#caibos: he should be at the club

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It's actually so fun playing through a consular when you decide your character is unusually young because the energy of the Jedi council members being like "Yuon why exactly are you saying this Padawan should go find rajivari's shit" changes dramatically. Like my teenaged consular is of course like "why are they so mean to me I can obviously handle this" but it feels much less "we doubt you" and much more "you are too young and inexperienced for this??? Why are we doing this???"

#swtor #jedi consular #i feel i should state i love yuon a lot and am not in any way shitting on her. its just. wow #the vibes are very different for caibos than for kaoja or ungete. he is Baby #caibos: he should be at the club #zeel legacy

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Greying

once again doing some outside perspectives of when people realise caibos is actually Baby, this time with Tharan (can you tell this is matching up to my playthrough) (also realising that they did imply that he can stop shielding and therefore no longer be weakened once vivicar's done sending out the plague signals or whatever the fuck but that's dumb i like my consequences long-lasting and heartwrenching. i handwaved it for some of my consulars but not for Caibos i am making this boy suffer)

The first time Tharan realised how deceptive the Jedi’s looks must be was when he returned with Qyzen from the Carida. Tharan had seen how haggard Caibos had looked after shielding Master Fain, but it was the greying at his temples as he returned from saving Fain’s daughter that clinched it.

“I see shielding this victim has done a number on you,” he said, eyeing Caibos as he trudged up the steps into the ship. He couldn’t help but feel concerned. He’d thought the wrinkles and occasional winces of pain were due to a life lived well and long. The rapidity of his degeneration today made that significantly less likely. Not that Tharan was any less excited to be travelling the galaxy with him, as the Jedi had certainly proved himself, but this rendered the Jedi an unknown quantity once more. Tharan only liked that in a new piece of tech, and when he knew the unknown could be made known through his genius.

“I’m fine,” Caibos said. Tharan looked at Qyzen. He couldn’t be sure, having not had the opportunity to learn Trandoshan facial expressions, but he thought Qyzen looked upset or frustrated. Certainly, it was an unusual expression for the hunter.

“Rest, Herald,” Qyzen said. “Cannot hunt on shaking legs.”

“I am fine,” Caibos said again. There was a strange note to his voice – higher-pitched and plaintive, like a boy whose voice was still dropping. Tharan’s sense of foreboding grew. “I must call Master Syo.”

Tharan trailed after Caibos and Qyzen, intending to keep an eye on the Jedi. There was something strange in Syo Bakarn’s eyes as he spoke to Caibos, Tharan saw now – and he apologised to Caibos.

“I did what I must do,” Caibos said, as though these were words he said so often he didn’t have to plan them. From Syo and Qyzen’s reactions, they had heard them before, too.

“I appreciate your commitment, young Jedi,” Syo said. “But the Council does not take your sacrifices lightly.”

“Master Syo, we should discuss Lord Vivicar,” Caibos said too quickly.

When the call was done, Tharan did not return to the lower deck right away. Instead, he followed Caibos to the cockpit.

“Is something wrong?” Caibos asked.

“It’s difficult to say,” Tharan said, unsure how to start the conversation. “It has occurred to me there are a few things I neglected to ask you when this partnership began, not being on my mind at the time –“

“Tharan, it’s quite all right. You can ask me anything.” Caibos’ voice was so soothing and solemn that Tharan felt incredibly silly for a moment. He would only insult and confuse the Jedi if he was wrong – but then again, he was a genius. Perhaps not always in matters of picking up on lies and half-truths, but Tharan had never been a fool.

“How old are you?” he asked.

He knew immediately that he had guessed right. Caibos stiffened, seeming to search for an answer.

“Fifteen,” he muttered at last, sounding for all the galaxy like a sullen teenager. Tharan supposed, to his mounting horror, that he was. “How did you know?”

“I wasn’t certain,” Tharan said. He needed now to recategorize each of their interactions. The way Caibos’ eyes skittered over Holiday’s midriff – not just a Jedi with an overdeveloped sense of propriety, but a boy unsure of how to interact. The insistence on handling everything himself – knowledge of his own competence, or a desire to prove himself?

“Then why did you ask?”

“It occurred to me after your most recent foray into shielding your fellow Jedi,” Tharan said. “That perhaps your wizened appearance is not due solely to time lived.”

“I’m not wizened,” Caibos said, sounding disgruntled.

“My dear boy,” Tharan said with no small amount of amusement. “You are now going grey.”

He reached up to touch his hair, positively pouting.

“You look very distinguished, never fear,” Tharan said. “Though I should say if anyone expresses interest in such things, you may want to disclose your age sooner rather than later.”

“Why would – Oh. That’s – I am a Jedi!”

“Of course,” Tharan said. “But if you ever desire advice –“

“Tharan, you don’t need to treat me differently,” Caibos said. “You didn’t treat me like a child before.”

“That would be my mistake, and not yours,” Tharan said more sombrely. “I don’t doubt your skill, Jedi. But it doesn’t take a genius to know a child should not shoulder these burdens alone.”

“I’m not a child.”

That sentence alone was enough to confirm his age. Tharan smiled, reminded all too well of his own teenage years. What a hellion he had been.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he said. “I thank you for your time.”

He was no expert on biology, but he resolved to see what he could find to diminish Caibos' symptoms. Especially if this plague continued, the boy would need all the support he could get. He may not welcome it, but Tharan was quite good at making his efforts so indispensable that even the most recalcitrant of people had to accept them.

#If Caibos was less polite. He would remind Tharan that his girlfriend is a hologram. But he's a nice kid #(he will never ever go to tharan for girl advice. he and nadia will suffer through On Their Own thank you) #also trying not to think about how writing tharan is just. writing like i did when i was thirteen. tharan you talk like a thirteen year old #swtor #my ocs #my writing #swtor oc #caibos: he should be at the club #tharan cedrax #jedi consular #zeel legacy

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toying with some backstory for Caibos and Caloma. I think having them be on Corellia pre-story would be fun for Reasons. don't ask me how they got there it's a work in progress

There was a Jedi in the Gilded Descent casino.

This was not unusual, at least in the years since Padawan Caloma had reached an age where she was allowed into the casino. Caloma never played, of course. Even if she cut herself off from the Force completely to do so, the house would never believe she had. She merely bought enough drinks to justify her presence on their terms, and made herself the life of the party to satisfy her own terms. She did feel a little guilty at the number of impressionable young Corellian men who thought that having a Jedi on their lap might bring them luck. Still, if they didn’t listen when she impressed the truth upon them, that was hardly her fault.

Most of the masters who had trained Caloma thought she needed more moderation, but Caloma thought she did well avoiding attachment or undue passion. She had fun, of course – a few drinks, some dancing, trading kisses with whatever boy didn’t mind the massive burn scar across one side of her face – but she never spent too much time with any one partner, and she always made it clear to them that it never went beyond fun. The Jedi code didn’t forbid happiness, after all. It just wanted her to be sensible and detached about it, to never put her own happiness above others’. Caloma could do that.

And so, those who frequented casinos and cantinas in this corner of Corellia were accustomed to the sight of a young, heavily-made-up Twi’lek laughing and dancing the nights away in spite of her austere brown robes and the lightsabre at her hip. It didn’t occur to anyone, until Caloma gleefully announced it as she downed her second shot, that this night was any different.

“Well, I’ve got to enjoy it as much as I can now,” she said after she’d swallowed, grinning at one of the few men whose interests had turned to friendship after their few nights of fun were over. “I’ll be gone tomorrow.”

“What?” Cole said. “No. You didn’t mention this!”

“I did! I talk all the time about how I’m getting my own Jedi Master soon,” she giggled. “Weren’t you listening?”

“I thought you’d be apprenticing here,” Cole said. “Is there a Jedi enclave somewhere else on the planet?"

“You’re asking about Green Jedi, and they’re all over,” Caloma said. “But I’m not staying with them.”

They’d offered, of course. Caloma’s training had been almost entirely on Corellia, and she was more familiar with the Green Jedi than most padawans. But Caibos didn’t want to stay, because on a boy descended from Sith purebloods (impureblood, he called himself sometimes) the love Green Jedi had for their planet looked like passion, and where Caibos went so would Caloma. She’d promise that a long time ago.

But those thoughts were sad thoughts, and Caloma was here to have a good night. So she planted a cheerful kiss on Cole’s cheek and downed the last shot she’d ordered.

“No bars on Tython,” she said. “I assume. So I have to take advantage when I can! Who knows how long I’ll be training with my master.”

Satisfied that the conversation was wrapped up and she wouldn’t have to think about Caibos or Vyme or leaving Corellia anymore, she dragged her friend away from the bar. It was time to play roulette spectator, and maybe wingman for Cole. They had similar taste in men. Caloma liked the nights when she could find one for her and one for him, and it would feel like a good send-off.

Her hopes were dashed when the crowd started to ripple with unsettled whispers. Cole, not prohibited from gambling the way Caloma was, looked up from the table with his chips forgotten in his hand as the crowd parted, a bubble of silence in a larger bubble of murmuring.

“Is that…” Cole trailed off. Caloma didn’t need him to finish. She knew the noises being made intimately, and even more the awkward silence. She knew who was coming before she saw the fleshy tendrils on his chin, the sun-roughened red skin, or the long dark red hair he kept tied back in a way that made him look older than his fifteen years. She pushed herself away from the table, scowling.

“Caibos!” she snapped, seizing his arm. “What are you doing here? Who let you in?”

“I’m here on Jedi business,” he said in that self-important tone he’d been working on since his voice first hinted at dropping.

“Is that what you told them at the door?”

“Master Idhess sent me,” Caibos said. He lifted his chin defiantly. “Callie, we’re leaving for Tython tomorrow.”

“All the more reason to say goodbye to Corellia tonight,” Caloma said. “Caibos, you are way too young to be in here. Go home.”

“Not without you!”

Master Idhess had been smart, sending Caibos. Caloma couldn’t deny those pleading orange eyes. Not after practically raising him.

“Let me say good night to my friend,” Caloma said. It was a blessing only Cole had been in town, apparently. It meant she could get Caibos out that much sooner.

“Sorry, Cole,” she told him, giving him another kiss on the cheek. “My brother. Certain prodigies are also shipping out for Tython tomorrow and think that their curfews apply to those of us who aren’t fifteen years old.” She glared at Caibos past Cole’s head. Caibos glared back. Cole, who had never had occasion to meet Caibos before, looked between them in confusion and slight alarm.

“Your – brother?”

Someday Caloma would get up the courage to say the joke that always sprang to mind: You don’t see the resemblance? She’d tap her cheek as she said it, drawing attention to the matching burn scars on both their faces. But that would mean inviting people to look, and Caloma hated to do that. So instead she responded as she always did:

"The Jedi Order is my family, and Caibos and I have known each other longer than we’ve been a part of it. I’m sure I’ll see you again, Cole. Maybe once I’m knighted!”

He smiled, and to Caloma’s relief didn’t push for details on Caibos’ origins.

“I’m sure that’ll be soon, knowing you,” he said. “Take care of yourself, Caloma.” ---

The walk back to the Green Jedi enclave was tense.

“You’re angry with me,” Caibos ventured at last.

“I’m not angry with you, Caibos,” Caloma said. Her lekku were still enough as she walked that she must have been holding them still; her strides were long enough that Caibos had to hurry to keep up. He doubted her words very much.

“I did not mean to… interrupt you,” he said awkwardly. He wasn’t certain it was true. What had he been there for, if not to interrupt? “Your goodbye, that is. It’s just – perhaps a Jedi – “

“Caibos, a Jedi is not forbidden every pleasure under the suns,” Caloma interrupted with a huff. She whirled to face him, and he halted so quickly he stumbled trying not to run into her. “I have no attachment, though I have compassion for everyone I meet. I don’t get angry on these nights out. I don’t hurt people. I certainly don’t touch the Dark Side. I can survive a life without those – those little pleasures, those silly things in there. I’ve done it before. But why should I when I don’t have to? Why should we not remind ourselves of how much joy there is in this galaxy we’re supposed to protect?”

“Why do you only find joy when you’re drunk?”

Caibos regretted it as soon as he said it. Caloma’s already-thunderous face darkened further, and without another word to him she whipped around and stalked off down the dark sidestreets of Corellia. Caibos groaned and ran after her.

“Callie, I’m sorry!” he said.

“You’ve got what you wanted,” she called over her shoulder. “Don’t bother.”

“I wanted –“

She put on a burst of Force-influenced speed, and Caibos sighed as she rounded the corner. She’d always been better at that than him.

“I wanted to spend time with you tonight before we go to our separate masters,” he said to the smoggy night air.

He knew, of course, that it would have been easier to get what he wanted if he’d kept his mouth shut about her drinking habits. It wasn’t even that she was an alcoholic, or at least Caibos didn’t think so. He just worried about her.

“Be honest,” he grumbled to himself, kicking a rock aimlessly as he trudged homeward. “You just hate that she gets to be imperfect.”

Caibos had always been a prodigy. Where Caloma’s Force-sensitivity had been easy for her to hide from the Sith, his had been a blaring signal, and the impetus of their escape from slavery. He had few memories of those days – only a dark, rainy planet and an orange-red face that was smoother than his own. Caibos looked nothing like his human mother, unlike his older brother. With the Force practically bursting from him, he’d have been made the perfect Sith.

His mother had refused to allow that, and she’d sacrificed everything to get her two children and Caloma off-world. Not that Caibos’ brother had appreciated her efforts – but it didn’t matter. It didn’t. Caibos was here, and a Jedi, and free.

It was just that he couldn’t afford a single mistake. No passionate outbursts for him, not like Caloma had just let loose. No nights out, even if he was old enough. And Caibos didn’t mind it, really. He believed in the Force. He trusted in the Jedi way. It had never steered him wrong.

He just wished Caloma wasn’t so adamant that she deserved to let loose whenever she pleased, because all it did was make everyone eye him as though Callie’s influence would cause his Sith nature to shine through. Or worse – that Callie’s personality had been his fault all along.

“It’s fine,” he told himself. He just needed to get home and sleep. This was the last night this would be his home, after all. Even if he’d wanted to stay, the Green Jedi’s devotion to one planet would look too much like attachment and obsession on his tendrilled face. He shouldn’t waste this last moment on bitter thoughts that the Jedi didn’t deserve.

#my ocs #swtor oc #my writing #caibos: he should be at the club #caloma: beware the party girl #swtor #caloma is. So Much. she's hard to write because we're very different people but oh man look at those coping mechanisms go

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I love when swtor gives me like three chances to say "yep I'm on it" because when I'm playing as Caibos the conversation becomes:

Random Republic admiral: "hey this planet needs help"

Caibos: "cool I'll go save them"

Admiral: "here is the context"

Caibos: "already said I was gonna do it"

Admiral: "wait you need more context -"

Caibos: "I am already on my ship"

#this man has never asked for context in his life. he says fuck it we trust in the force and all his companions have to deal with his shit #he stops and asks for details like once in the alliance era and everyone who knew him as a kid is like 'who the FUCK are you' #caibos: he should be at the club

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No True Kids

Ok three out of five consular companions now! Zenith is actually really easy for me to write, I feel like - made more fun by the fact that he is of course the least likely to trust Caibos of anyone in this entire storyline. glossing over the initial introduction for now, since these bits are more about them finding out/reacting to his age, but someday... someday i'll explore that mess, too.

Zenith didn’t think much of the Jedi at first. Not in the insulting way, either. He was just another Jedi. Republic did it all the time: swoop in, save one day, leave the rest to fall apart when they left. They never made truly good on their promises.

He didn’t like that the Jedi wanted Imperials alive, either. Too soft. Made Zenith wonder where this Jedi’s loyalties lay, if he was honest: the man was a Sith in species if not temperament. Zenith had heard of things like this. Jedi going dark, and more rarely Sith deciding they felt sorry about all the things they’d done. Zenith didn’t think much of it, and that was in the insulting way. An apologetic Sith couldn’t bring people back to life, or undo the years of slavery Balmorrans had endured. He suspected this Jedi-Sith was that kind. It was in the way he was so strict about not killing a wounded captive. Nobody took a stance like that unless they had something they were afraid of. And the way he’d talked to that kid Sith! The boy may have been Balmorran, but he should have known better than to collaborate with Lachris. The Jedi’s mercy was only creating more problems for Zenith’s people.

Before the Jedi went out to meet with the corporate collaborators – took everything Zenith had not to scoff at that one – Zenith pulled him aside.

“Gotta ask,” he said. “You’re obviously a Jedi, but – you’re a Sith pureblood.”

“Believe me,” the Jedi said. “My blood is anything but pure.”

Zenith couldn’t tell if he was upset or not. Could be a good sign – Jedi behaviour – or it could be bad. Zenith didn’t like people he couldn’t quite read. He decided to press.

“How long have you been a Jedi?”

The Jedi’s red eyes flashed with anger.

“What a ridiculous and insulting question!” exclaimed the Jedi’s friend. Zenith hadn’t gotten the human’s name. Hadn’t cared. Of course, if he was sticking around for all the firefights Zenith ought to pay attention, even if he did look pretty useless. He’d made it in and out of Okara. Seemed pretty gung-ho about protecting the Jedi, too.

“It’s all right, Tharan,” said the Jedi. Interesting, since he’d been upset by Zenith, too. “I’ve been with the Jedi for eleven years, Zenith.”

“Before that?” Zenith asked, folding his arms. If this Jedi was going to crack and reveal a Sith underneath, Zenith was going to find out now among allies. Not when he was meant to be saving Balmorra.

“You don’t have to indulge this – cretin and his insinuations –“ Tharan said hotly. The Jedi ignored his sputtering. A strangely savage smile lit his face as he leaned in closer to Zenith.

“Before that,” he said in an undertone. “I was five years old.”

The smile faded as the Jedi stepped back. Now his face was cold.

“I will leave for my next mission straight away,” he announced to the room at large. Then he was out the door.

Tharan followed behind, hissing something at the Jedi. Zenith caught bits: things like “what were you thinking,” and “of all the times to be forthcoming!”

Must have been true, then. Zenith set a hand on his blaster for comfort and thought. He was a kid. He was a Sith. He was a Jedi. Lot of contradictions there, but taken together he could see how maybe he was just a Jedi who genuinely believed what he spouted.  Maybe he was someone Zenith could trust to get the job done, even if he wasn’t really here for Balmorra. Nobody was ever here for Balmorra.

And he could hand it to the kid. He was decisive. Didn’t wring his hands over his choices, even if he wasn’t willing to get those hands dirty. Zenith suggested a plan, the Jedi said he’d make it happen. Hard to say if the confidence was earned yet, but he hadn’t gone wrong so far.

They didn’t get to talk again, not about anything but the mission, until the Balmorran Arms Factory. Zenith almost didn’t care to talk then. Not with Lachris’ death so close.

He wanted to get a few things clear, though.

“You’re really a kid?” he asked.

The Jedi’s jaw tightened. Almost a pout, really. He threw several Imperial guards against the outer wall of the factory with a wave of his hand and gestured for Zenith to follow him inside.

“I am sixteen, yes,” he said tightly. “I am no child.”

Sounded like the kind of thing a child would say, all right. Still, Zenith knew how this one went. No true kids in war. No time for childhood. He’d had more than a few teenagers in his ranks. Seen more than a few of them die, too. They didn't usually look like he did, though.

“All Sith grow up as fast as you?”

“If you have a problem with my leadership, perhaps a better place and time to discuss it would have been in a safehouse before now,” the Jedi said.

“I’m not saying I don’t trust you,” Zenith said. He didn’t, not quite. But it was the Jedi thing, not the Sith thing. “I think you’re a little too nice for your own good. It’s not an accusation. Just trying to understand.”

“It is a long story,” the Jedi said grudgingly. He stopped Zenith with a raised hand, peering ahead like he saw something. The hallway turned. There was nothing to see.

Then the Jedi turned on his lightsabre, slicing around the corner, and Zenith heard a droid’s warbling death cry. Zenith sprang around the corner after him, taking down two more of the guard droid patrol.

“Guess we haven’t got much time,” Zenith said grudgingly. “But if you give me a hint…”

“I overtaxed myself in the Force,” said the Jedi. “I had always wanted people to treat me as an adult. Now I experience nothing but.”

Zenith hummed consideringly. He didn’t think he owed the Jedi an apology or anything. He also didn’t think he needed to keep pushing. He’d continue to take the Jedi at his word, until he gave Zenith a reason to do otherwise.

#swtor #my ocs #my writing #caibos: he should be at the club #zenith #jedi consular #zeel legacy

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Soft Things

surprising no one who's been watching my descent into madness here is a snippet about Caibos the jedi consular, exploring him from Qyzen's perspective. this is the first time I've done anything trying to capture Qyzen's voice so whoo! expanding my horizons.

Yuon’s new padawan was small and soft, as expected, but he was a very different kind of soft thing. Qyzen did not comment on the fact that this padawan was a Sith; he knew of the Jedi’s discomfort with species that typically existed outside their structure. It was not wise or helpful to add to the padawan’s strife.

He spoke in a slow, measured way, more careful than most young padawans encountering Qyzen for the first time. If he felt curiosity, he hid it well. Qyzen suspected he had met Trandoshans before, until he asked about Jagganath points. This was a more usual conversation: all padawans brave enough to speak to Qyzen here on Tython had been confused by the hunt. Jedi should have been natural hunters, but so few of them were. This one would be no different.

As Qyzen assisted Yuon and her padawan Caibos, he found that Caibos was careful in almost all ways. He did not shy from suggestion of duty or a hunt, but he let his master take the lead, wisely looking to her experience. Qyzen suspected this was one of those rare padawans who came to the Jedi after much life experience had already passed – not a child raised among them, but a traveller looking to a new way of life for peace. His scars bore this theory out.

Qyzen did not expect his hunt to become so intertwined with Caibos’, but the Scorekeeper’s desires were clear. Caibos had a warrior’s way about him, too. There was too much mercy, when he faced his enemy, but that was the way of the Jedi; he had respect for his prey, and he fought honourably. It was clear this honour mattered to him, too.

“I would have taken on that sacrifice,” Caibos had informed Qyzen as they passed the first of Rajivari’s tests. “If I thought for a moment it was real. I only thought – well, it seemed suspicious after what the clues said.”

Qyzen had not spoken, as he had not been sure at the time if this was a truth. He made his decision later, when Caibos knelt before a wounded enemy and insisted on attempting to heal them, even knowing of the traps and lies this place held for them. As the wounded figure vanished and Caibos doubled over, wracked with pain, the padawan let out a gasping laugh.

“I suppose I should have known better,” he said as he straightened. He moved slowly, wincing. The prey’s wounds were his, now. “I thought it was better to be wrong in this case than to be wrong and walk past.”

“Was a good thing,” Qyzen rumbled. Caibos looked up at him, wearing a wide-eyed expression that surprised Qyzen. Then he wheezed, and when he looked at Qyzen again the serious intensity had returned.

“Thank you,” he said. “There may be more tests, Qyzen. We should be careful.”

Even in visible pain, Caibos moved ahead of Qyzen. After Qyzen’s capture, he could not blame the padawan, but he did wish the padawan could trust easier in Qyzen’s skills. To have a soft thing so obviously defending him was shame.

---

The Scorekeeper’s Herald was going to Coruscant, so Qyzen was as well. He would have gone anyway. Yuon needed what Qyzen could give her. He could only hope she did not need more.

On the shuttle to the fleet, Caibos received a call. He shifted around to answer it, shielding the caller from Qyzen’s eyes.

“I was looking for you,” said the woman calling. Qyzen did not intend to listen, but he could hear.

“I’ve been a little busy,” Caibos said. His voice sounded strange. Serenity gone, replaced by earnestness. He had not even sounded like this with Yuon. “What’s wrong? Do you need me? I can come back –“

“Come back?”

If Qyzen had been trying to avoid listening, there was no way to do so now. Caibos seemed to believe this as well, settling back into his seat and letting Qyzen see the profile of the Twi’lek on the other end.

“Yes, Callie,” said Caibos. “I have to go to Coruscant. My master is sick.”

“Your master,” she repeated. “So that was a rumour.”

“What was?”

“One of the other padawans was saying you’d been knighted,” said Callie. To Qyzen’s surprise, Caibos slunk low in his seat like an embarrassed child.

“I was,” he said.

“What?”

“You could at least pretend you’re proud of me.”

“You are fifteen! What was your master thinking? Didn’t the council have anything to say about this? I know the Flesh Raider stuff has everyone busy, but knighting a child –“

“I’m not a child!”

Qyzen looked away from the display. The woman’s displeasure was reasonable, as she would not know Caibos was the Scorekeeper’s Herald. Qyzen could admit, though he trusted the Scorekeeper, he had misgivings now. Caibos must be capable, or he would not be granted these quests, but destinies of this calibre could poison a young soul. Qyzen would need to be vigilant on Caibos’ behalf.

A soft thing, indeed.

#swtor #my ocs #my writing #jedi consular #caibos: he should be at the club #qyzen fess #zeel legacy

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it takes SO LONG to get to the part where Nadia's an actual companion did you know. so long. i just want my silly little teenager to be a silly little teenager for the first time in his life anyway. here's a snippet of when Nadia first boards the ship and Caibos is trying really hard to seem like an actual grown up Jedi Master and not a teenager who's just been told a girl he likes is staying with him indefinitely

“On a Jedi’s ship!” Nadia exclaimed. “I can’t wait to see everything!”

“I could show you,” Caibos blurted. He averted his eyes from her immediately, staring mortified at the tabletop. He’d just said that in front of a room full of senators. Her father included. And he was supposed to be a Jedi Master.

“I can give anyone a tour who would like one,” he said to the table. Tharan coughed. Qyzen rumbled something at him too soft to make out, though it sounded chiding. Caibos wished everyone would stop looking at him.

“That would be nice, thank you,” Nadia said, sounding confused. Of course she was. He was the Jedi Master in charge of this ship to her. He needed to act like it.

“I would also like to – that is, I’m sure – well, if you really meant it…” Blaesus stammered.

Caibos was disappointed that he wouldn’t get to show Nadia around alone, and immediately kicked himself mentally for it. He stood, trying to look graceful and succeeding only in scraping his chair loudly across the floor. He winced.

“Then I shall help you become acquainted with the ship,” he announced. Tharan looked entirely too amused as Caibos led half his new “crew” out of the room.

“This ship is, um, pretty standard,” Caibos said awkwardly as he showed Nadia and the others the main deck. Nadia was looking around with wide eyes. Not wanting her to think he meant she shouldn’t be interested – what if she thought he thought she was provincial? – he hurried to add, “By Jedi, ah – standards. That is. My friend Caloma flies one just like it. Hers is perhaps a bit better decorated.”

It also had a dedicated wine cabinet. He was not going to say that part. As Nadia laughed about the decoration thing, though, Caibos wondered what else she would find funny.

#swtor #my ocs #swtor oc #my writing #caibos: he should be at the club #nadia grell #jedi consular #zeel legacy

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Caibos doesn't quite forget what he looks like post-chapter one of the consular story but he does kind of... Assume more people can see through him and regard him as a child than they really do. This makes for some interesting moments: his usual defensiveness when someone suggests that maybe he needs backup, because he is a Competent Adult For Real (he's sixteen), reads very differently when people assume he's at least a very tired-looking thirty. He sticks to his dramatic voice and sounding as Jedi as possible, when honestly if he'd backed off people would still assume he's a fully grown adult at this point (wrinkles and greying hair will uhhh do that)

This makes it even weirder when he gets all blushy and tongue-tied around Nadia because Tharan and Qyzen are the only ones who realize they're witnessing baby's first crush - everyone else is deeply confused and more than a little concerned that this Jedi is so preoccupied with impressing Nadia in particular. It's kind of a relief the first time Caibos lets his age slip, even if half the politicians are like "I'm sorry this was entrusted to a child???"

(and to be clear he's aware of that, at least. not often in the moment when he's preoccupied with the blushing and so on, but he does his best to mitigate the whole this-looks-like-a-creeper-situation thing. He explains to Nadia that they're close in age early on, and her father actually does pick up on it even before he's told, being experienced with Teenagers. he's really not even flirting with her at all - he just wants very badly for her to like him. she could ask him to do anything and he'd just drop everything for her, because he thinks he's most likeable when he's useful. something something the Jedi way is to serve or whatever that dialogue option I got a while back was. That's him)

#my ocs #swtor oc #caibos: he should be at the club #zeel legacy #jedi consular #i am going INSANE over him. so much stuff i should be doing and writing and prepping for work and noooo it's baby jedi's first crush hours #(i made it to chapter 2 on my playthrough so Nadia is here now so that's my excuse) #(does she have a canon age or just implied youth. bc i think she's technically a little older than him. the irony)

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I had that little snippet with Tharan and Caibos and it's like outsider pov is all well and good but Tharan trying to figure Caibos out can't show the sheer like. hero worship Caibos has going on actually. He's not a tech guy, but he is a little science nerd who will slip down to any given body of water and just look at the local organisms for hours (we're not talking just fish here, we're talking things that are so small and unrecognised they only have the Star Wars equivalent of Latin names) and talking to Tharan is like. He has no idea what Tharan's saying but he doesn't have to talk about trusting in the Force every three seconds to be taken seriously and he gets to feel like he's contributing

My previous consular was always a little fondly indulgent when Tharan was like "I'm a genius" like "sure you are. Holiday and I made sure your socks were put away yesterday" but to Caibos of course Tharan is a genius. He's so smart and cool. Caibos has to be Extra Jedi-y so Tharan continues to think travelling with him is worth his time. (Tharan, meanwhile: would you stop saying the Force is guiding you)

#my ocs #swtor oc #tharan cedrax #caibos: he should be at the club #I literally stopped playing to share this epiphany with you all my computer is Burning Up bc the game's open still oops #someday i'll ramble more about Caibos and water. it's percolating still. he's very inspired by my best friend in that regard though #jedi consular

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no title for this one or anything i just can't stop thinking about when you have to fight Yuon as a consular. Caibos is fifteen and lonely damn it he does not need this ok (ignore my terrible paraphrasing of canon dialogue if i ever publish this as part of an actual-length story I'll make it less clunky but again. this is just for the brainrot)

Caibos hurried down the hall, trying not to think too hard on what he might find. What would Yuon’s condition be? Was she dying?

“I’d like to hear your bones go pop, pop, pop!”

Caibos knew the voice, but it didn’t make any sense. He slowed to a stop in the doorway, wrapping his hand around his lightsabre. He wasn’t going to use it, not on Yuon – please, Force, not on Yuon – but he needed to put all his tension someplace.

“Master?” he said tentatively. “What’s going on here?”

“Just a little game. What’s a few broken bones among friends?” Yuon smiled at him, and she looked nothing like the kind old woman he’d come to know. “Would you like to play?”

“Master Yuon, please,” Caibos said. What was he supposed to say? To do? There was nothing in Jedi training about this. “This isn’t you.”

“Isn’t it?” she said.

“It’s me,” Caibos said. His voice was too soft, too high, too young, and he could feel Attros’ and Qyzen’s eyes on him, but all he wanted was his master back. “Your Padawan.”

“My Padawan? My Padawan is dead. I sent him out to fight the Flesh Raiders and they devoured him –“

“I’m right here,” Caibos begged. “Look at me! I’m not dead! I want to help you, please –“

“Padawan?” Yuon’s face cleared of malice, and was filled with horror a second later. “No – no, he’s – don’t let him –“

“Master Yuon?” Caibos seized her hands, looking up into her face, hoping this was the breakthrough they needed. He just needed to buy time until he could save her.

Her face went dark again, and she shoved him back. Caibos stumbled, barely keeping his feet with Qyzen’s help.

“I will kill you,” she promised coldly, drawing her lightsabre. Caibos lit his own, feeling bile rise in his throat. He couldn’t back down now, but he couldn’t hurt her.

He fought with the Force more than anything, buffeting her back away from himself and the healers and using his blade only to block hers. His eyes burned, but he would not cry. He was a fully-fledged Jedi. He was no child.

At last, Caibos managed to knock her off-balance long enough for Qyzen to hit her with the hilt of his blade. Caibos caught her as she crumpled.

“That was – I’m so sorry,” Attros said, already reaching out to take Yuon from him. Caibos could already feel the way Attros wove the Force through Yuon, ensuring she’d suffer no long-term effects from the hit to her head. “To fight your own Master… Please tell me you have a lead on the last Noetikon.”

A bitter little corner of Caibos’ heart thought that it was hardly fair for Attros to beg him for information, as though Caibos hadn’t been doing all the work. As though Caibos hadn’t been the one whose Master didn’t even know him.

But he was a Jedi, and he was better than that. He firmed his voice up, trying to sound older once again.

“We do,” he said. “We’ll find it. She’ll be all right.”

#swtor #my ocs #swtor oc #my writing #jedi consular #caibos: he should be at the club #zeel legacy

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sentences from what i'm working on writing right now that make me feel totally normal and not at all like a guy with big Sibling Issues:

“Caibos is seventeen,” the Sith hissed. “Eighteen, actually,” Caibos said. He knew what Callie would want. She’d want to hear that Vyme had come back for them. Caibos knew better than to believe it. “Do you remember begging me not to go?" “Thirteen years and you’ve hated me all this time?” “Jedi don’t hate,” Caibos said automatically. “Ah,” Vyme said. “Then it must be the Sith blood in you.” Come with me, he wasn’t brave enough to say.

#having a Normal One tonight folks! #i may skip over the posting of a snippet and call this a fully-fledged fic and post it on ao3 the way this is snowballing. but also #i may make the fully fledged fic the whole Sibling Saga. depends on the vibes as i play through the stories with them you know #caibos: he should be at the club #vyme: wearing his conscience like a stylish hat #my ocs #my writing #zeel legacy #not pictured: felix very silently freaking the fuck out because he's watching this CHILD go through some Shit and also there's a sith here #also not pictured: nadia and zenith having very very different emotional responses whenever vyme drops the brother word

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a discussion with my partner on my tag for Caibos:

me: he's actually starting the story too young to be in the club, that's how deep the "he should be at the club" energy runs with this one. i have feelings about it.

my partner: he should be at home while his parents are in the club

me: exactly also the storyline i put him in is like. "this thing you can do to save people also has a dramatic toll on your health" and he's already trying to make himself seem older and people assume he is bc of unfamiliarity with his species (except as The Enemy) and then he's like. prematurely wrinkling and giving himself health conditions over here and now everyone gets hit by a freight train every time he says "oh yeah I'm seventeen" or whatever. dude please all the adults in your life are begging you to go home. every adult Jedi around him: hi yes i'm very sorry you ended up in this position to begin with that's on me can you go take a nap caibos: no no i got this. i'm gonna go fistfight god next

#caibos: he should be at the club #zeel legacy

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Caibos, because if I'm gonna keep rambling about him I might as well introduce him properly. People are prone to assuming he's older than he is, and he tries very hard to encourage that image - being a Sith in the Jedi Order means he feels a lot of pressure to be the most competent and serious Jedi he can be. In his quest to be seen as the most reasonable person ever, he'll never raise his voice, always tries to offer solutions if a problem arises even if he's not quite sure yet what would help, and rarely takes sides in interpersonal conflicts if he can help it.

As a child, he was a slave - he and his older brother were illegitimate children whose mother was human. Ten years before the start of the class story, six-year-old Caibos was smuggled away by his brother's best friend Caloma, also Force sensitive; his brother was left behind on accident, and Caibos barely remembers him. Caloma is the closest Caibos has ever come to a parent, and for a long time the only person who gets to see him really act like a kid.

As the first chapter of the consular story wears on and Caibos sacrifices his health to shield Jedi from darkness, the "looks-older-than-he-is" thing becomes worse. He goes from "serious and scarred guy trying to make his voice sound extra deep" to "guy with actual wrinkles and a little touch of grey" before he ever hits twenty. His crew, once each of them finds out about his age, tends to join Caloma in her efforts to shield and protect him from his own activities, but Caibos is fully convinced that if he steps back from any problem and lets someone else handle it that he will fail as a Jedi.

He's at his most youthful around Nadia, which isn't surprising when she's the first person his own age he's spent much time around in a long time. At first, it's jarring to see him being a shy, awkward teenager around her - making bad jokes that he's nervous to laugh at, trying to impress her with things he thinks are cool, and getting incredibly antsy around her dad are just a few of the highlights - but the people who know him are intensely relieved to see that he's finally letting himself be young.

(when he ends up alliance commander, he needs it - a fact which Caloma and his brother remind him of endlessly when they're finally all together)

#swtor #my ocs #swtor oc #jedi consular #caibos: he should be at the club #zeel legacy #to be clear: caibos and co are completely disconnected from the others. #i plan to unveil the rest of this legacy much more slowly than the valath dorks - valath has complex arcs but easy backstories #(excepting ven and nalyan) but this group has Heavy Backstory and vague arc plans mostly

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Ok normally I live in Ven's universe because she is my child and I've known her for her whole life (since. 2022. which i'm aware is a short life cycle for an oc) but I'm contemplating a new fucked up sibling dynamic

Because I have a Sith Jedi Consular and the storyline in my mind for him getting there is that he was a slave (he's sith to anyone looking, but not sith enough to the purebloods you know?) and his brother and his brother's best friend arranged an escape attempt when he was very small. His brother doesn't make it out, ending up the Sith Inquisitor, but the friend does, becoming the knight to this kid's consular

and there's a lot of fun stuff to play with here but what I'm thinking about is this guy Caibos being a very young Jedi. Like eighteen at the end of the class story, but he's got the kind of appearance and presence (and species) that make people assume he's older than he is, so most people never realise until he tells them or they see him with one of the few people he lets his guard down around. And while the knight and inquisitor have certainly grown apart in many ways they're always united by their desire to protect this kid who's been taking on so many things that nobody should have to. Caibos as an Alliance Commander, and his two siblings as his staunchest protectors. Because everyone else sees the leader they are working for, a symbol of whatever it is they're there for, but his brother and the friend who saved him know him as just a kid who's always needed them. i don't have good words to describe this dynamic yet but the almost. guard dog vibes. desperate devotion to protecting this person even though that's the last thing he wants or would ask for.

#i'm not tagging this yet i'll do an intro post for the characters in a bit i just. am thinking about them. #ooh i should have like. tags for the specific legacies huh #zeel legacy #caibos: he should be at the club