The Short Fic Weekly Challenge Thread!

[Earthmama]

Hehe, cute smuggler. I want one. Is the last name Riggs because they're Fem Smug/Corso's children? I'd like to see more interaction between Aaron and Cohen. Seems like good times would be observed by all.

 

That's exactly why they have Riggs as a last name. Also, I have plans for those boys....

[bright_ephemera]

Discoveries, Sith Warrior Ruth (again again again), 1000 words. SW Act 3 spoilers.

 

 

“Shut up. I’ll tear out your throat if you don’t shut up.”

 

“Will you? That would make the second part of me you’ve shown any interest in in the seventeen years of our acquaintance. I’m flattered.” Quinn struggled to free his jacket from the coat closet as he talked.

 

“If that’s how you remember it happening, I guess you got a lot more use out of me than I did out of you. Well, congratulations, Quinn, you win the play again. That’s all that ever mattered to you.”

 

“That’s an egregious lie even for you,” he snarled.

 

“Oh. How could I forget? Your bloody mission mattered, too. More than the mission we shared and far, far more anything you ever said to me.”

 

Quinn finally yanked the jacket free, bringing a burst of assorted small objects with it. He reflexively caught what he could with one hand, then headed for the door, resisting the urge to give Ruth the telling off she deserved. That furious child, every bit as selfish as the day he’d met her, and as usual she was trying to cover her own faults by being unfair to him, even though if she had a tenth the brain she gave herself credit for she would…no. Shut up, man, and walk.

 

He headed to the hangar for one of the house shuttles. Ruth’s inevitable anger be damned, it was raining like doomsday out there and he wanted to be gone quickly.

 

It was about time to give up on this farce.

 

Get to the city. Send the shuttle back. Deal with Rylon directly from now on. Deal with work by himself again, because in truth her counsel and encouragement weren’t really all that useful. He could make it stick this time. Any time he missed her, or wanted her, or thought she might have something valuable to say, he could just mentally replay the bit about her tearing his throat out.

 

He set course for Kaas City and then, leaning back, took a look at the little items he had caught from the closet. Two mismatched buttons, a blue crystal that might or might not mean anything, and a small, ornate golden datacube.

 

The latter didn’t look like something Ruth would favor. She wasn’t one for trophies, either. A gift?

 

He tapped it active and was greeted with a long index of dates, each marked with one or the other of Ruth’s parents’ names. Colran, whom Quinn had met only once; the Sith had died in Baras’s purge shortly after Ruth and Quinn were married. Dolarra, whom Quinn had never met; she had died when Ruth was very young.

 

The dates spanned an eight-year period centered on Ruth’s birth. Quinn opened and scanned the first pair of letters. Plain text files: early getting-to-know-you correspondence in a format suited to frequent travelers.

 

What had they talked about, the Sith and the mystery woman? It wasn’t in his nature to ignore this kind of information trove. He selected another date, well into their acquaintance.

 

Colran, he read, the mission goes. Ever have one of those where you know you won’t be getting a shiny gold star at the end? It matters, it’ll help, but I don’t have a shiny gold star to look forward to. Still, if all goes well I’ll see you after this ties up. And that’s almost as good. Almost. (I love you, but just think about it. Gold star.)

 

About that. Love in this our big bad demanding galaxy. I’ve been giving it some thought, and I think it counts, even with our jobs.

 

I know that if the mission demanded your life or mine, Colran, we would go through with it. That’s who we are. And just because I could lose you that way, or you could lose me, I don’t think that means we can’t be in love. Does the willingness to sacrifice for the greater good diminish you or me? Are we worth less for knowing what we would be willing to pay it all for? Think about this one big thing we serve. The Empire. Think of all the good she does. If there were only you and me, is there some grand love we could carve from the chaos that would somehow be better or more pure than what we’re working for now? Could I even love you as much as I do if you didn’t give so much of yourself to our common cause?

 

It sounds pleasing for love to mean “I would do anything for you,” but I don’t think an exception like “except give up on the greatest good we both know” is a damning one.

 

I hope that helps settle the question. I imagine you might like something more cuddly, but you’re involved with a high-power no-nonsense Imperial femme fatale now, and I won’t lie to you if I can avoid it. Our lives, our missions are uncertain. My feelings for you aren’t.

 

I haven’t forgotten, I’m still on the hook for “how would a Force-blind even begin to handle a Force-sensitive child” (hello? I would, hypothetically speaking, have a nine-month head start on bonding!) and “how can I justify drinking Graylian ale anywhere ever.” The latter isn’t even a question, but I’ll assume your Jedi training stunted your development such that you need these basic things explained to you. Later. For now I’m out of time; there’s work to do, gold stars to dream wistfully of. I love you, madly. Be safe and be well –

Ever yours, Dolarra.

 

Some time later, the shuttle halted outside Kaas City’s west transit center. Quinn shook himself and pocketed the little datacube again.

 

Had Ruth ever read them? Did she care?

 

It was, of course, a strained comparison, and Ruth’s awareness of her parents’ correspondence would certainly be on the list of things she didn’t want to hear him ask about any time soon. In fact, everything was on the list of things he had better avoid asking about. He should just return the datacube. Make sure she knew he hadn’t stolen it, then be out of her way.

 

He dismissed the shuttle, held the datacube in his pocket, and headed down the street, heedless of the hammering rain.

 

 

Notes:

 

I recently heard somebody describe themselves as a “martyr to recidivism” when it came to relationships. I thought it was a great phrase.

 

Letters as a communication and, well, thought form, are awesome and I don't think blogging has properly taken their place as a satisfying medium.

 

As I write about rain, I can’t help but feel that Ernest Hemingway would’ve loved Kaas City. Rain, things unsaid, the accumulated dissatisfactions of a lifetime; talking and drinking in a cantina, one walking wounded among many. Kaas City is perfect.

 

Colran didn’t package his correspondence for distribution, and I’m not sure Ruth would’ve thought to search his records. Jaesa did, eventually – yes, she’s still in Ruth’s life. I think this index was a work in progress, or perhaps a nearly completed gift, until it was eaten by the coat closet.

 

Edited July 31, 2012 by bright_ephemera

[bright_ephemera]

As I write about rain, I can’t help but feel that Ernest Hemingway would’ve loved Kaas City. Rain, things unsaid, the accumulated dissatisfactions of a lifetime; talking and drinking in a cantina, one walking wounded among many. Kaas City is perfect.

 

My husband just pointed out that the conversation wheel is also perfect for Hemingway. Short sentences that don't really say anything, and when the words come out they don't express what you meant. Too few words saying too little, and in the end nobody expresses what they really wanted to.

 

Plus, there's big game hunting ten meters outside the city limits!

 

In the rain.

 

Kaas City: Perfect Hemingway.

Edited July 31, 2012 by bright_ephemera

[Striges]

Prompt: Family

 

Title: We Belong

 

Characters: Sha’ra’zaed (Operative), Vector

 

 

I guess I picked the right week to write my agent. I haven’t written too much for her aside from a ‘Cliff’s Notes’ background sketch and an I-can’t-decide-whether-it’s-canon episode (http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=4670444&postcount=139). I don’t get to play her as much as I’d like, and I only just started Act 3. And while I’ve accumulated enough affection to trigger all of Vector’s quests, I’m holding off on finishing (even though I’ve finished Kaliyo and Lokin) for reasons that will become apparent. I compressed and juggled the timeline a bit here (regarding Vector’s quests) because it made more sense in my story.

 

The seed for this one started with the juxtaposition of the last of Vector’s and Lokin’s companion quests with Agent Hoth and Act 2 ending. I intended it for “Discovery” but it ended up more at “Family”. Fairly short, only 1500 words, and almost all dialog so it reads quick.

 

Obviously contains spoilers for the above stories, specifically the Chiss Agent ‘version’ of Hoth. Also some general Alderaan quests. Sorry to be so OCD about the warnings. I’m going out of my way to avoid agent story spoilers in particular, so I’m trying to give others the same chance.

 

 

As planets in the midst of a civil war go, Alderaan was doing rather well. Outside of a few armed patrols and restrictions on civilian travel, one would be hard-pressed to know there was a conflict going on at all. Unless, of course, one happened to stumble into the wrong area. It made Sha’ra’zaed think of an obscure sporting event; one with rules only the participants could fathom. But at the same time it was so familiar as to be painful.

 

Sha’ra’zaed set the speeder down in the meadow. This had been part of House Cortess’ holdings not so long ago. Now it was part of the Oroboro nest. Friendly territory, though most of the Human inhabitants of Alderaan avoided it anyway. Vector sat on a wide, flat stone, his face turned to the evening sun setting over the distant mountains.

 

“The delegates have all gone,” she said, approaching, “I thought you’d be with the nest. It’s not often you get to be with the other Killiks.”

 

He turned to her, “We were. For a time. But we prepare ourselves to take our leave. We are the Dawn Herald, and we will not always be among the Kind.”

 

She took a seat beside him. “What is it like, Vector? Being Killik?” asked Sha’ra’zaed.

 

“We’re not sure we understand the question, agent,” replied Vector.

 

Sha’ra’zaed sighed, “A long time ago I met another joiner on Alderaan, a recent joiner, and she seemed truly happy. Every joiner I’ve met expresses happiness at the bond, including yourself. None want to be severed from the nest. I know you suppressed the bond temporarily, but that was for my benefit, not yours.”

 

Vector tipped is head, “True, Sha’ra’zaed. To join is a gift.”

 

“And yet most beings dread the possibility,” she continued, “The very idea sends most Alderaanians into a panic.” Sha’ra’zaed glanced at the House Cortess compound. She caught a glimpse of Killik mounds over the walls and became aware of the constant hum of nest activity. “Certainly no one in House Cortess believed it was a gift.”

 

“You did not object at the time,” said Vector.

 

“I could see no other way to be sure I’d ended the conspiracy. Not in so short a timeframe. I didn’t have months to go through the entire House and remove it surgically,” she said.

 

“And now you have doubts,” said Vector, “about whether you did the right thing.”

 

“Not…exactly,” said Sha’ra’zaed. “I know you treasure your bond, but I…” she trailed off with a slight shrug.

 

Vector let the quiet drag on. Let the distant buzz fill the gap in their conversation. “You sometimes say more in silence than many say with words. It is very Killik,” he said at last. “You do not understand how we—how…I…could choose to become one with the hive. To give up that which most beings value above all things. And that we would chose to do so again, even knowing that our decision was brought about for the benefit of others. Others not of the nest.” Sha’ra’zaed’s only response was a mute nod. Vector continued, “Particularly in light of what you risked to regain your independence. You especially, who treat the ills of others. You are acutely aware of the fragility of the organic mind.”

 

“You knew,” she said.

 

Vector shifted, “We scented the change in you very early, but we did not know you well and did not comprehend its nature. And again, after Quesh. Though by that time we had observed your…conditioning. A mystery no longer. But your question is not a biological one,” he said.

 

“And you still haven’t answered it,” she replied.

 

“We cannot hear your thoughts, Sha’ra’zaed. And our observations suggest the questions you ask are not the ones you want answered,” Vector said, “they merely dance around the edges. In this as in many things. You are a curiously circuitous person.”

 

This brought a tiny smile to her face, “Old habits die hard.”

 

Vector turned to face her fully, “Nevertheless, I shall answer your true question. To be Killik is to belong. No matter how much space is between us, we are always part of the nest. It is to hear the song of the universe, and know that it is a chorus of infinite voices, all singing together. Our part is just one of many, but without ours, the song is lessened. That is what it is to be of the Kind.” Vector brushed a blue lock of her hair behind her ear, “and now we have a question of our own. What is it like to be Chiss?” he asked.

 

She narrowed her eyes slightly, “That’s only fair. Very like being human, I suppose.”

 

Vactor’s hand touched hers, “You do not speak much of your people. Yet after receiving a brief holocall from Arisocra Saganu you seemed pleased. Happy. You sparkled. As though he lifted a great weight from your spirit, despite the fact that many things remained unresolved.”

 

“I also seem to have very little privacy,” she said, though there was no malice in her tone.

 

“Forgive us, but To Sail the Wine-Dark Sky is a small vessel, and your aura was scintillating for days. We could not help but notice. We would like to understand why.”

 

Sha’ra’zaed sighed, “He made me a merit-adoptive of his House, House Miurani,” she said.

 

Vector smiled, his hand hovered just above hers, “You shimmer just saying the words. And you answer our question without granting knowledge.” He touched her hair again, “We love you, Haraz, with your cautious conversation and your guarded ways. May we not share your happiness?”

 

She took his hand, “It means I can go home again, Vector, to Csilla, if I choose to. It shouldn’t matter to me. I’ve lived outside the Ascendancy longer than I ever did in it. I made my peace with—” Sha’ra’zaed swallowed hard, “with exile a long time ago.”

 

“It matters because they are your people,” said Vector. He moved his fingers through the air close to her as though touching something she could not perceive. “But there are also blue shards of ambiguity. Why were you no longer welcome among your own kind?”

 

“It’s…complicated,” she said.

 

“Most interesting things are,” Vector replied.

 

Sha’ra’zaed stared off into the distance, “Chiss politics are…difficult for an outsider to comprehend.”

 

“It would give us great pleasure to learn,” said Vector.

 

Sha’ra’zaed released him and picked at the piping on her sleeve, “My kin-group was a little like Alderaan’s House Rist. Valuable to other Houses, but not well liked. Not powerful of ourselves, but with powerful allies. Allies who would be pleased to see us gone, but unwilling to move against us. Until finally we were no longer worth the trouble.” She forced her hands to be still. “Without a family, I had no place. I was too young to be worth adopting for my skills, and not young enough to be child-placed. I had too many enemies and no patron.” Sha’ra’zaed shrugged, “I was exile. But the Empire is not my benefactor and Intelligence is not my family. I thought so, once, in my naiveté, or perhaps just hoped they would serve the same role. Not anymore.” She bent her head, but she was smiling, “Now I have a family. I am a merit-adoptive of House Miurani, and I don’t need them anymore.”

 

Vector touched her cheek gently, “We think you understood what it is like to be of the Kind before you asked us. Why we would choose to Join. Why we would not lightly give it up.”

 

Sha’ra’zaed nibbled her lip, “I thought I was long past caring about the Ascendancy and my people and what they might think of me. I was wrong.” She straightened, “Aristocra Saganu would not make this offer in a vacuum. And he would not have done so without doing his research. He wants something. Politics, maybe. An overt connection to the Empire. An inside read on its policies and actions. Someone to strengthen his position in his House,” she took a breath, “Or perhaps something more personal.”

 

Vector’s hand halted mid-caress for a fraction of a second. “He…did seem to like you,” he said at last.

 

“That was the point,” she replied, lapsing into silence again. “But I did not anticipate this move. It…complicates things,” she said finally.

 

He traced the edge of her ear with his thumb, “Interesting things are,” he repeated.

 

She met his eyes, solid black, dark mirrors of her own, “Once, just once, I’d prefer things a bit less complicated. No games, no lies, no ulterior motives. No calculating advantages,” she said.

 

Vector leaned in closer, “We will, of course, support you, Haraz. Always, and without reservation.” He kissed her, with the night sky going purple and a red moon rising behind them.

 

 

 

 

[Crezelle]

Prompt: Family

 

Title: We Belong

 

Characters: Sha’ra’zaed (Operative), Vector

 

 

I guess I picked the right week to write my agent. I haven’t written too much for her aside from a ‘Cliff’s Notes’ background sketch and an I-can’t-decide-whether-it’s-canon episode (http://www.swtor.com/community/showpost.php?p=4670444&postcount=139). I don’t get to play her as much as I’d like, and I only just started Act 3. And while I’ve accumulated enough affection to trigger all of Vector’s quests, I’m holding off on finishing (even though I’ve finished Kaliyo and Lokin) for reasons that will become apparent. I compressed and juggled the timeline a bit here (regarding Vector’s quests) because it made more sense in my story.

 

The seed for this one started with the juxtaposition of the last of Vector’s and Lokin’s companion quests with Agent Hoth and Act 2 ending. I intended it for “Discovery” but it ended up more at “Family”. Fairly short, only 1500 words, and almost all dialog so it reads quick.

 

Obviously contains spoilers for the above stories, specifically the Chiss Agent ‘version’ of Hoth. Also some general Alderaan quests. Sorry to be so OCD about the warnings. I’m going out of my way to avoid agent story spoilers in particular, so I’m trying to give others the same chance.

 

 

As planets in the midst of a civil war go, Alderaan was doing rather well. Outside of a few armed patrols and restrictions on civilian travel, one would be hard-pressed to know there was a conflict going on at all. Unless, of course, one happened to stumble into the wrong area. It made Sha’ra’zaed think of an obscure sporting event; one with rules only the participants could fathom. But at the same time it was so familiar as to be painful.

 

Sha’ra’zaed set the speeder down in the meadow. This had been part of House Cortess’ holdings not so long ago. Now it was part of the Oroboro nest. Friendly territory, though most of the Human inhabitants of Alderaan avoided it anyway. Vector sat on a wide, flat stone, his face turned to the evening sun setting over the distant mountains.

 

“The delegates have all gone,” she said, approaching, “I thought you’d be with the nest. It’s not often you get to be with the other Killiks.”

 

He turned to her, “We were. For a time. But we prepare ourselves to take our leave. We are the Dawn Herald, and we will not always be among the Kind.”

 

She took a seat beside him. “What is it like, Vector? Being Killik?” asked Sha’ra’zaed.

 

“We’re not sure we understand the question, agent,” replied Vector.

 

Sha’ra’zaed sighed, “A long time ago I met another joiner on Alderaan, a recent joiner, and she seemed truly happy. Every joiner I’ve met expresses happiness at the bond, including yourself. None want to be severed from the nest. I know you suppressed the bond temporarily, but that was for my benefit, not yours.”

 

Vector tipped is head, “True, Sha’ra’zaed. To join is a gift.”

 

“And yet most beings dread the possibility,” she continued, “The very idea sends most Alderaanians into a panic.” Sha’ra’zaed glanced at the House Cortess compound. She caught a glimpse of Killik mounds over the walls and became aware of the constant hum of nest activity. “Certainly no one in House Cortess believed it was a gift.”

 

“You did not object at the time,” said Vector.

 

“I could see no other way to be sure I’d ended the conspiracy. Not in so short a timeframe. I didn’t have months to go through the entire House and remove it surgically,” she said.

 

“And now you have doubts,” said Vector, “about whether you did the right thing.”

 

“Not…exactly,” said Sha’ra’zaed. “I know you treasure your bond, but I…” she trailed off with a slight shrug.

 

Vector let the quiet drag on. Let the distant buzz fill the gap in their conversation. “You sometimes say more in silence than many say with words. It is very Killik,” he said at last. “You do not understand how we—how…I…could choose to become one with the hive. To give up that which most beings value above all things. And that we would chose to do so again, even knowing that our decision was brought about for the benefit of others. Others not of the nest.” Sha’ra’zaed’s only response was a mute nod. Vector continued, “Particularly in light of what you risked to regain your independence. You especially, who treat the ills of others. You are acutely aware of the fragility of the organic mind.”

 

“You knew,” she said.

 

Vector shifted, “We scented the change in you very early, but we did not know you well and did not comprehend its nature. And again, after Quesh. Though by that time we had observed your…conditioning. A mystery no longer. But your question is not a biological one,” he said.

 

“And you still haven’t answered it,” she replied.

 

“We cannot hear your thoughts, Sha’ra’zaed. And our observations suggest the questions you ask are not the ones you want answered,” Vector said, “they merely dance around the edges. In this as in many things. You are a curiously circuitous person.”

 

This brought a tiny smile to her face, “Old habits die hard.”

 

Vector turned to face her fully, “Nevertheless, I shall answer your true question. To be Killik is to belong. No matter how much space is between us, we are always part of the nest. It is to hear the song of the universe, and know that it is a chorus of infinite voices, all singing together. Our part is just one of many, but without ours, the song is lessened. That is what it is to be of the Kind.” Vector brushed a blue lock of her hair behind her ear, “and now we have a question of our own. What is it like to be Chiss?” he asked.

 

She narrowed her eyes slightly, “That’s only fair. Very like being human, I suppose.”

 

Vactor’s hand touched hers, “You do not speak much of your people. Yet after receiving a brief holocall from Arisocra Saganu you seemed pleased. Happy. You sparkled. As though he lifted a great weight from your spirit, despite the fact that many things remained unresolved.”

 

“I also seem to have very little privacy,” she said, though there was no malice in her tone.

 

“Forgive us, but To Sail the Wine-Dark Sky is a small vessel, and your aura was scintillating for days. We could not help but notice. We would like to understand why.”

 

Sha’ra’zaed sighed, “He made me a merit-adoptive of his House, House Miurani,” she said.

 

Vector smiled, his hand hovered just above hers, “You shimmer just saying the words. And you answer our question without granting knowledge.” He touched her hair again, “We love you, Haraz, with your cautious conversation and your guarded ways. May we not share your happiness?”

 

She took his hand, “It means I can go home again, Vector, to Csilla, if I choose to. It shouldn’t matter to me. I’ve lived outside the Ascendancy longer than I ever did in it. I made my peace with—” Sha’ra’zaed swallowed hard, “with exile a long time ago.”

 

“It matters because they are your people,” said Vector. He moved his fingers through the air close to her as though touching something she could not perceive. “But there are also blue shards of ambiguity. Why were you no longer welcome among your own kind?”

 

“It’s…complicated,” she said.

 

“Most interesting things are,” Vector replied.

 

Sha’ra’zaed stared off into the distance, “Chiss politics are…difficult for an outsider to comprehend.”

 

“It would give us great pleasure to learn,” said Vector.

 

Sha’ra’zaed released him and picked at the piping on her sleeve, “My kin-group was a little like Alderaan’s House Rist. Valuable to other Houses, but not well liked. Not powerful of ourselves, but with powerful allies. Allies who would be pleased to see us gone, but unwilling to move against us. Until finally we were no longer worth the trouble.” She forced her hands to be still. “Without a family, I had no place. I was too young to be worth adopting for my skills, and not young enough to be child-placed. I had too many enemies and no patron.” Sha’ra’zaed shrugged, “I was exile. But the Empire is not my benefactor and Intelligence is not my family. I thought so, once, in my naiveté, or perhaps just hoped they would serve the same role. Not anymore.” She bent her head, but she was smiling, “Now I have a family. I am a merit-adoptive of House Miurani, and I don’t need them anymore.”

 

Vector touched her cheek gently, “We think you understood what it is like to be of the Kind before you asked us. Why we would choose to Join. Why we would not lightly give it up.”

 

Sha’ra’zaed nibbled her lip, “I thought I was long past caring about the Ascendancy and my people and what they might think of me. I was wrong.” She straightened, “Aristocra Saganu would not make this offer in a vacuum. And he would not have done so without doing his research. He wants something. Politics, maybe. An overt connection to the Empire. An inside read on its policies and actions. Someone to strengthen his position in his House,” she took a breath, “Or perhaps something more personal.”

 

Vector’s hand halted mid-caress for a fraction of a second. “He…did seem to like you,” he said at last.

 

“That was the point,” she replied, lapsing into silence again. “But I did not anticipate this move. It…complicates things,” she said finally.

 

He traced the edge of her ear with his thumb, “Interesting things are,” he repeated.

 

She met his eyes, solid black, dark mirrors of her own, “Once, just once, I’d prefer things a bit less complicated. No games, no lies, no ulterior motives. No calculating advantages,” she said.

 

Vector leaned in closer, “We will, of course, support you, Haraz. Always, and without reservation.” He kissed her, with the night sky going purple and a red moon rising behind them.

 

 

 

 

hrrrrrm, i do wish ccila would become a race-specific unlockable planet to see. ...and maybe more saganu.... yes. more saganu. and of course any vector fluff gets my seal of approval, especially when chiss rock the rive

Edited July 31, 2012 by Crezelle

[bright_ephemera]

Prompt: Family

 

Title: We Belong

 

Characters: Sha’ra’zaed (Operative), Vector

 

Love it.

 

Thar be Agent spoilers here:

 

My Agent was, for reasons related to how loyally Imperial he is even after the Empire's tricks, livid at Saganu's rambling about adoption. I was thinking pretty thoroughly in character at the time; I keep being surprised that other people had a very positive experience with the Chiss on Hoth.

 

Is "To Sail the Wine-Dark Sky" a reference to something, or just a particularly pleasing phrase?

 

Did Vector piece together enough information to begin to try to do something in Act 2, or was he stuck at 'she's being manipulated'?

 

 

[Tatile]

It's almost a pity that the Chiss are so secretive, they seem to have a really interesting society.

[irishfino]

This is my first time posting something I've written here. (Can't post most of my stories because they are *cough* naughty.)

 

Prompt: Discovery

 

Chapter Three spoiler (AKA the Quinn Thing).

Characters: Quinn and LS!Jaesa

 

 

He placed the barrel of the blaster in his mouth, his finger resting on the trigger. So close. So close to release. So close to sweet, sweet silence. No more dreams, no more panic attacks, no more living in fear of those around him. That was how Jaesa found him: hunched over on the floor, blaster in his mouth, finger at the ready, tears slowly moving down his face. The once stoic and calm man was completely undone.

 

“Captain?” Jaesa asked gently.

 

He started. He turned his head to her, letting the blaster fall to his side.

 

“You shouldn’t be here, you’re supposed to be out on a mission,” he said dully.

 

“You were going to kill yourself,” she said harshly.

 

“Yes,” he said matter-of-factly.

 

“Why?”

 

He considered her for a brief moment before turning his attentions to the far wall. He was a coward. He betrayed someone close to him for “the good of the Empire”, but, really, he was saving his own skin. He knew Baras would make his death as painful as possible and still send another to kill his Lord in his place. The blaster dangled tauntingly in his limp hand. Time to end it.

 

Jaesa could sense his resolve through the Force. He moved the blaster under his chin and fired, but she was faster with her Force push. The bolt missed, skimming past his ear instead, temporarily deafening that ear. His blaster bounced against an empty crate with a thunk and clattered to the floor. He laughed hollowly. Still a failure. He would always be a failure.

 

Jaesa slowly walked to his side. Here he was, sitting calmly after nearly blasting his own brains out laughing strangely. His pain echoed and called to her. He was broken much like her old master, Nomen Karr. She knelt next to him and placed a soothing hand on his shoulder. He cracked. In a rush, he started crying and sniffling pathetically. She pulled him to her chest. He was in so much pain. Physically he was fine, but mentally he was unhinged. She knew she hadn’t helped much, instead siding with the crew in ignoring the Captain as he retook his post. It had been hard on her to be so mean to someone who had once been so nice to her, but solidarity was important to her.

 

He grasped the back of her robes as if his life depended on it and on some level it did. She was an island in the middle of an ocean of hatred he himself had been lost in. He put himself there, he knew as much. It still hurt. It still kept him up at night as he avoided the nightmares. It drove him to this dark place. It drove him to the cargo bay. It slowly drove him to try anything to make the hurt stop. He felt empty.

 

Jaesa held him for some time, even after the tears stopped flowing and the hiccupping ceased. When he pulled back in shame, hurriedly wiping his face of tears and mucus she tilted his head up to hers. He stared at her with calm blue eyes and she stared back with gentle brown. Maybe it was the overwhelming loneliness or maybe it was the gentle way she was touching him, but something in their eyes connected. All at once he was on her, over her, in her. She welcomed him and he was thankful for the closeness, the feel of another person, the comfort. When they parted, an awkward silence settled between them.

 

“I wasn’t expecting that,” he said as he straightened his uniform.

 

“Neither was I,” she murmured.

 

He cleared his throat nervously. He had never been a passionate man. He had relations before, he was not the prudish sort, but that had always been a way to unleash his pent up frustrations and energies and nothing more. Perhaps that’s what this was, a way to unbridle himself. He had a soft spot for Jaesa, though. Maybe it was worth investigating further. He watched her from the corner of his eye as she shifted her skirt around her seated form. She sat with her legs crossed, staring at her hands. He leaned back on the palms of his hands and relaxed a tiny bit.

 

“You’re the only person I’ve talked to about non-business related things,” he said at length, still staring at her. “Perhaps we can make this a more… permanent venture?”

 

“You want to be… sex buddies?” she queried. A flush swiftly rose to her cheeks.

 

“While I wouldn’t be adverse to such an arrangement, I would much rather have someone to talk to at this juncture,” he said softly.

 

She fidgeted with her hands anxiously. She knew Quinn and Sayla had never been intimate; Sayla had never been quiet about her frustrations with the man, but she still felt as if a line was being crossed. Noticing her hesitation, he nodded to himself.

 

“It was just a suggestion, I apologize for being forward,” he said congenially.

 

He quickly rose to his feet and walked to where his blaster had been knocked to. He turned it over in his hands. No outside damage, good. He re-holstered it without a second thought. He made for the door, no sense in sticking around to listen to the hum of the ship try to pierce through the silence. She grabbed his hand as he walked by and he halted.

 

“I wouldn’t mind talking with you,” she said softly, still refusing to face him. “If anything else happens… it happens.”

 

The corners of his mouth twitched upward.

 

“At your leisure, Miss Jaesa."

 

 

 

Notes:

This must be fate. I just started on this story and the prompt for this week fit perfectly. I'm hoping to continue the story (maybe make my own thread), but I'm always so nervous about other people reading what I write...

 

Edited July 31, 2012 by irishfino

[kabeone]

This is my first time posting something I've written here. (Can't post most of my stories because they are *cough* naughty.)

 

Prompt: Discovery

 

Chapter Three spoiler (AKA the Quinn Thing).

Characters: Quinn and LS!Jaesa

 

Notes:

This must be fate. I just started on this story and the prompt for this week fit perfectly. I'm hoping to continue the story (maybe make my own thread), but I'm always so nervous about other people reading what I write...

 

Welcome to the thread, this was great. A very different take on Quinn and Jaesa from most of the Quinn posts here. (We have a lot of Quinn posts).

Edited July 31, 2012 by kabeone

[Earthmama]

This is my first time posting something I've written here. (Can't post most of my stories because they are *cough* naughty.)

 

Prompt: Discovery

 

Chapter Three spoiler (AKA the Quinn Thing).

Characters: Quinn and LS!Jaesa

 

 

He placed the barrel of the blaster in his mouth, his finger resting on the trigger. So close. So close to release. So close to sweet, sweet silence. No more dreams, no more panic attacks, no more living in fear of those around him. That was how Jaesa found him: hunched over on the floor, blaster in his mouth, finger at the ready, tears slowly moving down his face. The once stoic and calm man was completely undone.

 

“Captain?” Jaesa asked gently.

 

He started. He turned his head to her, letting the blaster fall to his side.

 

“You shouldn’t be here, you’re supposed to be out on a mission,” he said dully.

 

“You were going to kill yourself,” she said harshly.

 

“Yes,” he said matter-of-factly.

 

“Why?”

 

He considered her for a brief moment before turning his attentions to the far wall. He was a coward. He betrayed someone close to him for “the good of the Empire”, but, really, he was saving his own skin. He knew Baras would make his death as painful as possible and still send another to kill his Lord in his place. The blaster dangled tauntingly in his limp hand. Time to end it.

 

Jaesa could sense his resolve through the Force. He moved the blaster under his chin and fired, but she was faster with her Force push. The bolt missed, skimming past his ear instead, temporarily deafening that ear. His blaster bounced against an empty crate with a thunk and clattered to the floor. He laughed hollowly. Still a failure. He would always be a failure.

 

Jaesa slowly walked to his side. Here he was, sitting calmly after nearly blasting his own brains out laughing strangely. His pain echoed and called to her. He was broken much like her old master, Nomen Karr. She knelt next to him and placed a soothing hand on his shoulder. He cracked. In a rush, he started crying and sniffling pathetically. She pulled him to her chest. He was in so much pain. Physically he was fine, but mentally he was unhinged. She knew she hadn’t helped much, instead siding with the crew in ignoring the Captain as he retook his post. It had been hard on her to be so mean to someone who had once been so nice to her, but solidarity was important to her.

 

He grasped the back of her robes as if his life depended on it and on some level it did. She was an island in the middle of an ocean of hatred he himself had been lost in. He put himself there, he knew as much. It still hurt. It still kept him up at night as he avoided the nightmares. It drove him to this dark place. It drove him to the cargo bay. It slowly drove him to try anything to make the hurt stop. He felt empty.

 

Jaesa held him for some time, even after the tears stopped flowing and the hiccupping ceased. When he pulled back in shame, hurriedly wiping his face of tears and mucus she tilted his head up to hers. He stared at her with calm blue eyes and she stared back with gentle brown. Maybe it was the overwhelming loneliness or maybe it was the gentle way she was touching him, but something in their eyes connected. All at once he was on her, over her, in her. She welcomed him and he was thankful for the closeness, the feel of another person, the comfort. When they parted, an awkward silence settled between them.

 

“I wasn’t expecting that,” he said as he straightened his uniform.

 

“Neither was I,” she murmured.

 

He cleared his throat nervously. He had never been a passionate man. He had relations before, he was not the prudish sort, but that had always been a way to unleash his pent up frustrations and energies and nothing more. Perhaps that’s what this was, a way to unbridle himself. He had a soft spot for Jaesa, though. Maybe it was worth investigating further. He watched her from the corner of his eye as she shifted her skirt around her seated form. She sat with her legs crossed, staring at her hands. He leaned back on the palms of his hands and relaxed a tiny bit.

 

“You’re the only person I’ve talked to about non-business related things,” he said at length, still staring at her. “Perhaps we can make this a more… permanent venture?”

 

“You want to be… sex buddies?” she queried. A flush swiftly rose to her cheeks.

 

“While I wouldn’t be adverse to such an arrangement, I would much rather have someone to talk to at this juncture,” he said softly.

 

She fidgeted with her hands anxiously. She knew Quinn and Sayla had never been intimate; Sayla had never been quiet about her frustrations with the man, but she still felt as if a line was being crossed. Noticing her hesitation, he nodded to himself.

 

“It was just a suggestion, I apologize for being forward,” he said congenially.

 

He quickly rose to his feet and walked to where his blaster had been knocked to. He turned it over in his hands. No outside damage, good. He re-holstered it without a second thought. He made for the door, no sense in sticking around to listen to the hum of the ship try to pierce through the silence. She grabbed his hand as he walked by and he halted.

 

“I wouldn’t mind talking with you,” she said softly, still refusing to face him. “If anything else happens… it happens.”

 

The corners of his mouth twitched upward.

 

“At your leisure, Miss Jaesa."

 

 

 

Notes:

This must be fate. I just started on this story and the prompt for this week fit perfectly. I'm hoping to continue the story (maybe make my own thread), but I'm always so nervous about other people reading what I write...

 

Oooh!! Quinn and Jeasa! That was so sweet! Poor guy. Lovely!

[Tatile]

This is my first time posting something I've written here. (Can't post most of my stories because they are *cough* naughty.)

 

Prompt: Discovery

 

Chapter Three spoiler (AKA the Quinn Thing).

Characters: Quinn and LS!Jaesa

<snip>

 

My word that was emotional. A lovely take on Quinn's reaction to the event and certainly a scene that could never have happened with anyone else. I hope you pursue this, I'd like to read more.

[Magdalane]

Have to admit, since my opinions of Quinn have been shaped by these stories (not having played a SW) that the idea of him with Jaesa is unique. Makes you think about the possibilities outside the prescribed romance arc.

[greyjedibp]

We don't lot LsJaesa story here and think that is good story:) Edited July 31, 2012 by greyjedibp

[Striges]

Love it.

 

Thar be Agent spoilers here:

 

My Agent was, for reasons related to how loyally Imperial he is even after the Empire's tricks, livid at Saganu's rambling about adoption. I was thinking pretty thoroughly in character at the time; I keep being surprised that other people had a very positive experience with the Chiss on Hoth.

 

Is "To Sail the Wine-Dark Sky" a reference to something, or just a particularly pleasing phrase?

 

Did Vector piece together enough information to begin to try to do something in Act 2, or was he stuck at 'she's being manipulated'?

 

 

Glad you liked it; this one was hard for me to write.

 

To answer your question about the name of her ship, Homer (in English translation) uses the phrase "wine-dark sea" in the Iliad/Odyssey and I've always liked it. In addition, Somtow Sucharitkul, one of my favorite authors, had a collection of short stories (influenced by Greek mythology), Fire from the Wine-Dark Sea. Just adjusted for a spacefaring society where sea is analogous to space/the sky. I kicked around the idea of it being a phrase from Chiss epic poetry and explaining it in the text, but it didn't work into the dialog well so I dropped it--from this snippet at least. I have no doubt Vector would be interested.

 

Agent spoiler

reaction to Saganu's offer must vary depending on your character's motivations. I literally had the thought of "I don't need them (the Empire) anymore" when that came up. Must have been really in character.

 

As far as Vector, the project protean stuff didn't come up until I started act 3, so I just found out about it after my marathon of companion quests with Vector and Lokin. I haven't sorted that out much, head-canon timeline-wise yet. I'd like to think that some of that actually happened in Ch2 just because it works better for me that way. I know she kept it from him, but he knew sometihng was very wrong, and that led him to work more wit Lokin to figure out what.

 

 

must sleep now. catch up on reading later.

[bright_ephemera]

Here’s a short Canned Responses with Sith Warrior Ruth and the first of many times she got a particular line out of Vette. Very early in the storyline, no spoilers. 200 words.

 

 

 

The little Twi’lek slave crossed her arms and looked at Ruth with enormous blue eyes. And continued her interrogation.

 

“You like being nice.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You like the Empire.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You like being nice.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You like the Empire.”

 

“Is this going somewhere?”

 

“Do you not see the disconnect here?”

 

“There are many ways to live in the Empire. I just choose a less destructive one.”

 

“And these guys hate you for it. You know, where I’m from they have a whole club for Force users who aren’t total bastards. They call ‘em the Jedi.”

 

“Don’t push it,” Ruth snapped. “I’ve no interest in being a Jedi.”

 

“Ooo-kay. If being the speciallest kid at the party is that important to you…”

 

“I don’t have to be nice.” She waved the shock collar’s remote. Honestly, who did Vette think she was, anyway?

 

Vette looked at Ruth. She looked at the remote. She looked at Ruth. “Yooouu gonna press that button or something?”

 

“I’m getting there.” Never mind that actually shocking the poor girl was an incredibly distasteful prospect. “I’m still in the brandishing stage. I can make you eat your words any time I want.”

 

Vette looked unimpressed. “You are so weird.”

 

Edited July 31, 2012 by bright_ephemera

[irishfino]

Welcome to the thread, this was great. A very different take on Quinn and Jaesa from most of the Quinn posts here. (We have a lot of Quinn posts).

 

He's such a complex character, I can see why. When I got to that scene on my first SW, I nearly cried. My heart sank in my chest. It was very depressing!

 

Thank you for your kind welcome and words!

 

 

Oooh!! Quinn and Jeasa! That was so sweet! Poor guy. Lovely!

 

Thank you!

 

 

My word that was emotional. A lovely take on Quinn's reaction to the event and certainly a scene that could never have happened with anyone else. I hope you pursue this, I'd like to read more.

 

I do plan to continue this. Thank you!

 

 

Have to admit, since my opinions of Quinn have been shaped by these stories (not having played a SW) that the idea of him with Jaesa is unique. Makes you think about the possibilities outside the prescribed romance arc.

 

You must roll a Sith warrior! Personally, it is the best story in the game with the most lasting consequences for your actions. It's a wonderful story!

 

 

We don't lot LsJaesa story here and think that is good story:)

 

The lack of LS!Jaesa stories is something that piqued my interest. She's a bit fun to play with. Thank you for your compliment!

[Vesaniae]

Imperial Intelligence always makes me so happy...though yours turned out very, very different from mine

 

I've headcanoned a Cipher Fourteen as my Warrior's mother, but she hasn't turned up much in fic because I'm actually awful at thinking up spy stories. There are so many character opportunities in unassigned Watchers, Ciphers, Keepers, Fixers, Minders...

That's one of the reasons why I find Intelligence so intriguing--so many possibilities for all kinds of people doing all kinds of things there in the background.

Interesting coincidence--my headcanon has a Cipher Fourteen as my Inquisitor's mother.

 

Adris and Brei'yu were both light sided sith haters. I can't imagine an Imperial Intelligence like this. The solution? I rolled a dark sided Sith sympathizing Agent! Holy crap what have I done?

 

I like your Sith's origins. Though a designation has high as 90 in a Watcher is a little mind blowing for me. Looking forward to more.

Thaera is not all that sympathetic to the Sith--

I imagine that Jadus subtly used the Force to manipulate her into choosing to side with him, and at the end she chose to give the Black Codex to the Sith because by that point she'd given up on trying to resist. That's the short explanation, anyway

 

I suppose 90 is a bit high of a number, heh. When coming up with Intelligence characters I tend to pick numbers at random, with the theory that the higher the number, the less likely it is for that designation to be in use in-game.

 

Discoveries, Sith Warrior Ruth (again again again), 1000 words. SW Act 3 spoilers.

Wow. I like this. Interesting to see something from Quinn's PoV. It's also interesting to see how everyone interprets the various stories, especially the SW story, with that one event that everyone has a different take on.

 

Prompt: Family

 

Title: We Belong

 

Characters: Sha’ra’zaed (Operative), Vector

 

Everything I just said about how it's interesting to see all the different story interpretations applies here too. I like the interaction between Vector and your agent--very sweet, especially at the end.

 

This is my first time posting something I've written here. (Can't post most of my stories because they are *cough* naughty.)

 

Prompt: Discovery

 

Chapter Three spoiler (AKA the Quinn Thing).

Characters: Quinn and LS!Jaesa

 

Oh, wow. That was...really, really different. I definitely wouldn't mind seeing more of this.

 

Here’s a short Canned Responses with Sith Warrior Ruth and the first of many times she got a particular line out of Vette. Very early in the storyline, no spoilers. 200 words.

Typical Vette I think she'd definitely use that line a lot on my Warrior, as well.

[Tatile]

Family, part 1

Words: 2,500

Reasoning: I'm stuck at the hor d'oeuvres (no, seriously)

Characters: Rochester, Broan, Benedicta, Stion'n and Amilia

 

 

"Are you packed?" Broan stood just inside the doorway, constantly opening and closing his hands. He had no idea what to do with them. He had been waiting for some time, watching Rochester in silence. He started to pace a little.

 

"Yes. Are you?" Rochester spoke over his shoulder, pushing down on the case. It had always been difficult to close and now he was wondering if had over-packed. Taking one hand off, he tried to close one of the clasps. The lid popped up.

 

"Do you need help with that?" Broan sounded a little hopeful. Without anything to do, he was starting to become very apprehensive. Rochester was kneeling on the case, which was wobbling rather precariously on the bed. The clasps finally locked into place.

 

"Thanks, but I think I'm alright," He placed the case on the floor and smiled. Broan went to smile back, but instead bit on his bottom lip. "You seem nervous," Rochester pulled him into an embrace, kissing him deeply before he could reply. Broan pulled away briefly and nodded. They kissed again, hot with passion. "I think we can fix that, don't you?"

 

Broan hummed as he started to undo the buttons of Rochester's uniform.

 

"Yes, I think we can."

 

/

 

Broan kissed the back of his neck, pulling down the collar. Rochester chuckled and playfully pulled away.

 

"I need to get dressed," Rochester turned and saw that Broan was still entirely, and gloriously, naked. "And so do you." He smiled. There was a glint in Broan's eyes. Clothes seemed to be the last thing on his mind.

 

"I'm a 'dark Lord of the Sith', remember?" Broan grinned and lay back on the bed. His green skin contrasted wonderfully with the white sheets. Rochester could not help but stare. Broan stretched; he loved it when Rochester looked at him. "I can do whatever I want."

 

"Yes, but..." Rochester trailed off, captivated by the sight. Broan continued to grin, alluring and mischievous. He reached up to pull Rochester down. He caught a quick kiss as the intercom started to beep.

 

"Ignore it." Broan put an arm around Rochester's shoulders. He pulled at the grey clothes, pressing and kissing to keep Rochester's attention. The beeping of the intercom became more urgent and at length, Rochester answered it. Broan sighed heavily and threw himself onto the bed.

 

"Lieutenant Windthorpe? Sorry to bother you, sir," Rochester leant against the door, watching Broan as they both listened to the speaker. "Your ship is prepped and ready. Lord Naught's affects have been loaded, but he is not answering his door. Perhaps you might be able to-"

 

The speaker abruptly cut off. Rochester raised an eyebrow at this; it was rare that a subordinate would suddenly stop speaking. Broan made a show of striding to the bathroom, picking up his clothes as he went.

 

Captain Gorse spoke when the next call came through.

 

"I'd tell you to have fun, but I know how these champagne balls go," He sounded chatty, meaning he assumed Lord Naught was not present. It was highly likely, Rochester mused, that Gorse had pulled the petty officer away by the scruff of the neck. The nature of Rochester and Broan's relationship was something of an open secret. "Your ship is in hanger three and is ready for departure. I suggest you hurry, if you can, another storm is brewing over Kaas City." The call ended. Rochester took the time to adjust his uniform and smooth out the wrinkles.

 

"Did you hear that, Broan?" Rochester received a grunt in reply. It seemed Broan was sulking, which was rather unusual. He had certainly taken to expressing his emotions more readily, at least around Rochester, but he had a tendency to be more positive. At length he came out of the bathroom, fully dressed. He worse a scowl fit for a Darth. "Are you ready?" Rochester tried to keep his voice free from the hesitation he felt.

 

"She's going to be there, isn't she?"

 

Rochester stopped, his hand on the lock, and though for a moment. There were a lot of women who Broan could be referring to.

 

"Lord Stion'n will be there, yes."

 

Broan shrugged his shoulders and folded his arms across his chest. He appeared disappointed, perhaps even threatened, by the notion.

 

"I can't talk you out of this, can I?"

 

"I'm not going to marry her," Rochester grabbed Broan by the waist, pulling him into an awkward hug. "Lord Stion'n is not at all interested in me - I'll never be able to give her Force Sensitive children, for a start," Broan turned his head away, avoiding Rochester's eyes. "You don't have to worry. I am not going to leave you. Besides, have you forgotten? This is my brother's stupid party, not mine." He smiled weakly as Broan sighed and agreed.

 

"I don't even know how to act at one of these things. We aren't going to be using slaves as piñatas or anything, right?"

 

"No, nothing like that," Rochester chuckled and gently kissed Broan. They would not be able to be so gentle with each other for quite a while. Broan had many expectations to live up to and many people he needed to prove wrong, no matter how right they might be. "Now put on your best 'Sith face', you have subordinates to intimidate." Broan managed a smile.

 

"And I'm not to feel embarrassed walking out of your quarters."

 

"You're a 'dark Lord of the Sith', remember?" Rochester chuckled and kissed Broan again. "You can shag anyone you want, even me."

 

/

 

A storm was brewing over Kaas City. Lieutenant Windthorpe and Lord Naught were in a private carriage. The train was speeding to the outskirts of the city, home to the larger estates of rich non-Sith. Many of the carriages were devoted to private individuals like themselves, but Rochester knew the latter carriages were filled with fresh slaves. Thankfully, Broan had not asked about the plain, windowless boxes tacked onto the end of the train. Instead, he had slipped onto the train with all the haughty arrogance of a Sith Lord. In a way, Rochester was proud of him. Leading such a double life was not easy.

 

"When will we be reaching the estate, Lieutenant?" Lord Naught did not look up as he asked the question. His eyes stayed focused on the book in his hands, his expression blank and his words clipped with the slightest hint of distaste. He was learning fast, Rochester realised; to most, he would appear a normal Sith, albeit an alien one.

 

"Within ten minutes, my Lord." Rochester inclined his head respectfully and returned to looking out the window.

 

"We will be meeting with Lord Vizloch, Lord Amilia and Lord Stion'n. You will be on your best behaviour, Lieutenant. I will not accept any," Lord Naught paused and considered Rochester for a moment. It was strange thing, to come under such callous scrutiny from a man with which he was so intimate. Even though they were alone in the carriage, appearances were to be maintained. One could never tell who was watching. "Quirks."

 

"I would never dream of such a thing, my Lord."

 

/

 

It was oddly serene sitting on the veranda, drinking fruit cordials and reading a mildly interesting book. Despite his misgivings, Broan was actually starting to enjoy himself. The rain was lashing down - "bucketing" as one of the servants had said - and the sound of it was calming. Benedicta, Rochester's sister, was standing at the railing, looking out over the gardens. This was the first time they had properly met, having briefly crossed paths aboard the Absolution. Broan was not sure what to say to her or if he should say anything at all. Thus, they waited in silence, him reading and her staring into the rain.

 

A servant replaced his empty glass. Broan had to consciously force himself not to thank her - Sith did not thank, nor appreciate. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Benedicta watching him. He sniffed and ignored the servant, concentrating on his book. After the servant left, Benedicta openly regarded him, now with her back turned to the garden.

 

"Why did you leave the Jedi Order?" Her voice was firm, commanding. Benedicta was a woman used to getting her way, it seemed. Broan did not look up and hid his surprise at the sudden question. He took a sip of his drink and carefully placed his book to one side.

 

"I needn't explain myself to you, Apprentice." Broan looked at her, meeting her defiance with his own cool arrogance.

 

"My brother is to be married; will you prevent that?" Benedicta folded her arms and leant back on the railing. She was openly mocking him now, trying to draw his ire.

 

"Rochester is mine - he belongs to me. I do not let my possessions be used by others." Broan felt sick at the thought. He was referring to Rochester as if he were an object, a slave, something to be used up and thrown away. It was the correct response, though. He could see Benedicta bristling - exactly the reaction he had been told to expect.

 

"My brother is not-" Benedicta paused. It was obvious she was controlling her reactions. Broan recognised the initial response, then the speaker's realisation and their attempt at control. He had practiced that routine in the mirror every night as a Padawan, learning to mask everything. Being a Sith was not the same as being free, in many ways it was just like being a Jedi or a slave. "Rochester was promised to Lord Stion'n by Lord Vizloch; the agreement was made with Lady Fidrocia Dimatier when my brother was five and Lord Stion'n was three. That is what you chose to fight when you chose to take my brother."

 

Broan allowed a small smile to play upon his lips.

 

"How did you know I was on top?"

 

Benedicta's mouth fell open and the colour drained from her face. Her cheeks then suddenly flushed and she stormed into the house, a knot of fury building in her chest. Broan watched her leave, slowly drinking the fruit cordial. He clasped his robe with his free hand and hopped the shaking would soon stop.

 

/

 

Stoin'n stretched out on the couch and kicked her shoes off. It felt good to get out of the high heels that hurt her feet. She wiggled her toes and sighed. She was wearing her cocktail finery, the yellow basque with long, shimmering black leggings. She arched her back, clicking it in a few places, before again relaxing. Amilia sat on the footstool next to the couch, wearing plain trousers and a simple robe. She had elected not to wear her dress just yet; she was worried about getting it dirty. Stion'n rolled her to one side, looked past the Twi'lek and smiled. Rochester was perched on the couch opposite; hands clasped his lap, looking straight ahead.

 

"That was your man out there, wasn't it?" Stion'n said at last. They had been waiting in uncomfortable silence for a while, listening only to the rain. Rochester met her gaze, nodded, but said nothing. "He's quite cute, even with his green skin. Is he any good in bed?" Her smile spread into a large grin, hoping to unnerve the man. Rochester remained silent.

 

"Are you really going to keep up this charade or will you finally let the man out of this misery?" Amilia sounded curious, albeit quite bored as well. Stion'n pouted, before suddenly sitting up. Her normal flirtatious air was gone, replaced with uncharacteristic seriousness. Rochester found he was now acutely aware of the fact that she was a Pureblood.

 

"Rochester..." Stion'n leant forward, looking him hard in the eyes. She pressed the tips of her fingers together, resting her elbows on her knees. "I don't want you." Her words were blunt and hit harder than he had expected.

 

"That is... as I expected." Rochester swallowed. Though he had dreamed of this moment his entire life, it was turning to be quite difficult. Even though he had Broan, the thought of being unwanted was crushing.

 

"You are not Force sensitive and are unlikely to provide me Force sensitive children." Two more unintended blows struck him in the chest. He knew Stion'n was trying to be diplomatic, but her mannerisms were blunt and she spoke about the things that shamed him the most.

 

"I understand."

 

"Your brother only invited us to this in the hope that we would confirm the arrangement. It is his formal engagement party, but we are expected to announce ours as well. We will not."

 

"I understand." Rochester nodded again and clasped his hands tighter. The pain was blissfully distracting. At this Stion'n picked up her shoes and walked from the room.

 

"Ta ta! I'll see you two at dinner." Stion'n waved over her shoulder as she left. Amilia watched her go, whereas Rochester concentrated on his feet.

 

"You're upset over this." Lord Amilia was just as matter-of-fact as Stion'n had been, but she also seemed to be genuinely concerned.

 

"I would not seek to trouble you with this, my Lord." His breathing was shaky; his reaction to the entire exchange confused him.

 

"Perhaps not me, but you should trouble someone," She smiled at him. It was warm and friendly; the kind of smile that Broan would give him, the kind of smile that was so rare in the Empire. "Believe me when I say this was going to be a lot more brutal. Stion'n is a woman used to getting her way, she does not care who she has to crush to get there. It took me a long time to convince her that a little tact would be more beneficial for all involved."

 

"I see, thank you, my Lord."

 

Amilia squeezed Rochester's knee before taking his hands in hers.

 

"You probably don't remember me, we probably never met. I used to work here, in one of the lesser houses belonging to the estate," She tilted her head to one side. "Look at me now: I used to be a slave, serving drinks at events like this and now I'm here, people are calling me 'Lord', they bow to me." She let go of his hands and stood, smoothing the folds from her robe.

 

"I'm not sure I quite understand, my Lord."

 

Amilia shrugged.

 

"I was defined by those around, even as I became Sith. I am an agent of others, a product not of my own making. It would seem that we are similarly cursed, though I would not presume to know the full extent of your position. I am able to make myself independent and it is a glorious feeling."

 

Rochester waited a moment, wondering if she would continue. At length, he raised an eyebrow and spoke.

 

"I'm not sure I fully understand your meaning, my Lord."

 

"Do not allow yourself to be used anymore, Rochester. Everyone deserves better than that."

 

 

 

Part 2 will be along when I can figure out how to scandalize a champagne glass.

[bright_ephemera]

Huh. This continuation (with bonus family!) tumbled out on the heels of Ruth's previous Discovery prompt, and I swear after this I'm done for the week. I really need to get a hobby.

 

 

 

Quinn read the whole datacube’s worth of old letters. Ruth’s parents had corresponded regularly throughout their time together; Dolarra was often traveling for her work (Intelligence, obviously, though he could tell maddeningly little beyond that from what she said) and Colran, from the sound of it, was a habitual letter-writer to many of his friends.

 

For eight years they avoided hard facts, details of work, traceable names, and yet still managed to write volumes. About life, about the Empire, about each other; about Ruth, when she came along; about the planets Dolarra saw, though she seemed to put intentional delays and vagueness in describing them so he couldn’t trace her exact routes; about the Force, where Colran’s descriptions sounded much like Ruth’s always had, only better articulated.

 

Quinn envied both the love and the purpose that threaded through every letter. He envied the father who had gotten to be there for his young child. With every glowing passage, Quinn envied the years he had almost had.

 

It took him a couple of weeks to work through the full index of correspondence. When he was finished, he tried to think of who to contact to return it. Calling Ruth directly was asking for a fight. Secretaries seemed wrong for a trust like this. So he called Jaesa Brindel, née Wilsaam.

 

When she came up on holo, she smiled the smile he had heard others describe as winsome. “General Quinn. This is a pleasant surprise.”

 

“It’s been a while.” Several years, in fact; Jaesa had supervised his visits to Rylon for years, but eventually he was allowed to see his son alone, and from then on his sole contact with Ruth’s camp was done through her secretaries. “I need to get something valuable to Ruth. Do you think you could arrange for a pickup from Kaas City?”

 

“I’m in town myself today. I can take care of it.”

 

*

 

She met him in the office he kept at the city’s military headquarters. She looked much as she always had: mousy, nonthreatening, though even with the slight rounding out of the years she moved with a certain balance that suggested it would be difficult to take her by surprise.

 

“Thank you for coming,” he said. “How are you? How are Kaeve, the twins?”

 

“All of the above are doing well,” she said. “How are things with you?”

 

“Good, thank you.” He didn’t ask about her weak bordering on pacifist political aspirations, and she didn’t ask about his unending push for total victory in a war he would never compromise on. They were polite like that.

 

He had never been friends with the gentle former Jedi; all they had in common was Ruth, and Jaesa’s primary goal there was to encourage the softest, most dangerously vulnerable parts of her. But when Ruth had collared and imprisoned Quinn after his betrayal, Jaesa was the one who, unbidden, had thought to feed him and, in those first few brutal days, tend to the worst of Pierce’s physical retribution. Jaesa was, to reduce it to two words, inexplicably gracious, and since the falling-out with Ruth that had helped matters a great deal.

 

“I’m glad,” she was saying. “I heard you and Ruth were back in contact, but she’s pretty tight-lipped about you.”

 

“Really.”

 

“Yes. Sometimes glowingly so – “ she smiled – “and sometimes…not…but she doesn’t say much either way.”

 

“I see. I just need an item returned to her. It would help if you could let her know I didn’t intend to take it, it accidentally ended up in my things.” He produced the datacube, an ornate golden thing scarcely two fingers’ widths to a side.

 

Jaesa’s eyes widened. “Is that what I think it is?” She snatched it out of his hands, tapped it active, looked over the text index that it projected. “Where did you find this?”

 

“It fell out of the coat closet while I was on my way out one day. I happened to catch it.”

 

“This is great! I put it together for Ruth some time ago. You know how much she loves anything to do with her mother, but she never had time to finish plowing through her father’s files after he died. I pulled this all together, but then the cube vanished before I could give it to her. I was convinced the whole thing was lost.” Her eyes sparkled when she smiled. “Did you read any of it?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

 

“It explains a great deal about her,” he said cautiously.

 

“She was lucky, having parents like that.”

 

“They were lucky, too.”

 

“I know. Some of it sounded just like…” She caught herself. “Well. Other things.”

 

Don’t touch the thought of her and me. That’s mine. “There aren’t many other things like the relationship laid out in those letters.”

 

“I guess you’re right.” She paused. “Are you all right?”

 

In front of you? “Quite. It’s kind of you to ask.”

 

“I’ll get this to her. And I’ll let her know you didn’t mean to walk off with it. Anything else you want me to pass along?”

 

He considered, decided to risk the small personal touch. “Yes. Tell her I said happy birthday.”

 

*

 

June, 27 ATC

 

 

Ruth read every letter the datacube stored. She read them again. It took her weeks; she was working, managing her intelligence network, coordinating a handful of strategic projects, doing some field work herself. And reading her parents’ words as fast as she could in every spare moment.

 

It was the most of her mother she had ever seen. It was a perspective on her father she had never known. It was…a lot, and Ruth was grateful Jaesa had found the old letters and put them together. She didn’t know how to feel about the fact that Quinn had gotten his hands on it for a while.

 

But the correspondence was that of a well-meaning Sith and a dedicated, Force-blind Imperial, and a great deal of it was familiar. A great deal of it was what she had thought she had for a while, before it all went to hell. She missed it. And she was starting to imagine that Quinn was capable of knowing it for what it had been, too.

 

So, eventually, she called him. It took him a minute to pick up, but he got there.

 

“Thank you,” she said.

 

“You’re welcome,” he said carefully. “I hope you like it.”

 

“You kept it for a while. Did you read any of it?”

 

“Yes.” He sounded like he was braced for impact.

 

“I’m really glad this wasn’t lost to the unfathomable shadows of the coat closet.”

 

He relaxed, very slightly, and smiled. “I aim to serve.”

 

She realized she was rapidly turning the datacube over in her hands. With an effort she stilled herself. “Would you be willing to talk sometime?”

 

“I could.”

 

“You free next Tuesday?”

 

The man actually flinched. Very slightly, but it was there, as his face drained of everything but something like pain. “Not then.”

 

“Why no- Oh.” The incident. The sixteenth anniversary thereof. “If you’d rather spend the day apart...”

 

“I think that would be safest.”

 

“In the interest of managing our tempers, I think you’re right. Saturday after?”

 

“That could be arranged.”

 

“Good. I think there’s something worth fixing. I’d like to talk about how.” She tapped the datacube. “We had something. I think I haven’t given you enough credit for just how much.”

 

“We had something. And we’ll talk.” He took a deep breath. “But first we have an anniversary to survive. I have to go, Ruth. I’ll call you when I know what the logistics look like for Saturday.”

 

The holo cut out.

 

Ruth had butterflies in her stomach. Optimism was probably premature, but for some reason, for the first time in quite a while, the butterflies were pleasant.

 

 

 

[irishfino]

Prompt: Family

 

Characters: Malavai Quinn and LS!Jaesa

 

Quinn digs up a bit of his past and Jaesa publicly pries it out of his cold, angry fingers.

 

 

 

“This is not up for debate. My duty comes first. It always has and it always will,” Quinn said stubbornly.

 

This was the last conversation he wanted to be having, especially in front of the other crew, but Jaesa was insistent on getting an answer out of him. She blocked his route to the bridge, sat on consoles he was trying to read, and all around made herself as visible as possible. He tried to explain that he was thirty-six hours into a seventy-two hour shift and needed to focus, but that answer was “not good enough”. She frustrated him.

 

“I’ve been trying to have this conversation all week. You keep dodging it,” she said emphatically. “We’re having it right here, right now!”

 

“No, we are not,” he insisted.

 

“And why is that?” she asked. When he opened his mouth she interrupted him, “I swear to the Emperor if you say ‘I am on duty’ I will Force push you out the airlock!”

 

His mouth snapped shut with an audible click. She made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat. He shrugged at her, a motion he didn’t often make, turned on his heel, and left for the bridge. She stomped after him. He quickly hunched over a console.

 

“Jaesa, I do not wish to have this conversation at this time. Please do not persist in this line of questioning,” he said stiffly.

 

“Why?” she demanded, “Why won’t you talk to me about this?”

 

“It’s none of your business.”

 

She stiffened behind him. He continued monitoring screens and typing out a pattern on the board in front of him.

 

“So, that’s it then?” she asked softly.

 

He inhaled sharply. He didn’t want to talk about this. Not now, at least. Not in the middle of a seventy-two hour shift.

 

“No, that is not it. I do not wish to speak of this during my shift,” he said gently as he turned to face her.

 

She crossed her arms under her breast and cocked her hip. It was a challenge. He turned back to the console to ignore her stance. He hated when she became standoffish.

 

“Malavai,” she started.

 

“Don’t!” he yelled harshly as he turned on her. “Do not use my given name! You have no right!”

 

“’No right’? No right!? I defended you to the crew! I got you back in the loop! I helped you when you woke up screaming bloody f***ing murder! And I have no right!?” she screamed emphatically.

 

“Damn it, Jaesa!”

 

They stood apart, staring at each other red faced and breathing heavily. He knew she was right, she was always right when it came to him and the goings on in his head. Taking a deep calming breath, he let his mask slip back into place. She bristled visibly.

 

“My grandfather, Malavai Barnabus Quinn, died two days ago,” he said softly.

 

He turned back to the consoles to distract him. He didn’t need to see the pity cross her features when he finally told her what was bothering him. He hated that look.

 

She walked to his back, waiting for him to continue. He always took his time, calculating his responses and emotions carefully so not to reveal too much. She had seen him at his worst, she argued, there was nothing more to reveal. But he was set in his ways and he told her as much.

 

“He was in the running for Moff when Broysc managed to rip the position from under him. The new Moff Broysc went about destroying his career much as he later did to me. I was told Barnabus had been killed several decades ago. Instead, he died in obscurity, his name forever tarnished by that bastard Broysc,” he said miserably.

 

“If he only just died, why have you been closed off for the last week?” she asked softly. She didn’t want to press him too hard, he would shut down. She ran her hands down his back. He stiffened, but did not shake off her touch; a good sign. She let her hands work on his shoulders, working at the knots there. He grunted softly.

 

“He contacted me two weeks ago via mail. He wanted to meet with me,” he continued quietly. “I went.”

 

“What happened then?” she pried gently.

 

“I do not wish to speak on this further. Do not press me,” he said through clenched teeth.

 

She silently continued working at the knots in his shoulders, slowly moving her small hands down his back. She could feel his stubborn resolve slipping, until finally -

 

“I looked up to him,” he said quietly. She didn’t stop her work on his back. She dug her fingers in deeply along his ribcage. The stiff scar tissue didn’t often relent to her soft touches, but she worked it anyway.

 

“I was named after the man, for the Emperor’s sake!” he continued thickly. “To see him, frail and dying… alone in disgrace. It brought to mind…”

 

Tears tingled at the corners of his eyes and he willed them away. Not now. Not when he was on duty. Jaesa slowly wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged herself to his back. He hugged her arms awkwardly.

 

“I apologize for being harsh earlier,” he said, turning in her arms.

 

“I’m glad my persistence paid off,” she said gently.

 

He smiled a small smile. She tilted her head toward his and stood on the tips of her toes. He continued to smirk teasingly at her.

 

“Malavai…” she whispered against his lips.

 

“Hmm?” he rumbled in his throat.

 

“Such a tease,” she pouted.

 

She rocked back onto her heels quietly. He quickly dipped his head, stealing a short kiss before straightening his back.

 

“Now, I am on duty, Miss Jaesa,” he said softly.

 

This time she grinned broadly. The corners of his mouth twitched in an upward motion before he squashed their traitorous ascent.

 

“We’ll talk later,” she said. Her tone brooked no argument and he gave none. He bowed shortly and returned to his blinking consoles and fast moving screens. He was back in his element. And a little less distracted, he admitted to himself a bit unwillingly.

 

 

 

Notes:

 

 

These shorts write themselves, I swear. This is part of a larger project that I hope to bring together (with my previous entry, of course) and possibly post on the forum under its own thread. For now, a slice of life.

 

The name Barnabus comes from me watching way too much How I Met Your Mother...

 

Edited August 1, 2012 by irishfino

[Crezelle]

Huh. This continuation (with bonus family!) tumbled out on the heels of Ruth's previous Discovery prompt, and I swear after this I'm done for the week. I really need to get a hobby.

 

 

 

Quinn read the whole datacube’s worth of old letters. Ruth’s parents had corresponded regularly throughout their time together; Dolarra was often traveling for her work (Intelligence, obviously, though he could tell maddeningly little beyond that from what she said) and Colran, from the sound of it, was a habitual letter-writer to many of his friends.

 

For eight years they avoided hard facts, details of work, traceable names, and yet still managed to write volumes. About life, about the Empire, about each other; about Ruth, when she came along; about the planets Dolarra saw, though she seemed to put intentional delays and vagueness in describing them so he couldn’t trace her exact routes; about the Force, where Colran’s descriptions sounded much like Ruth’s always had, only better articulated.

 

Quinn envied both the love and the purpose that threaded through every letter. He envied the father who had gotten to be there for his young child. With every glowing passage, Quinn envied the years he had almost had.

 

It took him a couple of weeks to work through the full index of correspondence. When he was finished, he tried to think of who to contact to return it. Calling Ruth directly was asking for a fight. Secretaries seemed wrong for a trust like this. So he called Jaesa Brindel, née Wilsaam.

 

When she came up on holo, she smiled the smile he had heard others describe as winsome. “General Quinn. This is a pleasant surprise.”

 

“It’s been a while.” Several years, in fact; Jaesa had supervised his visits to Rylon for years, but eventually he was allowed to see his son alone, and from then on his sole contact with Ruth’s camp was done through her secretaries. “I need to get something valuable to Ruth. Do you think you could arrange for a pickup from Kaas City?”

 

“I’m in town myself today. I can take care of it.”

 

*

 

She met him in the office he kept at the city’s military headquarters. She looked much as she always had: mousy, nonthreatening, though even with the slight rounding out of the years she moved with a certain balance that suggested it would be difficult to take her by surprise.

 

“Thank you for coming,” he said. “How are you? How are Kaeve, the twins?”

 

“All of the above are doing well,” she said. “How are things with you?”

 

“Good, thank you.” He didn’t ask about her weak bordering on pacifist political aspirations, and she didn’t ask about his unending push for total victory in a war he would never compromise on. They were polite like that.

 

He had never been friends with the gentle former Jedi; all they had in common was Ruth, and Jaesa’s primary goal there was to encourage the softest, most dangerously vulnerable parts of her. But when Ruth had collared and imprisoned Quinn after his betrayal, Jaesa was the one who, unbidden, had thought to feed him and, in those first few brutal days, tend to the worst of Pierce’s physical retribution. Jaesa was, to reduce it to two words, inexplicably gracious, and since the falling-out with Ruth that had helped matters a great deal.

 

“I’m glad,” she was saying. “I heard you and Ruth were back in contact, but she’s pretty tight-lipped about you.”

 

“Really.”

 

“Yes. Sometimes glowingly so – “ she smiled – “and sometimes…not…but she doesn’t say much either way.”

 

“I see. I just need an item returned to her. It would help if you could let her know I didn’t intend to take it, it accidentally ended up in my things.” He produced the datacube, an ornate golden thing scarcely two fingers’ widths to a side.

 

Jaesa’s eyes widened. “Is that what I think it is?” She snatched it out of his hands, tapped it active, looked over the text index that it projected. “Where did you find this?”

 

“It fell out of the coat closet while I was on my way out one day. I happened to catch it.”

 

“This is great! I put it together for Ruth some time ago. You know how much she loves anything to do with her mother, but she never had time to finish plowing through her father’s files after he died. I pulled this all together, but then the cube vanished before I could give it to her. I was convinced the whole thing was lost.” Her eyes sparkled when she smiled. “Did you read any of it?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

 

“It explains a great deal about her,” he said cautiously.

 

“She was lucky, having parents like that.”

 

“They were lucky, too.”

 

“I know. Some of it sounded just like…” She caught herself. “Well. Other things.”

 

Don’t touch the thought of her and me. That’s mine. “There aren’t many other things like the relationship laid out in those letters.”

 

“I guess you’re right.” She paused. “Are you all right?”

 

In front of you? “Quite. It’s kind of you to ask.”

 

“I’ll get this to her. And I’ll let her know you didn’t mean to walk off with it. Anything else you want me to pass along?”

 

He considered, decided to risk the small personal touch. “Yes. Tell her I said happy birthday.”

 

*

 

June, 27 ATC

 

 

Ruth read every letter the datacube stored. She read them again. It took her weeks; she was working, managing her intelligence network, coordinating a handful of strategic projects, doing some field work herself. And reading her parents’ words as fast as she could in every spare moment.

 

It was the most of her mother she had ever seen. It was a perspective on her father she had never known. It was…a lot, and Ruth was grateful Jaesa had found the old letters and put them together. She didn’t know how to feel about the fact that Quinn had gotten his hands on it for a while.

 

But the correspondence was that of a well-meaning Sith and a dedicated, Force-blind Imperial, and a great deal of it was familiar. A great deal of it was what she had thought she had for a while, before it all went to hell. She missed it. And she was starting to imagine that Quinn was capable of knowing it for what it had been, too.

 

So, eventually, she called him. It took him a minute to pick up, but he got there.

 

“Thank you,” she said.

 

“You’re welcome,” he said carefully. “I hope you like it.”

 

“You kept it for a while. Did you read any of it?”

 

“Yes.” He sounded like he was braced for impact.

 

“I’m really glad this wasn’t lost to the unfathomable shadows of the coat closet.”

 

He relaxed, very slightly, and smiled. “I aim to serve.”

 

She realized she was rapidly turning the datacube over in her hands. With an effort she stilled herself. “Would you be willing to talk sometime?”

 

“I could.”

 

“You free next Tuesday?”

 

The man actually flinched. Very slightly, but it was there, as his face drained of everything but something like pain. “Not then.”

 

“Why no- Oh.” The incident. The sixteenth anniversary thereof. “If you’d rather spend the day apart...”

 

“I think that would be safest.”

 

“In the interest of managing our tempers, I think you’re right. Saturday after?”

 

“That could be arranged.”

 

“Good. I think there’s something worth fixing. I’d like to talk about how.” She tapped the datacube. “We had something. I think I haven’t given you enough credit for just how much.”

 

“We had something. And we’ll talk.” He took a deep breath. “But first we have an anniversary to survive. I have to go, Ruth. I’ll call you when I know what the logistics look like for Saturday.”

 

The holo cut out.

 

Ruth had butterflies in her stomach. Optimism was probably premature, but for some reason, for the first time in quite a while, the butterflies were pleasant.

 

 

 

ruth is now my soap opera fix. what would be more hilarious if someone wrote thier femwar/quinn/pierce dynamics like a gender-reversed reeba.

Edited August 1, 2012 by Crezelle

[Striges]

Huh. This continuation (with bonus family!) tumbled out on the heels of Ruth's previous Discovery prompt, and I swear after this I'm done for the week. I really need to get a hobby.

 

interesting follow-up, given what you've written with Ruth and Quinn to date. I'm definitely curious where this is going.

 

Prompt: Family

 

Characters: Malavai Quinn and LS!Jaesa

 

Quinn digs up a bit of his past and Jaesa publicly pries it out of his cold, angry fingers.

 

Both of yours were very different takes on Quinn; the beginning of "Discovery" in particular. Examining the direct aftermath from Quinn's perspective. And welcome to the thread!

[bright_ephemera]

Good Lord, this thread is active. Story index by character is up to date (for at least another thirty seconds, probably), with several new authors added!

[Tatile]

It's good to see we've got so many writers here I'm wondering if any of the Bioware lot read this thread.

[SveinEternity]

It's good to see we've got so many writers here I'm wondering if any of the Bioware lot read this thread.

 

They should because it's awesome! Sorry I have'nt commented latley guys. I was soooooooo busy with a move this past week. I've slowly been reading them and I want to say you are all awesome writers.