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interdimensional-lore · 1 year

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A Little Intro Post:

Su cuy'gar, and welcome to my funky little art blog!

About I'm Ripley (Menace or rip(ley)), I am a 21-year-old worldbuilding fanatic with a penchant for storytelling, comics, and sci-fi fantasy stories! I'm digital artist who will be entering the workforce as a concept, comic, or storyboard artist in the next 6-12 months with a degree in digital arts and graphic novel creation. I like Star Wars, science fiction, magic, and storytelling as an art form, and I'm always looking to learn! I use they/them pronouns exclusively.

What I do On this blog, as opposed to by spam/everything blog @interdimensionalmenace, I make art and write stories and post them here! I also occasionally post updates on my life at university and progress updates for my project website. This blog and my everything blog are separate, so if you follow me here's you'll get less spam and more art (...when I actually post)! I primarily share my artwork, writing, and project development notes for Broken Dimensions, my personal passion project. I do ask that you NOT repost my art or other content - reblogs are really cool though! Otherwise, stick around for some cool art and original story lore!

Other I am A Bit Dense and don't have the greatest grasp on social cues and while I'm a stickler for getting all the facts in a given situation I am 1) not perfect, 2) a student, and 3) not online enough to get all the context in a lot of situations, so if and when I fuck up or if/when you see me talking about something and you think I don't have all the facts, please feel free to tell me!! Angrily if necessarily!! Thanks in advance for not letting me completely wreck myself over a genuine misunderstanding!

CONTACT

Instagram (@ interdimensionalmenace)

Artfol (@ interdimensional_mnc)

Art Blog: @interdimensional-lore

Project Website Professional Portfolio (WIP)

I'm also a huge Star Wars Mandalore nerd so you'll see bits an pieces of Mando'a (the constructed language for that world) scattered across my blogs. Here's a handy link to the Mando'a dictionary if you're interested in translating!

- - -

About Broken Dimensions

Most info about Broken Dimensions can be found on the project website, listed above, but to summarize:

Broken Dimensions is the collective name for a series of projects which take place in the same universe, but often a different points in time. It all takes place in a magical sci-fi world of hyper blasters, warp pads, levitation, and mind control. I do a lot of crazy worldbuilding and have way too many thoughts in my brain, so a lot of these stories are still in the outline-only stage, but several are actively being published online or drawn:

The Lycanthra Syndicate is a sci-fi western crime story whose focus is on the Iron Archipelagos and the crime syndicates who run them - and, more specifically, the one trying to figure out whose really pulling everyone's strings. The Lycanthra Syndicate: Demon Strike graphic novel is currently in development as one of my senior projects!

Fractal Alliances is an ongoing collection of stories that take place in the latest Era of the Broken Dimensions timeline, Era 10, from years 1906 thru 2042. The story collection follows several key leaders of the most present interdimensional governments: that of the New Aetherian Empire and the North Tartarun Coalition, with a focus on certain leaders (the Emperor of Aetheria, the Arv'hein of Talki, the royal families of Mercisha and Trivaal, the Queen of Alcairo, and others). Fractal Alliances is a story of interdimensional politics, the horrors of war, manipulative near-deities, and (underneath it all) queer romance. It updates periodically as short story collection the project website, listed above.

Additionally, as a queer person myself, I try to feature a lot of queer characters in my stories - not only because I believe representation is important, but because its realistic. If you like emotionally developed, strong (and sometimes very, very emotionally/physically/magically weak) queer characters, come along for the ride!

The project itself is a product of years of creativity, media consumption, and daydreaming, and is always growing. Posting about it here has been a fantastic experience in terms of cataloging and sharing all the progress since the project's inception in 2020.

If this at all interests you, click here and visit the master post for more OR check out the website: Broken Dimensions project website!

That's all for now! K'oyacyi!!

#broken dimensions #masterpost #pinned intro #original project #digital artist #artist intro

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lightlysketched · 2 years

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Complete Star Wars Culture Week!

I wrote heavy into headcanons so here’s that under the cut! Most of those rotates around my webcomic, primarily mandos and clones. See the full image on Tatooine Suns on Webtoons!

Day 1 was fashion, so I did a bunch of sketches for different mando clans, each one of them minor and having a different attire: Hylian farmer wear (thin poncho style shirts and thin pants with leather boots with beskar tips, crushgaunt gloves), Vrryn royalty wear (Roman style toga and skirt combined with traditional mando chest and flak vest), Tyk’kuav casual wear (tusken inspire of black flak vests, baggy pants, exposed arms as to cool off but still armored), and Shyl formal wear (worn by Runx, as each differs with a member but his is black and bejeweled beskar that’s painted in family colors of red and orange)

Day 2: Cuisine

Day 2 was cuisine, where I ended up finding a blog dedicated to mandalorian cuisine from legends and canon/fanon works. As well as whatever a clone squad cooks up in the dead of night and whatever’s better then a ration bar. Both clones and mandos love their spices and it’s probably the most important aspect of their food. Mandos making Russian honey cake and an arc squad working on an original dish of edible bark and berries with whatever meat and vegetables they can find, slowly cooked over a fire. Mandalorian cuisine is based on Slavic and Southern Asian culture my beloved. Clone troopers had to make their own culture with what they were given, and even with their short life span but they still managed their own language and sometimes food and holidays

Day 3: Language

Day 3 was language, which ended up being mostly headcanons and writing. Clones speak Kaminoean more than Aurebesh, and have created their own code talk known as “Code” and “Whisper”; code is their informal battle speak, whatever’s fastest and gets the info most out. It’s a mix of aurebesh, mando’a, and kaminoan. Whisper is whenever a clone doesn’t want to be eavesdropped, and is most mando’a since after the siege of Mandalore, it’s considered a dead language. Some mandos have dialects, particularly the lower farmer class. They roll the rs harder with sharper vowels.

Particularly around Runx and the Shyl/Hylia clan, their accent is almost indecipherable by other mandos, it’s just that thick and distorted, especially since Runx can’t say certain sounds now after the Nexu incident.

Tyk’kuav clan members speak fluent tusken and are very close with them. They also speak with gestures, even when speaking aurebesh or other languages besides mando'a and tusken

Day 4: Religion & Holiday

Day 4 is religion and holiday. Once again more headcanons and some sketches. Clones don’t have or celebrate birthdays, let alone holidays. But they do celebrate events, like the coming up of a new Jedi knight or a major victory. This is treated with celebration under the supervision of a Jedi. They also celebrate inside jokes, like the 218ths infamous Grain day (do not ask, they will not tell you [the day Vess learned that grain and wheat are the same thing]).

Mandalorian holidays differ with clans, but all of them celebrate the upcoming of a foundling, as well as Mandalore solistices. A foundling reaching adulthood is given a combat trial, whereas they earn their maturity in the clan. They call the combat trial “Akaanirir''. Failure in combat is rare, but if done, is simply sent back and given a later time to compete once more, or alternatively sent to become an apprentice to the Armorer. The solistices of Mandalore are Nadal’jor’ad, Kyr'vhetine’ad, Ciryc’jor’ad, and Me’suum’ad; Summer, fall, winter, and spring solstices respectively. These are usual festivals made to welcome the upcoming seasons and go prepare for the hardships of the upcoming months.

We all know mando religion, the “weapons are my religion” thing. Well this part is specifically about the religion of the Shyl clan. The helmets and “iron heart” of their chest plate are extremely sacred. While their clan has some influence from the Watch, they are not of it. They willingly take their helmets off in front of close friends and family. However, will not show it out in public. They believe that a battle is fated to be lost if the enemy sees their face, and if an enemy sees your face after your death, you are fated to forever roam the place of death as a ghost, unable to return to Mandalore. The iron Heart, or ka’rta beskar, is the diamond in the center of the chest. To the Shyl, it is sacred and is one of the places the aliik is. Those who have earned their signet decorated the iron heart, with the exception of Greaves and Runx, who have not earned their cygnets.

Day 5: Little Planets

More sketches than headcanons. Runx’s homeplanet is a small planet in the Mandalore system called Agri’col. It's dedicated mostly to farmwork since the environment is just right for the growing of food.

A newly discovered planet called Sirius IV. A primarily frozen wastes of a planet with the occasional tundra. There are few species that thrive on the land. There is a sentient species, known as Vargr, who are bipedal canids that live as tribesmen, despite their underdeveloped technology, they are still a thriving social community. They have developed a language and the concept of families and hierarchy.

Day 6: Music & Art

There are some mando clans who are known for their arts! While the known clans of the webcomic aren’t one of these, many of them pride themselves on the art and paint of their armor. Many mandos are artists, as it’s needed to create maps and strategize. Often their music and art is dedicated to war time efforts. Songs may have hidden messages, battle chants written to terrify the enemy, trophies decorated and parades amongst the victors as well. They also tell stories in the forms of song, most of their history is told through their oral story and song.

Clones spend whatever free time they have in decorating their armor, as it’s their identity. No one clone has the same paint design. While some clones go with simple geometric designs, there are a handful with intricate and delicately painted designs and colors that often take many missions and months to complete. A trooper may die before completing their work. They get their paints often with trading of locals on missions. Battle hymns are also an important part of clone life, as that’s usually how they identify squads and battalions. They usually have an original battle cry or hymn written by them, which is sung in the trench, behind the lines, or in the frontlines. These hymns are also traded amongst each other. Songs like these will usually be crossed by many hands but the original creator is always known. However clones are pretty stingy on who sings them, so the full lyrics of these are often kept from the public and sometimes their own Jedi.

Day 7: Diaspora

There are four known clans that are prominent in Tatooine Suns: Shyl, Hylia, Tyk’kuav, and Vrryn. The Shyl clan is based out of Sorgan, in hiding from Mandalore. Once a small clan of Mandalore, they fled the Siege of Mandalore. They have Death watch-like aspects, as they refuse to take their helmets off in front of anyone but family and close friends. They think of weapons as part of their own body, just an extension. They send their initiates offworld to earn their cygnets, but are welcomed back at any time. They are a much older clan, although not powerful. They have earned the mythosaur eye as their clan signet/

Tyk’kuav are based in Tatooine. They roam the streets of Mos Eisley and Mos Espa, as well as the Dune Sea. They are familiar with the Tuskens, and seek each other out as allies. The Tyk’kuav often have massifs among them, and speak fluent tusken. They have adapted many cultural habits from them. They are not unfamiliar with war and the underground black market that is proficient in their home.

The now extinct Vrryn clan was based in Mandalore. A prominent clan of non-human royalty among Mandalore. They are uptight and strict, and followed new ways.Before the termination of the clan, the only heir had abandoned them, rejecting the old ideas and joining another clan. They were all killed in the Siege of Mandalore, except for the runaway heir, who carries a new clan name, and took the Very name in memory. The inspiration for this clan were the Romans, with togas and the abundant purple used in their clan colors

The Hylia clan is based on the agricultural world of Agri’col. They are a lower class of Mandalorian, just mere farmers. They have grown to adapt to the harsh lands, as they wear beskar “masks” that act as air filters and mimic the T visor of a classic mandalorian helmet. The clan colors are orange and red, and they steep heavily with traditional ways.

#art #trash draws #my art #Star Wars #Star Wars culture week #Mandalorian #mando #clone trooper #clone wars #my ocs #tatooine suns #I recommend following raiikensmandaloriancuisine on here! they eleaborate more on mando recipes #this was fun to do but lord I wrote too much #10/10 will do again #clones my beloved #mandos my beloved #ignore the among us in it I was streaming and drawed it #then forgot about it #rip

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the-obiwan-for-me · 3 years

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firstly, congrats on finishing She Said the Word!!! I've enjoyed it from start to finish and I've been reading it since almost the very beginning so it's been super fun to see it come to an end!!! Would you ever consider writing that "emotional" obi-wan and satine reunion after their respective stints in jail?? I can't find it at the moment but I feel like I remember you writing something about that??? :eyes emoji: anyway!! just thought I'd ask :)) hope you have a great day!!!

Thank you for this inspiration! And sorry it took a bit of time. I definitely had wanted to include this scene in the story itself, but sometimes you have to leave stuff out for the sake of pacing and mood. So, essentially, it’s a “deleted scene” (even if I wrote it after the fact).

If anyone else wants to offer up a prompt, either from this AU or one more aligning with canon, just send it my way! I will admit, I am not always fabulous with prompts, but if I think I can wrangle it, I will.

This contains spoilers up through chapter 65, Aftermath, of “She Said the Word,” so I will put the story below the break. Hope you enjoy!

Home

Any other time, it would seem like a fairly normal visit, Satine thought as she was bustled through the Senate building, surrounded by Coruscanti Guard. But this time the guards weren’t protecting her; they were guarding her, like some criminal mastermind or fearsome warlord.

In a strange way, Satine thought wryly to herself, she supposed she was some sort of warlord now.

Beside Satine rushed her longtime aide, Kayla, who had finally bullied her way onto a transport from Mandalore, bringing with her endless apologies on Lily getting away from her, clothes appropriate for the family to wear in the Senate, and news from home, which she now hurriedly half whispered to Satine in an odd mix of Mando'a dialects in case of eavesdroppers. The petite woman had more than made up for Lily's escape, though Satine hardly blamed her for the girl's delinquency. Somehow, through sheer force of determination and grit, Kayla had kept the government from imploding or following its duchess and Mand'alor into a foolhardy rescue attempt.

The troopers stopped at a door, and Satine had to reach out and grab Kayla's arm to keep her from running straight into the trooper, distracted as she was as she shared nearly two weeks' worth of news and relayed, from memory, messages from clan leaders and house heads.

The door slid open, and troopers moved to allow Satine to pass. Kayla went to follow, but was stopped. "Prisoners only."

Kayla pushed against the soldier. "But I need to speak with the Duchess. I have more news to-"

"Prisoners only," he said again, stepping more solidly in her path. She looked up at Satine, who had stopped beside her.

"Your grace…"

"It will be alright, Kayla. You have done good work thus far, and I have no doubt you will continue to do so." She squeezed the woman's hand when she saw her eyes well with tears. "K'oyacyi, my dear friend. Mandalore will persevere. We will persevere."

Kayla pressed her lips together, clearly willing herself from letting her tears fall. She squeezed Satine's hand then bowed her head. "Yes, your grace. Oya manda," she whispered, then stepped back, letting the party cross the threshold into the room beyond.

Satine crossed through the antechamber of the conference room turned holding cell and stopped short in the archway, relief sweeping over her at the sight in front of her. Korkie and Ahsoka sat in a corner, heads close together, speaking in hushed tones, while Anakin stood near the floor to ceiling window, speaking with Fenn Rau, Greer Eldar, and Ursa Wren. At the expansive table sat Obi-Wan, methodically fixing tea for he and Lily, who sat beside him, watching him work.

At some point in her relationship with Qui-Gon Jinn, probably on one of her many heartsick nights, her mind clouded and stormy with grief and uncertainty, he had set about making them all tea, in his quiet, methodical way. He offhandedly mentioned that making tea could almost be a form of meditation. She knew Obi-Wan often thought about that, as did she. She wondered, as their daughter watched him carefully, if he had told her the same thing, to ease her fragile heart and still her frantic mind.

Satine watched them all quietly for a long moment, everyone too caught up in their own worries to notice her. That was fine. She wanted to take them all in for a heartbeat; her beautiful, strong children and her kind, brave husband. She just needed that beat to drink them in before the world crashed back down around her and she had to remember they were criminals in the mind of the Republic.

The moment paused for her, just enough, and then ended when Obi-Wan happened to glance up and caught sight of her standing there. His face passed from quiet contemplation to delighted surprise to joyous relief, and he leapt from his seat, bounding across the distance between them, and swept her into his arms. For the first time in over ten days, Satine felt like she was home. Though they were hundreds of lightyears from their physical home, locked in a conference room, treated like war criminals and treacherous beasts, this man was the living embodiment of home.

“Stars, Satine,” he breathed into her hair, and she was caught by the silly thought that she was glad Kayla had been unable to fit her normal headdress within her tight packing guidelines. “Master Windu told me time and time again that you were alright, but I’m just so glad to see it for myself.”

His arms were warm and strong, and she wished for him never to let go. She buried her head into the crook of his neck more, breathing deep. His skin smelled of the same industrial soap she had used to shower in the detention center, but the tunic Kayla had seen to him getting still held traces of the subtle warm scent of his preferred cologne. He smelled like home.

She tried to speak, but found that no words would come, only a quiet sob of relief and fear and uncertainty that she hadn’t known she had been holding for days. “You are alright, aren’t you?” he whispered into her ear when her body trembled against him with the silent sob.

She didn’t trust her voice, so she merely nodded against his shoulder. “Good,” he said again, tightening his hold on her, rocking her gently. In turn, she wrapped her arms about his neck, holding onto him as if he could float away at any moment.

She wasn't sure how much time passed as they stood like that, gently swaying, but he stirred her back to the present when he finally spoke again. "Everything will work out, my love. Be brave. Yes?"

She nodded against him again. "Yes," she agreed, finally managing to find her voice. She allowed herself to pull loose of his embrace, and found Lily standing beside her. She pulled the girl into her arms, hugging her tight, kissing the top of her head. "Are you well, little warrior?" she asked. Lily nodded, sinking into Satine's embrace.

"I missed you," Lily said.

"And I missed you. But now we're together again."

"All of us."

Satine looked up to find the other three had come over. She opened her arms and they entered the circle of her arms, trapping Lily against her. She hugged them all as best she could, her little warrior, her kind little jetii girl, and her two big Mando'ade boys. It wasn't just Obi-Wan who was home. This was home. These children. Her husband. Their love. This was her safe harbor. Her rest. Her joy.

Obi-Wan approached, and she felt the soothing weight of his warm hand against her back. "We must all be brave, now," he said softly. "There will be those who will see us fall, but we must be strong against them. Trust in the Force, my darlings. We will see this through."

Someone cleared their throat behind them, and Satine reluctantly let her children go. She turned, hand reaching out for Obi-Wan's and finding it, to find Bail Organa waiting, Padme brushing past him to come to Anakin.

"It is time, my friends," he said, his voice somber.

"Thank you, Bail," Obi-Wan said, straightening his back, as if preparing for a battle. Satine supposed that this was just one more battle for them. He looped her hand in the crook of his elbow, and went to lead their family toward the door, when Lily stopped them.

Reaching up, the girl pushed a loose pin back into Satine's hair, trapping a wayward curl back where it belonged. She smoothed her hand across Satine's hair.

"That's better. Now you're ready," Lily said quietly, smiling softly. Satine kissed the top of her girl's forehead, running her hand through her long hair, left loose and brushed smooth by Padme.

"Thank you, verd'ika. Now I am ready for anything."

With that, she allowed Obi-Wan to lead her out, holding her head high, ready to fight for her home.

#She Said the Word #fan fic #fan fic writing #star wars fanfiction #obitine #satine kryze #obi wan kenobi

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mneiai · 4 years

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Hello! I love your writing so much and I would really like to see how you’d do a soulmate au where all mandalorians can tell (somehow lol) who their mandalor’s soulmate is... jangobi obviously!

So, this reminded me a lot of Fate Comes Early, and originally I was thinking of maybe just linking that, but then I was dwelling on it and thought how I could make it a very different take lol

This one kinda got away from me! I’ll probably post it as a one-shot on AO3.

I’m still accepting prompts in my ask box!

XXXXXXXXXXX

The moment they set foot in Mandalorian space, their whole mission went from not too unusual to completely kriffed up.

Maybe, Obi-Wan considered, before that even. Because the closer they got to the sector, the more Mandalorians they passed at refueling stations and there was something like a low buzz of danger in the Force.

Or maybe it was anticipation.

Regardless, he really wished Qui-Gon had listened to Obi-Wan instead of doubling down on his Living Force prejudices and insisting they had to live in the present. It would have saved them a lot of problems.

Because as soon as they were off their ship, they were surrounded, separated. There was no way to combat it without violence, which was not an option while they were on a diplomatic mission and there were government representatives in the crowd.

Obi-Wan was taken into what he assumed was the palace. Mandalorians, most but not all in their signature armor surrounding him until they reached a small building within the building. It was set in the middle of a courtyard, surrounded by what he guessed were native plants from the sector.

It was huge, lavish, and extremely well-secured. He could see guards at every point he'd think of for escape, even spotting a few on the nearby rooftops with the telltale bulk of a jetpack on their figures. He wouldn't have minded so much, if any of them had been talkative.

The building was the nicest prison he'd ever seen and apparently was just for him.

***

He spent a whole day mostly in one of the sitting rooms, refusing to take the comforts offered by the large bedroom he'd been shown, picking at the (admittedly, very good) food the guards brought him. Every so often he walked through the rooms, trying to act as though he were simply taking them in instead of looking for a way to break out.

Eventually, someone came to meet with him. A humanoid woman in armor who the guards in armor were respectful of and the guards without seemed to dislike. She treated him with surprising deference from the start, as one might a head of state and not a Jedi Padawan.

It was all making him very nervous, remembering a mission where a sentient sacrifice had been made temporary king before being thrown into a lava pit.

"Olarom, Ka'rata. I am your tengaa'cabur, your guide.."

Obi-Wan hesitated, then replied, "Olarom," back, remembering it as one of the polite standard greetings from the mission information packet he'd read on the way.

The Mandalorian smiled at him and it looked sincere enough, though she was surprisingly hard to read in the Force. "Your presence at this time shows the crossroads our people have arrived at. There is much to prepare, Satine Kryze was nearby for the," her face twisted in distaste, "election," before she managed to smooth it out again, "but the others are farther away."

"...Others?"

"The other candidates for Mand'alor. Once they are assembled, we will being the Ka'ra'ur'cire."

"That's...like an election?" he asked, hopefully, even though the word didn't seem at all familiar.

She laughed, though he got the impression she might have been rolling her eyes if she had less control. "In Basic, perhaps that is a close enough translation."

He'd been here to oversee the election, so at least it seemed like some part of his role would be fulfilled. He could only hope his Master was with Kryze.

"And why am I...separated? Why isn't my Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, here?"

Something twisted on her face, the same way it had when she'd first spoken of the election and Satine. "You are Ka'rata, it would be...improper. If you desire, after the Ka'ra'ur'cire you may be allowed other guests."

"You said that the Ka'ra'ur'cire," he thought he did a fairly good job at pronouncing it, the language coming surprisingly easy to his tongue, "would start once all the candidates are here? How long will that be?"

"Tor Vizsla will be here within the next few days. Jango Fett we hope within a week of that. The announcement has been made. You will meet all on even ground."

Neither of those men had been candidates of the election Obi-Wan had come to Mandalore for. Fett hadn't even been seen, as far as he knew, since the tragedy of Galidraan and Vizsla was considered a terrorist by most.

"And what does the Ka'ra'ur'cire entail?"

The guide stared at him for a moment, as though weighing what she'd say (or, perhaps, what he'd understand). "The Ka'ra will guide you. The one who will be Mand'alor will be revealed."

He didn't get much more out of her, after that.

***

The days after that continued with vague information, very good (if spicy) meals, and the introduction of coursework on Mando'a.

None of the language materials he was given included any of the odd terms that were used. He knew he was being called "Ka'rata" and it was honestly very rude of them not to clarify that point.

From the other information he was given, and what he'd already known for the mission, he was able to piece together that Mandalorians didn't have elections like most Republic states, that there were three main political factions each represented by one of the potential Mand'alors, and that the people guarding him and speaking to him had taken vows of neutrality and therefore would not--could not--support anyone over another until after they were declared.

He, too, was expected to have some sort of neutrality, at least to start off. And then...apparently he'd be the one doing the choosing.

That was a daunting task, especially without his Master's help, moreso because Obi-Wan was having trouble accessing the Force. He didn't know if it was nerves, or perhaps some sort of barrier around the building he hadn't noticed, but even in deep meditation he was finding it difficult.

He could still feel Qui-Gon, at least, though their bond felt muffled and indistinctive. It was enough to know that he was alive and he didn't feel as though he was in pain, just horribly annoyed. Wherever he was, maybe he was getting the same runaround that Obi-Wan was getting.

***

His guide from the first day came back, eventually. "The candidates are assembled," was the first thing she said after her formal greeting and he breathed a sigh of relief. "The Ka'ra'ur'cire will begin tomorrow."

"Does that mean I finally get to find out what it is?" His tone was maybe more petulant than he wanted it to be, but between the isolation and his growing disconnect from the Force, controlling his emotions was becoming harder.

She studied him, then nodded. "Yes. Your to'hodar to the epara'kyorar has faded, the Ka'ra will protect you."

Obi-Wan frowned. Ka'ra had been mentioned before, he knew that meant stars, but as some sort of divinity. The other two seemed to be combinations of words, none of which had good connotations.

"Right, would you mind explaining that as well as the other parts?"

The guide regarded him for a moment, then nodded again. "Elek, Ka'rata, I will explain all that I can."

But, of course, she didn't start explaining. Instead she guided him through the building to a dining room that he had seen in passing. There were other Mandalorians there, mostly older ones, though a few didn't have their helmets off to judge.

"The Ka'rata's blessed presence is known again in Mandalore," his guide stated and Obi-Wan suppressed a shudder as the others either bowed or saluted him. "He is prepared in spirit, but must be prepared in mind. It is our duty to do so."

Obi-Wan was directed to sit in one of the two chairs at the head of the table, the other remaining empty. Just like with his guide before, no one bothered introducing themselves, but he'd worked out that the ones in armor were Death Watch and the True Mandalorians (and could tell from the crests basically which ones) and that the ones who were not were most likely New Mandalorians. There seemed to be an even mix, four of each, plus his guide.

Food was placed in front of everyone who didn't have a helmet on and Obi-Wan reluctantly started to eat when others did, despite his need for answers. There was some sort of ritual at play, he knew from experience and learning, and interrupting it would probably do him no favors.

When the meal was over, his guide finally turned to him. "We will tell you now of what you are, and what it means, and what will come."

He sat up a little straighter. "Thank you."

"The Ka'rata is the heart and soul of the Mando'ade, chosen by the Ka'ra. In terms the aruetiise might use, the soulmate of the Mand'alor."

Obi-Wan wished he hadn't eaten, because he was starting to feel sick. He'd heard of soulmates, everyone had--a leftover of the Taung found almost solely in Mandalorians, a bond of the spirit that connected two people. He had a very brief education on them, in a single lecture that had discussed their simularities to naturally occurring Force bonds, and nearly everything else he knew came from the awful holonovellas that Vos sometimes watched.

"You think I'm the Mand'alor's soulmate?"

"We know it," one of the Death Watch members stated with conviction that, if Obi-Wan could just feel the Force, he knew somehow would ring true.

"We could feel it, the moment you neared us," his guide continued. "Once you nau'ur to'manda, you shall feel it, too."

He worked through those words, fairly sure it meant to forge the soulbond the stories spoke of, and frowned. "But you said I'm the Mand'alor's soulmate? So...who is the Mand'alor?"

"There are three potential Mand'alor's," the others shifted, clearly disliking comparing their own leaders, "and each must be given a chance to of nau'ur." Someone cleared their throats and she rolled her eyes. "And, arguably, their heirs."

"So if a Mand'alor dies...."

"There is always a Mand'alor. The individual might die, but someone always fills the role."

"You're saying that I just...get passed along like some heirloom?"

"You are Ka'rata, this is no insult meant to you. Once you open yourself to the Ka'ra and your to'manda, you'll understand, you'll want this."

Somehow this was worse than being sacrificed to a lava pit.

"I can't, though. I'm a Jedi, this...sounds like a very big attachment, which is forbidden by our Code."

Not only did many of them look uncomfortable at the reminder of what he was, he was fairly sure a few made a finger sign to ward off evil. Which...seemed excessive, though after Galidraan he supposed he couldn't blame them.

"The Ka'ra has freed you from the epara'kyorar. It can no longer smother you."

His breath caught. "Epara'kyorar...that's...that's what you call the Force?" He sounded small, weak, even to his own ears.

"It will not devour you any longer, Ka'rata, you are nearly free."

Obi-Wan reached desperately for the Force, but it was true, he could barely feel it at all. His bond with Qui-Gon might as well not even exist, not just as though it had been broken, but as though it had never been there at all.

He stood, chair falling behind him from the force of the movement. "I...no. I'm a Jedi, I need the Force."

"The epara'kyorare was blocking your sense of self," his guide insisted. "Your ability to use it was a trick to help you perpetuate it. Torre Vizsla learnt of this, warned us of it, what had long been suspected."

"How are you blocking me from the Force? How do I reverse it?" he demanded.

Looking around, he realized how foolish it must seem to them, a teenage boy without weapons or armor in a room full of Mandalorians, making demands. But the looks on their faces were not mocking, but more pitying. That grated.

"You can't just kidnap someone, take away one of their senses, and expect them to cooperate with you!"

"There is no kidnapping the Ka'rata. You are in our sector, under our laws you are ours."

"Your property?" he sneered, though cold sweat broke out across his body at the remembered weight of a collar around his neck.

One of the New Mandalorians, perhaps the least threatening looking person in the room, stood and approached him. "You are sacred. Once the Mand'alor has been decided on, only they can restrict you."

He looked in the man's eyes and saw what wasn't being said--the New Mandalorians were the least traditional, Satine Kryze would be less inclined to follow whatever tenants insisted that Obi-Wan was kept locked up in a separate building, guarded, unable to see any non-Mandalorians. Maybe she'd even let him go back to the Jedi, once she was confirmed Mand'alor.

Obi-Wan looked around the room, noticed eyes narrowed at the man, but no one discounted what he said. "Fine," he muttered, crossing his arms. "Fine. How do I decide which one is Mand'alor, then?"

***

It couldn't ever just be a simple "point at someone and say they're Mand'alor," but "spend a week learning how they feel to you" was aggravating. If he'd had the Force, Obi-Wan might have been able to tell right away, with a few questions, who would be a better leader.

Or he would have just chosen Satine, as he desperately wanted to, especially as the time they spent together within the building he was housed in or out in the gardens around it made it clear she disdained this tradition as much as he did. She was going along with it to hopefully gain more support and wasn't actually going to do anything more than that. She respected the Republic, the Jedi, him.

He really, really liked Satine.

Vizsla was...well, he wasn't sure what to expect, the file on him and his activities painted him as a terrorist for good reasons. But he was a traditionalist to the core and he had utter respect for the tradition of the Ka'ra'ur'cire.

Though, he did seem to be holding back parts of himself to interact with Obi-Wan. Despite surely thinking being soulmates would be an automatic thing, he was almost wooing him.

The last of the three he met was Fett. Who...seemed almost as out of sorts as Obi-Wan. He was abrasive, condescending, didn't have much time for Obi-Wan's lack of knowledge around the Ka'ra'ur'cire or any Mandalorian culture, and at first Obi-Wan took offense to that.

Until he realized this might be the first time Fett had seen a Jedi since Galidraan.

And then he looked beyond the surface of their interactions--Fett was shaken, broken, he felt like a failure and knew he didn't deserve to be Mand'alor.

Obi-Wan took two days of the meetings to realize he was understanding Fett a little too well. Another day to accept that Fett himself seemed to have quickly moved on from his hatred of all things Jedi to watching Obi-Wan like he couldn't believe he existed.

The guide had said that their stars would tell Obi-Wan who his soulmate was and horribly, Obi-Wan was realizing that maybe that was right. He, intellectually, wanted it to be Satine.

But his heart, or maybe it was his soul (or maybe it was the Ka'ra), was crying out for Jango.

"Oh," he breathed out during one of their meetings, watching Jango studying a battleplan in front of them, after he'd taken a piece of Obi-Wan's advice (hard-earned on Melida/Daan) without any protest or condescension.

Jango looked up at him, his face blank except for that little area of tenseness between his eyebrows Obi-Wan had already memorized. "Something else I'm missing?"

Obi-Wan shook his head, eyes even wider, and left the room.

***

When he went to his guide, she was as gentle as a Mandalorian could be as she talked him through how to finish the Ka'ra'ur'cire.

The next day, after fruitless meetings with Satine and Tor, he was glad to see Jango. His soft smile must have said more than he thought, because Jango--who must have felt it this entire time but had patiently waited on him--didn't stalk into the room to his usual seat. He walked right up to Obi-Wan, cupping his cheek gently in a calloused hand.

Obi-Wan, at a loss for words, managed what he thought was a steady and suggestive, "Hello, there," before Jango's lips crashed into his own.

And a million stars lit up inside of him.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Mando'a: Olarom - Welcome/greetings Ka'rata - from ka'ra (stars/fate) and kar'ta (heart), word for Mand'alor's soulmate Mand'alor - sole ruler, basically the dictator of Mandalore Ka'ra'ur'cire - from ka'ra (stars) and urcir (meet) aruetiise - foreigners/outsiders to'hodar - from to (join) and hodar (deceive), ie a false bond epara'kyorare - from eparavur (to feast, devour) and kyorar (rot) Elek - yes Mando'ade - Mandalorian People to'manda- from to (join) and Manda (soul), ie a soulbound nau'ur - light up, illuminate (is also used in context of forging weapons, nau'ur kad, forge or light up a sword)

#jangobi #obi wan kenobi #jango fett #mandalorians #star wars fic #soulmate au #my stuff #ask answers #Anonymous

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xxlittle0birdxx · 3 years

Text

WIP: Obitine Clone Wars

He stands in front of the bank of windows, barefoot, dressed only in his usual tan trousers and the ivory-hued undertunic. His overtunic, tabard, belt, and that voluminous brown robe that all but screamed "Jedi" were neatly folded and resting on a wooden stool, with his boots next to it. He stares out of the windows, rubbing his fingertips over his chin, a gesture I'd seen him do countless times during the year we’d been on the run. Korkie did it, too. It had given me quite a turn to see him do it for the first time as a five year old child, while pondering which shade of yellow to use to color the hair in the drawing he'd made of me. Both Ben and Korkie adopted a thoughtful, even pensive expression when they performed that little gesture, but the look on Ben's face frightens me. It isn't his usual wry amusement or Jedi stoicism. It's as though nothing within a thousand meter radius registers at all. His usually mobile face is blank…. expressionless. 'Ben?' I say in a low voice, so as not to startle him, even though, like I said, he knows I’m here.

He turns away from the windows. 'Satine…'

'How did you get in here?' It's a valid question. The guards at the door of the apartment didn't mention him. Although it's possible he used that mind trick on them. He's done it before in the name of discretion. And Ben is nothing if not discreet.

'Ah…' He rubs the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. 'I used the servants' corridors.'

I stand in front of him and tilt his face toward the light from the windows. He looks tired. No… Not tired. Exhausted. Completely worn out and burdened by something he cannot put into words. Not yet. I trace the new lines etched around his eyes and the deeper one between his brows. 'How long will you stay?'

'Just until morning. I'll be on my way to Coruscant before anyone realizes I've been here at all.' He tries to sound jaunty, but fails.

'I see.' I actually don't. I'll admit to more than a little bemusement by his presence in my apartment. He hasn't come back to Mandalore since that awful incident when the Death Watch tried to assassinate me. We've spoken to one another a few times via hologram, usually when Ben's suffering through one of his bouts of insomnia. More often than not, it's been written messages, transmitted on a coded frequency. Sometimes, it's good to be a duchess. He writes his messages in Mando'a. Or more accurately, Ben writes in Mando'a. Obi-wan in Basic. Our communiques are quite anodyne. If you don't read between the lines. And we never talk about the war.

He slides his arms around my waist, his movements tentative and delicate, like our first dance lessons when he and Qui-gon hid and guarded me from bounty hunters, and then pulls me close. I can smell the dust of an alien world embedded in his clothes and hair, and the ozone of blaster fire from the singed spots on his undertunic. He'd just come from a battle. I didn't recall the name of the planet or moon in particular, but by this point they all blurred into one another. I did know it was a victory for the Republic and the general in my arms who led his troops into battle in violation of every principle with which he'd been raised. A victory… Could one call it so if the price it extracted was far more than its worth? Ben shudders and slowly falls to his knees, his face pressed against my middle. His shoulders begin to tremble and dampness seeps through my dress. He weeps without making a sound, other than his hoarse breathing. I comb my fingers through his hair, murmuring nonsense in Mando'a. It seems to console him. I shouldn't have been surprised. It had also soothed Korkie when he was small. He gradually calms himself, then sits back on his heels, gazing up at me. He opens his mouth to begin an apology, but I rest my fingers over his lips. No need. He seems embarrassed by his display of emotion. The words of the Jedi Code that rule his life come roaring back from the recesses of my memories: Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force.

Kriff the Jedi Code.

#obi wan kenobi #satine kryze #obi wan x satine #obitine #the clone wars #post some random battle and it's getting to obi-wan #working out a plot bunny that refuses to go away #mentions korkie #korkie is a kenobi #obi-wan feeling guilt for fighting in a way that he feels violates the code #the senate says they're defending the republic #from a certain point of view #qui-gon made them learn how to dance so they could fight as a unit #work in progress #writing wip

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