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The Short Fic Weekly Challenge Thread!


elliotcat

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Bright - It reads almost as if Colran is hoping for an answer, for some guidance, but with the painful knowledge that he will not receive any. :(

- Nalenne and Quinn, gosh, she is impatient, isn't she?

- And the Vierce minis, so adorable. Meanie poking at Jorgan for being furry :p

 

Yoshi - Interesting reflection on each character (I don't know enough about the Jedi Knight line to that comment well) Jasin's visit makes me think of the problems of the Jedi Code when faced by the requirements of actually living - that attachments are bound to happen and that emotions are going to be - which is likely why Jedi are so insufferable, those that make it are capable of going through all that and overcome the pain, but do so in a way that appears so dismissive :rolleyes: Oh, that failed Jedi become Sith. And it's wonderful that Tran'thar has so few redeeming qualities, even if he is rather creepy for it.

 

Magdalane - Eee, Jorgan getting all flustered is adorable and the constant pulling himself back to the task at hand so he doesn't fluff it, so sweet.

 

Vesaniae - Hahaha, the most powerful force in the galaxy, indeed. I think the cowlick and the mole may be in for a fight. Gosh, that mole...

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Quinn's cowlick can talk??? :eek:

I wouldn't put it past it... :rolleyes:

Vesaniae - Hahaha, the most powerful force in the galaxy, indeed. I think the cowlick and the mole may be in for a fight. Gosh, that mole...

Ooh, I actually forgot about the mole! That would be a battle of epic proportions. :D

 

And now for a story with a distinctly not lighthearted tone... Agent Iriath's zombie promptified Worst Day Ever. Contains major spoilers for the opening of IA ch 2. I'm a bit unsure about the quality of this piece, but I'm going to push through my self-doubt and post it anyway.

 

 

Nar Shaddaa

11 ATC

 

 

Iriath’s instinct was to stand at attention, but he knew that would probably do more harm than good. He forced himself to relax just enough so as to not appear suspicious. It was an incredibly difficult task. Every nerve was sparking with tension as he fixed his gaze on the man in front of him.

 

Ardun Kothe. Iriath knew his name, now. It was always nice to know the name of a man you were going to kill.

 

“Four months ago,” Kothe said finally, breaking the silence, “I started getting messages from a source in the Empire. Claims to be a Cipher agent. Now, a factory’s in ruins, and here we are. I’m starting to think you might be real.”

 

Iriath met his gaze squarely. “You don’t trust me,” he said flatly. “I wouldn’t either.” But Kothe didn’t seem to recognize him, which was good. He could work with that.

 

“I got a copy of your personnel file,” Kothe said. “Says you were ‘traumatized’ when you learned Darth Jadus’ dirty secret. A Dark Council member running a terrorist network. Murdering civilians. That what made you want to flip?”

 

Iriath suppressed a shiver as he remembered Jadus. He still found it difficult to believe that he had somehow managed to talk down the Sith Lord and force him into exile. He would be back, he knew he would…

 

He forced himself back to the present. “The Sith should represent strength,” he told Kothe firmly. “It’s why they deserve to lead.” Strong Sith, like Lynore… “But Darth Jadus embodied corruption,” he continued, putting a note of disgust into his voice that was not entirely feigned. “If a man like that can rise to the Dark Council, what does that mean?”

 

“It means strength alone doesn’t make a good leader,” Kothe said quietly. He reached towards his belt, making Iriath twitch, but he was only retrieving his holocom. He activated the device; a few moments later, a holoimage of the Twi’lek woman Iriath had spoken with earlier appeared.

 

“Saber?” Kothe asked. “Tell the deck another card is in play. Code name: Legate.”

 

Saber inclined her head. “Acknowledged. Tell him congratulations.”

 

Kothe put the com away, then regarded Iriath with a calculating expression. “I’m prepping operations on the planet Taris, couple other places. Join up with our forces there. I’ll give you your first job.” He clasped his hands together in front of him. “You’re on my team now, Legate. A double agent inside the Empire…someone to help me win this war.”

 

Iriath allowed himself a small smile. “My colleagues will never see the shot coming.” And neither will you.

 

Kothe nodded. “Let’s hope they never need to. One thing before you go, though—there’s something I must ask you.”

 

Iriath raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

 

Kothe appeared to be studying him intently. “Have we met before, Legate?”

 

He knows. “I don’t believe so, sir,” Iriath lied blandly.

 

Kothe narrowed his eyes at him. “Then why is it that you hate me so much?”

 

Oh, hell. Despite his best efforts, it seemed he hadn’t been able to keep his emotions sufficiently in check. Damn Kothe’s Jedi senses. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he said, trying to stall.

 

Kothe shook his head. “You’re a good actor…Cipher. Almost had me fooled. But a true defector wouldn’t have that kind of anger towards the Republic bottled up inside of him.” He sighed. “I hate to do this, but I can’t exactly let you walk away now.”

 

Iriath tensed, preparing to defend himself.

 

“Keyword: onomatophobia,” Kothe said grimly.

 

Iriath froze.

 

“Initiate Thesh protocol, phase one.”

 

“Keyword acknowledged,” Iriath heard himself say, his voice sounding as if it were coming from a long way off. “Shutting down.”

 

The world swam, then went black.

 

“…don’t know if you can still hear me…” Kothe’s voice floated down into the darkness.

 

Iriath grasped at that tiny fragment of reality, clawing his way back up into consciousness. He was lying sprawled on the floor, his blaster digging uncomfortably into his side. There was a dull ache in the back of his head. Whether it was from hitting it when he fell or from whatever Kothe had done to him, he did not know.

 

“Ah, you’re awake,” Kothe said, moving into his field of vision. “Stand up, please.”

 

His legs and arms moved, maneuvering him up onto his feet. He was unable to suppress a sharp flare of panic at the sensation of being a passenger in his own body. What the hell had that damn Jedi done to him?

 

“Good. Now, sit down,” Kothe instructed, nodding towards a nearby chair.

 

Iriath moved mechanically over to the chair and sat. His fear was rapidly giving way to seething rage. Normally, he would never have allowed himself to lose control of his emotions in such a manner, but since it seemed that he didn’t even have control of his body, what harm could a little anger possibly do?

 

Kothe moved to stand in front of him, regarding him with an expression of wary curiosity. “Now then, Cipher. Tell me the truth. You’re not really here to defect, are you?”

 

His mouth moved of its own accord. “No. I am to pose as a double agent in order to infiltrate your organization.”

 

Kothe shook his head. “I suspected as much. What is your primary objective?”

 

“To eliminate you,” Iriath said in that horrible expressionless excuse for his voice.

 

Kothe appeared to ruminate for a moment, then fixed Iriath with an intent stare. “Tell me, Cipher. Tell me the truth. Why is it that you look at me with such hatred boiling within you?”

 

He couldn’t stop himself from answering, but he found that he could still move his eyes enough to lock his gaze on Kothe’s. He could still try to burn the man alive with the force of the fury within his heart. “You killed my wife,” Iriath said quietly.

 

Kothe looked startled for a moment, then recognition glimmered to life. “You,” he breathed. “I remember you now. That scar on your face, that was my work.”

 

Iriath was helpless to do anything but continue to glare, which he did with relish.

 

To his extreme satisfaction, Kothe looked down at the floor, an expression of guilt flitting across his face. “Revert to phase zero,” he muttered. “You can talk now.”

 

“I’m going to kill you,” Iriath said immediately. “I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but I swear I will find a way.”

 

“I can hardly blame you, Cipher,” Kothe said quietly. “We’ve all done terrible things. I’m sure your record is no cleaner than mine.”

 

Iriath shrugged. “That was duty. This is personal.”

 

“Personal,” Kothe sighed. “Of course.”

 

That flicker of guilt appeared again, and Iriath was eager to twist the knife further. “I crawled back over to her, after you wounded me,” he said softly. “I had just enough strength left to hold her. She spent her last breath telling me that she loved me.”

 

Kothe flinched.

 

Iriath continued, merciless. “And after they found us, after the medics released me, I had to go home and tell our five year-old daughter that her mother was never coming back. She cried for days.”

 

“Enough,” Kothe said hoarsely.

 

Iriath sneered coldly. “Guilty conscience, Jedi?”

 

“Keyword: onomatophobia,” Kothe snapped. “You will not say anything more about this, and you will not tell your superiors that I was a Jedi.”

 

“Command accepted,” Iriath responded. I hurt him. He’s vulnerable. Even with this…whatever it is he’s done to me, I can still hurt him.

 

“Now then, Cipher,” Kothe said quickly. “You’re to travel to Taris immediately…”

 

Iriath listened silently. He would find a way to escape Kothe’s control, and he would kill him. I’ll do it, Lynore. I promise.

 

 

Notes:

Okay, a bit of explanation here:

Iriath was an officer in the Imperial military who was transferred to Intelligence for, uh, mysterious reasons. *coughplotcontrivanceough* Back during the war, he fought alongside his Sith wife, Lynore Alamar, who was killed by Ardun Kothe when he was still a Jedi. I hope this clears up any confusion.

 

Edited by Vesaniae
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Prompt - Celebration

Title - Happy Birthday!

Class - Smuggler

Minimal spoilers

 

 

Another year older, Dankin grinned as he told funny stories and drank the best tihaar–Mandalorian drink–he'd had in ages. His father and mother, Chernan and Dinua, and brother, Backblast, celebrated along with Dankin's crew.

 

"And then–" Corso roared with laughter, "–Dankin punched the Hutt in the face!"

 

Chernan bellowed out a laugh. "That's my boy. jate'ad!"

 

It meant "great child." Backblast slapped Dankin on the shoulder, the heavy gauntlet of his Republic armor nearly knocking the wind out of Dankin's lungs.

 

"That's nothing," Akaavi said with a smile. "He had the audacity to kick Moff Dracen in the gett'se on Quesh."

 

Chernan and Backblast roared. Dinua grinned and patted her son's shoulder. Dankin grinned and swallowed another gulp of tihaar. Guss grinned and put back his own mug. This was followed by a drinking contest that Dinua and Risha politely backed out of.

 

Of course, Chernan, who would not be taken, won.

 

Dankin grinned fiercely. "That's my father! Jatne'buir!"

 

Dankin rarely dabbled into Mando'a, but being more than slightly drunk, he felt like telling his father he was the best. He glanced around the table. Bowdaar, in a daze, was wandering around the hold, smashing repeatedly–and unintentionally–into C2-N2. Guss was roaring in laughter at nothing, and Corso was passed out. Chernan, Dinua, and Backblast were trading war stories.

 

"Want to celebrate in private?" Akaavi whispered into Dankin's ear.

 

Dankin smiled, grabbed his wife's hand, and headed for their quarters.

 

"I thought you'd never ask," he said.

 

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Magdalane, I love this one. So sweet to see Jorgan so nervous and determined.

 

Ves, the Quinn vs. cowlick stubborn-off is one thing Quinn is just never going to win. As for Iriath? I could feel the rage rolling off the screen.

 

Yoshi, that's a loooot of alcohol :D

 

Now a frivolous Grooming for Sevasht Warwiggins. Set after the end of the class line. 150 words, spoilers for That Warrior Thing.

 

 

 

- frame: Sevasht, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, and currently wreathed in red-orange flame, steps onto the bridge where Quinn is working. -

Sevasht: Hey! Mal! Where'd the hair gel go?

- frame: Quinn's eyes go round. -

Quinn: Uh, my lord...

Sevasht: Yeah, I know, I'll get dressed in a minute. Hair first.

Quinn: My lord, that's...

Sevasht: I know you're the only other person on this ship who gels his hair. So...?

Quinn: My lord, I think there's something of more concern?

Sevasht: What?

Quinn: You're on fire.

Sevasht: Oh, right. The flamethrower trap in the refresher cabinet? That was actually pretty creative.

Quinn: I had predicted that it would have a detrimental effect on you. That was the whole point of the trap.

- frame: Sevasht looks down at the raging flame. -

Sevasht: Nah. It'll wear off.

Sevasht: Better luck next time. Now seriously, where did you put the gel?

 

 

 

 

 

 

In canon, Quinn makes multiple attempts to kill Sevasht; even when he is successful Sevasht just respawns. After Baras's death Quinn continues to attempt assassination out of habit.

 

 

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Not entirely happy with 'em, but here's a couple short Grooming pieces for Rissia and Kinka.

 

Kinka

 

“C’mon agent, what are you doing in there? This is Balmorra, not the Miss Imperial pageant. No one’s gonna notice if your hair’s not perfectly bouncy today.”

 

Kinka did her best to ignore Kaliyo’s muffled voice on the other side of the refresher door, instead peering intently into the mirror. She carefully applied shadow to her eyes and dabbed a bit of balm on her lips. Her thick auburn locks were gathered into a high ponytail, bangs settling in seductively over her left eye. Finally, a smile. That should do the trick, she thought.

 

Kaliyo eyed the agent all the way to the terror cell’s safe house. “What’s up with you today? I’ve never seen you taken an hour to get ready in the morning.”

 

Kinka shrugged. “If I’m gonna die, I might as well be a good-looking corpse.”

 

“Uh huh.” Kaliyo wasn’t buying it in the least. No matter. They were late, and it was time to get back to business.

 

“Good morning,” the agent said brightly to the mostly unimpressed crowd. Her greeting was met with more than a few scowls.

 

But Sanju Pyne looked the agent up and down and smiled. “Glad to see you back. Looks like the war zone agrees with you.”

 

Kinka grinned. Mission accomplished.

 

 

Rissia

 

Malavai Quinn had tried not to notice Rissia when he joined her crew. She had openly flirted with him from the moment they met, but she couldn’t be older than 21, and he was (sigh) nearer to 40 than not. Besides, he reasoned, that’s not what I’m here for.

 

But slowly Quinn’s resolve began to falter. The first thing that made him take notice of the Sith lord was her hair. Her locks were dark like his and immaculately coifed, with a scent that reminded him of spring. (He cringed, realizing that at some point he’d made note of how she smelled.) She wore it the same way every day, pinned up in neat curls that framed her pale face, the rest tamed into submission in a bun in the back.

 

But today was different. He walked by her quarters to see Rissia sitting at her desk, back turned to the door. Quinn would normally avert his eyes and hurry past whenever she left the door open, but on this occasion, he stopped short. Her green silk robe fell loosely off one shoulder, and the always perfect mane of hair spilled in soft curls down her back. He wouldn’t have guessed it was that long, and he found himself wanting to run his fingers through it.

 

The captain stared admiringly as she applied her makeup, just a bit of dark shadow on the eyes, nothing more. On another woman it might have looked garish. On Rissia, it lent her inquisitive brown eyes an air of sultry mystery.

 

Quinn felt his face redden. Stars help him, he was smitten.

 

 

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Prompt: Backfired plans

Title: An Oblique approach

 

 

 

During some off time during the Battle for Corellia, a bar in the Republic controlled sector, some distance from the front lines.

 

Doc wander into a bar near where the main disembarkation port for the Republic, wanting get a drink and case the place for the beauties he was sure to find. Considering his latest target of affection wasn't falling in love with him, he decided to try to get her jealous. This place was packed. He look at his watch and saw that it was local dinner time. He knew that Fiona and Kira would show up in about 30 minutes, so he had some time veiw the playing field. Then he spotted something that cause a spring in his step. At the bar, he saw the behind of a female that just screamed 'spank me'. So he walked up to the female that was leaning on the bar drink something, watching the screen for some sporting event. He manuvered next to her, and after a few moments, he coughed to get her attention. No response. Time to use his natural charm.

 

"So, beautiful, what are you watching?"

 

Now getting a better look at her, he was stunned. She was beautiful, even in her green armor she was wearing. She wore it like it was a second skin. Now as he examined it closely, it was a Balmorran styled suit. That meant she served on Balmorra or had Ballmoran connections.

 

"So you served on Balmorra? I served with the resistance there. Gruesome fighting there."

 

"Come on, Staurt. You can take that guy to the hole any day of the week, and twice on Sunday." said the female to no one in particular.

 

"My name isn't Stuart, gorgeous. It's Doc."

 

Now she turned to Doc, he was mesmerized by the brown eyes. "No, and I wasn't trying to talk to you either. Doc."

 

More things shown up in his veiw, like the Major tab on the high chest area, and the unit marking 326. "How did a beauty like yourself, become a Major in the Army, at such a young age?"

 

"Doing the impossible and making it look easy, killing Sith and Imperials by the freighter load. By not killing concieted men like you, who do not take a hint"

 

"Come on, babe. I am the man who can tame a woman like you. All work and no play makes men like me irrestistible."

 

She turned back to the screen drinking her mug. Doc was getting flustered, obvoiusly this game was very important to her. He looked at the screen, but couldn't identify it. "Barkeep, can i have what the young lady is drinking?"

 

"I don't have the right stuff to make it here right now. The Major brought the ingerdiants here for me to make it, so i made it for her. After all, Havoc Squad is always welcomed here."

 

"Havoc Squad? I don't remember hearing you on Balmorra, sweetheart." he eyed her.

 

She stood up, and faced Doc, litterally eye to eye with him. "Of course not, Doc. By design. Barkeep, do you happened to have a area where losers can't go into so i can watch the last of that game."

 

"I do, but that loser has it reserved."

 

Doc was smiling at this, very large smile. Doc had this beauty cornered, and soon, Fiona will see her and be stricken with jealousy.

 

Then a sharp pain came to his groin. and Then, another sharp pain as his nose was broken by a fist coming down across his face. Then the broad pain of him hitting the ground, which was barely registed after the assault on his groin or his nose.

 

He looked up in his pain, seeing Kira and a the red haired Jedi that he was chasing for the last couple of years moving towward him.

 

"Hey, beautiful. It seems this brute didn't want to talk to poor old Doc?" Well, if he could play up the sympathy of Fiona, this night won't be so bad.

 

"What are you doing, by assualting Doc?" said the Jedi Fiona.

 

"Letting him know, in the only language he knows, that I am not amused by his advances." as the Major turned around.

 

"that isn't rii...ROSE"

 

"FIONA?"

 

the Jedi and Major embarced in a hug for long lost friends or family memeber have after a long journey.

 

Kira helped Doc up form the floor, and got him some napkins so that he could stop the bleeding from his nose.

 

"Looks like your grand plan went up like a comet into star, Good Old Doc," said a smirking Kira.

 

"At least I got you sitting next to me."

 

SLAP!!

 

Kira got up and walked over to where the two best friends were talking, leaving Doc on the floor wondering if anything else could go wrong.

 

SPLASH! WOOSH!

 

"Opps! Didn't see you sitting on the ground, pal" Said Vik as he was holding a large pitcher and a bucket.

 

 

 

 

Rose and Fiona grew up together as sisters, Rose is a foster child.

Vik is there to make some money on the side, and doesn't like anyone upsetting his mealticket.

 

Edited by Icerose
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Prompt: Backfired plans

Title: An Oblique approach

 

During some off time during the Battle for Corellia, a bar in the Republic controlled sector, some distance from the front lines.

 

 

Doc wander into a bar near where the main disembarkation port for the Republic, wanting get a drink and case the place for the beauties he was sure to find. Considering his latest target of affection wasn't falling in love with him, he decided to try to get her jealous. This place was packed. He look at his watch and saw that it was local dinner time. He knew that Fiona and Kira would show up in about 30 minutes, so he had some time veiw the playing field. Then he spotted something that cause a spring in his step. At the bar, he saw the behind of a female that just screamed 'spank me'. So he walked up to the female that was leaning on the bar drink something, watching the screen for some sporting event. He manuvered next to her, and after a few moments, he coughed to get her attention. No response. Time to use his natural charm.

 

"So, beautiful, what are you watching?"

 

Now getting a better look at her, he was stunned. She was beautiful, even in her green armor she was wearing. She wore it like it was a second skin. Now as he examined it closely, it was a Balmorran styled suit. That meant she served on Balmorra or had Ballmoran connections.

 

"So you served on Balmorra? I served with the resistance there. Gruesome fighting there."

 

"Come on, Staurt. You can take that guy to the hole any day of the week, and twice on Sunday." said the female to no one in particular.

 

"My name isn't Stuart, gorgeous. It's Doc."

 

Now she turned to Doc, he was mesmerized by the brown eyes. "No, and I wasn't trying to talk to you either. Doc."

 

More things shown up in his veiw, like the Major tab on the high chest area, and the unit marking 326. "How did a beauty like yourself, become a Major in the Army, at such a young age?"

 

"Doing the impossible and making it look easy, killing Sith and Imperials by the freighter load. By not killing concieted men like you, who do not take a hint"

 

"Come on, babe. I am the man who can tame a woman like you. All work and no play makes men like me irrestistible."

 

She turned back to the screen drinking her mug. Doc was getting flustered, obvoiusly this game was very important to her. He looked at the screen, but couldn't identify it. "Barkeep, can i have what the young lady is drinking?"

 

"I don't have the right stuff to make it here right now. The Major brought the ingerdiants here for me to make it, so i made it for her. After all, Havoc Squad is always welcomed here."

 

"Havoc Squad? I don't remember hearing you on Balmorra, sweetheart." he eyed her.

 

She stood up, and faced Doc, litterally eye to eye with him. "Of course not, Doc. By design. Barkeep, do you happened to have a area where losers can't go into so i can watch the last of that game."

 

"I do, but that loser has it reserved."

 

Doc was smiling at this, very large smile. Doc had this beauty cornered, and soon, Fiona will see her and be stricken with jealousy.

 

Then a sharp pain came to his groin. and Then, another sharp pain as his nose was broken by a fist coming down across his face. Then the broad pain of him hitting the ground, which was barely registed after the assault on his groin or his nose.

 

He looked up in his pain, seeing Kira and a the red haired Jedi that he was chasing for the last couple of years moving towward him.

 

"Hey, beautiful. It seems this brute didn't want to talk to poor old Doc?" Well, if he could play up the sympathy of Fiona, this night won't be so bad.

 

"What are you doing, by assualting Doc?" said the Jedi Fiona.

 

"Letting him know, in the only language he knows, that I am not amused by his advances." as the Major turned around.

 

"that isn't rii...ROSE"

 

"FIONA?"

 

the Jedi and Major embarced in a hug for long lost friends or family memeber have after a long journey.

 

Kira helped Doc up form the floor, and got him some napkins so that he could stop the bleeding from his nose.

 

"Looks like your grand plan went up like a comet into star, Good Old Doc," said a smirking Kira.

 

"At least I got you sitting next to me."

 

SLAP!!

 

Kira got up and walked over to where the two best friends were talking, leaving Doc on the floor wondering if anything else could go worng.

 

SPLASH! WOOSH!

 

"Opps! Didn't see you sitting on the ground, pal" Said Vik as he was holding a large pitcher and a bucket.

 

Please use spoiler tags to conserve space.

Edited by irishfino
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Prompt: Grooming/some Bad Timing and Guilty Pleasures

Not at all serious, technically spoils a later /unexpected JK companion. The razor is inspired by Samantha's toothbrush from Mass Effect 3.

 

 

The refresher in the ship left a lot to be desired, but I couldn't live without it. Even as a Jedi, I had standards for how I looked for people who weren't my crew. Nothing in the Jedi Code about not having any fun, way I saw it.

 

The limited funds the Order provided were just enough to cover operating expenses, but the Force had been with us while adventuring, and T7 had managed to find literally dozens of credit-filled lockers and computer hardware lying around unattended. Not enough to make us rich or anything, but sufficient funds to arrange for strategic deliveries of everyday luxuries most people took for granted.

 

On our last trip to Nar Shaddaa, we'd picked up one of the new Silky Star razor, and it was working wonders compared to the cheap mass market ones Kira and I'd been forced to rely on before. According to our contact, a man named Dravis, it was powered by some kind of "mass effect" field, whatever that meant. I wasn't sure if the science was legitimate, but neither Kira nor I were complaining.

 

One of my favorite songs came on over the room's speakers that I'd had T7 install. "And I will remember youuuuuuuuuuuu", I sang along happily to a pop song I'd loved back in my younger, less reputable days back home on Corellia.

 

"And meeeeeeeeeeeeee," continued the electronically-enhanced voices from the band.

 

I heard a knock on the door, Just Doc looking to spend a couple of more hours in front of the mirror admiring himself, I figured. Even if he hadn't disrupted my reading with one of those Jawagrams earlier in the day, I wasn't going to lose 'me time' to his need to spent quality time with his mustache.

 

"Not now, Doc, it's my turn to spend half the day here."

 

I let my arms fall into the water, splashing some onto the floor, and leaned my head back against the wall, the music still blaring. I closed my eyes.

 

"We can maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaake it."

 

The knocking returned, more insistent than before and more aggressive than was usual from Doc. I sighed, then stepped out of tub and wrapped the large towel around me, strategically placing it to avoid giving him any funny ideas, and wrapped another around my head. If this messes up my hair, I"ll show him somewhere new to put his kolto pack.

 

I grabbed my razor and my jumpsuit, and strode to the door fully intending to give my persistent admirer a piece of my mind. I stepped out, and almost ran directly into Scourge. I went as red as he was.

 

"Oh, I didn't realize it was you. My apologies." I hoped my sincerity wasn't undermined with the new song's chorus about dancing Wookies rattling the room behind me.

 

He regarded me with cold, unflinching, eyes, then walked past me and into the refresher as I sat there with my mouth stupidly open. Strangely, the music continued. I shrugged, silently thanked the Force it hadn't been Rusk, and turned to head to my quarters, hoping to avoid Doc along the way.

 

The door opened even as I finished that thought. Paying no attention to me, Scourge calmly reached down and grabbed the Silky Star out of my hand, then did an about-face back into the refresher.

 

I could have sworn I heard him humming.

 

Edited by Lesaberisa
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Adwynyth, welcome back. I thought your piece was well done, "seeing" the target and Kaliyo's aura was an inspired touch.

Thankee kindly! :)

 

I've just been catching up, and as usual, there's nothing but greatness from all of you. :p I love the fan fiction section. Hope I don't get too busy to keep up again.

 

And I promise, more shenanigans from Adwynyth and pals soon. :D

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Vesaniae - Iriath is in a whole mess of trouble now, wow. You also captured the ideas and fear of that loss of autonomy really well. I think you should expand further :)

 

Yoshi - Nice to see a family that isn't entirely torn apart by war, in-fighting or just being associated with "hokey ancient religions" :p

 

Bright - You know you must lead an interesting life when being on fire is lower down the list of priorities than hair gel.

 

Marissalf - Kinka knows what she wants and how to get it :3 And effortless beauty? Requires so much effort. And Quinn, hah, oh Quinn...

 

Icerose - Welcome to the thread :) I'd say that your tense and sentence structure might need a little work, but that's all practice. Otherwise, it was a fairly entertaining read. I laughed when Doc had his nose broken.

 

 

 

Grooming

Rochester

 

 

 

Rochester picked up the razor, turned it on and checked himself in the mirror. He sighed, turned the razor off and set it down again. He moved the skin of his neck and chin around with rough fingers, examining the little flecks of red stubble growing there.

 

The metal of the mirror was cold against his forehead and it helped him think. The razor found its way into his hand again and the red hair started to disappear. Rochester paused as he approached his lower lip. There was a short, small strip of hair just starting to grow. In a moment it was gone.

 

He would look stupid with a beard, anyway. At least, that was what he told himself as he brushed away the remains of the hair and washed his face. The cybernetics were enough to deal with, having to make sure not to bend them or damage them. It was hard to clean inside his ears sometimes, the large hunks of metal that dove into the canals just got in the way. He idly wondered if there was still wax built up in there, not that he could check. It was all metal anyway. The flesh was just for show.

 

He trimmed his sideburns, moving carefully around the poles running along his cheeks. He bumped one of them, just gently, and sent a terrible tremor into his head. He gritted his teeth and steadied himself against the sink. He was used to the pain. He was used to the noise. He would not be overcome.

 

With his hair neat and his face washed, Rochester left the refresher. He decided to lie down on his bed, hoping the ringing would go away. Just five minutes.

 

 

Edited by Tatile
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Bright - You know you must lead an interesting life when being on fire is lower down the list of priorities than hair gel.

 

Mortal danger just gets devalued after a while. After Quinn surprise-injected him with the rakghoul plague during dinner, Sevasht finished his meal and helped Vette with the dishes before he bothered to pick up the rakghoul cure serum.

 

marissalf, I suspect Sanju Pyne would be terribly vulnerable to a pretty face. Poor boy. As for Quinn, I love the impression of "On another woman it might have looked garish. On Rissia, it lent her inquisitive brown eyes an air of sultry mystery."

 

Welcome to the thread, Icerose! I can fully get behind any tormenting of Doc. And I giggled hard at the unexpected reaction of Fiona to Rose.

 

Lesaberisa, I love the image of Scourge just brazenly helping himself to whatever he wants, up to and including the contents of the Knight's hand.

 

Tatile, poor Rochester...I rarely think of the metal/flesh interface and how one's nerves would react to deeply integrated cybernetics and any disturbance thereof.

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NotLP: Goals and Ambitions for Colran Niral. 300 words, no game spoilers.

 

 

 

21 BTC

 

Xar was specializing in combat.

 

Nar Shaddaa was not the usual training ground for warrior Knights, but Xar's Master, from Hutt space himself, didn't trust the "ivory tower" he supposed the Core Worlds to be. Anyway, he was a weaponsmaster and Xar was a very apt pupil, and that was one thing Colran couldn't do no matter how much he wanted to. He didn't have the raw Force control to keep his thin limbs going in the right ways.

 

Not that he would be choosing training to stay close to the Mirialan girl anyway, because while he was quite sure their relationship was appropriate, he probably shouldn't get any closer to her silver laugh and velvet voice and wicked sense of humor. This was almost certainly the kind of desire he had been warned against. Having watched the oft-lethal wrecks of teenage relationships on Korriban he understood why unrestrained attraction was such a bad idea.

 

Colran wouldn't get closer to Xar, but in past months in general he had gotten used to company and started wanting more. He attended the kafhouses every two weeks, let Gend and Iroth lead the way in socializing, learned about the instruments and about the players' home planets. Thought about where and how he might learn more. Some of the information on other cultures was locked in with the Temple historians; not quite as good as first-hand experience but a lot easier to get permission for, and the scholar librarians were themselves very kind and worth talking to.

 

In truth, Colran was growing anxious to learn some specialization. Something that would impress...that is, would be, in general, impressiv...well, something that would help him develop his innate talents to the fullest, which was a worthy goal. He didn't have the kind of Force/physical coordination to master combat, but he could study. It was a start, anyway.

 

 

Edited by bright_ephemera
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I suddenly found myself inspired to do a Dreams and Nightmares for Iriath as a follow-up to the previous piece. Contains mild spoilers for IA ch 2 and takes place sometime during that. I'm not sure when, exactly, as it's been a while since I played through that line and can't remember the precise chronology.

 

 

Aboard X-70B Phantom-class starship

11 ATC

 

 

As soon as the hallucinations started, Iriath knew that it was only a matter of time. He doubted that he would be able to make it through this stage and only ever see Watcher X. There were too many ghosts in his past for him to not be haunted.

 

Mercifully, it happened while he was alone in his quarters preparing for bed. The soft rustle of silk and a slight ache in his temples informed him that he was not alone—at least, not in his mind. He turned around, knowing what he would see, knowing that it would not be real, but unable to suppress a thrill of anticipation.

 

Lynore stood a short distance away from him, wearing the same long red dress that had graced her form on the day of their marriage. The floor-length skirt continued to rustle faintly as the light fabric moved with her breathing. Her dark red hair cascaded in shimmering waves around her shoulders, framing her oval face, a few stray strands drifting over the crimson Sith tattoo that accented her high forehead. Her rich brown eyes sparkled as she looked at him, smiling.

 

“Hello, James,” she said. Her voice was like rain in a desert, and he longed for more.

 

This is not happening, Iriath told himself. She’s not really here. It’s all in your head.

 

She glided towards him, the narrow arches of her brows drawing together in a slight frown when he did not respond. “It’s me,” she whispered, leaning upwards to brush her rosebud lips across his cheek. Her touch was exquisitely soft and painfully real.

 

“Lynore,” he choked, shivering. He tried to put his arms around her, but his hands passed through her as if she were a ghost. She was even less than that, he knew, just a figment of his imagination, but it was getting hard to remember that when he could feel her pressed against his side.

 

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

 

Iriath shook his head slowly. “So many things, Lynore. So very many things.”

 

She shifted her feet and bit the inside of her cheek the way she always had when she was worried. “I wish I could help.”

 

“I know you do,” he said hoarsely. At that moment, he would have gladly ripped out his own heart if that was what he had to do to touch her. “But I have to handle this on my own.”

 

Lynore gently took his face in her hands, tracing the dark shadows under his eyes. “You look exhausted, love. You need to rest.”

 

Iriath squeezed his eyes shut, willing with all his might for her to disappear, for him to pass out or drop dead on the spot, anything for him not to have to feel her delicate fingertips on his face. But when he opened them a moment later, she was still there.

 

She took his hands in hers. He let her tow him over to the bed, wondering how it was that he could feel her skin against his, but was unable to make contact of his own. Perhaps his mind was just being especially cruel.

 

He silently cursed his existence as he lay down and she curled up next to him, nestling into the crook of the arm he instinctively moved to put around her.

 

“Tell me,” Lynore said after a moment, “how is Tessa?”

 

Iriath tried not to look at her, but all of his will was insufficient to make him tear his eyes away from her lovely face. “She’s well,” he said tersely. “She’s a Lord, now, or so I’ve heard. I haven’t seen her in some time.”

 

“A Lord,” Lynore murmured. “And she’s only just turned nineteen… I’m so proud, James. So very proud of her—and of you, too. It’s been so hard for you, but you’re doing so well.”

 

“You think so?” he asked bitterly. It was taking everything he had to remain composed.

 

She nodded. “You’re stronger than you think you are. You’ll free yourself and avenge me, I know it.”

 

“I hope you’re right.”

 

Lynore smiled. “I am.” She trailed her fingers over his jaw. “You should keep the stubble,” she told him wryly. “It’s cute.”

 

He knew that it was not medically possible for a heart to break, but he felt as though his was about to do so nonetheless. “Lynore—”

 

“Hush,” she said firmly. “You need to rest.”

 

Iriath obediently closed his eyes and surrendered to his fatigue, letting the peaceful ocean of sleep carry him away. Lynore followed him down into the depths, her ephemeral hand still on his face as reality gave way to the softer simulacrum of a dream. There, he could touch her, take her in his arms and kiss those perfect, full lips, mold her slender body against his and pretend, just for a little while, that she would still be there beside him when he awoke.

 

She was not, of course. When he opened his eyes, his arm was still curled around the empty space where she should have been, and there was not even an illusion of her presence to comfort him this time.

 

 

Notes:

Poor Iriath.

 

Lynore was more of a light-leaning Sith. She looks like this, if anyone's curious/wanted to test the adequacy of my description. ;)

 

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Ves...the feels. I don't even know Iriath that well to date but I feel for him. His keeping his arm ready in place for someone who won't be there is wrenching.

 

Kitar, I'm honored! :) I love this; Ananz and Vette's outfits are great. If you ever want to draw more you should consider making your own thread over in Fan Art where everyone can see. (And possibly link to it here? I'll defer to others on the thread as to whether fan art of SFC fic specifically is kosher to link/post-under-cut here.) :o:)

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Prompt - Parenthood/What's In a Name

Title - To Name a Baby

Class - Bounty Hunter

Minor spoilers

 

 

Dha cradled his daughter in his arms and bounced gently on his heels. The sleeping baby cooed contentedly and swung her arms at something only she could see. Dha smiled lovingly and reached up to brush a lock of dark hair out of her eyes, both so like her mother's. Only her stubby cranial horns resembled her father; otherwise she was a spitting image of Mako.

 

"Jorie?" asked Mako.

 

They had been deliberating the baby's name for days and hadn't come up with anything. Dha had considered Briika, after his sister, or Mesh, the Mando'a word for beauty. Mako's suggestion, Jorie, honored the lumbering Nikto on Dha's crew that had been killed on Hutta.

 

"No," muttered Dha, "no, I thought to name a male child Braden. Under the circumstances I wouldn't mind, but...it doesn't feel right to me."

 

Mako nodded. "Okay, what then?"

 

"How about...Hylo?" Dha asked.

 

"After Hylo Visz?" Mako asked. "Gault's old flame?"

 

Dha nodded. "Why not?"

 

"A smuggler?"

 

"Good point."

 

Suddenly, he snapped his fingers, knowing the name that came to him would please both him and Mako.

 

"Crysta," he said.

 

Mako smiled sweetly. "Crysta. After Crysta Markon, our handler in the Great Hunt?"

 

Dha nodded. "She helped us to victory. We should honor her."

 

"I like it."

 

Dha grinned down at his daughter, who suddenly opened her plate-sized eyes.

 

"Crysta," he whispered. "Hello, baby Crysta."

 

 

 

I agonized over names for a long time, but this seems the most fitting.

 

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Week of 4/12/2013

Head of the Class - Our characters have been to academies, universities, boot camps, and the universal school of hard knocks: as students, as teachers, or maybe as maintenance, assistant, or thief. Write about your character's education.

 

And, as ever,

Night of the Living Prompt: Keep on using any prompt you like! Check out the list at http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=5223753&postcount=1675.

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@Yoshi I always find naming the hardest part. I like Dha's decision :)

 

Now, in an effort to summon additional stories, I'll throw a pair of less than perfectly happy pieces out there:

 

Grooming (also suits The Morning After) with Mellekor near the end of his class line. Roughly a year before Ananz's arrival on the scene. 200 words. No game spoilers.

 

 

 

In the morning Mellekor left Jaesa's room and entered his own for some fresh clothing. Then he moved on.

 

A small squeak when he entered the holo room drew his attention. Vette stood stricken in the opposite hallway.

 

He stopped. And found himself struggling to decipher her expression. Shock. Disbelief. Pain, he thought, a discomfort like nothing he had seen from her since before he had removed her collar.

 

Had he been that obvious with Jaesa? He touched his face, around where Vette was staring, the side of his mouth. Purple smeared away. Jaesa. That had not occurred to him. Most lovers he took were not so garishly painted.

 

Well, it had told the tale that Jaesa would be telling soon enough anyway. Mellekor gritted his teeth and met Vette's eye. He had nothing to be ashamed of.

 

"Whoa," the Twi'lek said weakly. Her forehead creased and twitched a couple of times. "Looks like somebody had...some...fun..."

 

Mellekor didn't want to hear it from her and was under no obligation to care. He swept past her, letting her scramble out of the way, and went on to the refresher.

 

 

 

 

Deadly Sins: Lust for Colran Niral. 650 words. No game spoilers.

 

 

 

20 BTC: Colran is 17

 

"Hey, Xar." Colran knocked at the door to the dorm room the Mirialan girl shared with several other padawans. "You ready?"

 

"Just a second," she called. There was a muffled bump, footsteps, then Xar appeared at the door. Her hands were behind her back for some reason; she gestured him in by jerking her head. "Help me with this."

 

He stepped into her room. It had a yellow-gold curtain over the artificial light and a subtle pleasant scent. He could tell which of the four bunks was hers, or guessed he could, by the geometric-patterned blanket thrown haphazardly across it.

 

Xar had turned her back to him. He saw that her shirt buttoned down the back; she was grabbing the two edges of it and a couple of the buttons were undone. "I can't reach these," she explained over her shoulder.

 

"Xar, uh..." The skin of her back was smooth, a green slightly paler than her face, and line of her backbone was straight, and - right, she had made a request. He pulled her shirt's edges together and nimbly buttoned them, careful to avoid touching her.

 

She laughed softly when she turned around. "Thanks," she said, arching an eyebrow. "Now I'm ready to go."

 

She didn't move, though. Colran noticed now that there was a whitish smudge on her face. He dared to say "Hold up, you've got something on your lip." He raised his hand to his own face to point out the problem spot.

 

Xar swiped a couple of times and missed. She giggled when he gestured again. "You're just messing with me."

 

"No, honest." She wasn't getting any closer to clearing it. He leaned in and reached for her, his thoughts rushing a little beyond his hand to reach the softness of her lips.

 

He stopped himself halfway. It suddenly occurred to him that he was alone with this girl in her bedroom and they were playing, flirting even, and it was very wrong of him to be here doing this.

 

Colran dropped his hand and edged backward.

 

Xar tilted her head and pouted. "What, you afraid I'll give you yennen?"

 

"No," he said. "We'd better go."

 

"I didn't think we were in that big a hurry?"

 

"It's not that."

 

"So what is it?" she challenged.

 

"If you feel anything you must know why we shouldn't be alone together. This..." he gestured around, intensely aware of the bed only a couple of paces away..."it isn't the Jedi way."

 

Her brows lowered and her voice rose. "Really? I thought you were different from the rest of 'em. That was what made you fun, Colran."

 

He wanted to be fun for her. But there were rules, and his whole purpose here was to get them right. "I can't do this. I'm sorry, Xar." He backed away further. "I have to go."

 

He regretted it the second he stumbled into the hallway. He had just hurt Xar, and angered her, and made a fool of himself in front of her, all for - what, a rule they weren't going to be caught in? In a single stroke he had wrecked their friendship, and the breathless possibility beyond friendship, and if following Jedi rules was supposed to give him some kind of satisfaction, well, the rules weren't holding up their end of the deal. He just felt sick.

 

Usually when he felt troubled he would go to Master Zauvien, but Master Zauvien couldn't hear about this. It would get Xar in trouble. And him, too; he was partly to blame for getting into the situation. Besides, for once the thought of Zauvien's approval for his efforts wasn't much comfort. Instead he headed back to his own dormitory. No way was he going back out where Xar might walk through. He threw himself on his bed and thought about her in the curtain-filtered light. Squeezing his eyes shut didn't make her go away. He wondered what her lips would have felt like after all. It would defeat everything he had worked for so far to find out. That didn't stop him from wondering.

 

 

 

 

Yennen are cooties, according to what I just made up.

 

Guilt over "getting into that situation in the first place" is very, very, common, and usually misplaced.

 

 

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@ Bright, that poor Jedi. I imagine it would be awkward.

 

Prompt - Head of the Class

Title - The Academy

Class - Trooper

Minimal spoilers

 

 

Prudii pulled himself out of bed at the first sound of the electronic buzz that awoke the recruits each day. He found himself face-down on the floor, realized he was only half awake, and stood grumbling. He swiftly pulled on his tan trousers and blue jacket, shoved his pistol in its holster, and strapped his rifle across his back.

 

Sergeant Rakiya, a female Mirialan, stepped into the dorms. "Good, you're up. The rest of you slobs, on your feet!"

 

The other troops groaned. "Yes, ma'am."

 

"Private Prudii, since you're the first up, you can get your one-mile jog done."

 

He saluted. "Yes, ma'am!"

 

He was used to running a long ways. Back on Mandalore, before he'd joined the Republic, he'd gone for a jog daily twice as long in search for animals he could bring back for dinner, and even done it in full Mandalorian armor. This was nothing.

 

He finished his job and got back to the base camp with only light beads of sweat forming around his cranial horns. He grinned, ran a hand through the thin strip of hair on the top of his head, and stood at attention as Sergeant Rakiya approached.

 

"Good job," she said with a smile. "The next-fastest trooper is coming up right behind you."

 

Prudii crossed his arms and turned to watch. A human female with stringy red hair and a cybernetic on her left jaw came into the camp, panting for breath, but just barely.

 

"Good work, Private," said Rakiya. "Prudii, this is Private Eryn, codename Plasma-Torch. She's our techie."

 

"Good to meet you, Private," Prudii said. "I'm Prudii."

 

"Good to meet you."

 

"All right, head for the mess," Rakiya said. "Firing range after."

 

"Yes, ma'am!"

 

* * *

 

Prudii raised his rifle to his shoulder, lined it up on the holographic targets head, and prepared to fire. He glanced around. Plasma-Torch was two rows down, her rifle readied in a similarly professional fashion. Another trooper, a male with short blonde hair and blue eyes, also appeared to have previous training.

 

No matter. Prudii would be better.

 

"Ready," said Sgt. Rakiya. "Aim...fire!"

 

Several troops made the mistake of opening up on full auto. Prudii shook his head and took a single shot at the holo's head. It hit cleanly. He fired again. Again. Every one was a headshot. At the end of the five-minute round, Rakiya called a ceasefire.

 

"Private Prudii, well done," she said. "You scored the highest. Second was Plasma-Torch, and third was Private Jonsen."

 

The blonde-haired man grinned and slung his rifle over his shoulder.

 

Prudii nodded. "Thank you, ma'am."

 

* * *

 

Over the next two months, Prudii proved himself again and again. He shot more accurately than anyone else, had wilderness-survival skills from his time on Mandalore that none of the others had–at one point he saved a whole group of privates when he used an animal call to scare away a rampaging manka cat–and he consistently awoke before the others were even aroused.

 

The electronic awakener buzzed loudly and Prudii instantly hopped out of bed and dressed. He disassembled his rifle, cleaned it, reassembled it, and did the same with his pistol. He was about to go for his jog when Sergeant Rakiya entered.

 

"No jog today," she said.

 

"What?"

 

"Someone noticed your skill," she said. "You're being transferred to Ord Mantell, to serve as the new member of Havoc Squad, and you're being promoted to sergeant."

 

Prudii's eyes widened. "I...thank you, ma'am!"

 

She grinned. "No need to call me ma'am–we're the same rank now. Pack your bags. Good luck, Sergeant."

 

He nodded. "Thank you."

 

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Prompt: Grooming

Remi and Scourge early in their relationship ~200 words.

 

 

 

There were odd moments early on when Scourge would pull her into his arms and press his face into her neck just below her ear. His breath tickled, eventually forcing Remi to pull away.

 

"What is it with you and that?" she said as he reluctantly let her go. She asked gently, they were still adjusting to the change in their relationship and both treated it as they would any fragile and precious thing.

 

His smile was almost shy, "After centuries of having nothing of smell or taste or touch, my senses return to a galaxy filled with the stench of decay and death. But you, your scent reminds me of open fields and the night skies of my youth, the redolence of lunar flowers blended with a hint of earth. I cannot get enough of it." He hesitated, "But if it bothers you..."

 

She laughed and grasped the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss his nose. "I don't mind," she grinned, "I'll just have to tell Czerka Corp to make their hypertech armor solvent into a perfume."

 

 

 

 

Doing my part to summon stories I have updated the chrono index and the prompt archive. It worked as the index is already out of date.

 

Comments

@Kitar You didn't need to take it down! I thought your picture was lovely and you posting it made me feel less bad about when I post such things :D

 

@YoshiRaphElan I do love a story with Scourge in it. Also, I really wish I could have had Crysta as a member of my crew.

 

@Magdalane Jorgan's earnest concentration, everything needing to be perfect, so endearing. <3

 

@Vesaniae The true power in swtor reveals itself, stay tuned for Star Wars: A New Haircut, Star Wars: The Cowlick Strikes Back, and Star Wars: Return of the Hair Gel.

 

@Icerose Belated welcome to the thread. Silly Doc is silly and needs to get taken down a peg. It's shocking that while many of my characters get to punch people, there were zero slap options for Doc. I'd take a couple dark side points for that.

 

@Lesaberisa I giggled through the story but couldn't help but cringe at the thought of shared razors.

 

@Tatile ow. Such extensive cybernetics would be a pain to maintain especially at the parts where they go into the body. Poor Rochester, already hating the idea of cybernetics and having to deal with them so intimately each day would be incredibly painful mentally and physically.

 

@bright_ephemera I love the letters Colran and Dolarra wrote to each other before Ruth, and I love the 'letter to someone lost as a journal' that he switches to later. Considering how strong the Wrath is supposed to be in the game, it must be terrifying to sense that in your child as a parent, especially knowing the Sith and what they do with power. Use or be used. Foreshadowing!

 

Nalenne and Quinn are probably my favorite of all Quinn pairings. They're ridiculous(ly adorable) together.

 

I bet Jorgan shaves. I bet he'd have one of those lion manes the bt3 cathars on Tython sport and that's his great secret.

 

It is funny how after a fight in game you could be on fire and you'd be standing there and Quinn may or may not be doing his job to heal and you look at your health and think.. "Eh, I have enough health left, the DOT will wear off before I die, no big deal."

 

At first I was shipping Colran/Xar but now I'm kind of mad at her. And yes, the 'getting into that situation' guilt especially when it leads to silence is particularly troubling, doubly so for former Sith. Poor Colran.

Edited by kabeone
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Finally getting caught up on comments and replies!

 

@marissalf Beautifully done!

First of all, thanks!!! I worry about getting Quinn’s tone right, especially in this context where he’s trying to be sort of wise and forthcoming about his past but still, you know, Quinn. So glad you guys liked it. :)

 

marissalf, I suspect Sanju Pyne would be terribly vulnerable to a pretty face. Poor boy.

 

My agent fell hard for Sanju and was thoroughly bummed he couldn’t join her crew. I’m thinking I should write her a return visit some time.

 

 

Comments (spoiler tagging for space!):

 

Lesaberisa, The thought of Doc spending quality time with his mustache made me lol hard, ‘cause you know he totally does that.

 

Icerose, Welcome! Doc gets a little taste of what’s coming to him. I like it.

 

Taille, So wonderfully descriptive; I could picture every bit of Rochester’s trying routine.

 

Ves, Gah! Iriath broke my heart. I love your take on this. I'd never thought of that, but it totally makes sense that

the agent would have that kind of experience as a result of what happens to them.

 

Yoshi, Choosing names is always hard. This was such a nice way for them to honor one of the people that meant a lot to them.

 

Bright, Poor Vette having to witness the Mellekor-Jaesa morning after. I just want to give her a hug and tell her she’s better off without him.

 

Kabe, That Scourge is quite a charmer.

 

And now for a story!

Not sure what to call this. I’m going with NotLP: Seven Deadly Sins - Lust, with SW Rissia and Quinn. About 600 words or so. Takes place shortly after Grooming.

 

 

Malavai Quinn had suspected he was right for weeks. The situation nagged at him every time the Sith lord walked by, but he remained silent. It wasn’t his place to question her judgement. But after much measuring and comparing and extensive note-taking, there was no doubt.

 

Lord Rissia’s outfits were most certainly getting smaller.

 

He stood at the threshold of her quarters (horrifyingly messy, he noted with disgust), picking up her red and black vest from the floor. How could she possibly think this was appropriate for battle? he marveled, while his mind began to wander, imagining the way the fabric clung to the slight curves of her alabaster skin. Imagining his hands caressing said curves.

 

“Ahem.”

 

Quinn, lost in his thoughts, hadn’t heard Lord Rissia behind him.

 

“Captain?” she said a little louder.

 

“My lord!” he squeaked, spinning around to face her and snap to attention. “I was...I mean...I...”

 

“Relax, Malavai,” she said coolly. He both hated and loved when she said his first name. So few people called him Malavai, and the way it rolled off her tongue made him almost giddy. But it was wholly unprofessional, and he had to force himself not to correct her.

 

He realized in the silence that he was still holding her scant piece of clothing, but that didn’t fluster him as much as the realization that he’d been very obviously staring at the Sith’s bare midriff the entire time she’d been there. If he thought the immodest vest was small, what she wore now was altogether more unsettling, and he had a difficult time trying to focus. Everywhere he looked, exposed skin. Well, not everywhere... But he certainly couldn’t look there.

 

“What do you think of my new jumpsuit?” she purred, spinning around once for good measure. The new outfit was little more than a small piece of burgundy fabric stretched across her chest, the rest of the jumpsuit tied around her waist. It was the least amount of clothing she could wear without being mistaken for a cantina dancer.

 

“I don’t think...I mean, you look lovely, of course. However, I don’t think the jumpsuit was intended to be worn in that manner, my lord.”

 

“I get hot, Quinn. Sith are naturally hotter than everyone else.” She watched with delight as his brow started to glisten.

 

“Of course, my lord, I didn’t mean...”

 

“Was there something you were after?” Rissia asked, her eyes falling to the garment in Quinn’s clammy hand.

 

He debated what to say to the woman. It wasn’t his place to bring up her wardrobe, but at the same time, he had a duty to see that her safety wasn’t compromised. Yes, safety, he thought. That settles it.

 

“My lord, I wanted to speak to you about your attire. It hasn’t escaped my attention that you favor outfits that are...” Don’t say inappropriate, don’t say inappropriate... “unsuitable for combat situations.”

 

“It hasn’t escaped you attention?” she repeated coyly.

 

“I don’t mean to presume to tell you how to dress, my lord, I simply wanted to point out that from a safety standpoint, you should perhaps consider something...else.”

 

“You know, Malavai,” she said, stepping closer to him, “if you wanted to get me out of my clothes, you could have said so before now.”

 

He flushed profusely, his eyes widening slightly. “That’s not...”

 

“Easy now, captain.” She strode past him, purposefully brushing against him, and proceeded to pull her knee-high boots off with as much seductive flair as one can possibly remove a piece of blood-stained armor. After the second boot hit the floor she looked up at him through her thick lashes. “You sticking around for the show?”

 

Quinn felt as if he might faint. “Please, my lord, I-”

 

“No need to beg,” she said, cutting off his plea to go.

 

“I must return to the bridge, my lord. If I may be excused.”

 

Lord Rissia stuck out her lower lip in a pout that almost immediately dissolved into a mischievous grin. “I will take your wardrobe requests under advisement. Dismissed, Malavai.”

 

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I'm going to be awful and post this tiny thing without reading and responding (I swear I will...eventually :)) But I wanted to get one in during April ;)

The Ceiling is My New Friend

bh - Ajacksa

no spoilers

 

The floor of the room was thin enough that the driving beat from the cantina below pulsed through the bed. She could hear Mako breathing softly across the room, but she couldn’t sleep.

 

Jack stared up at the ceiling. Her muscles were so sore. Days of trekking through Hutta's swamps, hauling heavy armor and guns, and constantly being stiff with stress had taken its toll on her body. She thought about rolling over, finding a different position, but the sheets were moist and clammy except in this spot where she’d finally warmed them up. Well, they were still moist – just warm and moist. She grimaced in the dark.

 

She needed to sleep. Being tired could get her killed. She stared at the ceiling and tried to ignore the musty, smokey, muddy…oh this place just smelled awful. She lifted her head, stretching the tensed muscles in her neck. She sighed.

 

She shut her eyes. Memories slid past her darkened eyelids. Frightened Evocii, desperate people, hard-edged sneers, and entirely too many dead staring eyes. Entirely too many.

 

Jack opened her eyes. At least the ceiling didn’t look back at her.

 

Edited by iamthehoyden
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Bright, I can only imagine Vette's face when she saw the SW. I know little about DS Jaesa, but I can't imagine she'd be too pleasant. And hair gel! Too funny! But poor Colran, but really-- he would have had to see all this to appreciate the emotions he later had for his wife and child.

 

Yoshi, loved the process of naming the baby. Enjoyed seeing the background on Prudii, too. Imagine the shock of being a grunt one minute and equal rank the next!

 

Kabe, I often forget that Scourge was without sensory input for so long. I guess when you've been without for 300 years, good is a relative term :)

 

Hoyden, you just write the angst and emotional pain of Jack so well! Really looking forward to hearing more about her.

 

 

Prompt: Head of the Class

Title: What Goes Around

Miriah and Maura, no spoilers, set well after Ch 3

 

 

The two sisters lay in the warm Dantooine sun, on the deck outside Miriah’s house. The kids were all sleeping inside, tired from the fresh air and constant play, and their moms were glad for the quiet. Maura squinted in the bright sunlight, looking over to see if her little sister was asleep.

 

“Mir?” she asked.

 

“Hmm?” her sister replied.

 

“Can I ask you a question?” When Miriah offered no response, Maura continued. “What really happened at the Academy? I know, I’ve heard you speak of an instructor who acted inappropriately, but tell me more.”

 

Miriah sighed, rolling over on her stomach to peer at her sister. “Why do you want to rehash history?”

 

Maura shrugged. She wasn’t sure herself why she wanted to know this. They lay in silence for a few minutes, then Miriah spoke.

 

“I was doing so well, Maura. Really getting into the coursework, the details. I thought at one time I could actually feel my brain getting bigger. For the first time in my life, I felt proud of myself. I had good marks, was in great physical shape, and held the best marksman record in my class.” She sighed, shifting to her side to look out over the lush green pasture and the ambling ronto grazing there. “Then the last week of first year, all that came crashing down.”

 

Maura sat up straighter in the deck chair. “I was so caught up in grad and getting new assignments and all the other senior stuff. I should have been paying more attention to what was going on with you.”

 

Miriah snorted, “You’re my sister, not my keeper, Maura. It made me happy to see you so happy.” They were silent, and Maura knew this was not easy for Miriah to talk about. Still, she hoped her sister would keep talking.

 

“You know the rest. I went for my final check flight and the flight instructor told me I wouldn’t pass unless I slept with him. When he tried to grab me, I kicked him in his special spot and ran like hell.” Miriah turned to her sister then. “Who would have believed me, a freshman student, over a certified war hero turned instructor pilot?” She got up from the deck chair then, going into the house to get icy cold bottles of water, handing one to Maura. They drank, and Maura noticed that Miriah had started twisting a section of her long, black hair, a sure sign she was uncomfortable. I won’t push, she thought.

 

“It worked out well, though,” Miriah said. “I love doing what I do, seeing what I’ve seen. My life is just about perfect.” She smiled, thinking of her husband and child.

 

“What do you suppose happened to that guy? I know if you’d told me then what he’d done, I’d have filed paperwork..”

 

“Oh, please, Maura. Nothing would have happened to him. Besides, he got what was coming to him, not then but later.” Maura looked at her sister then, her eyebrows almost meeting her hairline.

 

“I killed him,” Miriah said, a cold smile on her face. “I was on Coruscant, walking in the Senate gardens. Corso had gone to get food for a picnic, and this young girl in an Academy uniform was sitting on a bench, weeping like she’d never stop, muttering this man’s name over and over. It didn’t take much to figure out she’d been subject to the same ‘special exam’ that I had. So I killed him.” She shrugged at her sister, waiting for the lecture she was sure was coming.

 

Maura sat silently, unable to feel badly about what Miriah had revealed, yet eerily chilled by her blunt accounting. She’d still said nothing when the children stumbled outside, rubbing sleep from their little faces. She was helping her daughter put her shoes on when she heard Miriah’s voice.

 

“For them, Maura. I did it for them and for all the others he’d either molested or tried to molest. Because if even one daughter is hurt by men like him, it’s our responsibility to remove the threat.” Maura nodded, putting her arm around her youngest sister’s shoulder. For them.

 

 

 

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Prompt: NotLP Children

feat Nezumiiro (BH) and Xarides (SW)

 

NOTE:

 

 

This happens somewhat in the future as these two are supposed to be Xania's children. This was just a bit of fun and shouldn't be taken too seriously :p

 

 

 

 

 

Nezumiiro looked at the body of the rodian on the floor and sighed. Her brother, who was standing in front of her with a satisfied expression on his face, switched off his lightsaber.

 

“Great.” She said without much enthusiasm “No bonus”

 

“What?” he replied “He’s dead. That’s what is important, isn’t it?”

 

“There was a bonus for capturing him alive”

 

“Well, you should have said something about that. Besides, it’s not my fault if they break so easily” he shrugged

 

“Maybe if you did not hit as hard, they wouldn’t break that easily” she replied, annoyed.

 

“And how should I fight them? Glare at them, growl a bit and maybe a few stern words?”

 

“Have you tried?”

 

He crossed his arms and mimicked the expression of someone in deep thought “Uhmm, let me think…” and, after a brief moment in silence, he continued “…no. Never did that. Not going to”

 

“He’s barely recognisable!!” she replied, exacerbated by his attitude

 

“I have already told you that these guys are too soft. Next time pick a tougher bounty”

 

She sighed, giving up the idea of having a normal exchange with him. “Help me with the body. Grab the legs”

 

“Won’t just his head suffice?”

 

“No, I need the whole body. That’s what the bounty said. Good thing that you did not vaporize him.” She paused as they both started to drag the body towards her ship.

 

“You know me, I won’t vaporize a potential trophy. We are both collectors, after all and I won’t get in the way of your collecting” he replied with a smile

 

“Of course” she replied with a sneer “I collect heads and you collect beds”

 

“I can’t help it. I’m irresistible and you know it”

 

“Yes, you are” she replied, mocking him “Especially when using the Force to convince people”

 

“I don’t need to do that” he replied with aplomb “Women just fall into my arms”

 

“Sure they do. After you hit them on the head…”

 

“This is a false belief. Everyone thinks that the Sith are some sort of crazy weirdos doing the Hutt swing while wearing pointy hats and masks”

 

“And you’re saying that you’re not?”

 

“Well…” Xarides paused for a brief moment “…we may be wearing pointy hats and masks and some of us may well be crazy weirdos…but we are certainly not doing the Hutt swing!!”

 

“I’m not even going to ask what is that Hutt thing”

 

They positioned the body of the rodian inside the main cargo area of the ship. He wasn’t that heavy but the armor made the body difficult to move around.

 

“He should be fine here” she said without too much thought.

 

“You carry dead bodies in your ship and then I’m the weird one?” Xarides mused “At least you won’t see decaying corpses on my ship”

 

“If you really need to know, most of the time the bodies are alive and frozen so no decay ever occurs. It only occurs when you ‘want to help’ “

 

“Hey, a simple thank you would have been sufficient, no need for flattery” he replied grinning

 

Having a brother who is at the same time a Sith and possessed by an ego the size of a gas giant had troubled her previously. His way to help was to cause a carefully laid plan to go down the drain. All the time.

 

“So…” he continued, interrupting her trail of thoughts “…Cantina tonight? I’ll buy and I’ll drink you under the table again”

 

“No tricks this time!” she replied, glaring “Last time you won because of your Force tricks”

 

He sighed “Alright. But let me tell you that you are no fun”

 

“Oh, is that so? Well, maybe I’ll be fun when I’ll finally decide to kill you”

 

“That could be fun but, in the end, you’ll miss me”

 

“What makes you think that I’ll be missing you once you’re dead?”

 

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about family relation and all of that. I was just mentioning your bad aim”

 

“Get off my ship!” she said, ending the conversation abruptly

 

“Fine” He turned around and walked through the external airlock. While walking down the access ramp, he stopped and turned around.

 

“No, I will not race you to Nar Shaddaa!!” she said, already knowing what he was going to ask.

 

“Fine. Again though…no fun”

 

A blaster shot landed at his feet as he turned to walk away “See? You missed”.

 

The only reply that came was the sound of the ramp closing shut and the powering up of the engines.

 

 

 

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