Cael’s cheeks turning nearly as crimson as she was. Never was he going to get used to that teasing from her; or control the way he reacted to it.

Astra laughed, a charming and heartened purr, dragging him closer to press an adoring kiss to his lips. She felt his affection surge down their bond in time with his arms drawing her ever closer.

Breaking for air, Cael’s cheeks still scarlet, she laughed once more, overcome by the swelling of emotions in her heart and the breathlessness in her lungs. “You being here is enough.” Okay maybe she could be a bit cliched. “But if it’s really so pressing, I find my legs are just not strong enough to stand, you’ll have to carry me around all day.”

Cael smiled broadly, swooping in to kiss her with the same motion that swept her up into his arms. There was not removing the doe-eyed tenderness from his eyes and foolish grin off his face. Stars, how he loved her. “I think that can be arranged.”

#my writing #cael sorrin #otp: for your eyes only #happy birthday im shit at doing anything on time lol

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yamisnuffles · 7 years

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Oooh baby gimme some of that sugar, ♞: Caring for each other while ill with Quinn and Astrazia

This went on unnecessarily long and includes a made up disease because I could only get lost in wookieepedia for so long. Set after the original SW story content.

Quinn was at Astrazia’s side half a second after she stumbled and her full weight was in his arms before she could fall. She pushed at him feebly in an obvious attempt to stand under her own power. Quinn shook his head.

“My lord, I cannot advise that. You should let me take you to the medbay for immediate treatment.”

“I’m quite alright, Quinn,” she insisted when she finally managed a wobbling step away from him. “I haven’t been sleeping well recently, is all. So if you would just stand aside-”

In theory, as the acting medic aboard the ship, Quinn should have had the final say over any patient on board. In practice, a Sith’s word was final. Against his better judgment, he did as she asked and stepped out of the way. She held her proud head high but barely made it another half dozen steps before stumbling again.

This time when Quinn caught her, he also peeled off one of his gloves in order to feel her forehead with the back of his hand. “You’re burning up.”

“I told you, it’s nothing.”

She shook her head and said something more. Whatever she meant to tell him, however, was lost in an unintelligible mumble. Her usually sharp eyes took on a distant quality and then she tumbled down. Or, she would have, had Quinn not been ready. He tightened his grip on her so that she barely sagged before her weight was supported and then swept her up into his arms.

He was halfway to the medbay when he ran into Vette.

“What happened? Is she okay?” Quinn merely arched an eyebrow and Vette threw up her hands. “Alright, alright. Stupid question. She’s not now, but will she be okay?”

That was a more difficult question to answer. Quinn frowned thoughtfully down at the unconscious Sith in his arms. Once in the medbay, he carefully deposited her down on the exam bed and then grabbed a nearby datapad. He quickly typed out a list of goods, stopped, and then added a few more items. He held the list out to Vette.

“You have access to… secondary channels to procure goods, correct?”

“Yeah, believe it or not, dealing with you Imperials isn’t always so great. It’s all paperwork and bureaucracy and hey, maybe we’ll enslave you as payment for this deal.”

Quinn pushed past his annoyance with a huff. “Yes well, if you could procure these items, I believe our lord will be fine.”

“Mr. By The Book telling me to go to the Black Market? I didn’t think I’d see the day.”

“Quickly, Vette.”

“Right. Be back before you know it.”

Vette snatched the datapad from him and departed with a mock salute. Once she was gone, Quinn sealed the doors and then commed Jaesa. “My lord is indisposed at the moment and I must put the medbay on quarantine for the time being. Until that time is up, you are in charge of the ship.”

“I understand.” Then, after a beat, Jaesa added, “Quarantine? Is it something so dangerous?”

“A precaution, only. Let me know when Vette has procured the ingredients needed for a cure.”

He cut the line to prevent further questions. Time was of the essence. He’d seen a particularly brutal breakout like this while he was stationed on Balmorra. Aeslexian Fever. If he was correct in his hurried diagnosis- and with Astrazia’s abrupt downturn in health, coupled with the high fever and loss of consciousness, he was fairly certain- not just Astrazia but the whole crew could be at risk if he didn’t act fast.

In a proper facility, there would be little risk, but this was far from a proper medical facility and he was far from a proper medic. He was capable enough in combat to keep his lord well, but this was a dire situation quite apart from the norm. His limited skills likely wouldn’t have been enough if not for his experience in Balmorra. Imperial Intelligence had managed to intercept vital intel from a Republic combat medic that gave them an effective treatment regimen. That particularly detestable doctor didn’t need to know Quinn would now be in his debt.

He started by drastically lowering the temperature in the room. He took a sample of her blood and ran a diagnostic that confirmed his diagnosis. Then, for what little good it would do, he wet Astrazia’s brow with a cool, damp rag. The sensation was enough to bring her eyes fluttering back open. Her gaze drifted about the room and then sharpened and settled on Quinn.

“Not a word about being right, Quinn.”

Her voice was so weak that Quinn felt his throat tighten in response. He spoke only when he was sure of himself. She couldn’t know how worried he was. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She closed her eyes again but he could tell from her breathing that she was still awake. “I can feel your fear,” she said. “How bad is it?”

“I’m only worried because I have to rely on Vette. This far into the outer rim, there is no way we’d get what we need through Imperial channels.”

She smiled faintly. “Then I’ll be just fine.”

Quinn would never understand Astrazia’s faith in Vette, as capable as the twi’lek had proven herself over the years. However, in this instance, he found it oddly comforting. He believed in Astrazia, so if she believed in Vette, he would too. At least this once.

He replaced the cloth periodically to make sure it was still cool. Astrazia didn’t speak again. She seemed soothed for a time but then fever dreams took her and she was fitful. When she cried out, Quinn had to remind himself that it was likely the nightmares that caused her distress rather than any real pain. The fever would weaken her but it was largely painless until the final stretch when organs started to fail. With luck, she would never reach that stage.

He felt the ship jump into hyperspace and silently urged on Vette. He hated waiting at the sidelines. Even if he trusted Vette with his own life- which he decidedly did not- there wasn’t a being in the galaxy that he would bet Astrazia’s life on, except perhaps Astrazia herself. It maddened him to think she could be laid low by a disease likely spread to her by one of the lowborn thugs from the last spaceport they visited. She had bested the strongest Force users of their time. She could not be felled by something so… common.

Quinn wished he had advanced his medical training. He was sure their was a proper cure for the fever other than the solution cobbled together with whatever the resistance had been able to get their hands on. But he didn’t have time to research and, as Vette had pointed out, bureaucracy would hold things up in any case.

Minutes turned to hours. All he could do was wait and try to keep Astrazia comfortable. He folded one of her hands in his own and pressed it to his forehead. He’d rarely felt more useless. It was a torment.

“Stay strong, my love,” he whispered.

He awoke with a start, unaware of having fallen asleep in the first place. It took him a moment to understand what had woken him. His head was resting against Astrazia’s chest and for one drowsy moment, he thought the beeping he heard was somehow her heart. Then, finally fully awake, he realized it was his comm.

“Vette?”

“What’s this about a quarantine? Anyway, got the stuff you wanted. Should I come in, or…?”

“No, I would rather not take any unnecessary risks. I’ll meet you at the door.”

He reluctantly left Astrazia’s side and opened the door. As instructed, Vette was there waiting. She craned her neck to try to get a view inside the medbay but Quinn blocked her line of sight with his body. He took the offered satchel and promptly closed the door once more.

“You’re welcome,” Vette called from the other side.

She had a few more choice, non-Basic words to offer him that he was sure were curses but he was also sure he didn’t care. He would thank her later. For now, he had more important matters to attend to.

He pulled up the information he’d readied earlier, including his extensive notes from Balmorra, and set to synthesizing the crude but effective medicine. In went a number of foul smelling roots and herbs, along with- of all things- a portion of shed colicoid exoskeleton. The resulting concoction was a slurry that look every bit as awful as you would expect, given the ingredients, and smelled worse. Quinn could only imagine that it tasted repugnant, but that hardly mattered. What mattered was results.

He portioned out enough doses to bring Astrazia back to health, as well as a bit for each of the crew to make sure everyone stayed healthy. With some reluctance, he roused Astrazia to give her the first dose.

Once awake, she immediately wrinkled her nose. “Don’t tell me, I need to drink that.”

“I’m afraid so, my lord.”

She sighed. “Well, help me up, then.”

He propped her up, as requested, and then tipped the cup into her mouth. She drank it in one dutiful gulp and then stuck her tongue out.

“Absolutely vile,” she gagged.

He lowered her back down and ran another cooled cloth over her clammy forehead. “You should rest. I’ll wake you when you need to take your next dose.”

Astrazia grimaced. “Feel free not to wake me, then. For that matter, if it’s a choice between death and more of that revolting stuff, I choose death.”

“I know you’re joking, but I wish you wouldn’t.”

She opened her eyes just so she could wink at him. It was less of a reassuring gesture than it might have been if she wasn’t so feeble. “I’ll be sure to pull through, just for you, Malavai.”

#malavai quinn #sith warrior #vette #jaesa #swtor #fic #my writing #quinn x sw #Anonymous

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