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The Alternate Universe Weekly Challenge Thread


elliotcat

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Now: Fallout from that victory! Lodestone: Home Ec – Gardening. I'm kinda fuzzy on precise hour-to-hour timeline – how long does it take to get from Korriban to Dromund Kaas, anyway? – but that doesn't have to be the point. 2100 words.

 

 

 

The Niral estate lay west of Kaas City, settled in the jungle at a distance from civilization that really shouldn't be possible on a capital planet. Even at midafternoon the whole landscape seemed dark. The estate was an old place, some stone architecture mixed with the durasteel. Built to last, from the outermost wall to the low rain-streaked house within.

 

The transformation Wynston witnessed from the jungle's gloom to the house's interior was stunning. The indoors was brightly lit, touched but not cluttered with an eclectic mix of elements gathered from more areas of space than Ruth by herself could possibly have had time to visit.

 

Vette barreled past him, clearly on her way somewhere. "Uh," said Ruth, looking over from where she had been greeting a guard by name. "Vette?"

 

"I'm starving and you've got the most normally stocked kitchen on the planet," said Vette, making a beeline for the named room.

 

"I should've known that," said Ruth. She met Wynston's questioning look with a wry smile. "My father spent three years on Nar Shaddaa, and he ate like it," she explained. "This is apparently the only thing Vette noticed when she last visited, and she apparently appreciates it more than the subtleties of eating sleen."

 

"Yuck," yelled Vette from out of sight.

 

Ruth led the rest of the crew into a spacious room arranged to focus on a huge archaic fireplace. "Sit," she said, gesturing. "We'll – "

 

She cut off, looking at a far doorway. A rangy man in grey and green, Wynston's age or a little older, stood staring at Ruth, his whole presence heavy with emotion.

 

He gathered himself and bowed deeply. "My lord. Welcome home."

 

"Briggs." She walked swiftly to meet him, clasping his hands. The formality broken, the servant relaxed a few degrees and gave Ruth a smile that spoke of long friendship. She turned back to the room and said "This is Young Briggs. He and Deshla, wherever she went off to, will look after your needs. – I need to catch up with you first, Briggs. There's…I'm sure there's a great deal to set in order."

 

The servant's face clouded. "I've done what I can. But it's good you're here. This house needs a Niral."

 

"It doesn't have nearly enough of them," she said sadly. In response Young Briggs just reached to squeeze her hand again.

 

*

 

Ruth vanished somewhere with her servant. Wynston talked shop with the crew and accepted food and drink from a matronly-looking Twi'lek. It was some time before Ruth reappeared, and when she did it was to slip along one wall to get from one doorway to another without getting near the conversation. The crew exchanged glances but let her be. Wynston, however, felt drawn to check on her. After a couple of minutes' effort to stay still and stay busy, he gave up, got up, and went after her.

 

The hallway he found himself in ran parallel to an outdoor verandah. He spotted her standing outside a window well down the way; he found his way outdoors, acutely aware of the chill of the misting evening, and made a slow approach.

 

She was looking out into a thick-grown garden. A couple of cobbled paths were visible from here, winding down toward a pond unquiet with rain. There was an eerie beauty to it in the gathering gloom. Nothing he would seek out on his own, but it was a sort of beauty.

 

Ruth cast a low-lidded look in his direction and turned very slightly to invite him closer. Her face was streaked with tears, but she had a little smile for him.

 

Instinctively he put his arm around her and looked out across the garden, side by side in silence. After a little while she slid an arm around his waist. Still she said nothing.

 

It didn't seem like the time to talk business. Nor even matters between them. Instead, after a while, he casually said "I have to ask. Young Briggs?"

 

"Oh, he's well older than I am. But Briggs was there first. We had to call his son something."

 

"I see. Hereditary job?"

 

"Sort of. He is freeborn, we don't keep slaves. He grew up here; he went to the military as required of all citizens, but it didn't suit him, so Father pulled rank to bring him home."

 

That sounded like a very Niral thing to do, at least if Ruth was a representative Niral. "Your father. He was Sith, too?" So much background Wynston didn't have yet. And some he did, but he should let her tell him rather than remind her he had a dossier on her.

 

"Yes. From a long line of Sith." She shivered. "The house is wrong without him."

 

"I'm so sorry." He pressed his nose to her hair, let a little time pass. "I would have liked to meet him."

 

"Mm. He would've loved you. Anyone dedicated to the best parts of the Empire…." It took her a moment to go on. "He taught me everything I know. I wanted him there today."

 

He bit back the culturally-tailored platitude about a happy afterlife or, better for Sith, presence and will and pride and power after death. If there were ever a time to tell her comforting things he didn't believe it would be now; instead he turned a little, wrapped his other arm around her, and said "He left a legacy to be proud of."

 

It took a long time for her hug to loosen. She pulled back a little, raised one hand to stroke his hair, smiled weakly. Then she took his hand and turned away to face the garden. "Hm. What do you think of our rain?"

 

It probably wasn't very politic to give his real opinion. But, she had asked. "Given the chance I'd engineer the mess out of existence. It may be necessary but I don't have to like it."

 

She laughed softly. "I see. I won't ask you out into it, then."

 

"No, if you want to walk, I'm with you. Rain hasn't actually been known to kill me yet."

 

She started out onto one of the garden paths, stopping to check a drizzle-spotted lily. "My father loved this place," she said. "He took good care of them. He said they were what my mother liked best about this whole estate."

 

"They're lovely," he said. Less for rain-soaked vegetation and more for what it meant to her.

 

She continued, stopping frequently at one blossom or another. Like she was checking up on old friends. Their scent was heavy on the air, rich and sweet with something he had always associated with her. Ruth paused, touching a recently pruned stem. "It's been weeks since…he left home. Young Briggs must've made sure to look after these." She straightened, frowning. "He's…a good man."

 

He waited. She seemed to be thinking.

 

She shivered. "At least he hasn't done anything yet."

 

"I'm getting the impression that your family's people have every reason to love you."

 

"That doesn't mean anything," she said.

 

"No." That was just Quinn. "No, it means a great deal. Ruth, judging everyone by the standard of the worst you've met is a quick way to drive yourself out of your mind."

 

"It's hard not to look at it that way."

 

"I know. But don't make it the only possibility you consider."

 

Her mouth worked for a second. Then she shook her head. "Never mind. Let's not do this."

 

"Not–?"

 

She kissed him, her lips startlingly cold in the rain, her hands damn near frigid. He hadn't kissed her halfway back to warmth before she pulled back. She didn't look tired or scared. Just determined. "There's more going on out there than I could sort out in a lifetime, Wynston, and I have to clamp it under control by next week or so. Here, now, it's just us. No policy statements. All right?"

 

"As you wish," he said softly, and let her lead him onward.

 

She didn't seem inclined to talk after that. She just kept checking the gardens, working her way around the unendingly rain-fretted pond. She moved on to a patch of lower plants with some kind of red flowers that seemed to glow in the dim weather's light.

 

They were pretty, actually. For plants. "Do you ever pick these?" he asked.

 

"Sometimes," she said. "You're free to, I can show you where we keep the vases when we get back in."

 

"That wasn't exactly what I had in mind." He leaned past her to go for a crimson blossom that seemed like it might have enough stem to be usable.

 

"Wait–" said Ruth.

 

He was already moving too quickly. And grasping a very large thorn. He jerked back and made the thousandth mental note of his lifetime to stay away from nature.

 

"Sorry, I thought you would be going for the other ones," she said. "Are you all right?"

 

"Yes," he said, allowing her to take his hand and wipe away the blood. "I'll have you know I was being romantic."

 

"You were." Instead of laughing she let his hand fall and turned to claim the flower he had tried to pick. She snapped it off somewhere upward of the offending thorn and presented it to him. "Better?"

 

"Hmm." He brushed her hair back and tucked the blossom behind her ear. "Brilliant. The flower's not bad, either."

 

She smiled self-consciously and looked at the ground. "I don't usually get these directed my way."

 

"Don't tell me a man's never gotten you flowers."

 

"Years and years ago, boys. There weren't any flowers to get when I went to Korriban, at least none that wouldn't kill you once you found where they were hiding. And since then, no."

 

"That's criminal." What lives these Sith led. Maybe not all of the game was real, but Wynston knew that these little attentions, the affirmations of individual charms – and, stars, every woman had something about her worth admiring – these things made life a lot more pleasant. "I'll have to find you some that I didn't just steal from your own yard."

 

"The jungle's right that way," she said, with wide innocent eyes and a small wicked curl of a smile, pointing out over the pond.

 

Wynston suppressed his instinctive reaction to that horrible suggestion and smiled. "I'll check Kaas City," he said lightly. "The florists there take the thorns off."

 

She smiled. Then blinked hard and let the smile fall away. "Right. Check the city."

 

"What is it?"

 

She stroked his hand for a while without looking at him. In time she said "Wynston?"

 

"Yes, Ruth?"

 

"What happens tomorrow?"

 

He lined up a number of possible answers to that, but most of those answers would be intentionally missing the point. "Tomorrow I should go retrieve my ship from Corellia. I'll need to be able to move as we push things into place for you. After that I can get to work checking out Baras's resources, clearing the way for you. Get you reports on what's where; we can talk about what use it can be to you and whether there's anything you'd be willing to spare for Intelligence. I can do a little quiet work here and there to smooth out any difficulties with potential rivals." All solid work. "That's what I would recommend professionally." And the only thing he should be recommending. "Or…I can stay with you. For a little while. Obviously I'd help to–"

 

"Stay," she said.

 

He kissed her to cover the urge to say more than he should. When he was feeling steadier he turned to kiss her cheek instead. "For a little while," he reminded himself out loud.

 

She nodded. "I know." Then she half smiled, turning her face into the hand he had rested on her other cheek. "I'm afraid my bed here only sleeps one," she murmured. "I'll arrange something tomorrow. In the mean time I'll set you up–"

 

"I've slept in some very limited spaces," he said. "If you don't mind. Otherwise, certainly, I'll settle elsewhere for the night."

 

"Stay," she repeated.

 

He smiled, rested his forehead against hers. "As you wish," he whispered. Another gathering of tiny raindrops on her face got together the mass to start rolling down. He was just about sick of the rain doing that. He held her close, traced the curve of her spine with his fingertips. "Let's go warm up then, shall we?"

 

That was, after all, the one good thing about getting caught in the rain.

 

 

 

 

 

"This house needs a Niral" also featured in the opening conversation between Colran and Briggs, Sr. some twenty-four years previously, when Colran first returned from Republic space to find his father and brothers dead from a house rival's power play. This house rarely changes hands peacefully.

 

This round, Wynston gets to comfortably focus on Ruth. His turn will come, oh yes.

 

Standing-up caresses change, significantly, when partners have <2 inches of height difference vs. >4. What's within easy kissing distance gets all messed up. I keep having to step through, line by line, to re-render this for different couples (thanks a lot, Vierce).

 

Also, I wrote Wynston's attitude toward rain before even thinking about metaphorical applications. Just, no, the guy hates rain. And uncontrollable outdoorsy nature and yuck yuck yucky yuck. I WILL HAVE NONE OF YOUR ROMANTIC WEATHER-RELATED MAKEOUTS. Please skip to the warm bed, the imported whiskey, and the blessed absence of annoying third-party organisms.

 

 

Edited by bright_ephemera
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NotLP: Math

 

Logical Paradox - Self contradicting statements.

 

 

 

 

The Sith archives were quiet. The men and women who studied there were true scholars. Coremi could have walked in with the entire Jedi order and as long as she was not there to steal artifacts or disturb their studies these Sith would not have cared. She knelt to collect a neglected holocron from a low shelf and took it to a private room to study. Activating the device, she greeted a now familiar image of an elaborately dressed ancient Sith.

 

“Greetings, Sith. I am Kel’eth Ur.”

 

“Hello again,” Coremi replied nodding at the tiny figure.

 

“Shall we continue our lesson?” He smiled serenely once his programming recognized her.

 

“It beats trying on Stylish clothing.”

 

“As you say. Very well, as you may remember the Sith feed on palpable dread but fear is a lie, passion is a lie. Fear gives temporary power, and passion is easily manipulated. Real strength in the Force comes when one is no longer afraid. And one can purge fear when one stops grasping – after power, after things, after life itself – and allows the Force to guide him. There is only the Force.”

 

“How do you stop grasping for power when the purpose of stopping is to grasp power?”

 

The image went silent and stared at her only flickering occasionally.

 

“Hello?” she poked the ancient machine.

 

No further sound was emitted. Finally she shut off the device, hoping no one else had planned to use it and wondered if there was a way to reset the contraption. “I think I broke it.” She muttered to herself as she put it away.

 

 

 

 

Note:

 

 

This statement is false.

 

 

 

@bright

SW Spoiler

 

 

I loved the change to LS and the fact that Baras was unprepared for it despite the fact that he could slap aside her DS attacks. Though in the real fight I thought it was funny the SW is kicking his face in and he's all Monty Python black knight about it.

 

 

Edited by kabeone
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@kabeone Coremi...you broke it again! It makes me so happy to see callbacks to minor elements of SWTOR quests. This is just delicious.

 

 

Lodestone: Loyalty and Betrayal. 550 words.

 

 

 

Lots to do tomorrow. Take charge of Baras's Dromund Kaas offices; that seemed like a well-placed base of operations for the days to come. Home was too long a shuttle ride away from the action. Lots to do. Say hello to more than a few military officers over whom Baras had had power. Take Baras's Intelligence assets for a test drive before deciding whether to repatriate them to Wynston's people. Make a show of power for the Sith who had served him. In short, take charge of the power base whose master she had destroyed.

 

Find an obstetrician. There was a strange thought.

 

Wynston's breathing had slowed behind her, but she was never really sure if he was asleep. She thought back to the half-breath of hesitation he had let show before saying he could stay at her side for a while longer. Heartbreakingly tempting. She had seen hesitation like that before.

 

Wynston was different. Still, she wondered. The big goal, Baras, the one who had required a powerful coalition of interests to take down…he was dead. Now that that was accomplished, did Wynston's interests still coincide with hers?

 

Did he have any further use for her?

 

She suddenly wished she were better covered. There was always one obvious answer there; not enough to change his real plan, but enough to turn her into a commodity in the plan as it stood. It was the same thing that had been aching in the back of her mind for weeks. Everything, everything with Quinn felt cheap and dirty in hindsight. The easy takings he got on the job. The bonus thrown in on a transaction that had been kept hidden from her. At least with the boys on Korriban she had known the nature of the arrangement. She hated that she had wanted Quinn in a different way, hated that it had been, for blind months, better than she knew how to describe.

 

Hated that she wanted it again and she didn't know what her lover had over her.

 

Stop it, she thought. Wynston and I both asked for this. He never put fake decorations on that point; we saw, we wanted, we took, and there's nothing wrong in it.

 

There's nothing wrong in it.

 

She sat up fast and shook off his hands to go find something to put on.

 

"Ruth?" he murmured.

 

She kept her back to him while she rifled through her old wardrobe in the dark. "Hush." She found a nightshirt and tugged it out.

 

He was stirring now. "If you're cold, darling, the covers are…" He started shuffling the blankets, which in fact had already all been covering her to some extent; as she pulled the shirt on and turned around she found him flip-folding one to double cover her side at his own expense.

 

"Yes," she said, relenting. "I'm a little cold."

 

"Come here." He moved to gather her in his arms but she shook her head and made him turn instead, then climbed in to hold him from behind. It was a little safer this way.

 

He seemed to sense something wrong in her insistence. "What can I do?" he pleaded.

 

"Keep your promises," she said quietly. "Now sleep."

 

As ever with him, the moment her thinking brain let go she felt unreservedly happy. Desire always met desire, but when he was with her it felt like more than that. She met him.

 

 

 

 

 

Guh! Worrying doesn't go away just because you want it to.

 

I'm thinking on another note that Ruth's household staff may be disappointed in their hopes of having a nice Niral around again. Many of these people have been with the family for years; they love and are loved. But they're no longer going to get to center on a near-recluse. Instead the girl-child is grown up and busy. :(

 

 

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Lodestone: Goals and Ambitions ?2?3?. Here, let me put my novel on your short fic thread. This was not originally envisioned! This once again starts dealing with some Agent endgame states. 600 words.

 

 

 

Wynston did leave in the morning. He really did need his ship either way. "I know some hyperspace lanes that'll bring me back to you faster than anything else can," he told Ruth. "Until then, darling, watch your back."

 

Vette offered to fly him out to Corellia. Quoth she, "The sheer amount of Sith Business that's gonna be going on in Kaas City pretty much obligates me to be anywhere but here."

 

He left Vette in the Coronet City spaceport and headed to his rented hangar. His heart lifted to see his vessel there. The ship looked fine from the outside, untouched within. Good. He felt sharper already. Here was home. Here was one of the few constants in the galaxy he really loved, the source he returned to when the assignment ended and normal matters picked up again.

 

He would go back to the assignment this time. He wanted to go back this time; this place was familiar, but the sharpness of his professional clarity cut both ways. The strings it was ready to cut this time might hurt.

 

There was already a distance between him and what he missed, he reminded himself, no matter what he did. A very small distance but one that already imposed the pang of separation, no matter how close or far he was physically. Enough of that. He left the chaos of Corellia behind and parked in orbit to set up a secure holo line to Vector.

 

"Wynston," said the Joiner. "You're looking well."

 

An unusual opening. Wynston had no reason to think he looked any different. "The Dromund Kaas climate. What can I say?"

 

"How goes the mission?"

 

"Under thirty-six hours ago one Darth Baras, while appearing before the Dark Council to receive recognition of his status as the Voice of the Emperor, was interrupted mid-speech by the Emperor's Wrath. An altercation ensued." Wynston smiled slyly. "Baras did not survive."

 

"And the Wrath?"

 

Given what he had seen of the fight and the control she had finally asserted? "Better than ever. We'll be consolidating matters over the coming weeks, I want you or Keeper in touch. This is our chance to recover resources, and if our claim to them isn't convincing Ruth's will be. Things are still a little delicate but I think she's inclined to help."

 

"We are glad to hear it. Do you know when you will be returning to headquarters?"

 

Wynston stopped. He considered. He stayed very calm. "I'll see how matters develop, but let's set a target withdrawal date." An anchor, as much for himself as for Vector, to remind him of when real life would go on.

 

He picked a figure. He gave it. The conversation moved on.

 

"As we pick up staff," Wynston said a little while later, "of course some may have to know I'm on assignment and some of those will know I'm dealing with the Wrath. None of them are to know the nature of that relationship." No point introducing extra risks.

 

"You can count on our discretion."

 

"Good."

 

He finished up business, along with inquiring after those of his crew who had already returned to the Tenebrous. Then he bid Vector farewell and prepared for the jump to hyperspace. He hurried back to where he couldn't keep quite secure and he couldn't think quite straight. He hurried back to what hadn't healed, to the distance he would do anything to close. He hurried back because every minute with her was perfect, and there could only be so many of them.

 

 

 

 

 

It's to Wynston's advantage to not be a well-known associate of the Emperor's Wrath when he's in the middle of prepping to be the galaxy's most secret agent. Just saying.

 

Also, way to feel bad about the distance she imposes when you're imposing one, too.

 

 

Edited by bright_ephemera
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My first foray into AU territory!

 

Fortuna Audentes Iuvat: Andrina Revel AU.

 

 

Andrina’s not a smuggler here, but rather followed her brother into the Republic military, where she is a member of a Special Forces squad (not Havoc) stationed on Ord Mantell under the command of Aric Jorgan. Andronikos never left the military and is the CO of his own naval squad, which specializes in running the most dangerous missions for the Republic.

 

In both timelines, Andronikos has Customization 1, and Corso has Customization 2. Aric retains his default look. (I should probably mention this in the other thread too, huh?)

 

The name of this AU is explained in the first installment, below.

 

Night of the Living Prompt: Seven Virtues

 

Fortune Favors the Brave

Andrina, Aric Jorgan, and Corso Riggs. 2,450 words.

 

“Riot Squad, SpecForce 910, report to Situation Room One on the double,” Lieutenant Aric Jorgan’s voice yelled over the Fort Garnik barracks’ PA system. “We’ve got a situation.”

 

The announcement came through so loudly that Andrina rolled out of her cot and tumbled onto the floor ungracefully. “Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled. She’d just come off duty two hours ago and was looking forward to a good long nap. So much for that.

 

“Sergeant Revel, you’re late,” Jorgan barked as Andrina hurried into the situation room, fastening her blaster belt to her waist and nearly tripping over herself.

 

“Apologies, sir,” Andrina replied, blushing furiously as she took her place in line.

 

Jorgan narrowed his eyes at her before turning around to the map of Ord Mantell projected on the wall. “Alright, everyone, listen up. We’ve got reports of separatist violence against civilians out in one of the farming communities. Preliminary reports say they’re looting for supplies. The blockade’s working, but I’m not going to have it succeed at this cost.” He pointed at a spot on the map. “This is a small farming community, mostly ronto ranches, well known on planet for its livestock and dairy products. Doesn’t look like a randomly selected area to attack. This whole area accounts for about twelve to fifteen percent of Ord Mantell’s annual agricultural production.”

 

Andrina shook her head in disgust. The separatists had, until now, followed the rules of engagement. The military had been strictly instructed to treat the separatists as precisely that, and not to recognize the separatist government, lest it be taken as representative of the Republic’s position. The separatists had, until today, limited their strikes to military targets. Why the sudden change? Jorgan had mentioned the land blockade as the cause, but there was a time not too long ago that the separatists had tried to put a blockade on the Avilatan coastline and airspace around Fort Garnik – and yet the Republic had still managed to get supplies through. They had not had to resort to unlawful tactics to keep the flow of food and supplies going.

 

“Everyone, pick up a pack out of this crate on your way out,” Jorgan instructed, pointing at an open supply crate on the dais. “New supplies just flown in today, courtesy of Captain Andronikos Revel and Shadow Squadron. Riot Squad, move out!”

 

They arrived at the farming community three hours later. Looking out the rear window of the transport shuttle, Andrina was deeply saddened to see burning fields, in which lay the bodies of brave farmers who died defending their lands and their families. Frightened livestock ran every which way, looking for a safe place to hide and not finding anywhere to go.

 

The shuttle touched down at the top of a hill and the squad filed out. Down below was a group of about twenty to twenty-five separatists advancing on a small farmhouse. A lone man stood outside the farmhouse’s front door, armed with a single blaster rifle. A man with shoulder-length brown hair stepped forward from the group of separatists and shot him at point-blank range.

 

Andrina broke from her squad’s formation and ran forward, drawing her weapons as she did.

 

“Revel! Fall in!” Jorgan yelled after her in frustration.

 

“This isn’t the time to ‘fall in’!” Andrina shouted frantically. “That guy just got shot in the face and who knows who else is in the house? This isn’t the time for formality. We need to move, and we need to move now!”

 

“Andie …” Jorgan growled under his breath as he caught up to her, grabbing her arm. “Whatever we may be to each other, in the field, I am still your CO, and when I say fall in …”

 

Jorgan didn’t have a chance to finish. The man who had shot the farm’s owner was on his way over, with the other separatists close behind. “Come to join the party, have you?” he said snidely. “How cute. You brought a date.”

 

“Drop your weapons,” Jorgan said in a warning tone. “Nobody else has to get hurt today. Not you, not me, and certainly not any more civilians.”

 

The separatist leader sneered. “Doesn’t work that way, kittycat. It’s your fault we’re not getting the supplies we need. Give us what we want and we’ll be on our way … and maybe we’ll let you live.”

 

“You just shot that man,” Andrina said angrily, stepping in front of Jorgan. “You just shot that man, who had nothing to do with any of this, because he didn’t give you what you want? He did nothing to you, and yet you cut him down without a single thought. What is wrong with you?”

 

The leader shrugged dispassionately. “He was being difficult. He wouldn’t give us what we needed when we asked nicely. Wife and daughter weren’t any better. Neither were the rest of ‘em. Anyway, the boys needed to get out and do something fun. They were getting antsy.”

 

Andrina’s breath caught in her throat. Was she understanding this correctly? Did this man just say he killed a man, two women, and who knows how many more, in cold blood for ‘fun’? “You’re sick, you know that? That isn’t ‘fun’! Cutting down innocent, defenseless people for your own amusement is an act of unspeakable cruelty. But you don’t care about that, though, do you?”

 

The leader gave her a predatory, almost feral grin. “We do what we must to survive. But you don’t care about that, though, do you?”

 

“Skavak, just kill the b***h already and get your a** back here!” yelled one of the separatists standing in the group behind him. “We need your help getting all this s*** out of the house and back to the base.”

 

“Charming friends you have,” Andrina said in a low, sarcastic voice. “Go ahead. Kill me, I dare you. We know your name now, Skavak. You’re already in trouble for targeting civilians in wartime. Kill me, and my CO will make damn sure you’re strung up on the Senate Tower for killing a Republic officer.”

 

“I don’t take orders from girls,” Skavak snarled, backhanding her across her helmet. She didn’t move an inch, not even when he hit her.

 

From behind the transparisteel eye protector of her helmet, Andrina glared at him. “I am not a ‘girl.’ I am an officer and a soldier of the Republic, and you’re under arrest.”

 

Jorgan and two other squad members stepped forward, guns at the ready. Skavak did not move, and by all appearances looked like he would come quietly.

 

Suddenly, with a quick fluid motion, he reached into his pocket and threw a toxic smoke bomb at the ground between him and the advancing soldiers. “People, grab what you can and get the f*** out! Let’s move!”

 

Andrina jumped out of the way just in time. Her squad mates weren’t so lucky. The smoke bomb landed right at Jorgan’s feet and she lunged at him to drag him out of the way. The other two had rolled partway down the hill and out of the toxic cloud. The rest of the squad had surrounded them protectively, and she faintly heard the sound of kolto probes being deployed.

 

Jorgan lay lifelessly on the hillside. Andrina’s heart stopped and she found it difficult to breathe. “Aric, no, please, no,” she whispered, turning him over and dragging him farther away from the smoke bomb’s place of impact. She pulled off her helmet, but breathing wasn’t any easier. “Don’t do this, please, not now. Don’t leave me.” She cupped his face with both hands, trying – and failing – to keep her composure. A single tear dropped onto the Republic insignia on his chest plate.

 

“Andie,” Jorgan croaked. “Andie.”

 

“Oh, thank the stars, Aric,” Andrina whispered, taking his hand. “I’m here.”

 

“We didn’t know … they had biological weapons capabilities.” Jorgan sat up unsteadily, coughing. His vision was clouded and his eyes stung. “Did you get any ID from that guy?”

 

Andrina put an arm around his shoulders and helped him to sit up the rest of the way. “Yeah. Skavak. What a stupid name. His parents must’ve really hated him.”

 

Jorgan put his head in both hands, squeezing his eyes shut and willing the ground to stop spinning. “I’ll look through the databases for intel on him when we get back. Go check the premises to see if any more seps are in there.”

 

“I’m not leaving you here, Aric,” Andrina said stubbornly. “You’re hurt and I’m not going to just let you sit here, ten feet away from the impact of a detonated biological weapon.” She removed his helmet gently and pulled a small vial out of her pack. “Here. Oral kolto suspension. You need to take this now.”

 

Jorgan made a funny noise in the back of his throat and did not take the vial. “Fake plastic strawberries.” He coughed again. “Andie, go. As your CO, I order you to go into that farmhouse.”

 

“No,” Andrina insisted. That didn’t sound good. She hoped against all hope that the toxic gas wasn’t beginning to affect his respiratory system.

 

Jorgan sighed. “You’re a stubborn little thing, you know that? It’s one of the many things I admire about you, but this time I need you to go and do as I say. I’ll take the kolto. Just go.”

 

Andrina nodded, then impulsively threw her arms around him and kissed him. “I love you, Aric. I want you to know that,” she said breathlessly. “Just in case I don’t come back and never get the chance to tell you.”

 

“You will come back,” Jorgan said quietly. “I don’t want to hear you talking like that.”

 

Andrina stood up, carefully avoiding any contact with the residual smoke from Skavak’s smoke bomb, and put her helmet back on. She drew her blasters and began heading for the burning farmhouse.

 

“Andie?”

 

Andrina turned back around at the sound of Jorgan’s voice. “Yes?”

 

“I love you too.”

 

I love you too. The words gave Andrina a renewed sense of hope and purpose, to make sure that she and everyone with her came out of this alive.

 

Andrina heard a rustling noise from the nearby barn and she drew both blasters, advancing slowly. “Republic Special Forces. Come out where I can see you with your hands up!”

 

A tall figure stepped out of the darkness into the rectangle of light from the doorway. It was a young man around her age, wearing a red plaid shirt and brown pants.

 

“Stay away from me!” said the man, his voice high with fear. He pointed a small blaster in front of him, moving it from side to side. “This is Torchy, and I’m not afraid to use her.”

 

Andrina lowered her blasters and holstered one of them. “Republic Special Forces, sir. I’m here to help you.”

 

“Oh yeah? How do I know you’re not really with the seps?” said the man challengingly.

 

“They’re gone. They ran away. You’re safe now.” Andrina’s voice was calm, soothing. “Sergeant Andrina Revel, Republic Special Forces No. 910 out of Fort Garnik.”

 

The man lowered his blaster slowly, taking in her SpecForce uniform, and took a tentative step forward. “You’re the one who chased them off. I heard your voice earlier. Thank you.”

 

“Just doing my job. What’s your name?”

 

“Corso.”

 

“Alright, Corso. I need you to tell me if you’ve seen or heard anyone else come through here in the past ten minutes.” Andrina put a hand on her holstered blaster, just in case.

 

“I haven’t heard anything,” Corso replied. “Not since I heard that guy yelling outside. I ran in here when the seps came. I grabbed the key from my parents’ room and tried to get the spare blasters that Dad had locked away, but … but I don’t think I got to them in time.” His already unsteady voice broke. “My family … are they … ?”

 

Andrina shook her head sadly. This was quite possibly the hardest thing she had to do as a soldier. “I’m so sorry.”

 

Corso collapsed against her shoulder, sobbing quietly. “I’m gonna kill ‘em. I’m gonna kill ‘em all,” he whispered. His breathing was jagged, uneven. Andrina’s heart went out to him. He had just lost everything he had in the galaxy except his life. She couldn’t even begin to imagine. She patted his back comfortingly until his tears subsided.

 

After a few minutes, Corso looked up at her, determination blazing in his still-wet blue eyes. “I’m going to make the damned separatists pay for what they did. I’ll do whatever. I know it’s not going to bring my family back or anything, but I’m not going to take this lying down.”

 

“Come with us,” Andrina said gently. “You can help us to make sure your family didn’t die in vain.”

 

“I will. There’s nothing left for me here,” Corso said, staring at the charred remains of what was once the house where he was born and raised. “Can I – can I have a couple of minutes alone? I want to say goodbye to my family before we leave.”

 

“Of course.” Andrina gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze before stepping back to a respectful distance while he paid his last respects.

 

It was about ten to fifteen minutes before Corso came back. There were fresh tear tracks on his cheeks. “I’m ready. Ready as I can be, anyway,” Corso murmured. He followed her up the hill to where the rest of the squad was waiting.

 

“Everyone, this is Corso. He’s the only survivor from this farm, and –”

 

“And I want to help,” Corso interrupted, stepping forward. “For my family. For everyone who died today, but didn’t have to.”

 

“Welcome,” said Jorgan. “When we get back to the fort, we’ll get you something to eat and a place to sleep. I promise, we won’t let your family be forgotten.”

 

Later that night, back at Fort Garnik, Corso lay on his side, looking bemusedly at the empty nightstand by his new bed in his new home. “I can’t believe they’re all gone,” he mused. “I never thought it would happen like this. I never wanted it to happen like this.”

 

“Just know that your family’s now in a place where nobody can hurt them again.” Andrina pulled the blanket up over Corso’s shoulders and turned to leave for night duty. “Rest now. I’ll be just outside if you need me.”

 

Andrina closed the door quietly and slid down the wall outside her barracks into a seated position. She glanced up and took a long, hard look at her squad’s seal painted on the door.

 

Fortuna audentes iuvat.

 

Fortune favors the brave.

 

It wasn’t always easy, but that was the motto that directed her every move on the battlefield and off it. And it made her proud.

 

Edited by Ereiniel
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"I'll see how matters develop, but let's set a target withdrawal date."

 

 

Lots of awesome Wynston thought process but I gutter brained this line. hehehe.

 

Feel free to write any number of novels and post them anywhere that I can read them :D.

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Bright

Ruth's trip home - How deep her trust has been shattered, to suspect the people who had been with her for her entire life. Also, Wynston's dislike of (and ineptitude with) nature is fabulous lol. For a man with such skills in the realm of people and people-made things, it's pretty hilarious.

 

Ruth's insomnia - "Find an obstetrician." :) And asking him to keep his promises - it's progress, instead of kicking him out when doubt hits.

 

Wynston's trip to the office - I like that as much as his professional life is comfortable, easy in a lot of ways for him, he heads back for the uncertainty and semi-chaos. Hook's in there, deep, eh? :)

 

Kabe

The description of the Sith archivists as people who wouldn't care who was there as long as they weren't going to steal anything or disturb them - love it, reminded me so much of the various libraries and archives I've been to :) And omg, the fact that she stumped Kel'eth Ur, "I think I broke it," think I laughed for about a minute straight.

 

Ereiniel

I'm just so impressed with how you're remixing the stories and having them come out looking like they were always supposed to be that way lol. <3 Aric, that grumpy grumpy man lol.

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@Ereiniel, what a setting! Poor Andrina's going to have a lot of eye-openers if she found that op shocking :(

 

 

Now, two Lodestone entries, Confessions and Allies. The first is only very slightly changed from the main-RMC Confessions posted in the SFC some time ago; the differences are laid out in the notes at the end of this post.

 

So, Confessions: 500 words.

 

 

 

Wynston gave Ruth a warning look before she departed for the Citadel. She would have none of it. "Don't start," she ordered. She wasn't going to let him comment on this again.

 

He turned back to his console to get to work.

 

Ruth went to Baras's old offices in the Citadel, set up in the conference room there. It was an adequate place to conduct cleanup business before her work as Wrath took her back out on the move.

 

Just some cleanup business.

 

Right on time, somebody opened the door and escorted Malavai Quinn in. Ruth didn't even process who the somebody was; she only knew that the door closed and left her alone with Quinn. He was uncollared now. Between the two of them they knew where ownership lay; the shock collar was redundant. She could afford him the dignity of leaving it behind.

 

They faced each other in silence across the length of the conference table. She shouldn't get closer. Even now, hating him as she did, she shouldn't get closer. When she was sure she could keep her breath steady, she started.

 

"Your master is dead, and I am sick of revenge." Her thoughts shattered at the look on his face. She fixed her eyes on the wall and found herself still talking. "It's meaningless to talk of forgiveness between us. If I set you free you will come for me, soon or late. You will watch for weakness. Call me a liability to the Empire. Exact your revenge. This is your nature. Nevertheless I must free you. The war effort needs you alive, Quinn. The Empire needs you. The enemy is out there and I will not destroy a man so well qualified to fight it. So you shall live. I've unfrozen your accounts. I shall write a recommendation for an appropriate post." She gathered the will to look at him. "You will not contact me, and you will never know the child."

 

He was calm. Steady. "Will you be resuming your campaign against the Republic, my lord?"

 

"Yes." He knew that, or should. Ending the war was paramount.

 

"And if I asked to serve you? Knowing how well we work together. Knowing what a difference you and I could make. Knowing I would submit to your command without reservation."

 

"If you asked again, I would spit in your eye." He flinched. "Any other stupid questions?"

 

"No, my lord."

 

"Good. Coordinate with Jaesa for your passage offworld and any other resources you require."

 

She conducted him to the door. "One final thing," she said, pausing in the doorway, struggling once more to hold up under his brilliant blue stare. "I love you. I'll go to my grave loving you. And for that above all, I will never forgive you." An ugly truth, and something she didn't care to carry alone. "Dismissed."

 

 

 

Allies: 600 words.

 

 

"Hey, Secret-Agent-Man."

 

Wynston looked up from his console and, from habit of security, turned off the display. "Vette. How are things? – Did you get your lekku done? You're looking very vivid."

 

Vette made a face. "You are so full of it."

 

He grinned. "I only do it because you call me on it." That kind of girl was always fun.

 

"You do it because you're hoping I'll get a head injury bad enough for me to start falling for it."

 

Pierce, seated not far away at his own research, snorted.

 

"Funny," said Wynston, "it looks to me like it didn't take a head injury to bring you here just now." A tiny bit of malice in his grin. He loved that she didn't take him even slightly seriously. After a moment he turned to amiable innocence. "What can I do for you?"

 

"Well, I was going to thank you for helping Miss Wrath but I'm starting to think I shouldn't bother."

 

"Thank me when she's really established. We're not in the clear just yet."

 

"Missing the point. We were not exactly having a great time trying to pull her head out of her angst after Captain Turncoat did his thing. I'm glad you showed up." She fidgeted a little. "Woulda been nice to make this happen way back on Alderaan, spare us all a whole lot of 'What the Captain says goes,' but better late than never, I guess."

 

"It might have been nice, but I do have a policy of leaving women alone when they tell me to." Off the job, anyway.

 

Vette glared at him. "Liar."

 

Wynston set his bland expression at odds with his tone of voice. "You haven't told me. Just say the word, you'll find I can be very, very well-behaved."

 

Over the sound of Pierce's laughter, Vette half yelled "You are so full of it."

 

Wynston grinned and let Pierce's laughter run its course before speaking again; this time his delivery was friendly-serious. "Vette, I am glad to be here. The two of you deserve considerably more credit for having been there the whole time, but I'm glad to do my part. And I'm very glad she seems to be doing better."

 

She looked down at the console he had turned off. "So what're you doing after this, anyway?"

 

"Working," Wynston said levelly. He didn't consider walking around spilling long-term plans to be good policy. "The situation's complicated. I expect I'll be in touch."

 

"Wow. We've got Mister Commitment here."

 

"I am committed. To the same cause you are. I just won't necessarily be working in this neighborhood."

 

"Right." She gave him a sharp look. "That means I get to handle background checks on her next boyfriend myself."

 

"Not necessarily. Direct any names my way and I can get you any dirt on him that's ever touched the HoloNet or certain more specialized networks."

 

She examined his face. "And that doesn't bother you at all. Does it."

 

"No, it doesn't." He wasn't qualified for the long run, not like that; no point blocking the way for someone who was. "Did you have any other questions?"

 

"Yeah. Like exactly where do you expect me to find normal guys around here?"

 

"'Around here,' 'normal' high-ranking Sith are everywhere; you can't stab a wall hanging without hitting one."

 

"Not what I meant."

 

"I know." He smiled thinly. "I really ought to get back to work. Right this minute, this is the sanity restoration I can do."

 

 

 

 

 

Point the first: Ruth can stand to say Quinn will not be in her life, and this time she can also stand to say that he has no right to her son. But, Quinn will still live and be released into the wild.

 

Point the second: I never seem to get the chance to show that Wynston will toss flirtation at very nearly anything that moves, in assorted custom-tailored ways. Just for fun. What's also happening here is the information content of his conversation is wildly reduced because it isn't a job strategy session or Ruth.

 

Point the third: For some reason I always, always see Vette as trying to arrange her Warrior's love life. This is just a thing that I cannot shake.

 

 

Edited by bright_ephemera
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Lodestone: I Love This Bar.

 

New plan: This will spring into its own thread after a logical leaping-off point that's coming up very soon. Because, um, the next fifteen years have some changes in store. For now, a cantina story. 1200 words.

 

 

 

There was a huge amount of terrorizing to do in the Citadel, not to mention assorted other government buildings in Kaas City. Ruth, having been told by the Servants to concentrate on her own affairs, was keeping busy.

 

It wasn't terrorizing by any real Sith standard. It was more showing up, flexing theatrically, and then offering constructive working relationships under terms better than Baras would've offered. It worked in her favor that everyone knew the ultimate end of the terms Baras would've offered.

 

Her people mostly played guardsmen; Wynston and Vette semi-frequently peeled off to observe movements in the city and, at times, check security on meeting locations that kept mysteriously sprouting explosive charges and the like. Everybody was formal when they reported back to Ruth in public. The chin-up command style she had been trained to was going to be a full-time affectation in her capacity as Wrath. She really enjoyed getting home in the evenings, tossing aside the mask, and settling in for a little thinking time by herself on the verandah, or else talking with some subset of her people over hot chocolate inside. A little thinking or talking, then returning to a console to run over a slowly growing stream of reports from Baras's old people and brainstorming strategy.

 

It kept her moving. Over the next few days she slept through the night, every night, and what nightmares there were were mundane and forgettable. Wynston was affectionate, attentive. Endlessly practical counsel and sweet, open company. He was good at what he did. Really good. It helped.

 

Business in the Citadel ran late one evening; Ruth was tired enough to be a little annoyed when Wynston stopped her on the party's way out to their speeders.

 

"If we have a few minutes to spare," he said, "the two of us might stop by the Nexus Room. While we're in town."

 

Ruth cast a look at her companions. Vette was rolling her eyes as loudly as she could. "That's a little…abrupt," Ruth said self-consciously.

 

"It's almost certainly not what you're thinking." He smiled. "Just an hour or so. Or we can just go home if you prefer."

 

"No." She did have a little time, and she was curious in an acutely alert way. "Let's go."

 

Ruth's crew went on ahead. Ruth herself headed to the cantina and parked her speeder beside Wynston's. He kept a little distance leading her in. Enough to satisfy propriety.

 

Which only doubled her consternation when he spoke to someone at the desk, handed over a cred stick, and beckoned Ruth to a lift that led up to one of the private suites.

 

The lift delivered them upstairs, and she followed him off to the nearest doorway. "This is not what I was thinking?" she said skeptically.

 

"Well, I don't read minds as such. I could've guessed you wrong." From the antechamber they could still hear the dining room's music. Suddenly he looped an arm around her waist and whirled into what she was considerably surprised to find was a dance hold.

 

"There," he said, grinning. "Guess that one?"

 

No, but it was good for a very pleasant rush. "I'm not convinced this is your whole plan."

 

The Chiss studied her face. "I'd have stayed downstairs but we probably want to minimize the publicity of your less formal associations. We'll have been observed no matter what, but I'd rather…" He settled into a slow rhythm with the music floating up to them. "I'd rather save this for us."

 

The last time they had danced here it had been out on the public floor downstairs, as two nobodies. Just a chance encounter, that first night together. "It's been a while," she said. Only a year and a half, she thought. Only a year and a half.

 

"A long while," he agreed. "At no time did I expect that I would ever be back here with you."

 

She enjoyed being here with him. As breaks from the job went, this was…nice. "I never expected to see you at all," she admitted. "After every time we ran into each other, we'd split up and I'd think, that's it. That's the last I'll see of him."

 

"I hoped it wouldn't be. Every time." His hands tightened in small caresses at her waist and hand. "My work doesn't encourage connections, but that didn't stop me hoping."

 

They were quiet for a while. His eyes were warm, his expression gentle, his arms steady, his lead as sure and natural as it had been their first time. When she smiled he slowly matched it with his own, and that was every bit as dizzying as it had been the first time. She had been so much younger then. He was, when he looked at her like this, just the same. Only closer than ever.

 

"This was a good idea," she whispered.

 

"You keep saying that when I throw ideas at you. It's very flattering."

 

"Mm, it's true. The first time was a good idea, too."

 

"I had no idea how much. Just imagine, if we had finished that one odd job and then you'd turned me down for dinner. We'd have gone our separate ways, into our separate trials, and never known what we were missing."

 

Just the thought of it made her ache. "I wouldn't have turned you down. I liked you. You were good company." Easygoing, not at all intimidated by her. Did that just mean he had been sent, he already knew her face and social profile, and he had gone the route likeliest to pique her interest, namely, nervy novelty? She had wondered of late. But she didn't think it was like that. "Did it matter to you even slightly that I'm Sith?" she asked. "Does it now?"

 

"That's a complex question. When we're alone? No. You don't make me put it front and center at all times." His eyes were brilliant. "You never made me do that, even though you could."

 

She grinned. "Somehow I doubt you'd listen."

 

"I do. I have. I've survived as long as I have in part by behaving for Sith, sometimes even when I couldn't undo their will behind their backs. That's part of why I so very much appreciate what I'm allowed to be with you."

 

"What you're…? Wynston, I boss you around all the time." Perhaps more than she should sometimes.

 

"It is true you make me back you up in doing the right thing in the field. And you do keep ordering me to tell the truth, support you, give you…give you myself instead of the plan." He squeezed her hand. "All that is still allowing me to be a better man than most authorities like to permit."

 

The connection between them sang with the ongoing music, and she felt his happiness as surely as she knew he must feel hers. "You being anything else would be a loss for both of us."

 

He laughed softly. "Darling, you may be the only person who ever meant that."

 

"I do mean it," she said. "You're the only person who ever bothered trying to teach me to dance."

 

 

 

Notes thereon:

 

 

Can't actually replicate first dance downstairs. Too many security concerns. :(

 

Quinn preferred Sith!Ruth. He always has. It's agonizingly persistent in the romance line: rank, rank, blah blah rank. That power thing is inescapable with Agents as well: Sith in that story throw their weight around like it's their life's work. Which I guess it is. It's 24/7 "I am Sith, you are alien dirt."

 

Unless you take a chance with an unusual-seeming one, you know, just for the heck of it.

 

 

 

Then, Lodestone: Affection. Sap, sap sap, sap sap sap. 500 words.

 

 

 

Wynston woke when Ruth sat up. "Hm?" he said.

 

"I was just thinking," she said in a gravelly voice. She still sounded sleepy. "You're the one setting your schedule. Have you decided how long we have?"

 

"A little while."

 

"How long is a little while?"

 

Wynston ran a quick check of his mental calendar. "Two weeks," he forced himself to say. "I'll have to leave in another two weeks."

 

"Two weeks," she repeated. "That's…" She lay back down, not touching him, staring at the ceiling. "All right. After that, your job's going to need you elsewhere."

 

"That's right. You've been doing brilliantly; with the battle won here, you won't need me as much as other matters will."

 

"That's true," she said distantly.

 

"Obviously the new organization has every reason to stay in touch with the Emperor's Wrath in coordinating Imperial operations. I would be your primary contact. When your schedule permits we could meet to talk. Frequently."

 

"Certainly. At the same time, it would be dangerous to let that interfere with our own tasks."

 

"Definitely. While we're working…"

 

"Working apart does make sense."

 

"Yes. You're accustomed to command, I'm accustomed to nearly complete autonomy in operations – sooner or later those habits would start clashing."

 

"I know, Wynston. Shut up."

 

"Only if you do."

 

To his considerable surprise, she took his hand and held it in the silent dark.

 

"You know something?" she said after a while.

 

"What?"

 

"I'm happy here. Even with everything. Happy with you." She suddenly shuffled down to bring her face in close to his. "Is that weird, under the circumstances?"

 

"I've never been one to reject happiness due to improper circumstances. I'm happy with you, with everything. I think if we knew the galaxy was going to burn out tomorrow I'd still be happy because you're near." He wished he could see her expression better. "You mean it?"

 

"Yes. I know I can be difficult, but…what you're doing. I do believe you care. I believe you're with me for the right reasons and…I'm happy for it."

 

That seemed to undo something in his chest, a tension he had briefly forgotten was there. He slipped his arms around her and took a moment to force his lips to stop trembling. "Then believe also that these have been some of the happiest days of my life."

 

"Even with everything."

 

"Even with everything."

 

Crafty woman, getting the practical cooperative words out of the way before bringing around the devastating counterargument. She liked him. She liked him and she could still do the job for the right reasons. She didn't want to, but she would. She was strong enough. And he would be back, if she would have him. And just now everything was as perfect as the galaxy ever was. He kissed her, drowsily, lazily, over and over, and fell asleep that way, her breath warm on his lips, and his on hers.

 

 

 

Notes thereon:

 

Galaxy blowing up? Not foreshadowing at all.

 

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Last post before this moves thread. Lodestone: What's in a Name? 250 words.

 

 

 

"So's your kid have a name yet?" inquired Vette.

 

"It doesn't have a gender yet, Vette, of course I don't have a name ready."

 

"Come on. You must've at least been thinking about it."

 

Ruth's look at the Twi'lek sharpened. "I did. Some. I talked…we talked. A little bit about names, just in theory, before I knew." She touched her belly. "Before I found out. I can't do those names now."

 

"Oh. Right." It only took Vette a moment to perk up again. "I can deal with not naming 'em after Quinn or anything he stood for."

 

"And unfortunately there aren't many other people that are worth naming it after."

 

"Vette?" Vette looked innocent.

 

"I'm not sure 'Vette' is an ideal Sith name."

 

"It's a great name."

 

"Yes, but then when I was yelling at her for misbehaving I would have to scream at Vette. All day, every day."

 

"And this is different from normal how?"

 

"I don't scream at you!"

 

"Check yourself, hon."

 

Ruth scowled.

 

"So. What do we have. Evilspawn? After his or her dad, of course. Wynnie?"

 

"What?"

 

"Just try it, I wanna see the look on his face."

 

"I'm not naming my baby Wynnie. I could just do variations on my parents. You know. Lara, for a girl. I suppose a boy would just be Colrand."

 

"That's not very exciting."

 

"Thanks for the opinion, Vette."

 

 

 

 

Contrast with her bitter, bitter, bitter idea in prime canon: http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=5017128&postcount=956

 

 

and Lodestone: Sacrifice. 400 words.

 

 

 

Wynston set an alarm for early. Separation tended to go quick and clean when it had to be at the spaceport by an hour after sunrise.

 

He kissed the woman who had shared his bed for the last month. It was a continuous want when he was with her, a craving for contact, its own reward.

 

He snapped out of it and picked up his bag. "Thank you, Ruth. For everything."

 

"You, too," she said, staying still as he stepped away. Her voice was low but admirably steady. "This would have been a lot worse without you."

 

"I'm always glad to help you."

 

She smiled. "I'm always glad to have you."

 

He nodded. "I'll be in touch."

 

She frowned a little. "You'll be…in touch."

 

"Yes." It didn't seem nearly adequate. "Ruth, there are roughly five people I have sincerely said that to in my life, and you're the only one of them who wasn't handling my paychecks. If it's not enough, forgive me. There are very few promises I'm free to make."

 

"You're self-employed now." She sounded like she was trying desperately not to beg, and not quite making it.

 

He hurt for her. "The mission I serve hasn't changed. You know that this, us, wasn't just a job. Don't ever think that's all it was. But I told you, I go where I'm needed, and right now other battles need me more." He reached out to take and kiss her hands, stepped away, let them drop. "I'll be in touch."

 

"Wynston," she said, before he escaped.

 

Against his better judgment he paused in the doorway.

 

"I do want you."

 

He turned to look. Her expression was a little plea and a lot of trying to keep her chin up. He smiled once more. "Likewise, darling."

 

Then he got moving.

 

He packed up his concern for her as neatly as he could in its mental compartment. She would be fine. The crisis had been resolved, her social situation stabilized, her professional situation put on an upward slope. She would be willing to work with him and with Intelligence again. Everything had run right and, on a personally comforting level, he knew she was ready to take care of herself.

 

He reached his ship, took it up into orbit and from there sent it leaping into hyperspace. He leaned forward over the bridge console, allowing the hidden lines of the world made visible to rush at and over him. He could breathe here. Cold, scentless breaths, and they ached a little. He reminded himself that that was just the feeling of having gotten out in time.

 

 

 

 

 

This is not the end of the Lodestone continuity. Far from it – the Wrath's career plays out very differently when she isn't concentrating on continuous pain.

 

 

Edited by bright_ephemera
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<.< ... >.>

 

I'm'a hawk the Lodestone standalone thread once: http://www.swtor.com/community/showthread.php?t=573432

 

As of right this minute there's no new content on it, but the story continuation is there. Because 47,000 words was excessive for the short fic threads. :rolleyes:

 

(Edit: Stuff's up, so that's started.)

Edited by bright_ephemera
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Would feel a little strange posting this to the new thread when it's only been story updates from you so far. Almost as if I'd sully the thread somehow. Irrational thoughts ftw.

 

I'm glad you enjoy! Please, feel free to comment over there...I feel like I'm talking to myself for 22 posts in a row XD

 

With any luck my muse will start letting me do interesting slips of other worlds sometime soon.

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Good heavens, I've killed the thread.

 

Umm, here, have some prompts?

 

Week of 12/21/2012:

Laws and Governance: Our characters pass through a huge number of jurisdictions with a huge variety of regulations, forms of government, fine print, and - eek - legal penalties. Write about an interaction your character has had with government and/or the legal system.

Failure: Our characters have flaws. They have bad days. They do it wrong. And sometimes they don't win. What failures have your characters experienced? What, if anything, did they learn from it?

 

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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Another prompt! Thank goodness for Night of the Living Prompt!

 

Week of 12/28/2012:

Alternate Perspectives: Something a little different, most of the time we tell a story from a single character's perspective. But what were other characters thinking at the time? Rewrite one of your past pieces from another character's perspective or write a new fic from two characters perspectives. Use any prompt or just make something up.

 

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=5060021&postcount=2 OR steal one from the SFC

http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=5223753&postcount=1675.

Edited by kabeone
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It's been quite a while, but here is the next part of the Switchbladeverse, aka The AU That Got Away From Me and Developed a Mind of Its Own. I decided to split this last bit into two parts to keep it from getting ridiculously long and also so I'd feel like I accomplished something... :rolleyes:

 

So! Night of the Living Prompt - Seasons: Winter, part one of two. Contains no class story spoilers.

 

 

 

Deep Space

11 ATC

 

K’hera drifted.

 

Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut against the darkness all around her, her breathing shallow as she floated in a Force trance. She could almost shut out the vast un-presence of space, and pretend that she was lying on a soft bed, or floating in a pool of water.

 

Her eyelids could not keep out the darkness within, however. The Force trance could not clear her mind of the constant, agonized refrain: What have I done?

 

She knew what she'd done. She'd been a fool.

 

The Sith taught that fear was a powerful weapon, but she had never dreamed of how effective it could be until she had experienced it firsthand. The creeping terror that lurked constantly in the very back of her mind had proven too strong for her to resist.

 

Darth Baras was not a man inclined to mercy, nor was he easily outmaneuvered. If she had refused the order, he would have found a way to reach out across the galaxy and make her suffer for it.

 

How many times had she lived it in her nightmares? The stark stone walls, splattered with blood, and scorch marks from stray lightning. The faceless masks of the inquisitors, the respirators twisting their voices into a lifeless echo that made their laughter all sound the same. Worse were the ones who did not laugh, who appeared to take no pleasure in their work, but carried out the torments simply because they could.

 

On Tatooine, K'hera had heard the locals speak of creatures called sarlaacs that were reputed to leave their victims in eternal agony as they slowly digested them over the course of a millennium. She could not help but wonder if the inquisitors used that beast as inspiration, for she had no doubt that a similar fate would await her if she were ever to return to that place.

 

She drifted.

 

It just didn't seem right. She loved Malavai, didn't she? Why hadn't she been strong enough to face the prospect of further torment for his sake? She had believed that her love for him would be enough. She had believed that if necessary, she would be able to sacrifice herself.

 

K'hera had not understood the truth then. In those golden summer moments when every day seemed like a blissful dream made real, the possibility of death and worse had seemed very far away. It had been easy to imagine that when the time came, she would be able to make the right choice. But instead, she had made the wrong one. Why?

 

Tears stung behind her closed eyelids. Here, at the end, with only a few hours of life left to her, she had to face the truth.

 

The truth was that she was not the same person that she had been before her master had been found guilty of treason. She had believed herself to be so, but it was simply not the case. From the moment that she had stumbled out of her prison cell on the day of her relase, she had known in her heart that she had been changed forever. The inquisitors had broken her. They had won.

 

The truth was that K'hera Dhakar was a coward.

 

In some other life, she might have found some wellspring of will deep within that would have given her the strength to face death without fear. Perhaps, had she not been twisted into a shabby simulacrum of her former self, love would have been enough. But a broken Sith could not sustain their fragile power so easily, and in the end all of her passions had fallen short.

 

She did not dare open her eyes to check the remaining levels of oxygen in her tank. She did not dare face the void, the distant stars. She could only continue to reach out with the Force and hope desperately that her call would be heeded.

 

K'saria...

 

 

*****

 

 

Aboard Fury-class starship

11 ATC

 

Malavai awoke slowly, struggling upward from the depths of a nightmare. His heart pounded rapidly with adrenaline; he forced his breathing to steady itself. It had only been a dream, and the memory was already fading.

 

He felt the warmth of the woman curled up against his side. Still half-asleep, he started to reach out to her, but hesitated as he opened his eyes and registered pale skin rather than copper. He brushed some of Jaesa’s hair away from where it lay in tangled strands over her face. Asleep, she looked very young and very vulnerable.

 

The sight of her sickened him suddenly. What had he done? Why was she here, with him, despite all his promises to himself that he would never indulge her infatuation?

 

Malavai knew the answer, and it troubled him. He glanced over at the chronometer on the bedside table. Sixteen hours had elapsed since he had abandoned K’hera to her fate.

 

He turned back to Jaesa and grabbed her by the shoulder, shaking her roughly. She mumbled something incoherent as she awoke, then composed her face into a seductive expression.

 

“Good morning, my lord,” she murmured coyly, fluttering her eyelashes. She scooted towards him, leaning in for a kiss.

 

With a Force-enhanced push, he shoved her away. She tumbled out of the bed and landed on the floor with a thump, letting out a startled exclamation.

 

For an instant, her face twisted with anger, before settling into a pout. “Have I displeased you, my lord?” she asked, staring up at him.

 

Malavai glared at her. “Get out.”

 

“W—what?” Jaesa stammered, her face falling. “My lord, surely you don’t mean—“

 

“Get out, or I will throw you out,” he snapped.

 

She whimpered an apology and scrambled to gather up her clothes.

 

“The past two nights were regrettable indiscretions,” Malavai informed her coldly. “It will not happen again.”

 

“Yes, Master,” Jaesa muttered, looking glum.

 

“You will conduct yourself appropriately in the future,” he ordered. “I will not have a harlot for an apprentice.”

 

“Yes, Master.”

 

“If you attempt to seduce me again, you will regret it.”

 

“But, my lord,” she objected, “you’re the one who—“

 

Silence,” Malavai snarled.

 

Jaesa snapped her jaw shut, looking suddenly meek.

 

“Get out, and stay out,” he said grimly.

 

She bowed quickly and all but ran out the door.

 

Malavai sank back onto the pillows, running a hand over his face. He’d had a momentary lapse in judgment, that was all. Although he hated to admit it, K’hera had hurt him deeply. He had wanted revenge, wanted to hurt her too, and Jaesa had been there, willing…

 

He shuddered as he replayed the events of the last two nights in his mind. Never again. Jaesa was pretty enough, and eager to please, but the thought of intimacy with her made him nauseous. He had been a fool to allow his control to slip in such a fashion.

 

It's not too late, whispered a small voice in the back of his mind. You can still turn back, save K'hera...

 

"No," he whispered, shaking his head. I have made my decision, and I must abide by it or appear weak. Besides, it's too late to turn around now. She'll run out of air before I could reach her.

 

Malavai closed his eyes and tried not to think of the woman he still loved suffocating alone in the cold dark.

 

 

Notes:

Um, I really hope the first part of this doesn't come across as too defensive. I think K'hera's decision to betray Malavai is something that needs rationalizing. I admit, I really mostly had her do it for the sake of symmetry with the main universe, and as such had to scramble for some reasons. Said reasons felt a little shaky in the Autumn piece, so I hope I did a better job of exploring that here.

 

I have to say, it was very interesting to try to get inside of K'hera's mind and figure out why exactly she did what she did. I find that when I write for this story, the words tend to flow on their own and get away from me a bit. K'hera Dhakar was a coward rather surprised me as I typed it, but at the same time it made something click in my head, and everything started to make sense. Whether or not it makes sense to those reading it is another question entirely... :rolleyes:

 

Anyway, there's one more part left and then I think I'm going to write up all of my different ideas for endings and post them. Such is the wonder of AUs! :D Also, because I can't make up my mind... What was originally just a fun little idea about switching two characters seems to have mushroomed into something rather beyond my control. Silly story. :)

 

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EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

 

*deep breath*

 

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

 

*hem* Where was I? Ah, yes. K'hera's rationalization for choosing the action she did even after having recovered her powers was, I think, called for, and playing Baras's known reach off her existing nigh-crippling fear of her previous ordeal is a good way to handle it. :)

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Night of the Living Prompt!: Loyalty and Betrayal

Characters: Malavai Quinn and Athra

Universe: Quick Quinn Quotes

 

 

Once More, From the Top

 

 

He came to her in the dark of night with a message on his lips. She listened as he laid everything bare for her: his plans, his duty, his goal aboard her ship. There was an urge to kill, to lash out, to give in to the red edging along her vision. She stayed her hand and let her mind soak in his words. He was waiting for a response, a word, a phrase, a choke, a stab. Anything. She watched his subtle squirming; a flick of the finger, a slight shift in stance, a hard blink. He was nervous. He should be nervous.

 

“Why tell me this?” she murmured quietly.

 

Her question surprised him, she could tell. He jumped, if ever so slightly, and cleared his throat.

 

“I do not like betrayal, my Lord,” he replied just as quietly.

 

“How ironic,” she said sardonically.

 

“I am attempting to rectify the situation.”

 

“By telling me you’ll be watching me and reporting my every move to Baras.”

 

“I never said those reports had to be based in fact. He obviously underestimates you and hasn’t seen you in combat recently. I know raw power when I see it. I offer you the chance to throw off your Master and build enough power to kill him.”

 

“And, in return, destroy a thorn in your side. Correct, Captain?”

 

“I do benefit from such an endeavor, yes,” the Captain replied honestly.

 

“You have given me much to think about,” she said dismissively. A moment later she waved her hand and the man wisely disappeared. Someone on the inside of Baras’ little powerbase could be quite useful, and, if he held true to his word, instrumental in the eventual take down of the fat beast. She decided to let the Captain stew overnight. He was so bold as to come to her in the middle of the night, wake her up, then inundate her with prose and never ending sentences. He sung his own praises, of course, and damned if that wasn’t annoying. But he hadn’t lied about the potential use for his information. He had made himself an invaluable resource. If she left him alive, Baras would think her none the wiser. If she killed or dismissed him, well, there went that avenue of tracking Baras’ movements against her. Now that she was entirely aware of Baras and the inevitable Master/Apprentice showdown, she could not afford to be left in the dark.

 

Stuck between a spy and a Baras. What a place to be. She sighed quietly and settled back into bed. It was only then, as the silk sheets clung to her skin with a delicate chill, that she realized she was naked.

 

Damn that man for catching her unawares.

 

 

 

 

Notes:

 

 

What if Quinn came out as a spy as soon as he boarded the ship? A fun little story that's been bouncing around my head lately. According to the Codex, Quinn hates betrayal, so it only makes sense he would tell the Warrior "Hey, your boss is probably using my presence here to gauge your worth and kill you later. Just thought I'd stop by and tell you that. Kthnxbai."

 

Edited by irishfino
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@ Vesaniae: YES!

 

Ok, now to clarify: This makes sense. K'hera has a reason for doing what she did. A personal reason, something that makes sense given her established background and experience. Excellent follow-up.

What was originally just a fun little idea about switching two characters seems to have mushroomed into something rather beyond my control. Silly story. :)

Stories do that. Especially when they evolve past "What if I do this" and into letting the new characters be characters and not flat reflections. Thank you for not dropping K'hera's AU.

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Remi AU: Knightless: Loyalty and Betrayal

 

Ug. Struggled with this for weeks and gave up. :/ I hope it's not too awful.

 

SW Ch 3 spoilers

 

 

 

Transponder Station

 

"My Lord," Quinn said softly kneeling beside her. "I believe you can hear me. The toxin works instantly but you should only be paralyzed." He reached into his medical kit for another syringe. "I am going to administer something that will render you unconscious. Before I do, I thought you should understand why I am not going to kill you. I feel I owe you that much." He composed his thoughts. "Do you remember on Tatooine in Master Yonlach's hut, you risked the mission to get me to a Kolto tank when the Padawan shot me?" He paused as if waiting for her to remember then continued, "You saved my life and I owe you a great deal." He hesitated, "and I did not lie when I confessed having feelings for you.” He said the last part quickly then continued, “However, I have observed you since the day we met on Balmorra and you cannot stand against Darth Baras. His network is vast, his plans are deep, and you will not be able to overcome them despite your formidable strength. I will tell him you are dead, it is the best I can do for you. Goodbye, my Lord."

 

He injected Lord Ninka with the second syringe. Her heart slowed, her body temperature dropped, to anyone without a high resolution medical scanner she would appear to be in the early stages of rigor mortis. He glanced at the monitors. A pair of Darth Eckage's assassins were drawing near. He stood at attention when they entered.

 

"Captain," the masked Sith assassin glanced at the body of Darth Baras's former apprentice. "I see you did not need our help."

 

"No, my Lord," Quinn bowed properly, "But I am grateful for your assistance." One of the Sith moved forward to check the body and nodded to the other.

 

"Bring her head." The Sith ordered sounding bored, "Darth Baras wants it."

 

Quinn had been expecting Baras to require proof. The Darth was careful to the point of paranoia. “I’m afraid I cannot allow that.” He said calmly and clicked the switch on his specially tuned sonic device. Both Sith clutched their heads in agony before slumping to the floor. He tapped the console and two large armored droids entered through the cargo door behind him. He programmed their targets and set them to execute. Within moments both Sith were dead sporting large plasma burns that could have come from a lightsaber.

 

Quinn sealed the room and returned to the ship alone, he did not look back.

 

***

 

He found the crew already subdued in the cargo bay by Darth Eckage herself. The Sith greeted him suspiciously with lightsaber drawn and Quinn knelt before her. The members of the crew stared daggers at him but no one said anything nor did any of them seem terribly surprised.

 

"My Lord, it is an honor." He said speaking from his knee. “I was not expecting you to handle this personally.”

 

"So you're Baras's agent." Orange eyes glittered at him from a pale wrinkled face. "Where are the others? I no longer sense them."

 

"I am afraid Lord Ninka bested them, my Lord. Their wounds were fatal, there was nothing I could do for them."

 

Eckage shrugged a shoulder, "If they could be defeated by an upstart child they were unworthy." She eyes his obviously empty hands. "They were to bring her head with them."

 

"I am afraid I did not receive that order, my Lord. I can go back." He offered gesturing behind him.

 

"No, nevermind." The withered Sith waved her hand. "Baras will have to do without his trophy. Let us deal with this bunch and get on with this."

 

"Of course, my Lord." Quinn rose to his feet and addressed the crew. "Lord Ninka is dead. Darth Baras will be acknowledged as the Emperor's Voice." He paced in front of them. He knew them well, their habits, their ticks, what they valued and whether they would break. He would make this quick. He stood before Broonmark, the Talz was easily the most predictable of the group.

 

"Broonmark, Darth Baras has nothing against you. You may join with him and serve the Empire." A standard offer, the Talz would be put with the rest of the frontline fodder and die just as quickly. Predictably the Talz declined adding several threats in his odd buzzing tongue. Quinn drew his blaster and shot the alien between the set of eyes that would most efficiently kill him. He holstered his blaster.

 

"Do you have anything to say?" Quinn asked turning to Vette.

 

The Twilek's hands were bound and her face displayed genuine grief at the news of her "sister's" demise. At the sight of Broonmark's execution she trembled with fear. She shook her head, silent for once.

 

He nodded slapping a collar around her neck. "You will be moved to the labor pool on Dromund Kaas. I'm sure someone will find you useful."

 

Jaesa was next and she did not wait to be made an offer, instead she lunged at him despite the Force shackles on her wrists. He sidestepped Lord Ninka's crazed and sloppy apprentice grabbing her throat and shoving her back against the wall. He had spent the last few weeks dodging her advances while Lord Ninka had locked herself in her quarters. He tapped her head against the metal bulkhead a few times until he was sure he had her attention.

 

"You, Jaesa, will serve Darth Baras." Quinn tightened his grip around her throat so he would not have to hear her voice. "You will do so willingly or he will convince you, but the end result is the same. The faster you resign yourself to it, the better off you will be." He gave her head a final shove and she whimpered sliding to the floor.

 

Darth Eckage chuckled nastily. "I see why Baras appreciates you, Captain."

 

"Thank you, my Lord." Quinn bowed to her.

 

"That was not a compliment."

 

"Of course, my Lord." He said blandly. The comm beeped in the distance, Darth Eckage, expecting a message from Baras, moved to answer it. Quinn stood in front of Pierce, the two men stared at each other, a silent exchange that confirmed everything one had guessed about the other. "I told Darth Baras that you were physically capable but not worth the trouble. Sorry." He shrugged and raised his blaster.

 

Eckage called from the doorway sounding amused. “A moment, Captain.” She turned on her portable com device displaying a projection of General Rakton.

 

"My Lord, thank you for receiving my call. I didn't know you had taken the field again." Rakton said bowing to the Sith.

 

"What do you want, Rakton." She snapped.

 

"I am leading an assault on a key piece in our push for Corellia. I was working with another Sith, Lord Ninka, to borrow her Lieutenant Pierce for the operation."

 

"Ahh," Eckage nodded, "You're in luck, General. Lord Ninka is no longer here, you may have him."

 

"My Lord?" Quinn and Rakton asked simultaneously.

 

"Any victories won by you will now be credited to Darth Baras, understood?" Eckage ordered.

 

"It would be an honor," Rakton bowed again. "I'll have a ship rendezvous with you to transfer Pierce at these coordinates." He sent them a location less than a few hours away by hyperspace. "Rakton out."

 

Quinn turned to Darth Eckage. "My Lord, I beg your pardon, but the Lieutenant is unpredictable and may cause trouble for Darth Baras's campaign."

 

"Silence," Eckage cut off his words with a clenching gesture. Quinn felt his throat collapse under invisible fingers. She released him and he gasped for breath. "You have earned my brother's respect, but not mine. A single soldier with no means, influence, or information is not going to jeopardize Baras's plans. Besides," she strolled nearer to Pierce, her ghastly features wrinkling further in a grim parody of a smile. "He amuses me."

 

Throughout the exchange Pierce's expression had not changed except for a slight crinkling in the corners of his eyes. He was laughing. Quinn regained his composure inclining his head to the Sith. "Yes, my Lord." He acquiesced, "I will plot our course right away." She nodded her head dismissing him and he made his way briskly to the bridge.

 

This is a mistake. Quinn thought as the ship jumped to hyperspace, only he was not certain which part.

 

 

 

 

@Ves Yay. I liked that comparison to the Sarlacc, it does make her choice easier to understand. Also, DS Jaesa getting kicked out of bed was pretty fun too).

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@ Vesaniae: YES!

 

Ok, now to clarify: This makes sense. K'hera has a reason for doing what she did. A personal reason, something that makes sense given her established background and experience. Excellent follow-up.

See, I was going to comment in my own words, Ves, but Striges just bundled my thoughts all together so I'll just say ^ :D

 

And Fino, I like the AU. It is more believable that he'd recognize who the winner was going to be (master strategist, hello) and go with that than the actual events. Makes sense to me.

 

Kabe - "Throughout the exchange Pierce's expression had not changed except for a slight crinkling in the corners of his eyes. He was laughing." That man is such a thorn in Quinn's side, even with as little power as he holds, love it! :D

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