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pazvizslaplasmathrower · 4 years

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Father of Hopes and Dreams - Chapter 9

Read here or on AO3

Chapter 9: Dead Man’s Deal

Series Summary: Your young master is gone, just at the birth of your bond, he has left you for many years, leaving you to survive the galaxy alone. After sustaining an injury from a drunken storm trooper, someone faces the decision to either leave or help you in your moment of need.

Chapter Summary: You and your new guardian set off to Tatooine to find a starship for your travels. But in a moment of weakness, your curiosity gets the better of you.

Word Count: 1760

A/N: As always the MC is gender neutral and written so anyone can insert themself into the story. Comments are much appreciated! Also reqs are open!

“Primary goal: we need a star ship.” Paz muttered mostly too himself.

Young Y/N leaned over to look at what Pas had pulled up on his worn holopad. Much to their disappointment there was no array of star ships on the screen only a conversation in a language you couldn't make heads or tails of.

“What does that say?” You asked loudly, pointing directly at a word Paz had typed quite aggressively. “I...I think I've heard it before. Doesn't it mean ha-”

“Nope!” Without warning, Paz covered your mouth with a hand, before the rest of the word had a chance to roll off your tongue.

With both of your hands, you pried Paz's hand from your face, “S'not like I was gonna actually say it...”

The Mandalorian sighed, putting the data pad away, instead bringing out a holomap. The transport was nearly empty, so he was able to shrug off some of the natural anxiety that came with being out in the world for extended periods of time. You on the other hand seemed to be perfectly fine, not bothering much with your surroundings and still maintaining a lively energy. He was thinking to himself for just a moment too long.

“So...Are you going to show me where we're goin' or what?” You asked, trying to grab the device.

Paz Vizsla moved it just out of reach, switching it on. Blue light burst forth in a wave of unusual elegance, the map illuminating your face. Your guardian pointed out different planets and stars, tracing your current path with a gloved finger. As interesting as all those names and numbers were, the planets themselves were something to behold. With just a light touch, a single planet could be enhanced, illustrating its key features. To think that now you were going to once again be able to travel among the stars without fear! If only your master could have seen you.

“So, I want you to stay by my side the whole time. Y/N. Are you listening?” The man sighed once more. “Y/N, listen. Come back to me. “

He lightly snapped his fingers, drawing you out from your thoughts. “Huh?”

“I said that I need you to be at my side. Tatooine has no patience with naivety. Hold onto me if you must.”

Nodding, you wondered what type of port you would be landing at. “Is that where we're going to get a ship?”

“Yes, young one. Remember that use of your...powers is on hold for now. Until you can use them safely, there will be none of it.”

Groaning, you threw up your hands. “But what if something happens!? I don't have the strength of a Nexu, without the Force I'm dragon bait!”

“If you listen to me, you shall be just fine.” Paz patted them on the back, his strength a tad overwhelming, sending the kid lurching forward.

Still, the little one gave him a wry smile. “You can promise that you're gonna always be with me?”

He had no answer.

They slipped back into their seat, swinging their feet back and forth. “I know you can't. No one can do somethin' forever. I'm just scared I guess.” He watched them anxiously pick at the leather straps of their pristine, new armor. “I really don't wanna die as a kid, y'know?”

“I...I do know.” He said calmly.

The child nodded, nudging him lightly in the side. “I kind of figured. Man, it'd be nice to live a little and see things...”

“Y/N.”

They turned their head, those inquisitive eyes, somehow meeting his gaze right through his visor, most didn't know where to look, unable to even glance at him.

“Look at me.” Even though they already were, he couldn't let them know.

Swiftly, Y/N righted themselves and moved in the seat until they stood on direct eye level. “You're gonna say something serious, aren't you?”

“Yes. While I may not always be at your side, during the times that I am, I will do all I can to give you the best life you deserve.”

Y/N's mouth opened to speak, but Paz held up a finger to silence them.

“Don't you dare say you deserve otherwise.”

Without warning, the ship rocked, jarring both of them.

“WE'VE DOCKED. PASSENGERS CAN NOW LEAVE THE CABIN.” The pilot shut the com off, opening the hatch. Paz stood, beckoning you to follow and you did, making sure to at least stay in line with the Mandalorian's shadow.

***___***___***

Swear poured down the sides of your head, and dripped down from your brow, making your eyes sting. At first the prospect of wearing armor, was alluring, making you feel like a hero of old. High above, the twin suns beat down on the planet, making you move at the pace of a snail. Force, how Paz Vizsla was able to march ahead unperturbed.

“Can...Can we take a break?” You groaned melodramatically. “I'm gonna melt!”

“Are you drinking your water?” The man asked, glancing back.

Growing sheepish, you shook your head. “No...It's warm now.”

“Just a little further and we will rest for a bit. We really must hurry if we are going to meet the buyer.”

With a gloved hand, you wiped your forehead. “Why can't we break now?”

The Mandalorian took a breath, checking his com to see if there were any new notices. “Y/N are you truly exhausted?”

Weakly, you nodded, hoping he wouldn't insist on pressing further. To your good fortune, Paz Vizsla beckoned you to come forward. Sluggishly, you did, and to your surprise, he knelt, and turned his back.

“We don't have much time to waste. You can just hang onto my armor, alright?”

“Kark! Awesome!” With a smile, you latched onto the Mandalorian's back, holding onto the straps of the forged plates.

“Watch your mouth, Y/N.” He chided, standing and shifting to accommodate you. “Not until you are older.”

“Hm, we'll see.”

Even with you hanging on him, the Mandalorian Paz Vizsla, forged ahead, not slowing down a bit. The lifeforms on this planet were diverse to put it lightly. Never before had you seen such an array of peoples before. Traveling with your master, the both of you tended to stay away from the rest of civilization. A precaution that your old teacher had insisted upon. The urge to stare was far too much for you to handle, and so you gave in, looking at nearly everyone that passed by. Quite often you were observed right back, your curious stare met with tense scowls and strange smirks.

“Staring is rude, A'dika. I know this is all new for you, but you will find that the inhabitants here are far less than kind.”

You grumbled, pulling the hood of your short cloak up so no one could look at you. The rest of the walk was less than a mile, Paz finally stopping at the entrance of an extremely worn looking star ship hangar. The main door was shut though, large sections of durasteel were missing, having been stripped away by some monstrous force. Leaping down from the Mandalorian, you glanced at him with a worried look.

“We'll be fine.”

Tentatively, you trailed behind him, tense, waiting for something to happen.

Without pressing the door switch, the hangar entrance started to open, the harsh noise making your hair stand on end. From the dark inside came a rather sickly looking figure, ghoulish in complexion, hunched over, gaunt arms swinging from side to side with this new character's gait. His nearly toothless smile regarded your guardian, but then his white eyes looked down upon you.

“You never said you were bringing a kriffing child.” The brute growled.

“They are mine, they travel with me-”

“No children!” His sudden yell sent him into a coughing fit. “Leave the child outside or we don't have a deal!”

You could see Paz tap his fingers against the side of one of his blasters. Sighing, he turned and kneeled to speak to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Listen. It's won't-”

“Make up your mind! I don't have all day!”

Paz Vizsla merely turned his head. “If you raise your voice at me or my child again, I will shoot you where you stand.”

The ghastly man closed his gaping mouth.

“Forgive me, Y/N. It won't be very long. I just need to make this deal and we'll be on our way.”

“So I'm just gonna have to be out here alone?” You looked around, wary of how many strangers were wandering about.

“Everything will be alright.” Paz assured you. “Find somewhere close to hide. Wait there until I call for you, understand?”

That bastard behind the Mandalorian glared your way when you met his gaze. You wanted to put up some sort of protest, but decided against it.

“Okay...Can...Can you be quick?”

He chuckled, standing up tall. “I will do my best, A'dika. Don't worry. I'll come looking for you.”

Those curious twin suns, had started to fall, giving way to the majesty of night. No matter what planet you traveled to, the night sky had always remained perfectly beautiful. Heeding the Mandalorian's word, you scampered to the alley way next to the hangar, trying to find someplace unsuspecting, but comfortable. Not wanting to take cover in the dumpster nearby, you crawled up on the roof of the adjacent building, keeping low to the ground. Seconds flew by, then minutes, an hour and them another. The suns were gone by now, leaving you under the luminescence of the moon and stars.

“It's so kriffing cold...Hurry up...”

It had taken most of your self control not to go off and investigate the numerous interesting sounds, smells and sights. The Mandalorian Paz Vizsla had given you kind, but strict instructions to wait for him, but that had been ages ago. To wait a moment longer would make you go insane.

“A few minutes wouldn't hurt.”

With your enthusiasm piqued, you jumped to your feet, looking for your own adventure. By the time you had wandered off into the night, Paz strode out of the hangar, a sudden sinking feeling making his heart race. He yelled out your name. Once. Twice. Three times and nothing. He quickly checked over his jet pack, knowing a good scolding would be in order. Maker, nothing better have happened to you, so help him.

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v-v-malfoy · 5 years

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Archibald Augustus Abraxas Malfoy,

first peacock of house Malfoy

For the last seventeen years of his precious life; life had been nothing put a very pleasant experience for him. There had been parties only to celebrate his beauty and to show off the gardens he lived in. He had been cherished, worshipped and stared at. He had made friends with the other creatures of the gardens, even though there was obviously no one even closely as beautiful as he was. Of course; he was also of pure magical blood, just as pure as the family he belonged to. Not that it truly mattered to him, some of his beloved friends were the squirrels that lived inside of the big walnut tree besides the pond. They weren’t even magical, but they loved his colors and were quite vocal about it. Also they were fast enough that when he chased them through the park, he actually had competitors in them.

But for the last year, his beloved peace had came to an end. Some of their visitors had always been dark figures, but they hadn’t been there to often and there were plenty of elegant and beautiful visitors to make up for them. But for the last months the fancy friends of the family had stopped visiting, especially since that very dark wizard was there more often. He had never seen a wizard this dark or powerful. At first he was impressed by his power, and he had his pet snake with him; so he couldn’t be all bad, right? Oh had he been wrong. The wizard had completely ignored him; his snake, Nagini, wasn’t even a real snake but just a weird type of witch that had once taken a turn and had stayed a snake ever since. She wasn’t very talkative and rather arrogant as well. Once he had approached her; she had hissed at him and threatened to eat him, would he come near her again. Such a rude person.. He hadn’t tried to communicate with them ever again, he just knew they really had to leave. He had not jet decided how he would manage it, but they had to leave. They made his owners, Lady Malfoy and the young Master Malfoy sad. He had always disliked the oldest Malfoy, since he had no eye for the beautiful and was walking through the gardens like they belonged to him. Also his aura was very puke shade of green, which fitted him very well. Such a rude old prat. He had spend all of his life in these gardens as he himself had been a gift to Lady Malfoy as she had her first and only child. As Lady Malfoy and her son blossomed to be the most beautiful humans; he himself had linked his magic to theirs and became equally handsome. Would their aura be bright and pure, his feathers would shine in the most stunning shades of blue and green. But since they were sad and bothered, his feathers had stopped glowing and even worse; some of them were falling out. His name was Archibald Augustus Abraxas Malfoy, first peacock of noble house Malfoy. But aristocrat or not; he was loosing his most beloved feathers and he was not fucking having it. This Tuesday afternoon had been especially bothersome to him. All day dark wizards had been coming, and he noticed how stressed Lady Malfoy felt. If he would only be allowed inside of the manor, he could walk around her to cheer her up. But the old house would not let him in. It’s magic had been become more inviting and forgiving, so that when he was hungry or it was particularly cold outside, the houselves were able to let him inside the kitchen. But he had definitely noticed that the manor itself was quite unhappy with all of these dark wizards as well. The ivy ranks that once hugged the backside of the manor ever so tenderly seemed now to protectively hold it together and ranked over the doors in an attempt to deny entry to the darkest of wizards. Since it became too bothersome to call him that and he had no idea what he was actually named, (everyone referred to him as “dark Lord”, which seemed to be correct because his aura was pitch black) he had named him Lord twit. That seemed to be more fitting.

As he was brooding and walking next to the sad roses by the front entry, he actually saw people approaching the manor. Through the front gate! That was truly unseen. Usually people appeared at the apparating area next to the front door or inside the manor. Curious as he was he got closer to take a look at the visitors. There were three ugly and rude wizards that were dressed

very badly that were dragging three other wizards, about Master Draco’s age closer to the manor. The evil three had ugly brownish and muddy auras, but the others... He walked even closer to get a better view at them. He had seen many auras in his life, but never had he seen auras that were this bright. The pretty brunette had a magnificent shade of red and the charmed red heat a bright orange color. But the third man... He seemed to be struggling very hard against this dark person, which made his aura glee even more powerful. It was the most bright gold he had ever seen. That person must be special.. He thought back to a walk Lady Malfoy and her son had taken in the backyard a few days ago. Lady Malfoy had asked her son about a man that she still had hopes on that he might be able to defeat Lord twit. Master Draco had gotten very nervous, his aura turning a bright shade of pink. He really seemed to like that person.. Not that Archibald could be sure, but a wizard this good and powerful seemed to be a good match for his beloved friend. He felt the urge to help those people and tried to get inside behind them. He hopped up the stairs to the main entrance a few moments after the group had entered and asked the manor politely to let him inside as well. At first it warmly declined, shoving him back tenderly. He asked him again to let him in when the visitors would need his rescue and the house petted him with an ivy rank. So he sat down next to the door and waited nervously. Only about half an hour later the door next to him exploded and a dark wizard ran outside. He pulled out his wand and cursed that dark and ugly sign into the sky, screaming like a maniac. Archibald made use of the moment, russled up his feathers and sprinted angrily inside. The evil sister of Lady Malfoy was screaming at an old friend of his, and no one should talk to Dobby like this! He was standing proudly upon a table and protected the humans in his charge. Dobby could get them out of the manor! They would be safer outside, at least until he himself had managed to get rid of the evil wizards for good. Master Draco was halfheartedly fighting with the man with the golden aura, and it seemed like Archibals had been right about the man. Draco’s aura was again that glowing shade of pink. He should be leaving with him. He, Archibald Augustus Abraxas Malfoy, first of his house, would free their home of bad people, than young master could return. But for now he should leave. He ran closer to the two men that shared a moment in which they were only looking desperately into each other’s eyes. ‚Go with him! I got this!‘ he wanted to tell him, but since that wasn’t happening he just opened up his feathers to get his attention, waved at golden boy with his wings and screamed a loud „Pa-gaaaak!!“ But Master Draco only looked at him with a baffled expression. „Pa-ga-gaaak!!!“ ‚Go with him you fool, Dobby can take you with him!!‘ Young master still looked puzzled but Dobby had heard him. „I take him with me! Don’t you worry old friend!“ Dobby held out his hand for golden boy and waved Draco closer as well. He was shaking his head, but golden boy seemed to agree with Archibald and Dobby. He grabbed Master Draco’s hand and pulled him with him into Dobbys reach. Evil Lady Bellatrix screamed loudly and as Dobby and the humans of his charge were disapparating, she threw a black dagger after them. But he was not having such rude behavior. „Pa-gaaaak!!!!“ He screamed and waved his feathers so hard it blew the dagger away which flew right into the chest of mudbrown aura. One down! And Dobby had safely gotten the young master and his friends away! What success! He was a true hero peacock and deserved to be first of his name. The evil witch screamed in horrendous anger and tried to grab him with her bare hands since she had lost her wand in battle. But he was a powerful magical peacock and he bit her heavily into her indexfinger until he tasted blood.

Now that he had a grip of her aura he pulled on it, and as she angrily tried to shake him off of her hand, he even got more of it. His Lady stood by in utter shock, but he saw the small smile on her face. Finally young master was safe. He whistled out for his friends, and suddenly everyone that lived on the grounds of Malfoy manor started to fight the evil wizards. The house itself send its ivy ranks that pulled on the weakened Bellatrix and ripped her from her feet, shaking her midair and throwing her out of the window. The squirrels, mice, owls and cats of the grounds came to bite and chase death eaters, making them run outside and disapparate in shock. Only moments after he felt the black aura of Lord twit approaching, but the house and his occupants were not having it. The second he appeared in the great entrance hall, animals, ivy ranks and Lady Malfoy fired ranks, curses and bites at him. At first he tried to fight, then he just shook his head. „What madness is this, Lucius?! Your house is just as mad as you are!“ The oldest Malfoy threw himself to his masters feet, but he was way to busy not getting his eyes scratched out by Archibald. „I’ll...I’ll kill everyone here!!“ He pulled his wand but before anything had happened, the ivy ranks threw themself around Lord twit and squished him and punched him repeatedly onto the floor. Lucius was whining and still kneeling, which was the exact moment Lady Malfoy had had enough as well. „YOU SORRY EXCUSE FOR A MAN!! How are you not protecting your home?!“ She didn’t have her wand, so she pulled out a blunt, decorative sword from the shining armor behind her and hit it on her husbands head. She warded every word she yelled with another hit. „Even your house and the peacock are protecting us, but you...!!! You got us into this, I told you so, so, so many times not to do it but you wouldn’t stop!!! And see where that got us!!! You were not even able to protect our only child, OUR PEACOCK SAVED HIM FOR YOU!!!! Both of you fucking assholes, GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!!! No one with a dark mark is ever, EVER going inside of this house ever again!!! GET OUT!!!“ The manor happily agreed with its owner and threw a screaming Lucius and a blacked out Lord twit out of the window. It created new safety wards that would not ever let anyone wearing a dark mark, supporting lord twit or even remotely evil inside ever again. Lady Malfoy felt happy and free as she hugged her animals and her beloved peacock, her aura shining widely. One of her elves appeared by her side. „Please dear, tell Draco our home is safe. He can come home if he wants to, we will renew this place as if the evil bastard never set foot in here.“ The elve agreed happily and disappeared. From that moment on they were safe and finally, finally his feathers were glowing as bright as ever again.

#harry potter #draco malfoy #harry/draco #oneshot #fan fic #drabble #drarry

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carocofiego · 5 years

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-- Prompt 01: Questionnaire

(content warning for: ...violence? vampire adjacent material?)

01. Tell us about your character’s name. Was it given to them or chosen? Does it hold any special meaning? If your character has aliases or nicknames, how did they get them and what do they mean?

caroc was given to him by his clan, though he dropped his clan name when he left. sound is really important to the maelibi so it probably means something special but fuck if he ever bothered to find out.

sometimes if he really needs a surname for something, he’ll steal his partner’s. one of the softest things he ever does.

02. What is your character’s relationship to their homeworld? Do they hold fond memories of it, or do they hate it? Are they still here, and if not, do they miss it?

he’ll get back there someday babey. no but really, people aside, caroc loved his homeworld-- there’s something special about the relationship between the maelibi and the force surrounding iego, and it tugs at him a little no matter how far he gets away. also like... time is weird in the rest of the galaxy? and people are weirder about being munched on out here. please. he just wants a snack.

there are experiences out here that he wouldn’t get back home, though, so maybe he isn’t Always thinking wistfully of home. he could be convinced to stay. maybe.

03. Describe your character’s relationship with those who raised them. Was it positive? Negative? Neutral? What sorts of ideologies were they raised with, and do they still stand by them now?

not..... the greatest. maelibi children are few and far between, given how long-lived they are and how few natural threats they face. when caroc was born, he’d been the first child in.... a long time, and there ended up being pressures that came with that. pressures that he appreciated about as much as his elders appreciated caroc’s interest in exploring the surface.

after enough arguments he hoofed it north and established his own den, far closer to the surface and the other planetary residents than most of his clan dared to sleep. he didn’t keep contact with any but a couple of them, and doesn’t miss them much now.

there was a lot of group-based thinking baked into him from the moment he was born that never sat well with him, being primarily inclined towards a solitary life. it’s still all in there, though, urging him to look after those nearby and other pesky shit.

04. What is your character’s relationship with the Force? Is your character Force-sensitive? Whether or not they are, do they believe in it? Do they lean more towards the dark or the light or are they somewhere in between?

the force is caroc’s whole life. i mean, he wouldn’t have called it that before encountering the sith, but he’s very well familiar with the life song that thrums through the universe, using him as its instrument. it sustains him, he sustains it, the force colors everything about how caroc interacts with the world. they’re inseparable.

dark and light aren’t really concepts that occurred to him before leaving iego, but there is... something different about the way that the sith wield the force. the jedi techniques sound even more foreign, though, so if caroc was forced to define himself he’d say he was gray.

05. What three word would you use to describe your character? What three words would your character use to describe themself? What three words would someone close to them use?

me: cranky, slow, curious

caroc: leave me alone

dhirh, the only person caroc suffers intimacy for, says: a whole meal

06. Describe your character’s aesthetic. Do they tend towards fashion or function? Do they like to accessorize? How does this extend into their own personal spaces, such as their home or their workspace?

if he could get away with wandering around nude he would. no one’s allowed to touch his bunk cause he’s stolen like ten blankets and has them arranged as the Perfect cozy hole.

07. What are your character’s vices? Guilty pleasures? Bad habits? Weak spots?

what.... aren’t.... i mean like his whole personality is drive people away before they can hurt you so. i mean i guess at least he doesn’t really do alcohol or anything but that’s only cause it has no effect on him?

in terms of more concrete bad habits, though, he tries to keep it to himself but he’s a habitual tinkerer/fidgeter. only he’s not really that keen on the putting it back together part. what i’m saying is if you hand him a piece of technology and don’t impress upon him how important it is that it stay together, you will be getting it back as component parts. he and luro went through like three rounds of com sets before this was figured out. and then one more out of spite.

08. Tell us about your character’s relationship with food. What are their favorites? Do they enjoy cooking? Are they adventurous? Will they eat absolutely anything or are they hard to please?

people..... tastey. or at least, their force essence is. the more force sensitive the meal, the better. caroc doesn’t need to eat all that often-- strangely, even less often since leaving iego, but that’s a mystery for another time-- but when he does, he’s not very picky. whoever happens to be wandering nearby is perfectly fine. or at least it WAS before he had a JOB and RULES.

now he has to like.... ask permission and shit. unless they’re an enemy. at least he can refrain from killing a friendly snack, though, when enemies are thin on the ground.

09. How does your character feel about engaging in relationships—romantic and / or sexual—with others? What is their history like? Do they fall in love easily? Are they constantly in and out of relationships?

caroc loves One person, so it has been, so it always will be, unless they break up with him and then he’ll go back to not believing in the concept of love.

i’ll have to get back to u on the sex question cause idk what the maelibi even get up to

10. What is your character’s pain tolerance like? Can they hold their own in a fight, despite injury? If someone hurts them with the aim of gaining information, how much can they take before they cave?

pain isn’t a very common experience for caroc. it’s less like he has a high tolerance and more like it’s just.... really difficult to get through his blaster-proof hide. pain is rare enough that he has a Big reaction when it does happen, as can be attested to by a couple of the luro’s coworkers. when you bust through the hide he’s very vulnerable.

and honestly chances are good that whatever someone would be hurting him to try and learn, he’d just tell them right off the bat. he doesn’t really want to experience much pain again, if he can avoid it, so it’s either he’s not locked up well enough and they’re dead or he capitulates immediately. unless it’s about dhirh and then everything else becomes unimportant and he’ll die first.

11. What is your character’s weapon of choice? Are they more skilled as a melee fighter or do they have more skill with ranged weapons? What’s their fighting style like? What sort of training do they have behind them?

body...... he doesn’t get ‘weapons’

which i suppose you wouldn’t if you had like, talons and the ability to drain someone’s life essence

caroc’s durable enough that his combat strategy is usually just to let the opponent tire itself out and then move in for the kill. he’s generally pretty slow but does have occasional bursts of speed, they wear him out tho so he usually doesn’t bother.

training..... in the arena of life babey

12. Does your character have any words or catchphrases that they say frequently? Tell us about how they picked them up.

you know that phase it seems like every three year old has where the only thing they can say is ‘why?’ and they say it in response to literally everything? that’s pretty much caroc when he’s forced to interact with someone

he is genuinely curious but he’s just also invested in annoying the shit out of whoever he’s talking to

i mean even he gets tired of shenanigans like that eventually, but.... he usually has more patience than his opponent does

13. Tell us about a negative experience your character has had with either the Jedi or the Sith, and how this has affected their standing. Whether currently aligned or unaligned with either faction, if forced to choose, how would they side?

caroc doesn’t think he’s met a jedi yet (if he has, he wasn’t paying attention). he doesn’t think much about them other than wondering if they’d taste different than sith and unaligned people do.

the sith have kidnapped and tortured him and the person he loves most. but one is also promising a reunion, so. the jury is out.

though he’s technically aligned with the sith at the moment, all things equal and situations resolved, he’d probably align with the jedi just out of spite. not that they would be likely to take him, but, you know. theoreticals. (also he just really wants to know what a jedi would taste like)

14. How would your character react to seeing a relative or friend on the opposing side of a battle or mission?

unlikely. he’d do his job, though, to the minimum requirement. caroc wouldn’t willingly kill someone he considered a friend, but if they were attacking him specifically he’d be willing to knock some sense into them. more often than not in a battle, though, he’s acting as a shield more than a weapon so it would probably be a moot point.

unless the friend was dhirh or Maybe one specific other maelibus, in which case he’d likely switch sides immediately.

this is subject to change as he potentially makes new friends, as unlikely as that seems

15. Describe a memory that your character finds embarrassing.

literally every social interaction

especially any one where he genuinely doesn’t know what’s happening

16. What goals does your character hold for themself and what steps have they taken towards achieving them? How far are they willing to go to reach them? What is their be-all and end-all?

find dhirh. no method is off limits. next question.

after that?? doesn’t exist yet. not worth worrying about, so no concrete plans. only vague ideas.

17. What is the one thing your character would change about their life if they were given the chance? What other lives could they have lived as a result?

caroc doesn’t think about things like that. things happened. it’s not worth wondering about alternatives. if he’s going to do any dreaming it’s going to be about the future, where things are still mutable.

18. Living in such a high-conflict time, how does your character feel about doing what they must to survive? Will they hurt or kill others—either directly or indirectly—to protect themself and / or those close to them? If so, do they regret it when all is said and done?

caroc has been killing people since he was a child, it’s second nature.

only.... something is changing, a little bit. as he gets to know people, for the first time, that he would’ve considered exclusively prey before. he’ll never admit to it, but questions do keep him up at night. who were all those people that he killed? what lives did they lead before he ended them?

it may not change his behavior, but caroc has a newfound respect for the fact that other people also have lives and loves and that that’s not always something to be taken lightly.

19. What is the biggest problem your character is currently dealing with?

his whole life. is a problem. at the moment. everything

it’s cool tho he can wait it out

20. Give us 3+ headcanons of any length or subject matter.

1. tinkering: this isn’t something caroc just spontaneously picked up after leaving iego, it’s something that’s been part of him for a long time. at home, his den was littered with machinery and engine parts from dismantled shipwrecks. he’s always been curious, about the surface and the other life on iego especially, and one of his few joys came from reconstructing machinery (all wrong) to make himself small useless machines. not that he’ll share this with anyone new willingly.

2. Force Flavor(tm): due to his.... appetites, one of caroc’s abilities is a sense for the ways in which the force clings to people, and the different ways it dances around them depending on how they call to it. he characterizes the force, always, as a song, but he can hear an individual’s song well before he takes a bite. it’s become an unexpectedly useful tool in managing social interactions since he left home.

3. games: caroc loves to play dumb, seriously, it’s one of his favorite things to do. BUT he pays a lot more attention than he pretends to. he’s vastly more comfortable knowing more than people think he does, in all situations, he feels it gives him an advantage and lessens the chances of making a genuine misstep. also because i named this section games: he fuckin loves games, man. card games, numbers games, not so much reaction time based games but you get the picture. he eats that shit up, even if he does everything in his power not to appear to.

bonus. Give us a list of any length telling us why our “fave is problematic.”

1. eats people

done

oh, also, loves to make interacting with him as unpleasant as possible

#sidereal prompt 01 #2 #3 #4 #5 #prompt #musing

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kmuttpawprints · 6 years

Photo

Not so much AU facts this time other than I really just wanted to write this scene out. Sorry if it gets muddy near the end. All editing and writing tips appreciated!

————-

“Sunflowers?” Marius question didn’t stop Mael from working on settling the new setup. The last batch of flowers had long since passed and he refused to let the brown foliage damage his business’ good name.

“Yes, they’re a wonderful summer flower,” Mael adjusted the stems one more time and encouraged the flora to settle in their new home. “It will add a little brightness to the place. Though i suppose I should have placed them near these terribly dark walls on either side of us.”

“Red is a wonderful color,” the tattoo artist mused while watching the final adjustments made to the greenery. “And this crimson makes a nice intimate atmosphere. Great for getting to know your customers.” Whether he meant the tone of the statement to sound how it did, the short laugh from the florist was a welcome sound. Work now complete, Mael stepped back and eyed the bouquet again.

The yellow sunflowers did stand out, nestled in the large leaves of variegated Pittosporum and housed in the vase that has seen better days. Note to self: He would replace this cursed object one day. For now, Mael felt it was a welcome change in this den of bright color images and metallic surfaces.

“It must be a summer flower,” Marius voice cut through the other man’s thoughts but didn’t stop there, “lately, I’ve done more than my share of them on men and women’s thighs.” Blue eyes looked over to catch the light bit of color spreading on Mael’s face. Someone’s imagination was getting the better of them. Oh this could be fun.

“You know, I could do the same for you,” Marius stated and watched Mael roll his eyes while thumbing through a samples book. “We’re slow at the moment. I could pencil you in a consultation during your lunch/restock the vase/harass my store hour.” A short, mocking chuckle is heard.

“Pfft. Honestly. A ‘consultation’. That’s all I need?”’

“Just to get the general idea. Concept, colors, size, location…” the last word trailed a bit with emphasis. Mael didn’t need to turn around to know that Marius was watching him. And heaven only knows what that line entailed though the florist could only imagine..and there was no shame in imagining. Another short chuckle escaped him as he turned to look at some stock images mounted on the walls themself.

“Oh is that all? Doesn’t seem so complex,” Mael muttered while trying to remain disinterested. It was harder to do than he realized.

“It isn’t. After that it’s pretty simple, you just drop trou and let me mark that virgin flesh of yours.” The level of shock in the Mael’s step when turning again almost had him headfirst into the counter. Marius bit his tongue as his neighbor tried to retain his dignity in this situation. Mael audibly cussed under his breath. The words really meant nothing but damn that artist!

“And what makes you think I’d want ink on my as–legs??” Mael snaps back, the red in his cheeks betraying the quiet aggravation in his voice now. It took all of Marius’ willpower to not laugh aloud at the tone coming from the florist’s mouth.

“Really, Mael, are you trying to make me beg?” Marius hummed the question with quiet satisfaction. It was fun to get under the other man’s skin. Mael turned away, refusing to look back over as he knew that lazy smirk was still there. Damn that -irresistible- irritating expression.

“C’mon there has to be something that you’ve thought of at least once,” Marius said, trying to maintain conversation. Mael stopped his mindless pacing for a moment. At first, Marius was certain the florist was just preparing to drop the topic before returning to the building next door when he noticed a shift in demeanor.

“…I mean…I suppose I had…once or twice.” Blue eyes widened in shock. Did…did he hear that correctly? Did perfectly unmarked flower boy just admit to considering getting a tattoo.

“You’re messing with me,” Marius states and continued to stare at the other man, waiting for a punch line of some sort. Mael shook his head.

“No. I’m not,” he shrugged in slight defeat of admitting this fact. “To be honest, I’ve thought of getting one, possibly on my arms or shoulders, years before meeting you. I suppose you have dug the thought further into my head though.”

“I..well…great!” the excitement in Marius’ voice was a bit hard to hide but who cared! Hand upon sketchbook that he kept under the desk,the artist continued business as usual.

“If you want, we could actually get you into an appointment this week, if only to discuss design ideas. Like I said, sunflowers are pretty popular but I’m sure we can get you something ori-”

“Sunflowers?” Marius froze at the question asked.

“Well, yeah. They started this talk. I assumed that was your favorite flower.” It was then the artist realized his mistake. “…they’re not?”

“No. Never.” Mael pushed back a stray golden hair that made their way out of his braid. A slight distraction as he gathered his thoughts. “I mean, they are beautiful and they do add character to a room but they are not my favorite. That would be…” Mael stopped.

“That would be…” Marius rolled his hand with pencil still in hand, a bit irritated in waiting to make this design, “you need to finish the statement, Mael, or this doesn’t work.”

“Oh I think it does” This. This is perfect. And a good bit of possible revenge for earlier. “I have a proposition on top of your tattoo proposition….a wager actually.”

“I am curious and concerned. What is this wager?”

“I will let you tattoo me-” Marius braced himself for what could possibly be the dumbest task imaginable, “IF you can guess my favorite flowering plant.” ….what?

“That’s it?” The artist laughed. “Guess your favorite flower? And you get your first tattoo? From here? By me?”

“I choose location and size but, yeah, all the other details are correct.” Mael didn’t flinch or feel any worry. The idea that Marius would get this on the first try would be short of amazing.

“This can’t be too hard,” said artist grinned and took a second to think. “Let’s see: Rose.”

“No.” There was a bit of silence between them. Okay, maybe that was too easy a choice and Marius tried for a slightly more obscure option.

“Fine then, petunia.”

Mael shook his head at the statement, “no.”

“Tulip. Carnation. Lily?”

“No. No. And that last one is you.”

“Dammit,” Marius huffed. This wasn’t going at all the way he planned, “Okay, daisy?”

“What is going on here?” Santino interrupted as he stepped behind the desk, lunch bag still in hand.

“I’m trying to guess Mael’s favorite flower. Is it daisy?”

“It’s flowering plant and no, it’s not daisy,” Mael corrected the statement before shaking his head again.

“Dammit again.” Marius took a moment now to mull over his next guess. Santino looked to one then another then the first person again before finally deciding that neither was going to speak up.

“…Okay, but why are you doing this?” the younger man looked confused still.

“I get it, I get to ink him,” Marius swiftly answered before looking back to Mael. “Is it carnation?”

“Wait, really?” Santino asked. Surely flower boy wasn’t the type to wager his flesh?

“Yes, I agreed to this,” Mael stated, a perfect example of a shit eating grin upon his face, then faced Marius. “and, no, it is not.” This was exciting! Santino started to open his purchased meal and pointed to Mael.

“Can I get in on this?” he asked as Marius rolled his eyes.

“No, it’s between u-“

“Sure,” Mael cut the artist off. Santino looked ecstatic while Marius was completely stunned.

“Yes!”

“NO.”

“Is it Mums? Mums are flowers right?” Tino quickly asked as he slid over and worked to push his boss away.

“They are and no it isn’t,” Mael stepped back from the desk as minor struggle was starting between the two with Santino fighting to stand up front.

“Stop it, Tino!” Marius snapped at his employee to no avail. Santino simply laughed.

“Make me, MarMar! Is it a rose?”

“That was already guessed,” Mael bit back another laugh. He hadn’t expected this reaction in sharing this little wager from his neighboring business owner but after all the teasing, he had a hard time feeling any remorse for Marius. “Honestly, I’m beginning to think this might be too easy.”

“Too easy, Mael?” Marius was now becoming more irritated as a shoving Santino still urged him to move. Dammit, how was this shrimp so strong? “There are only so many options and yet I still haven’t gotten it. What, geranium??”

“Heavens no. But at this rate you might get lucky too soon,” Mael took a moment to think. “Especially with two against one. Have to make this a bit more challenging.”

“OOH. Let’s limit it to one guess each time we see ya here!” Santino cheered while elbowing back into his boss. A sharp wheeze heard was the insurance that his mark was made.

“Genius,” Mael snickered.

“Oh fucking hell, Tino!” Marius gasped out.

Santino threw his arms up in dramatic fashion. “Betting game: hard mode! Also you’ve had 1,000 guesses already so-by the way, is it iris?”

“No, that was guessed too.” Mael stepped further away as the argument seemed to be escalating. Whether or not it was a conversation about guessing or simply how they treat each other was hard to tell as both were starting to yell at each other in Italian. The joys of another language. He took this moment to make his swift escape back to his building. “I…I’ll leave you to this then. Good luck.”

———–

Fyi, I do know what Mael’s favorite flower is in this AU. I’m going to eventually forgive him for it not being sunflowers. >:c

Scene you don’t see: BJ screaming from other side of counter at both Marius and Santino to stop shaking the fucking thing! Some people are trying to set up appointments over the phone! (BJ we don’t use that fucking language over the phone!) It’s on MUTE. *singsong* Welcome to Atramentum Tattoo Parlor!

#vampire chronicles #Mutt splatters #marius #Marius de Romanus #Mael #the vampire mael #santino #the vampire santino #flowershop tattoo au #sunflowers #swearing tw #santino is a little shit and loves it #Mael/Marius

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shaliira · 6 years

Text

The Cloaked Storm: Chapter 24 - Something In The Darkness, Part 2

Still he didn’t turn, instead of leaning against what was left of the punching bag, breathing heavily, sweat glistening on his skin. “You’ve been there a while, Commander. Like what you see?” His tone seemed amused, but he was anything but, Valanthe could tell even without reading the projections from his Force signature.

Vala finished her last strap calmly, “if this were another day, I might have said yes.” She said finally then mentally gasped at herself, Valanthe! Behave! “Right now though, no.”

Senate Building, Landing Padd 45 C, special access only

The LAAT/i’s were coming in hot. She could see the urge in the clone pilots to land as soon as possible. That ball of untamed emotion was fast approaching and Valanthe found it hard to breathe under the onslaught, in her already emotionally weakened state.

What had gone so wrong? Who got killed?

As she stood in the back, behind the requested dignitaries and the Jedi, Valanthe tried to get a mental headcount but the Force was very clouded.

She watched the LAAT/i’s land and people started slowly clambering out, the Jedi and the navy officers first. Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Anakin, Plo-Koon, a non-clone Captain, one whom she didn’t know, then more navy clones in various states of injured, then came Commander Cody, another clone whose name she didn’t know.

Vala’s heart sank. Where were they?

Rex came into view first then, sticking close to the clone with the Rishi eel on his helmet.

Fives. Riis let out a breath of relief briefly only to catch it the next second. Where’s Echo?

Then she realized another was missing. The man they had gone to rescue.

Master Piell...I hope you died well, little Master.

Now she understood the grief, the guilt, the confusion and anger. Then the Chancellor and his entourage stepped forward, speaking briefly with Ahsoka and the non-clone Captain. Tarkin was his name if she heard correctly.

The dignitaries soon departed with Ahsoka and Master Plo going with the Chancellor and Captain Tarkin.

Yoda, Mace, Obi-Wan and Anakin remained, along with the clones. Riis approached as the dignitaries left, trying to keep a calm facade.

Obi-Wan was tired, the mission had been a tough one, physically, mentally and emotionally. Losing so many good troopers, and Master Piell… the others had said that the mission was a success, he’d even said the same to Ashoka. But it was hard to feel that way, they were supposed to rescue the Lannik.

Running his hand through his literally dirty blonde hair, the Master noticed Valanthe walking over. There was something off about the woman, something in her demeanor was off, stressed… pained.

Valanthe knew the guilt now too. “How many?” She asked quietly as she approached her friend. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Rex talking with Fives, hand on the other’s shoulder. Comfort?

“Seven, including Master Piell and Sergeant Echo…” Obi-Wan said solemnly, his gaze shifting over to Fives and Rex before returning to Valanthe.

The grief. Valanthe swallowed hard, glancing over at Rex and Fives again before turning her attention back to Obi-Wan. “The coordinates?”

Did Ahsoka have them? Or was it that Tarkin fellow?

“Secure, apparently Master Piell and Captain Tarkin came up with a contingency plan in case they were captured. Ahsoka now has one half, Tarkin, the other.” Obi-wan wasn’t entirely sure how much more he should be sharing, there was already some contention if the coordinates should go to the Council or to the Chancellor. Bringing Valanthe into mix… who knew how that could make things turn.

Valanthe nodded, “it’s not a bad plan, actually.” Valanthe shrugged, “how are you doing, old friend?”

Anakin then passed by them with a nod to Valanthe, Cody and Rex in tow, leading the injured navy clones towards an exit. Fives, however remained for a moment and glanced at her.

She wasn’t sure what prompted her to just give him a silent nod, but she did and the man returned the gesture. Valanthe would find him later. With that silent communication over, Valanthe returned her attention to Obi-Wan.

Raising his eyebrow at the small interaction, Obi-wan decided not to ask. He was curious of course, but it wasn’t his place to pry. “It’s been useful thus far, although now that it’s back in safe hands, the plan might have led to a complication or two.” Sighing with a shake of his head, refocusing on her real question. “All in all I’d say I’m well, tired, and in desperate need of a shower… how about you?”

“Happy I didn’t lose too many friends today.” She replied with a slight falter in her tone. “I...:” Vala halted when she saw the expression in his face, “I can’t discuss it. I’m just glad you’re back, all of you.”

The expression in her eyes couldn’t help but voice, ‘what happened to Echo?’

Obi-wan frowned seeing the pain in her eyes, he’d seen the connection Valanthe had made with Fives and with Echo. His loss on top of Master Piell must have been very hard for her. “I’m sorry we couldn’t recover his body.”

Valanthe nodded, “I know you would have done your best,” she said her composure returning, “I should go to HQ and do the debrief. I’ll need reports from you, Anakin and the others soon too. I know you all need a break, but you know GAR will want it.”

“Of course, we’ll be ready whenever you are.” Obi-wan said with a nod, the secondary meaning if Valanthe’s own life had gotten too deep for her to deal with. Unfortunately from the way it sounded, there wouldn’t be much he could do except offer to help.

Valanthe nodded, “Force be with you, my friend.”

She wanted to embrace him, take relief in the comfort of a friend being alive, but they were out in the open, too exposed. Valanthe would not embarrass Obi-Wan like that.

“Force be with you too, old friend.” Obi-wan said with a small smile, one only Valanthe seemed to be able to pull from him when things were darkest. “Hopefully the next time we meet, we’ll have a chance to really catch up.”

“I’d love that.” Valanthe nodded and stepped away. She had to, she had been selfish too much of late. Much as she would have loved to share Obi-Wan’s company more. Others needed her now, she would not indulge her own desires for comfort at this point.

Fives needed her now, probably more than any of the others. True, Valanthe thought Rex would be a more present fixture in the younger clone’s life. But she assigned them to the mission at Anakin’s behest. It was partially her fault that Echo had perished.

Would Fives accept her help though? That was the question of the day. She had to try , she had to do right by someone today.

GAR Headquarters, ARCA Barracks, Arc Trooper Barracks, sometime later

It was a bit difficult at first to discern a specific presence among numerous so very similar presences as she entered the Barracks. So, she focused harder, calling to her mind all the sensations Fives had made her feel, how he affected her, how she affected him. They’d been through alot together since the rescue on Balmorra. Nodding subconsciously, she went deeper into the complex. After a few moments, her mind stopped in the Arc Trooper gym, her body continuing the trek towards it.

He’d been a very blank signature in the Force when they disembarked the LAAT/i at the Senate building.. Now though it was anything but the blankness that she sensed from inside. Grief, self loathing, guilt, sorrow, fury, loss, crippling loss. Those were but a number of emotions floating around, jutting against each other, scratching, grazing, punching within the Force. Quite a powerful, overwhelming feeling.

Valanthe had hoped that he had spoken with General Thirsan and gotten debriefed before he sequestered himself in the gym, tearing the life out of the training devices. The few fellow ARCs in there seemed both confused and respectful at their new colleague. They knew what loss meant and respected the need to vent.

Riis stood outside the door for a while, wondering just how to best approach the problem ahead of her. She had silently promised him back at the Senate building that she would come see him. What could she do for him though? The clones mostly kept to themselves with their problems, rarely confiding them in the Jedi and the non-clone personnel. Would he accept her help? Then again, was she in the right state of mind to offer proper help? She’d had her own losses and her own darkness to deal with. Could she really help him?

It is through helping others, especially those with less experience that we help ourselves as well. Heal oneself through healing others. Wise words of her old Master Tera Sinube echoed in her mind, always guiding her focus away from herself, but reminding her that through understanding another, one comes to understand themself as well.

Kriff it! Vala decided and stepped into the gym.

The smell of sweat was strong as she entered, almost a overwhelming, but she soon tuned it out as the doors closed behind her. The gym grew quiet around her, most of the clones stopping what they were doing and turning to see who came in.

She didn’t have to be a Jedi to read the expressions on their faces. From wondering at a female form, a lot of clones never having seen one, to wondering why one was in their gym. From wondering why one of their Commanders was in there to wondering who was getting punished. Then they would start following the direction of her head, after she nodded her acknowledgement of them.

Her target was ARC Trooper 5555, known as Fives. “Give us the room, boys,” she said, looking over her shoulder. Her brows knotted into a frown as she felt a wave of pity and compassion directed towards Fives as the other clones cleared the gym. They thought she was here to punish him?

The clone in question was at the other side of the gym, massacring the punching bag. He’d not turned nor acknowledged that she was there. She didn’t take that to heart, considering he was lost in his own pain, his own grief over what had happened.

What, by the Force would she do now? Now that she was actually here and the man was lost in his own world. What would Renia do? What would Obi-Wan do? Vala wondered. Nothing came to mind as neither would likely go to these lengths. Renia would likely send one of her ARCs to deal with it, Obi-Wan would doubtless send Cody.

What would Valanthe do? She wondered finally.

Her eyes fell on the hand wraps off at one of the benches. Eyes darting towards Fives’ back then back to the wraps, back to Fives, back to the wraps, she made a decision. She shirked her duster and her pistol and strap, her lightsaber and even her boots. She remained in her signature cargo pants and a form fitting t-shirt. Leaning down she picked up the wraps and began wrapping her hands to protect them.

Not that she really needed them but it was something one did when in the gym, she reasoned. She didn’t need to be the more agile, Force augmented creature now. Now, she needed to be the sponge, the sounding board. As her fingers fiddled with the straps, she found her eyes roaming over Fives’s back.

It was only now that she realized that he wore nothing on his torso. The usual body glove most clones wore off duty was now only the figure hugging leggings, or pants...she wasn’t quite sure how to classify the grey material he wore from the waist down.

Her lilac eyes studied the corded muscles of his shoulders and back as they flexed and bulged with each hit. Valanthe realized that clones weren’t necessarily tall nor big men, but they were wiry and strong, insanely well sculpted. Broad shoulders, sculpted back, tapered but firm waist, a firm round rear end, firm, thick, sculpted thighs and…

And he’s finally noticed me…. Valanthe realized as she did her best to appear casual in pulling on the other hand wrap and cover her slight embarrassment over the fact that she had just shamelessly ogled the man she was trying to figure out how to help.

Vala finished her last strap calmly, “if this were another day, I might have said yes.” She said finally then mentally gasped at herself, Valanthe! Behave! “Right now though, no.”

Right now I feel only sympathy. Valanthe hated herself for the lie she tried to convince herself off. It wasn’t right to use the moment of such vulnerability for personal indulgence. Not here, not now.

Finally he turned to her, “I didn’t think you’d be the type to come to punish one of your people like so after an incident of the scale we had on Lola Sayu.” He said bitterly, noting her bound hands. Then his expression changed momentarily, as if he was fighting something deep within himself.

Are you and your brothers so used to punishment for failure that you expect it from everyone? Oh Force. Vala realized.

“Spirits, Fives!” She exclaimed, letting her arms drop to the sides, shrugging, “I’m not here to punish you, my friend.”

His eyes took her in, inch by inch, his eyes still lingering on her wrapped hands, “you’re dressed for a fight though.” Amber eyes burned with a myriad of emotions.

She raised her hands, “thought you might have wanted to blow off some steam, is all. That bag...its...well, you killed it.” Vala motioned to the raggedy remains.

He looked back behind him, blinked, realizing she was right. A ragged chuckle escaped him as he rubbed the back of his neck somewhat awkwardly and turned back to her taking her in again with his eyes.

It had felt uncomfortable when Burner would watch her like that, especially after the kiss. Was she dismissing this on the account of his state? Or was she comfortable under those particular amber eyes?

He cleared his throat, and looked to the floor, then to the mats near them. Hoping to deflect from the slight embarrassment he felt at his own boldness. He’d never seen his Commander in this state of dress, or rather undress. The problem was, he didn’t mind at all. Sure he’d seen her in work out clothes back on Kamino, when he and Echo were starting out.

Just thinking of his fallen brother brought him back to reality. He looked at her again, pain colouring his features,

“I can’t fight you, Commander.” He said as he saw her get into a stance, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Vala who was dancing on her heels as she warmed up her muscles and waited, “you won’t, I promise.” Besides I could use a good ass kicking after everything I did...or didn’t do lately.

Fives observed her for a moment, seeing something very much akin to what he was feeling in her own features and it scared him a little. He wasn’t sure why this mirror scared him. Deciding he wouldn’t dwell on it at that moment he got into a stance too.

“Commander, are you sure?” He asked again, gathering the courage within himself. He was about to hit his Commander.

“Considering we’re about the beat the kriff out of each other, Fives, you can call me Valanthe, or Vala, if you like.” She flashed him a grin, extending one arm forward, fingers wiggling in a motion saying, come on then. “Yes, I am sure. You need to get it out of your system and aside from your brothers, I’m probably the only one who can take a hit from you and stay on my feet. Dance with me, Fives.”

He nodded slowly as he eased into his stance, nodding again. “Alright, let’s dance.” Normally, this would bring a smile to his face, but now, he was a blank board, or punching bag. At least, he wanted to be.

The first few hits were easily dodged, they served to test reaction anyway. Vala deflected and side stepped easily, experimented herself. He was just as agile as she was when she wasn’t using the Force to augment her movements. Valanthe could tell the man was holding his true power back, probably from the ingrained fear of hurting a Jedi.

So, she would have to coax it out of him. Coax the energy, the power, the emotion. She knew she needed to get him to talk about it, to explain to him that it was okay to hurt, that it was going to be a bit better in the end. That it wasn’t his fault.

So she started hitting a little harder, forcing him to defend himself. Both of them were quite proficient in their combat styles, Vala’s more focused on agility and precision, while his was a mix of strength and tactic, how to take care of your opponent in the quickest way possible. Soon, it developed almost into a dance.

Valanthe was developing a sweat, and she could see he was glistening even more than before.

“Talk to me, Fives. Tell me what happened? Ooof!” Valanthe dodged a left hook, but was swept to the floor the next moment and rolled away quickly. His next attack came more forcefully.

“What is there to say! You know what happened! It was a clone’s fault! It always is!” He growled.

“What?” Obi-Wan’s take on things had been much different. Had someone had a go at them already? At Fives himself?

“Charger slipped on a loose piece of rock and fell into an electro mine, tripping the alarms. The whole kriffin’ prison knew we were there in three seconds flat!” Fives landed a heavy jab to her kidney.

Valanthe groaned but kept moving, “go on.”

He went through the subsequent events. As the event drew to the landing pad where their shuttle awaited them with R2 and the reprogrammed battled droids, his movements grew sloppier, easier to deflect, easier to sneak a hit or two in of her own.

Even still, he had less impact zones than she. Every hit she let him land, she believed she deserved, for what she had done to Tomno, for how she lost herself in her own darkness.

She only really put up a defence for any hits going towards the face.

“They just kept coming!” Fives said, dodge rolling out of her way. “We thought we were going to get out...unf..” he blocked Vala’s attack and sent her rolling behind him, only to earn a foot straight to the chest as she kicked out and pushed him away and rolled away herself. “We had to stop them from getting to the shuttle...and Echo…”

He was on his knees, one hand bracing against the mat. “Echo didn’t hesitate. He took the initiative,” Fives’ breathing grew ragged. “He raced forward, took the energy shield of the guards and made for the shuttle, I was…” A choked sound left his lips.

Vala had rolled into a low crouch, both of her hands braced against the mats, listening intently, watching the breakdown in front of her eyes.

“I was behind him I was supposed to support him.” Fives wasn’t looking at her any more, more through her, then through the mat, then through her again as the memory replayed behind his eyes. “I told him to look out, I could see that turret was going to hit him! Maker! I could see it, I could feel it!”

But something happened, didn’t it? Valanthe knew this was the moment Echo had died, but how? Why was Fives feeling so damn guilty? What did he do?

She knew it in the next moment, as he looked at her with pained eyes, “I froze, Commander. I stood there and let the droid manning the turret hit him.”

Tears rolled out of amber eyes, “I froze…” his voice grew soft, “I froze and my brother is dead. He’s dead because I couldn’t save him, Commander. I failed them all, the Domino’s, Echo, the others, you, the Generals, I failed everyone…” he hung his head, his shoulders shaking. A sob escaped him then, then another and another.

You think it’s your fault, Obi-Wan thinks it’s his. Valanthe crawled over to him, shirking her hand wraps and kneeling in front of him as he covered his face with his hands. “Fives, no one blames you for this,” Vala said softly, but her words had no effect.

How could she say that? Of course it was his fault! He was supposed to watch out for Echo. Why would she be trying to distort the truth?

“Fives,” Vala placed her hands on his shoulders, “Fives, look at me.” Then when he didn’t, she added a soft, “please.”

His head finally raised slowly, why was she being so kind? He was a clone built for one purpose. He wasn’t even able to do that. They’d not only lost Charger, Echo and several others, they also lost Master Piell and they had gone to rescue him.

“I spoke with the Generals,” she said gently, her heart breaking for him, the grief and guilt he projected rivaling her own, threatening to overcome her. Vala fought it down, she needed to help at least someone today. She needed to do right by someone today. “Lola Sayu was a disaster waiting to happen from the word go. Everyone knew it, the Generals, the Jedi, me, Force even you and your brothers did. You went in with what little intel we had and you did your best, all of you did your very best. Wars are unpredictable. You could not have anticipated for every eventuality, Fives.” Vala said, eyes holding his.

“We are clones, Commander. We are born and bred for war, we should have anticipated it all. It’s who and what we are.” He countered, unwilling to hear her. How could she be excusing it?

“See that’s the paradox right there, Fives.” Valanthe’s palm touched his cheek, her own eyes having difficulty remaining dry, “clone or not, you’re still human, a living being. All of us are, which also means we are flawed. Even the wisest cannot see all ends.” She could feel him stiffen under her touch, yet, he remained rooted in place.

“I came back and Echo didn’t,” his voice was ragged as he looked at this green Jedi still so intent on absolving him from his guilt. “I promised you I’d bring him home.”

“Fives, no one can make such a promise for certain, not in the type of job we do.” Vala’s hand returned to his shoulder.

He missed the warmth of her hand the moment it left his cheek. At the same time he hated himself for daring to think it, to think about anything else but Echo. This alone brought him to tears again.

“How can you say that, Commander? Especially after I froze…”

“Oh Fives,” Vala sighed, gingerly wrapping her arms around him, “everybody has a moment like that,” she murmured as her chin settled in the crook of his neck.

She could tell he was shocked at the contact, not that he didn’t know what she was doing, they had hugged before. Vala knew it was because he didn’t believe he deserved one.

When she wasn’t letting go, something deep within him released, telling him it was okay. Okay to put his arms around her and bury his head in her shoulder. So he did, tighter than she was holding him and he wept. For Echo, for Charger, for the long gone Dominos. He wept for his failure, for the loneliness he felt amongst the 501st.

The only one he was really close to had been Captain Rex, on the odd occasion he’d get assigned with them after he and Echo made ARCs.

Valanthe’s arms tightened around him, “it’s okay, Fives.” She whispered softly, “it’s okay. You’ll get through this.” Vala felt his arms tighten further around her, “you can get through this. I believe in you.”

Something in his Force signature changed then and it seemed to brighten a little.

“Why are you doing this, Co...Vala?” He muttered into her shoulder. She had asked to drop ranks, so he determined it was okay. “Why? You don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t,” she said leaning her head slightly against his as she felt his breathing evened out. “I want to. I care about what happens to my boys. I care when they are happy, when they are sad, I care when they are in trouble, I care when they are at the ‘79’s having a drink.”

“Look, I know you prefer the company of clones, and I understand that,” Vala continued, pulling back slightly to look him in the eye. She was amused at the fact that he didn’t release her either, in fact, he even resisted the separation a bit. A part of her she shushed away didn’t mind.

“I am so sorry, about Echo’s loss. I know how close you two were.” Vala said earnestly, “I will listen and keep your confidence, if you will have me. A different perspective often leads to problems solved.”

He did not deserve such kindness. From anyone, let alone from a Jedi, let alone from his Commander. She seemed insistent though, stubborn even. Fives could even see her point. Fives would not refuse her and he would would do his best to be a friend to her too. She deserved no less from him. That is, if she would have a clone as a friend. A true friend.

This time, he followed his urge and tightened his arms around her, pulling her closer, “thank you.” He said, his chin resting on her shoulder, hoping he was conveying his gratitude correctly.

Valanthe smiled as she buried her face into his shoulder this time, squeezing him gently. There was brightness in him, and that bit of cheek she had come to like, perhaps a bit too much.

She had succeeded though, she believed. She had done right by someone today. At least someone.

Fives felt her shudder in his arms a little and choke back a sob. “Valanthe?” He asked, pulling back a little, shocked at how red and watery her eyes were. “What is it?”

“I can’t…” Vala swallowed thickly, “it’s not you…” she added quickly, “it’s just not safe to talk about it, not here, not now.”

His Force signature clearly echoed his concern.

“When you can…?” He wiped a stray tear with his thumb.

Valanthe nodded, “when I can.”

“Thank you, for trusting me. For everything.” He said to her, in all honesty.

Doom City District, Coruscant, sometime later

It killed Vala not to be able to tell Fives the truth. But with what she had learned, she could not risk his life or involvement in what she was going to do. She had already cost him so much, sending him on that mission. She would not risk him so again if she could help it.

There was a friend she had to warn though. Valanthe had to warn Ren. Someone had to know, to hopefully continue what she started. Sure there were Vanth and Tomno, but Vanth, once identified would soon become a liability and Tomno, Tomno had been through enough. So now, Valanthe sat at a secured terminal of a Doom City building, a scrambled, outbound communication waiting to be picked up. The place was a well-known red-light distict, complete with narrow streets, painfully ugly neon lamps on the walls and shady dealings. Perfect for what she wanted to do.

Whilst on the inside she was trying to keep herself together, on the outside, to anyone who knew her, it was quite clear that Valanthe had had an extremely difficult few days. Pain and sadness echoed from her features and a lot of unshed tears.

Ren had been meditating when Vala’s call had come in, she felt the ripple through the Force, this disconcerting wave that left her feeling antsy. Making her way to a nearby section of her garden she activated the holoprojection system. Ren had insisted on getting a communications system setup in the garden, while she would need to work, it was nice to have a space where she could do so in peace. Opening up the communication Ren felt her chest clench, the ripples in the force becoming so much more intense as her eyes settled on Vala.

Her friend was distraught, that much was obvious, her face tight and flushed like she was trying to hold herself together by shear force of will.

“Valanthe… what’s the matter?”

“So many things, old friend.” Valanthe’s voice was hollow as she spoke. “ Remember what I told you when you were last here? They’ve started to catch up. Night is dead…” She said softly, her tears spilling over her eyes, “they had a friend kill him…”

“By the Force… Vala… I am so, so sorry.” Seeing the tears begin to fall down those deep green cheeks, the break of her already hollow, lacking voice. Ren wanted to order the ship to turn round, race back to Coruscant so she could hold the woman in her arms, reassure her that everything would be alright, protect her from whatever she’d gotten herself into. Instead she was here, hurtling off toward her next battleground and all she could offer was words… “I know you aren’t alright, but are you holding up?”

Vala shook her head, “Echo’s dead too..” Her voice came out even more broken. “I failed my team again. Eventhough Fives is convinced its his fault...it’s not. I should never have authorized them to go on the mission.”

“Oh Vala no…” It was worse than she thought, Ren truly was a moment away from turning the ship back. “It’s not your fault and it’s not Fives’…” It pained her to say this, but it was something she learned more than once since the war started, since Sameria. “It’s war and we are all soldiers, sacrifice walks hand in hand with each of us.”

Vala nodded slowly, “does the name Asajj Ventress mean anything to you?”

She knew Ren would go to the ends of the cosmos for her and Vala would do the same for her sister, right now though, Ren was safer doing her job, and Vala was safer doing hers.

“I’ve heard of her yes, haven’t faced her in battle yet, but it’s something I’ve been trying to prepare Mina for.” Ren hoped that Vala wasn’t simply deflecting to bottle up her feelings, the Mirialan always felt so deeply and when she compartmentalized her heart, Ren worried. “She’s Dooku’s assassin, a Dark Force user as skilled with her lightsabers as she is with seduction. At least according to Obi-Wan’s report.”

Vala nodded, “I need to find her. If you see or hear anything, will you let me know?” The Mirialan sighed, trying to focus on what she needed to do instead of what she felt. What she felt had gotten her into a lot of hot water lately and she needed to regain control of herself again. She needed to detach.

How ironic, that the more I break from the Jedi, the more I fall back on their teachings. Vala thought to herself in that moment.

“Vala, you’re not planning to do anything rash are you?” From what she’d learned of Ventress, even Skywalker had trouble matching her in single combat. Vala was out of practice and hurting, a dangerous and often deadly combination.

“I’m going to do my job, Ren. Just like you’re doing yours. She’s tied to this, somehow. To what’s happened.” Vala sighed, “she influenced someone to kill Night.”

Of course she did… Vala wasn’t wrong, she was doing her job. But there was more, Vala was unbalanced, the loss of Xan pained her deeply. “It’s different Vala and you know it, when I act I have a whole battalion and Mina behind me… you can’t go after Ventress alone.” Too many have died doing the same, I won’t lose you…

“It’s less of a risk. This way noone else can get hurt. I won’t risk you or Mina, or any of our guys on this.” Vala shook her head. “I can talk my way into going off on an off world mission easily…”

In truth she was considering doing more than just talking her way into it.

“You and I have obviously developed a very different definition of less, how is you going in to this situation alone less risky than taking along two Jedi and lets just say a squad of highly trained and battle hardened clones?” Ren was on a mission but that didn’t mean she couldn’t take a detour to help rid the Republic of a rather large thorn in its side.

“I can hide, for one.” Vala raised an eyebrow.

“And if you’re discovered?” Ren crossed her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow of her own.

“I’ll just have to make sure I won’t be and that a copy of my files is deliverd to you if I don’t reset the dead drop in time.” Vala shrugged, “I need to do this, Ren. For Xan, for Echo...for all of us.”

“But why…” Ren stopped herself, a lump forming in her throat, it was pointless even if she were standing right in front of the woman there was nothing she could have said to dissuade Vala. “Why won’t you let me help you, I just got you back…”

“Because I just got you back too,” Vala replied, her lilac eyes watering a bit. It was as close to an admission of affection and love Vala could muster at the moment.

The distance between them seemed to close as Vala spoke, instead of millions of lightyears separating the two women it was only a few inches, Ren could almost reach out, almost feel the warm touch of Vala’s cheek on her hand… almost. The lump in Ren’s throat threatened to spill over and turn into tears.

“I don’t…” She couldn’t even finish the thought, the words and consequences too awful to make real.

“Keep them safe, Ren. Please.” Vala swallowed hard.

Why were these always so hard? She was shaving a hard time dealing with all of the other already accumulated emotions and now...now Renia was just cutting at her heart, making her wish she was on that ship now instead of this dingy place trying not to have her signal picked up and traced here in the bowels of Coruscant.

“I will Val, I promise…” Ren wasn’t sure if she could hold back, the code was of no solace to her now and the one person who would be was so very far away… “Don’t…. Just come back to me ok?”

Vala nodded, her throat bobbing up and down as she swallowed hard. “I’m not giving up on those I care about again.”

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writeanapocalae · 6 years

Text

The Tower of Purity

Casteval did the fighting for them, screaming and bucking, trying to escape the hands that held him. He felt a pulse of heat come from them, but didn’t care, he kept pulling. “You don’t want them! You want me! I’m the one who will fight back, who will do whatever he can to stop you!” it was all bating, he knew that, they knew that. He couldn’t hurt any of them, not when they were together.

He looked at the chair, at the man in the stool. He couldn’t do anything. If he was the one in it, he wouldn’t be able to fight. It was only when someone else was in danger that he could do anything. It would have been smarter for them to take him first.

Erimot was dropped into the chair callously, though they did nothing to stop it, nothing to make themself more comfortable against the cushion. Casteval was still shouting, begging and threatening, but Erimot just gave him a small look, his blue eye hurting and tired.

Casteval deflated. This was the next step in their rebirth. It wasn’t the right next step, they were supposed to go to that place of flesh, like Carmilla had told them, not here. Perhaps, they didn’t want to leave this place, perhaps they wanted to lose all of themself. They were the Living Vessel and that fact didn’t seem to sit well with them.

Still, Casteval couldn’t let it go. He wanted to stop this. There was no reason for them to lose who they were.

Erimot closed their eye.

It looked so much like surrender. They did nothing as the cuffs closed around their wrists. They did nothing as the small man drew near, picking up the best tool for the job. He was tutting to himself, about Erimot’s hard crest, how best to crack it.

Erimot opened their eye.

The blue was gone, as was the red. All that there was was black. A few of the people, and they were people, Casteval could now tell, all deformed and horrific, gasped and stepped back. None of them stood against them.

The black shot out of Erimot’s eye then, thick tendrils splitting and multiplying, a massive network of limbs spreading out, pushing the old man away, pushing through all of the barriers in the room. Reaching and cloying and gathering Casteval.

And Casteval knew. This was what was in the sword. This was the swords connection to Casteval. Erimot had swallowed it as if it were a god, let it permeate and grow within them, and now was using it.

Casteval was free from the grip of the burned man, was free of all of it, aside from Casteval’s sword and Erimot’s care. He searched his person. The moment he was released, he’d have to do something. He had the sword still and the veins around them were encircling it, more than they were connecting with Casteval, shooting up his sleeves and pantlegs, trying to become one with him. He couldn’t use the sword against all of them. There were too many.

There were too many black limbs as well. He could hardly see through them. He knew he was getting closer to Erimot, but that was it. He could feel the slithering veins around his neck, going down his collar, stretch and pull at his limbs, try to find a way to connect, though his body, his mind more likely, was still fighting them off.

Amongst the darkness he could see the purple glow of the bottle at his side, still wrapped securely in the net. He didn’t know what it was, but it was bright, and it had to hold something important. Everything in that pit had been important. He’d given away something, something very important, and it had glowed in the same way as the bottle, though he didn’t remember why.

Memories. Remembering things was impure, was wrong, was something that these things would despise beyond all else.

“Erimot!” Casteval shouted as loudly as he could, hoping that his voice would be heard through the walls of darkness. “Erimot! I know what to do! Let me go, I’m going to get you out of here!”

Erimot’s face, half submerged in the darkness seeping from them, came through the veins. The limbs parted around their face and they were shaking so terribly, were even more pale and shaky than Casteval had ever seen them. They were so weak. All of this, whatever good Casteval had done, this had undone.

“You are Casteval,” Erimot whined. “Why didn’t you tell me you were Casteval?”

There was so much hurt in their voice. It was almost as if Casteval had betrayed them. He hadn’t, he didn’t want to, he would never want to. Erimot, for as short a time as they’d known each other, was his friend. He didn’t want to hurt them.

“I’m not Casteval,” Casteval wanted to scream, forced himself to speak calmly. He would never be done saying those words, “People keep saying that I am, but I’m not. I just have the same name as him.”

“This wouldn’t be happening if you weren’t Casteval.” Erimot meant the vines, not their circumstances, and glanced around as best they could with such things taking up their eye.

“People want me to become Casteval. I’m afraid the sword, that, wants me to be him too. I don’t want to be him, Erimot. I want to be me. I have always just wanted to be me.”

“And you think you, not the hero, just you yourself, can get us out of here?”

Casteval nodded.

“I hate this.”

Erimot shuddered and closed their eye, the lids severing the branches. They stilled, hardening around them, around all of them, before becoming brittle and shattering, becoming nothing more than dust. Casteval was slightly aware of falling, but it was short lived, and he was on his feet when he landed, only falling a few extra inches to right himself.

The darkness fell into piles of dust around them and the others, those things that were human once but now something much much worse, were pinned to the walls, having been shoved away. The injuries looked bad, bruises and blood on so many of them, a few bones twisted the wrong way.

“You’re going to let us go now,” Casteval ordered, hand untying the rope around his waist. “If that wasn’t a good enough reason for you, perhaps this is.”

A few eyes flickered down to his waist as he grabbed the bottle, holding it out promptly. “I’m sure you all know what this is.” He didn’t, he wasn’t sure anyway, but the way that they flinched, feared him and his bottle, was enough to give him confidence. “You will release my friend and we will leave this place, go along our way unmolested, or I will use this.”

He didn’t know how to use it. They didn’t have to know that.

All of them glanced at one another, none of them sure as to what they were supposed to do. Casteval had the upper hand, but they had a job to do. The red woman trembled, looking over the others, the most powerful of them all. She nodded though and the battered, bruised, and broken of them backed away from the door.

One of them, almost normal looking although so thin that the bones were poking through gray skin in places, undid the bindings on Erimot’s wrists. Another helped them into Casteval’s arms. It was all rather cordial, comparatively. Casteval almost felt inclined to thank them but he swallowed that urge.

No one tried to get in their way as they went through the door, as they walked through the somber halls. The path was easier now, almost lit up, as if the building itself wanted them out.

While there were a million doors, and none of them were locked, Casteval didn’t bother with any of them. They just led to other rooms, other people who were here because they wanted to be but perhaps had forgotten that fact. Casteval didn’t look back, even though he wanted to know if those in charge here were following them.

At the end of the path, it was easy to tell where to go. While there were a few rooms, a few doors, there was only one set of double doors, only one entrance that had a bar over the door. Casteval shifted his hold on Erimot so that he could use one of his hands, and pushed the bar to the side.

There was nothing out there. The door was open but out there there was just a gray beach. It looked almost like that gray place that Casteval had started in, so much water and fog, but they were on a small island. Casteval was certain, as well, that the water was far deeper. Still, he could see the outline of a door out in the fog, and there were the bones of boats sitting amongst the sand, half buried in places.

Casteval squinted, tried to see, and did see a figure out there, near the door, who was peering back at them, one hand raised. There was something off about the figure, not like those they’d left behind, but something else, closer to have Carmilla and Erimot were, altered by people’s perceptions of them.

The figure was standing on something and was holding what looked like a long staff. Casteval could only guess that it was the last remaining boat and the figure was the ferryman from the door to the island itself.

Casteval did not want to go through the door. Erimot would not survive another encounter like the last and they didn’t need to. They deserved to rest.

Now safe, Casteval put the bottle back into the net around his waist. He didn’t need it right now. Now that he had some idea of what it was, he was curious, but he would save it until he truly needed it.

Casteval stepped out, into the water, feeling the cold of it wrap around his legs like the skeletal hands of the dead, icy cold and wrong in so many ways. At his touch lights formed, in all different colors, swimming around him, bioluminescent. The figure just watched. The lights weren’t algae though, nor were they fish, but the impurities from within the building, the memories that were more instinct than memory.

Casteval took another step, focusing on what he needed to focus on, what Ranvert had told him to focus on. Home, bed, comfort and warmth and a good meal. He was going home.

He took a third step and on this one the water went on forever and he was stepping as if he was rounding a corner, until the world was a different one than he’d been in before.

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#legends of casteval #casteval #erimot #the tower of purity #my writing #body horror

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