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08.13.2012 , 09:19 PM | #11
Four – Nostalgia
Sith Academy, Korriban
12 ATC

The Dark Honor Guards stationed in the corridors of the Sith Academy’s upper floors bowed deeply as the Emperor’s Wrath and Darth Nox passed them on their way out of the Dark Council chamber.

“It’s a perfectly valid question,” Nox was saying. The two women paused to wait for the elevator.

“And one that is completely irrelevant, given the current state of Council membership,” A’tro replied.

“It won’t last forever.”

“Even if we had the full twelve, not everyone attends the meetings.”

“Perhaps not. But what if they do?”

“I shall simply have to stand.”

Nox raised her eyebrows. “How…undignified.”

“Those chairs are blasted uncomfortable, anyway,” A’tro complained.

“Such are the tribulations of power, my dear. Besides, if you stand, it will only emphasize how short you are.”

“Your concern for my image touches my heart, Nox,” A’tro said dryly.

The elevator arrived, and the two stepped onto it.

“It’s not a question of solely physical presence,” A’tro said. “If I want to intimidate, I am capable of projecting an aura.”

“Auras,” Nox sneered. “Because causing everyone within fifty meters to keel over from sheer terror does wonders for productivity.”

A’tro gave her a skeptical look. “Are you speaking from experience, or…?”

Nox smiled faintly. “Experience. Don’t ask.”

The elevator touched down on the ground floor of the Academy, and the two Sith exited into the corridor.

“I’m off to poke around the Archives,” Nox said cheerfully. “Toodles, Wrath.” She strode off, smiling mysteriously to herself.

A’tro looked after her, frowning. I do not trust that woman.

She looked down towards the ground floor. As always, acolytes milled about. Less than three years ago, she had been a part of that crowd.

No, she thought. Not really. I was an acolyte when most of them were just children, when the Treaty of Coruscant was signed. Three years ago was a sham. It doesn’t count.

While the acolytes went about their business, a few older Sith stood at the edges of the vast room, watching the students with appraising eyes. These would be Lords, probably looking for worthy apprentices.

A’tro remembered—

Walking across the chamber, the lesser acolytes parting before me, a dark-haired woman in red robes catches my eye…

“I am Darth Evendre, acolyte. I have been watching you…”

Watching, learning, “Emotion is weakness, K’hera. Do not let your passions consume you.” Control, always control.

Uncovering the secret, searing pain across my face, running through the night in the rain with the knowledge—traitor, heretic, just like K’saria…

A’tro shook her head. It was all in the past, now.

One of the Sith down below turned away from watching the acolytes and ascended the stairs leading to the level where A’tro stood.

She watched him approach. He was a Pureblood, like herself, with dark red eyes and a handsome face that seemed strangely familiar—

Her eyes widened. I don’t believe it, she thought. How could I not have recognized him immediately? As he walked in her direction, she turned subtly, letting him get a good look at her face.

He stumbled to a halt. “K’hera?” he whispered.

Feeling suddenly mischievous, she drew herself up haughtily. “Do I know you?” she demanded coldly, drawing upon the dark side so he could not help but sense her power.

He immediately bowed. “My lord, your pardon,” he said hastily. “I mistook you for someone else.”

“Your deference does you credit, Savadar Ekari,” A’tro said in her best imitation of Darth Baras at his most grandiose. “I am Darth A’tro, the Emperor’s Wrath.”

“I—I am flattered that you know me, Lord Wrath,” Savadar said, dropping to one knee. “I apologize for my earlier presumption.”

“Indeed,” A’tro said. “You seem rather quick to recognize deceased friends in corridors.”

Savadar muttered something incoherent in an apologetic tone.

A’tro reflected that she was enjoying this entirely too much. “K’hera may be dead,” she said, dropping the overly dramatic tone, “but her body is very much alive. Hello, Savadar. Nice to see you again.”

Savadar looked up at her. “So it really is you,” he said in amazement. He frowned. “Your sense of humor is still rather lacking. Are you really the Wrath?”

“Do not question my power,” she said ominously.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he muttered. “Can I get up now?”

“I don’t know…” A’tro said slowly. “I rather like you this way. Properly respectful, and I don’t have to crane my neck to look at you.”

Savadar sighed. “And they say that the Darth title changes people. K’hera—“

“My name is A’tro.”

“Right, sorry. I’m still trying to absorb the fact that you’re not dead.

She smiled. “Careful, Savadar. I’m going to think that you missed me.”

“I did,” he said simply.

There was an undertone of emotion to the words that made her feel distinctly uncomfortable. “You can get up now,” she told him.

Savadar rose gracefully to his feet and made a pretense of dusting off his knees. “You are most gracious, my lord Wrath.”

A’tro glared at him. “Don’t start my lord-ing me every third word. Bad enough that I never could get—I mean, that I get it from everyone else.”

“I believe it’s traditional for a Lord to address a Darth with some measure of respect.”

“You called me K’hera not five minutes ago.”

“I was referring to a dead woman I once knew. You, on the other hand, are the Emperor’s Wrath.”

“I am also your friend.”

Savadar looked at her intently. “Am I?”

A’tro smiled. “Yes, damn it. I haven’t changed that much.”

“Well,” Savadar said slowly. “I suppose that’s good to hear. A’tro.” He grimaced, as though the name carried an unpleasant taste. “Doesn’t sound like you.”

“You can call me Wrath, if you want,” A’tro said dryly. “Now, walk with me. I believe we have a great deal to catch up on. When did you become a Lord? Whose apprentice are you? I want to know…”

I‘m glad I ran into him, she thought as she walked. It’ll be nice to have someone I can talk to who isn’t high enough in the pecking order to be plotting my downfall. Someone who grew up Sith, like me, who sees the galaxy in much the same way as I do.

Yes, it will be nice

Stream of consciousness flashbacks are the best kind of flashback. Oh, and in case it was too vague, at the very beginning Nox and A'tro are talking about how since A'tro isn't technically a member of the Dark Council, if all twelve Dark Council members are present, she won't have anywhere to sit.
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08.13.2012 , 09:40 PM | #12
Quote: Originally Posted by Vesaniae View Post
A’tro glared at him. “Don’t start my lord-ing me every third word. Bad enough that I never could get—I mean, that I get it from everyone else.”

I actually really like all of it. But I found that tidbit particularly tasty.
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08.14.2012 , 08:19 AM | #13
Quote: Originally Posted by bright_ephemera View Post

I actually really like all of it. But I found that tidbit particularly tasty.
Yes, that chapter contains several veiled references to a variety of things. Well, two things.

Interlude - Flashback: Reinvention, Part II
Sith Academy, Korriban
10 ATC

Ravinia stood in front of her holoterminal, smiling to herself. Another day, another scheme brought to fruition. It was delicious.

After several moments, the holoterminal flickered to life, displaying the image of her niece.

“What is it?” K’hera asked.

“I have news,” Ravinia said. “Darth Evendre is dead. It’s safe for you to return to the heart of Imperial space.”

K’hera frowned. “And do what? As far as everyone knows, K’hera Dhakar is dead.”

Ravinia smirked. “Not to worry, my dear. I’ve taken care of everything.”

“Have you, now.”

“Indeed.” Ravinia made a sweeping gesture. “K’hera Dhakar is dead; let her stay that way. You’ve started calling yourself by a new name—A’tro, was it? Take the opportunity to start fresh, begin a new life.”

“A new life as a Sith apprentice without a master and no opportunity to acquire one. How very appealing.”

Ravinia shook her head. “Nonsense. You’ll have plenty of opportunities. As I said, I’ve taken care of everything.” She paused for dramatic effect.

“Just say it,” K’hera snapped.

“You—or rather, A’tro—will be receiving a message shortly from one of my fellow overseers summoning her to Korriban for training.”

K’hera stared at her incredulously. “And go through the Academy again.”


“Ravinia, I’m twenty-seven. Most new acolytes are teenagers.”

“You look young for your age, my dear. Besides, no one will dare question you. You’re going to be the top student at the Academy—“

“Again,” K’hera muttered.

Ravinia ignored her and continued, “—and you’ll doubtless attract the attention of one powerful Sith or another who will be more than happy to make you their apprentice.”

“That’s a nice proposition, Ravinia. What exactly are you getting out of it?”

Ravinia smiled. “Once you have risen to power—and I have no doubt that you will—you will owe it all to me. Imagine that.”

“Fine,” K’hera said. “Fine. I’ll answer this overseer’s summons, but don’t think this means I agree to do whatever you say.”

“Of course, of course. Just remember, you are in my debt. I expect great things from you.” Ravinia nodded slowly. “Now, you’d best prepare to leave whatever border outpost you’ve been hiding at. Farewell…A’tro.”

And that mostly concludes A'tro's long and convoluted backstory. I wanted a character who was older and experienced as opposed to being a prodigy, and I was willing to go to extreme lengths to explain how such a thing was possible.

And in my headcanon, when Baras asked her to recite the Sith Code, she recited the damn Sith Code.
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08.14.2012 , 08:34 AM | #14
Quote: Originally Posted by Vesaniae View Post
And in my headcanon, when Baras asked her to recite the Sith Code, she recited the damn Sith Code.
Ha! When Baras first asked, I was like "Ooh, ooh, I got this! I remember this from KOTOR or someplace, I got this!"

But I wasn't allowed to get it.
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08.14.2012 , 09:08 AM | #15
Quote: Originally Posted by bright_ephemera View Post
Ha! When Baras first asked, I was like "Ooh, ooh, I got this! I remember this from KOTOR or someplace, I got this!"

But I wasn't allowed to get it.
That was my exact reaction.
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08.14.2012 , 11:39 AM | #16
Five - A Problematic Individual
Aboard the Fury-class starship Alecto
12 ATC

The sun had set on Korriban as A’tro boarded a shuttle up to the orbital station. The Alecto headed away from what was now the planet’s night side, moving towards the edge of the gravity well to make the jump into hyperspace.

Out of habit, A’tro found herself moving towards the bridge. Halfway there she paused, then shrugged and continued.

Quinn was at his usual post. Focused on navigating, he did not notice her enter. She leaned against the doorway, watching the lights from the consoles play across his face. He gave the simple task of piloting the ship the same intense concentration he showed in life or death situations. She’d always found that endearing.

It was too easy to remember as she stood there. Memories of an earlier, simpler time, back before the fate of the Empire rested on her shoulders. Those had been good days, before it had all fallen to pieces around her.

There was no going back now. She had to live with the consequences of her actions.

Sometimes she wished that she had simply executed him. A punishment to fit the crime, a quick and easy way to rid herself of the feelings that lingered on in her heart despite her best efforts to purge them.

Even now, as she looked at Quinn, her body reacted to his presence; her heartbeat quickening, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. It was an instinctive reaction, one that she had been hard-pressed to quell. Was she still attracted to him on some level, or had it simply become a habit for her mood to lighten whenever she saw him?

It didn’t matter. On Voss, she had killed their romance, and his betrayal had cremated the remains.

She smiled bitterly. I broke his heart, and he tried to kill me. Star-crossed, indeed.

The engines rumbled, and outside the ship the stars stretched into lines, then faded into the familiar mottled glow of hyperspace.

Quinn glanced up and saw A’tro’s reflection in the viewport. He dipped his head respectfully, keeping his eyes fixed on the console as he spoke. “My lord, we will arrive on Dromund Kaas in approximately sixteen standard hours.”

A’tro’s face smoothed itself into a blank mask that rivaled Quinn’s for lack of expression. “Very good, Captain,” she said quietly. “That will be all.”

She turned and left the bridge, trying to shake the feeling that she was running away. She headed into her quarters and shut the door behind her.

One day, you’re going to have to face it, she told herself. You can’t dance around it for the rest of your life.

How exactly did one broach such a topic of conversation, anyway? ‘So, Quinn, let’s talk about that one time on the transponder station…’ Avoidance was simply not the Sith way, but she had never been a conventional Sith.

I should have killed him. The thought ran through her mind in an endless refrain, as it had ever since the moment when she had made the decision to leave Quinn alive. I can’t very well kill him now. I have to abide by my decision, otherwise I’ll look weak.

The last thing she wanted was to look weak in front of him.

She sat on the bed with a sigh. Sixteen hours to Dromund Kaas. Sixteen hours to attempt to analyze, yet again, her reasons for letting him get away with it without so much as a scratch. Every time, she came up with more and more creative ways to lie to herself.

No, it couldn’t go on forever. But for the next sixteen hours, she was content to let it lie.
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08.14.2012 , 04:35 PM | #17
Alternative title: In Which Vesaniae Messes Around with Narrative Techniques and Attempts to Write Action.

Six – Occupational Hazards
Kaas City Spaceport, Dromund Kaas
12 ATC

Anak’ar lay flat in the ventilation shaft, surveying the hangar below through the scope of his sniper rifle. The Sith ship had arrived right on schedule. Now it was up to him and his partner to see to it that its passenger did not depart the hangar alive.

Thinking of his companion, he turned the scope towards where Jiila stood below, pretending to sort through a pile of crates. She had gained access to the hangar by disguising herself as a slave; the shock collar on her neck was a fake, loaded with explosives and designed to be used as an impromptu bomb.

Anak’ar looked at the ship again. The boarding ramp was slowly descending. In a few moments, the Sith would emerge, and he and Jiila would kill him. The two Rattataki had done similar work in the past. They hadn’t been told who their target was, only where to go. Anak’ar didn’t much care. Credits were credits, and while taking on Sith targets was risky, the profit was considerable.

He trained the rifle on the boarding ramp. The anticipation was always the hardest part. He ran through a series of breathing exercises to calm his nerves and steady his trigger finger. With luck, he would be able to down the Sith with a single shot.

Any minute now…

At last, a dark-armored figure strode down the ramp and started across the hangar. Anak’ar zoomed in on the Sith’s face with the scope and was somewhat startled to see a Sith Pureblood woman. Age was always difficult to tell with Sith, but Anak’ar guessed her to be in her late twenties. She had coppery-red skin, red hair and golden eyes. The distinctive ridges on her forehead and cheeks gave her a predatory look.

She was moving, but slowly. Anak’ar focused the targeting reticule for a headshot.

His comlink twittered softly.

“Ready when you are,” Jiila’s voice whispered into his earpiece.

“Taking the shot,” Anak’ar replied quietly.

The Sith woman was right in the crosshairs. He eased his finger over the trigger.

“No, wait!” Jiila hissed suddenly—too late. He’d already fired.

Focused as he was on his target, Anak’ar hadn’t seen the Imperial officer exit the ship behind the Sith. The man had hurried to catch up to his commander, then slowed alongside her—directly in Anak’ar’s line of fire.

The shot aimed at the Sith’s head took the officer in the shoulder. He dropped to the ground, and the Sith shouted something. Anak’ar swore and readjusted his aim. So much for a quick and clean kill.

The Sith drew two lightsabers, red blades blazing to life. She deflected Anak’ar’s next two shots with ease, sending the blaster bolts ricocheting away with casual flicks of her wrists.

He zoomed out hastily as she stepped out of his sights. He continued to fire, not bothering to be precise; he only needed to distract her. From his vantage point in the vent, he could see Jiila creeping up behind the Sith, taking cover behind a large spool of hose, explosive shock collar in hand. Even a lightsaber couldn’t block a bomb.

The Sith made a gesture in his direction, and the grating covering the vent started to rip free of the bolts that held it to the wall.

“Now, Jiila!” he muttered tersely into his headset.

Jiila glanced up at his hiding place. He saw her manipulate the switches on the disguised bomb.

The grate in front of him tore free of the wall and crashed to the ground.

Jiila finished arming the detonator and made ready to throw it.

An invisible hand plucked Anak’ar from the vent and dropped him. The floor rushed up to meet him. He screamed.


The Rattataki hit the ground hard and did not move again. A’tro nodded in satisfaction and extinguished her lightsabers, replacing the hilts on her belt. She turned to Quinn, who was slowly getting to his feet.

Abruptly, her danger sense flickered. She whirled around to see a Rattataki woman emerging from behind a coil of hose, her face twisted in rage. She was holding something that A’tro couldn’t see clearly, but what she guessed to be an explosive of some sort.

Reflexes taking over, A’tro gestured, reaching out with the Force. The device tore free of the woman’s hands to fly across the hangar. Before it had gone very far, it exploded into a spectacular fireball.

The Rattataki let out a shriek and threw herself at A’tro, pulling a vibroknife from under her shirt as she went.

The Sith’s Force-enhanced senses were reeling from the sound and shockwave generated by the explosion. She reached numbly for a lightsaber, too slowly.

Quinn stepped in front of her, blaster in hand. His first shot took the assassin in the leg, making her stumble. With a snarl, she lunged forward, knife held high. Quinn grabbed her wrist with his free hand and used the leverage granted by her wounded leg to force her to her knees. She struggled wildly, trying to break his hold on her arm. Using her other hand, she pulled out another knife and stabbed him in the side. Quinn staggered, then collapsed as the assassin jerked free of his grip.

A’tro’s earlier disorientation vanished in a rush of adrenaline. She took several quick steps towards the assassin, igniting both lightsabers. The Rattataki raised her knives, and A’tro neatly sliced off both her hands with a single stroke of a blade.

“I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me who sent you?” she asked. Cold rage seethed deep inside her, fueling her power.

“I don’t know!” the assassin gasped. “Didn’t see a face!”

“Was it a Sith?” A’tro demanded. With clinical precision, she drew the tip of her left saber across the woman’s torso, leaving a blackened furrow.

The Rattataki woman cried out in pain. “Yes,” she said hoarsely. “A Sith.”

“I thought as much,” A’tro concluded grimly. She stabbed both lightsabers through the woman’s torso, then used the Force to send her flying into the wall. Her body impacted the permacrete with a dull crunch and slid limply to the floor.

A’tro paid no heed. Returning her lightsabers to her belt, she dropped to her knees beside Quinn. His uniform was dark with blood, his eyes had fallen half-closed, and he was breathing shallowly.

She cursed softly under her breath. The hangar was empty—no doubt the assassins’ mysterious Sith employer had made arrangements for the security forces to be elsewhere.

She looked down at Quinn. The dark side pulsed softly in her veins, keeping panic at bay. First priority: stop him from bleeding to death. She unclasped her cloak and wadded it up, then pressed the fabric against the wound in his side with shaking hands.

Quinn’s eyelids fluttered. “Sorry to…require such…attention,” he whispered.

“Hush. Don’t try to talk,” she said briskly. “And it’s your own damn fault. I could have handled that.” She carefully prodded his shoulder wound, wincing as he let out an involuntary gasp of pain. It didn’t seem too bad; the heat of the shot had cauterized the edges, and it was only bleeding a little.

“Security seems to be conspicuously absent,” she said. “So I’m going to take you to the Alecto’s medbay until I can find a real medic.”

Quinn gave a tiny nod.

A’tro took a deep breath to steady herself. She had the Force, but she was not particularly good with delicate work, and this was going to be tricky. She reached out and slid her arms around him. With a combination of the Force and her own muscle power, she stood up and half-levitated, half-dragged him over to the ship.

It was the most physical contact that she’d had with him in over six months, and it unsettled her so much that she nearly dropped him more than once. She managed to deposit him in the medbay, then stepped back hastily.

A’tro regarded Quinn’s still form. Her efforts to slow his bleeding had been largely successful, but his face was ashen and his eyes had drifted closed sometime during the trip back to the Alecto. Was he still conscious?

She found herself remembering the last time she had looked down on him, with him utterly at her mercy. She felt a strange coldness seeping through her, accompanied by small, whispering thoughts that hovered at the edge of her awareness.

Why not just let him die? He would have done the same to you, once. It’s only fair.

She hesitated for a long moment.

Then she shook her head. “Sith don’t do fair,” she muttered, and reached for kolto.

Once Quinn seemed stable, she had to pause for a moment and refocus. Her medical training had been extremely limited, and most of what she had just done was based purely on her observations of Quinn’s own work. She’d had to remove his jacket and shirt, and even covered in blood the resulting view was somewhat…distracting.

She smacked her palm against her forehead, leaving a bloody smear. You’re a Sith, for crying out loud. Do not let your thoughts go in that direction. Have a little self-control, damn it!

She sneaked another look—just to make sure Quinn was doing all right, of course. Fortunately, she had sedated him prior to the proceedings. It would have been far too awkward with him awake.

A’tro shook her head. You’re a fool. In an attempt to give herself something else to think about, she moved over to the holoterminal and entered Jaesa’s comm frequency.

Jaesa answered almost immediately. “Yes, master?”

“I’m at the spaceport,” A’tro said tersely. “There’s been an incident of sorts.”

Jaesa’s eyes widened as she took a good look at the older woman. “Master, you’re covered in blood!”

A’tro hadn’t even noticed. “It’s not mine,” she assured Jaesa. “But it would be very helpful if you could come to the spaceport straightaway…and bring a medic.”
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08.16.2012 , 02:44 PM | #18
Seven – What Friends Are For
Kaas City, Dromund Kaas
12 ATC

The day after the assassination attempt, A’tro was sitting at her desk in her chambers reading bulletins from various warfronts when she heard footsteps approaching. She immediately rose partway out of her chair, hands dropping to her lightsabers. The attack had made her jumpy, and she was well aware that her ability to sense beings through the Force was extremely poor compared to that of most Sith.

A few moments later, the source of the noise came into view.

“Hey there,” said Vette. She perched herself on the edge of A’tro’s desk.

A’tro settled back into her chair. “Did you want something?”

Vette shrugged. “Just to chat. Jaesa told me about what happened yesterday.”

“Yes, it seems that one of my fellow Sith wants me dead. No more than I expected, considering my position.”

“Lovely,” Vette sighed. “You planning on trying to find out who was behind it?”

A’tro shook her head. “Considering that both the assassins are dead, we don’t have much to go on. Besides, if I find and neutralize one enemy, there will always be more.”

“What a life,” Vette muttered. “Anyway, I hear Quinn almost got himself killed.”

“Jaesa certainly spared no detail in her account,” A’tro said dryly.

“She just wanted to make sure me and Pierce knew what was going on. I think we have a right to know if somebody tries to off our favorite Sith Lord.”

“So I’m your favorite Sith, am I? I’m flattered.”

“Hey, I’d miss you if anything ever happened to you. You’re like a very scary older sister.”

A’tro smiled. “Thank you, Vette. That means a lot to me.”

“Careful on the niceness, or I’m going to start thinking you actually like me.”

“I do like you. You may be a nuisance sometimes, but you have spirit. And as little sisters go, you’re not half bad.”

Vette raised her eyebrows. “Oh? You never mentioned you had a younger sister.”

“Twin sister, actually,” A’tro sighed. “I’d…really rather not talk about her.”

“You don’t want to talk about a lot of things,” Vette noted.

A’tro started to feel suspicious. “This is about what you learned the other day, isn’t it?”

“That’s right.”

A’tro scowled. “I will not discuss it. That is final.”

“Are you sure that’s the best idea?”

“I see no reason to resurrect events that occurred over six months ago.”

“Well, you should!” Vette snapped. She slid off the desk and moved to stand directly across from A’tro. “You can say that it’s not my business all you want, but I don’t agree. I’m a part of your crew—if Quinn had killed you, we would all have been affected by it. You should have told us.”

“I chose to keep it a secret, and I stand by that decision.”

“Why? Because you don’t want us to know that Quinn is a backstabbing ice-hearted son of a ***** who’d shiv you as soon as look at you? Because you don’t want us to know that he was working for Baras all along? Because you don’t want us to know that you let him get away with it?

And there they were, the words A’tro had been waiting for from the moment Vette had discovered Quinn’s betrayal.

“I do not need to justify my actions to you,” she said coolly.

“I thought you respected us,” Vette said quietly. “Me, Pierce, Broonmark—even Jaesa doesn’t know, and she’s your apprentice! Because you chose to keep us in the dark, if Quinn had tried to move against you again, we wouldn’t have known. We could have watched him, made sure that he couldn’t do anything—“

“You would have killed him,” A’tro said in a low voice. “Regardless of any order from me to the contrary, it would have happened.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so insistent on keeping that backstabber alive. I’ve seen you kill people for far less.”

“I had my reasons.”

Vette put her hands on her hips. “Uh-huh. I’ll bet you did.” She pointed at the Sith. “You thought you could keep it a secret, didn’t you? Well, you couldn’t. Not from me, anyway.”

A’tro felt the blood drain from her face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered.

“I overheard a few of your little chats with Quinn on the bridge,” Vette said smugly. “And I saw the way you looked at each other when you thought no one else would notice. I can put two and two together.” She shook her head. “You really had a thing for him, didn’t you? I’m surprised you didn’t put a lightsaber through his head after what he did to you. Never thought you were sentimental.”

If looks could kill, the stare A’tro directed at Vette would have left the Twi’lek a heap of smoldering ashes. “Did you tell anyone else about this?” she demanded.

Vette shook her head. “I figured if you were trying to be discreet, I’d let it stay that way.”


“I’m on your side, A’tro,” Vette said gently. “Your terrible taste in men notwithstanding.”

A’tro sighed, her anger draining away. “Vette, I appreciate your concern, but this is something that I have to come to terms with by myself.”

“If you really insist—“

“I do.”

Vette shrugged. “Okay, fine. But if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.” She raised her eyebrows. “Also, if you want me to sneak over to the medcenter and spike Quinn’s kolto with something nasty—“

“That won’t be necessary.”

Vette pouted. “You never let me have any fun.”
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08.16.2012 , 03:00 PM | #19
It just occurred to me, after looking at what I've written so far, what I've posted so far, and my outline, that this story basically consists of a whole bunch of conversations jammed together to make a plot. I guess there's nothing wrong with that. It's a character-driven story, guyz

I see this has almost 400 views! Does that mean people are actually reading this? Dear people on the Internet, whoever you are, who have looked at this story: Thanks. <3 Seeing that little view count go up does wonders for my ego. If this ever hits 1000 I may explode from an overload of hubris.

Oh, and by the way--I know that there hasn't been much of an overarching plot yet, but in a couple more chapters things will really start going. I have this all planned out. Just bear with me.
Serence Legacy Ebon Hawk
There's always lightning.

bright_ephemera's Avatar

08.16.2012 , 08:32 PM | #20
Quote: Originally Posted by Vesaniae View Post
It just occurred to me, after looking at what I've written so far, what I've posted so far, and my outline, that this story basically consists of a whole bunch of conversations jammed together to make a plot.
I find your conversations perfectly delightful. Also, <3 Vette.
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