The Short Fic Weekly Challenge Thread!

[irishfino]

Author's note

 

This is actually the opening scene of a story I'm working on as I play through the Inquisitor storyline. I was considering making it its own thread, but I don't really have the confidence to interest people with my own stuff. I felt this snippet was rather fitting for the prompt since the Inquisitor is referred to as slave for most of the quest line on Korriban. Slaves pretty much only have their names. I'm still working on fleshing out Vei's personality. She leans light side on game, but she knows sometimes she has to do terrible things to survive. I'm looking forward to getting Revel as a companion, I have a feeling he'll opening up another side of her.

 

Do it, do it, do it! This was really good! There are few SI stories and yours is off to a great start. Continue!

[kabeone]

What's in a name? featuring my light side leaning Sith Assassin. Spoilers for the opening cut scene of the Inquisitor story.

 

 

It was the first time in her life that she had been transported anywhere and not been in chains.

 

She still felt their heavy weight about her neck and wrists, though she was free. They jangled in the looks she got from the other Acolytes on board. They tugged in the sideways glances, they hung in the whispers shielded behind hands. The Sith Code was bantha ****. Her chains would never be broken.

 

She had nothing that belonged to her but her name. The clothes on her back were borrowed. They were too large for her, the pants drooping sadly at the crotch, the sleeves needing to be rolled up so she could access her hands. The training saber on her back? Rummaged out of a defected pile and handed to her without a word. Her boots were worn through on the soles, a product of their previous owner's inability to stay still. Even the jewelry she wore about her horns was not hers. Tarnished, broken and mended in a dozen different places, it served to remind her where she came from. Where she would certainly be thrown back to if she failed her trails and death over looked her. A half dozen tiny chains laced from one horn to the next, confining, drawing attention, reminding.

 

Her name was Vei. It was all she had. And most of the time, it wasn't allowed to belong to her either. The people that mattered in her life said it as Vay. The Sith and Imperials rarely bothered to stop and ask for any correct pronunciation. She answered to it all, Veye. Vee. Slave.

 

She used to have a secret. An accompaniment to her name. She'd kept a secret all her young life. But she was an adult now. An adult with an adult's face and adult's body. And other adults, mainly adult men, had begun to take notice. When she had been cornered, when escape was denied her and pain she'd never imagined she'd be capable of feeling was administered with candy sharp breath and hands that seared, she lost her ability to hold on to her secret.

 

The man that owned her had died, painfully twisted and broken, his weapon as pale and shriveled as his face once she got done with it. But her defense had sent a ripple out. The ripple became two then three and now, she was sitting on board a shuttle surrounded by others just like her, only better.

 

She was the only alien among them.

 

The shuttle landed and Vei didn't bother rising to her feet until every one of the other Acolytes had debarked. The sun was already blinding before she stepped onto the landing pad and the air was hot and dry like the back of her throat. The rest of the Acolytes were far ahead of her, gathering themselves around a man she assumed would be her new taskmaster.

 

She took a step toward the group only to be shoved to the side. Vei hadn't seen the man waiting for her at the bottom of the ramp. She was going to have to be more observant from now on. He could have just as easily shived her as shoved her.

 

She couldn't see his face. He wore black robes with a hood low over his forehead. But she saw his hands. Pureblood. Even worse than the humans. He was certain to take exception to her. If she died here on this rock, it would be that one who would have killed her.

 

Anger gripped her throat as he moved away from her. He never once acknowledged her presence. She was that far beneath him. The air about her crackled for a moment. But she was alone on the landing pad and her show of bravado went unnoticed. It was just as well. If she showed her hand too soon, it would be the end of her. Let them underestimate her.

 

They would learn.

 

The taskmaster was actually an Overseer and his name was Harkun. Not that he would introduce himself to her. She would hear it later while listening to the other Acolytes complain. The man was shorter than she would have expected. She could nearly look him in the eye. He kept his hair military short and minimal facial hair adorned his face. His expression was dour and he openly appraised her as she approached.

 

She noted the Pureblood leaving, some sign had passed between him and the Overseer. But Harkun stepped into her line of sight and glowered at her as though she were a mess of bodily fluid someone had left for him to clean up.

 

He was a Force-user. She knew it immediately, the same way she knew how to breathe. And just as she knew instinctively how to breathe, she knew that he wouldn't hesitate to kill her. Slowly, if he could get away with it. He radiated disgust and disdain. And it was all directed at her.

 

He looked her up and down, his expression already writing her off even as he made her feel mere centimeters in height. “I hope you don't think you're special,” he sneered. She was shocked that he actually deigned to address her directly. In front of witnesses.

 

Vei lifted her chin and met him in the eye. She fought to hide her discomfort. She'd never looked anyone but another slave in the eye before in her entire life.

 

Harkun's eyes lit with anger and his nostrils flared. He stared her down and even though she felt her chest constrict, she didn't pull her gaze away. “I'm to rummage through you refuse to find an Apprentice for Lord Zash. I can already pick out who has snow ball's chance on this planet, and who is going to die in misery.”

 

Vei cocked her head, her eyes narrowing. The hate that rolled off the Overseer was nearly comical. She'd yet to open her mouth. If she did that she could really give him a reason to hate her. Even though it went against everything she'd ever been taught, everything she knew to stay alive, she fixed him with a haughty sneer. “Who is this Zash?” she asked.

 

She got the result she expected, or nearly did. Harkun brought his hand up so quickly a couple of the other Acolytes jumped and flinched away. Vei neither moved, nor blinked. She'd been lashed hundreds of times. She had taken canings to the back and to her hands. The knuckles of this short man's hand would barely create a sensation on her cheek. She wasn't afraid of him.

 

Harkun made a show of stopping himself and lowering his hand. “That's Lord Zash to you, slave.” He eyed her, hiding disappointment. She should have cowered. She may prove tough to break.

 

Vei filed the knowledge away for later. There was more to learn, but asking too many questions would probably only serve to get her killed. Harkun gestured harshly and the other Acolytes began to file out. He kept his eyes pinned to hers.

 

“The rest of you know your trial. Get out and try not to die. I'll bring our late comer up to speed.” He said late comer with the same arrogant disdain he'd used to call her slave. Harkun didn't have to be demeaning to be degrading.

 

Vei was acutely aware she was alone with the Overseer. With no witnesses there was much that could be done to her. It was a struggle to keep from reaching for her training blade, just to have something in her hands. Harkun continued to stare at her then moved toward her.

 

She tensed but he stopped just out of arms reach. “In the tomb of Ajunta Pall there is a mad hermit by the name of Spindrall. Find him. Listen to him, if you can comprehend. Complete the trial he asks of you. No doubt you'll die in the process, but there it is. This is your trial, slave. Get out of my sight.”

 

Vei left immediately, working hard to not scurry. She was better than that. She was going to be Sith. If everyone else was going to regard her as more than a slave in Sith's robing, she was going to have to start seeing herself differently as well.

 

She could feel Harkun's eyes on her back like daggers.

 

 

Author's note

 

This is actually the opening scene of a story I'm working on as I play through the Inquisitor storyline. I was considering making it its own thread, but I don't really have the confidence to interest people with my own stuff. I felt this snippet was rather fitting for the prompt since the Inquisitor is referred to as slave for most of the quest line on Korriban. Slaves pretty much only have their names. I'm still working on fleshing out Vei's personality. She leans light side on game, but she knows sometimes she has to do terrible things to survive. I'm looking forward to getting Revel as a companion, I have a feeling he'll opening up another side of her.

 

Very nice. I liked how you talked about the chains of her slavery as if she still felt them.

[kabeone]

Mission Accomplished

 

Sorry for yet another Remi/Scourge story takes place just after Chapter 3 ends.

 

Outright Sedition (Diplomacy Grade 6 Dark side rewards)

2500 words sorry sooooo long.

 

 

Remi had avoided the crew for two days, an impressive feat for a group on such a small vessel. Finally, she sent nearly everyone off on various tasks and plotted a course for Alderaan. Lord Scourge found her practicing on a Mark XXI training droid, something she had not done very often since he joined her crew. The last time she had sent the entire crew away, it had been both to surprise him and to do something she found distasteful.

 

“It’s not my birthday,” he said sardonically from the doorway as she dodged the training droid’s attacks. She jumped over the droid and kicked off the wall, hitting it from behind. It lit green and powered down to indicate she had scored a disabling hit. She glanced at him as she reset the droid but said nothing.

 

He could sense she was troubled, almost angry, and it pleased him. “You do not usually sulk.” He prodded her anger with an insult, to his consternation it helped her. She flicked her practice blade at the droid disabling it again.

 

“You’re right,” she said taking a deep breath letting it out slowly. After that, he could only sense calm, disgusting.

 

“What will we be doing on Alderaan?” he asked crossing his arms.

 

“You will be staying on the ship,” she said staring into his eyes firmly, “I will be depriving a person of the right to speak his mind and choose his allegiance under the laws of his land.” She looked like she ate something sour.

 

Now he felt the anger and shame rolling off the Jedi. She dissipated the emotions with reason, but they continued to return. “Why would you do this if it brings you such shame?” He was surprised to see how simple it was to hurt the Jedi.

 

“The war rages, the Republic needs its allies.” She said looking away, “A noble of House Organa is trying to gain support for siding with the Empire. I’m supposed to work with the other nobles to either exile him, or silence him.” Her jaw clenched.

 

Surprise flashed across Scourge’s face. “And you would feel pity for this man who actively works against your Republic?”

 

“He hasn’t done anything but talk.” Remi said idly slapping the side of her practice blade against the training droid. “He’s been open, he hasn’t sold information, and he hasn’t hurt anyone. Is talking to become reason for exile or death now?” She had said as much to the Council, she had asked herself those questions the past several days, she shook her head and headed to the bridge, they would arrive soon. Scourge followed her.

 

“And you would rather he sway this House Organa to the Empire than deprive him of his rights or his life?” He asked as she checked the nav.

 

“I would rather the Republic convince him that he is wrong, but apparently there is little time and the Empire’s offerings are,” she gave him a pained smile, “seductive.”

 

“So you would just do the Council’s bidding then?” his lip curled with distaste, “I thought you said you were not their puppet.”

 

She looked as if he had slapped her but before she could reply they dropped out of hyperspace and Alderaan rushed into view.

 

“Excuse me.” She said quietly, “I have to go be a puppet now.”

 

She tried to walk past him, but he blocked her way.

 

“I can get what you need.” He wondered why he was volunteering.

 

“I think he would prefer exile over death,” she replied sarcastically, “But thanks for the offer.”

 

He blocked her way again. “I promise, he will not die, and at the very worst he will be exiled.” She raised an eyebrow at him, “This may take some time.” He concluded.

 

She bit her lip at that, killing never took him very long. Speculation and doubt chased each other across her face, finally her expression turned calculating. She tilted her head to the side, “Alright Lord Scourge, this will be your mission.”

 

He realized this would now become his test. She would use the results to determine whether she could trust him. “As you wish.” He replied and took himself off.

 

***

 

Lord Scourge arrived at House Organa without incident, the Jedi had arranged for him to be treated with all the courtesy due her chosen representative. Apparently, she had left an impression the last time she was here, despite initial awkward moments the nobles of the House treated him with more respect and dignity than any members of the Council or Senate he had encountered.

 

Over dinner, they regaled him with stories of Remi’s triumph over House Thul, Rist, and Ulgo. He knew from his study of the Jedi’s ship logs that she had come to Alderaan to find and destroy a powerful weapon. It would seem she had devastated House Organa’s enemies as a side job. He was not sure if she should be admired for her strength or berated for foolishly wasting time. When Duke Organa revealed that she had allowed herself to be captured to save a mere three hundred civilians he decided she was a fool. The Duke also shared, with polite disdain, that she had inexplicably chosen to forgo celebrating their victory and continued her mission without rest. Scourge worked hard to hide his disgust for the overindulgent buffoon.

 

After the niceties were out of the way, Duke Organa began the delicate task of discussing how his wayward noble would be exiled. His tone suggested he thought prison was the only way to keep the man out of trouble, but then Scourge asked to be introduced. Duke Organa’s affable mask slipped, he assumed death was to be the sentence. Scourge felt nothing but contempt as the “noble” Duke escorted him to meet and presumably kill Camden Organa, his own nephew.

 

“Uncle,” the young man said enthusiastically, “I am glad you have come to speak with me at last.” The rest of what he was to say ended abruptly when he saw the large Sith standing behind Duke Organa. “Uncle,” he exclaimed, “Have you decided to ally with the Empire?”

 

Duke Organa gave his nephew a troubled look and left without a word. Lord Scourge studied the young man. He was tall, dark haired, and handsome for a human. He had muscle and wore a sword at his hip with habitual ease, but his eyes squinted and his shoulders hunched just slightly, signs of a man who read constantly. A young handsome warrior and scholar, this man was indeed a threat to where House Organa cast its loyalties.

 

“My lord,” Camden bowed low, “Forgive my uncle for not introducing us, I am Camden Organa, the Duke’s s-”

 

“Silence fool.” Scourge interrupted, putting enough force behind his words that the young noble shivered. “I am Sith, you will not speak to me unless I give you permission.”

 

Camden’s eyes widened not certain if he should remain silent or agree. Scourge inclined his head almost imperceptibly, “Yes, my lord.” Camden said meekly.

 

“I understand you wish to join the Empire. I wish for you to understand what that means. Come with me.” Scourge left the room and Camden hurried to follow.

 

They took a private speeder car to House Thul. “We can’t just walk in, they’ll kill us on sight.” Camden said in a panic, realizing he had spoken out of turn he covered his mouth but he could not hide his terror.

 

Lord Scourge gave him a disgusted look and drove up to the gate, the guard there did not need identification, all Sith were to be granted entrance. The gate opened and Scourge led the young noble inside. The difference between House Thul and Organa were not immediately obvious.

 

“What do you see?” Lord Scourge asked.

 

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” the young man shrugged looking around. He caught sight of a man he thought he recognized, a man who had come to House Organa to speak with the Duke when Thul returned from exile. The man wore a shock collar around his neck. “Why is he wearing a shock collar?”

 

Scourge shrugged, “He might have angered a Sith. There are many slaves in the Empire who are forced to wear a collar.” He glanced at the nobles face, his opinion of slavery was written plainly.

 

They continued walking down the mostly deserted street. A few Sith wandered freely, they gave Lord Scourge a wide berth, his power was obvious to anyone. Those who were not Sith cowered with fear at the sight of him. Camden was not surprised, the Sith Lord was intimidating, what was more disturbing was that they were still afraid when they walked away, as if they lived in constant fear. They passed a few more places, Sith casually taunted force-blinds, hitting or choking them, raucous laughter usually followed. He wondered if the Sith had somehow set this up for his benefit.

 

At the end of the street, they passed an open building. They could see into a room where children were lined up and a man in dark robes paced in front of them. Scourge stopped to observe, Camden had no choice but to observe with him. The man in dark robes was paler than anyone the noble had seen, his face was hideously discolored and wrinkled, but he walked like a much younger man than his face would indicate.

 

“A Sith scholar,” Lord Scourge said softly, “Watch.”

 

The Sith ended his pacing in front of a very young girl no older than seven. She was a pretty child and from her finery obviously of noble breeding. He grabbed her arm roughly, “This one has potential, put her with the others.”

 

The Imperial guards grabbed the girl’s arms and escorted her out of the room; her mother ran to her and tried to stop them, begging them not to take her. She was rewarded with a bolt of lightning.

 

“Foolish woman, it should be an honor that your daughter may have the talent to become Sith.” The man in robes shocked her again, he dismissed the others, and they left the woman lying on the floor smoking. She would drag herself somewhere to be saved or she would die where she lay.

 

Lord Scourge moved on and Camden followed. Scourge glanced at the young man and nodded.

 

“What’s going to happen to her? The little girl, I mean.” Camden asked looking back over his shoulder at the terrified little girl who cried and looked back over her shoulder for her mother.

 

“She will be taken to Korriban and trained to become Sith.”

 

“So she will rise above her station then.” He said brightening.

 

“Possibly,” Scourge conceded, “I did not sense much strength in her, she will likely die.”

 

Camden stopped for a moment staring back at the little girl then quickly caught up. “But, if she’s not strong enough to send then why?”

 

“All of those in the Empire who can use the force must train to become Sith or die in the process.”

 

“How many students survive the training?”

 

“It depends greatly on the timing, but one in fifty, perhaps fewer.” He shrugged. They returned to the speeder, Scourge felt there was nothing more he needed to show the young man, and indeed, he was right.

 

“If it’s like this why do you serve the Empire?” The noble asked looking lost.

 

“I am Sith.” Lord Scourge said with a smile that terrified him, “What do I care for their hurts? Do you see that your cattle are happy? You ensure that they have enough, are reasonably secure from theft and pillaging, then you expect them to work and slaughter them when they are no longer of use.”

 

Camden shook his head with confusion, “Why does it seem like you’re trying to convince me not to join the Empire?”

 

Scourge was pleased the boy had finally caught on. “It is the task I was set by the Jedi I serve.”

 

“Why would you serve a Jedi?” Camden asked looking bewildered, “That means you serve the Republic, I thought you served the Empire.”

 

“Why is not your concern, suffice to say the Jedi and my goals are currently aligned and I have pledged my aid. For now, that means that you will not urge your House to join the Empire. But I am still Sith,” he said with an edge to his voice that made the young noble cringe, “and I do not serve the Republic.”

 

“Why wouldn’t you want House Organa to join the Empire.” He persisted, “Isn’t a stronger Empire better for the Sith.”

 

“I stand more to gain by completing my mission successfully than the Empire would gain by allying with sniveling cowards like House Organa.”

 

“House Organa is strong.” Camden protested indignantly, “We have beaten House Thul the lesser houses rally to our cause.”

 

“Your House’s victory was delivered on the shoulders of the Jedi I serve.” He scoffed and Camden’s eyes widened realizing who Scourge must be, “The Empire would only gain if House Organa’s champion came with it, and she would not serve the Empire on the word of Organa. Without the strength to truly advance the Empire’s interests, your House would be nothing more than a source of wealth to be drained, and your nobles would be no more special than your peasants. The strength of the Empire comes from rewarding those who rise above the rest, draining the masses of everything useful, and punishing those who would speak against our ways.” He eyed the noble, “Consider what you were allowed to do at House Organa. How do you think one of those collars would feel?”

 

“It would be better than what I expected.” Camden said glumly, “I figured I would be killed instead.”

 

“You were to be exiled for your acts,” Lord Scourge said nodding at the noble’s surprise, “I chose instead to convince you to change your mind.”

 

“What am I to do, tell people what I saw? That I was wrong?” the young man threw his hands up in despair as they pulled up to the speeder port at House Organa.

 

“As long as you stop your recruiting, whatever else you tell your followers is not my concern.” Lord Scourge left the young man to contemplate what he would do next.

 

***

 

Remi had already re-read the report several times, each time she was unable to believe the results. Lord Scourge’s dark presence filled the doorway to her office.

 

She blinked up at him, “Camden Organa is no longer urging House Organa to join the Empire, and,” she added, “no one was killed.”

 

“I did as you asked.” He said placing a crate of medical supplies on her desk. Rare samples that one of Camden’s followers had received as a gift from the Empire, they did not want to keep it, but it was still useful, and they gave it to him.

 

Remi raised an eyebrow at the crate, “Not only that but he is now going around convincing the smaller houses who allied with Thul to break ties with the Empire.” She shook her head, “How-“

 

“It is better than the Republic deserves.” He said without inflection and left before she could thank him.

 

 

 

 

 

Note:

 

 

I swear that was supposed to be short when I thought it up.

 

 

Edited August 12, 2012 by kabeone

[Zethrodek]

What's In a Name?

 

First time poster here, I just lurk usually.

I know its under 750 words..

 

 

 

The red haired smuggler frowned at the datapad screen. Thus far she had managed to avoid aquiring a surname, until some government lackey decided it was required; which was why Xynri glared at the screen that waited for either vocal or tactile input of a surname. The smuggler thought hard, her yellow eyes hidden in furious mental debate. She had been abandoned on Coruscant as an infant with no name; having been forced into the depraved underground of her birth world, she chose the moniker she'd been given as her first name. Xynri. Now she was having to choose a surname, and while many epithets raged through her thoughts. She unknowingly voiced her frustrations in two words, "Mutter grumble."

 

Her eyes opened in shock as the datapad beeped approvingly of the name, "Surname `Muttergrumble' approved."

Few bystanders noticed as the smuggler started banging her head of the wall after throwing the inactive datapad into the abyss of the station depths.

 

 

[kabeone]

What's In a Name?

 

First time poster here, I just lurk usually.

I know its under 750 words..

 

hahahaha.

Welcome! I truly hope you continue posting more awesome stuff like this!

[bright_ephemera]

What’s in a Name?, featuring – who else? – Ruth Niral.

 

230 words. Contains spoilers for the Sith Warrior line.

 

 

 

“Rylon?” said Vette.

 

Ruth looked up from her half-finished battle plan and laid a hand on her belly. “Yes.”

 

“Wasn’t that the name of that secret agent for Baras that you hunted down and executed on Balmorra?”

 

“That’s the one.”

 

“…Want to elaborate on your reasoning here?”

 

“He’s the person who brought me and the father together. I thought it was romantic.”

 

“You just out-sarcasmed my last six months of talking.”

 

“With this name for this child I can honor not one, but two treacherous bastards who did a lot of good before screwing their own people over. Plus, the name will be a perpetual reminder of the first warning sign about both the deviousness and the fate of Baras’s servants that I ignored because I didn’t want to see it.”

 

“Well,” said Vette, “that’s certainly…unhealthy and kind of disturbing.”

 

“It’s a pity I never intend to get close enough to see the father again, because now I won’t see the look on his face when he hears what name I chose. – Hey, I don’t suppose you could take a holorecording of his reaction?”

 

Vette let her head fall to one side while she glared. “No. You need help, my lord.”

 

Ruth looked back down at her console and scowled. “If you're not going to contribute, go away.”

 

 

Edited August 12, 2012 by bright_ephemera

[kabeone]

What’s in a Name?, featuring – who else? – Ruth Niral.

 

230 words. Contains spoilers for the Sith Warrior line.

 

haha, that's so awful. I was wondering if you would ever explain why she chose that name.

 

 

 

That was also the most awesome cutscene set up. They circled each other and everything, after that all the other fight cutscenes just were "I'm attacking you now" and then you start fighting. I guess they ran out of time.

 

 

 

 

[irishfino]

What’s in a Name?, featuring – who else? – Ruth Niral.

 

230 words. Contains spoilers for the Sith Warrior line.

 

 

 

“Rylon?” said Vette.

 

Ruth looked up from her half-finished battle plan and laid a hand on her belly. “Yes.”

 

“Wasn’t that the name of that secret agent for Baras that you hunted down and executed on Balmorra?”

 

“That’s the one.”

 

“…Want to elaborate on your reasoning here?”

 

“He’s the person who brought me and the father together. I thought it was romantic.”

 

“You just out-sarcasmed my last six months of talking.”

 

“With this name for this child I can honor not one, but two treacherous bastards who did a lot of good before screwing their own people over. Plus, the name will be a perpetual reminder of the first warning sign about both the deviousness and the fate of Baras’s servants that I ignored because I didn’t want to see it.”

 

“Well,” said Vette, “that’s certainly…unhealthy and kind of disturbing.”

 

“It’s a pity I never intend to get close enough to see the father again, because now I won’t see the look on his face when he hears what name I chose. – Hey, I don’t suppose you could take a holorecording of his reaction?”

 

Vette let her head fall to one side while she glared. “No. You need help, my lord.”

 

Ruth looked back down at her console and scowled. “If you're not going to contribute, go away.”

 

 

Had a feeling that's why he was named Rylon.

[irishfino]

Cross-posted from Quick Quinn Quotes.

 

In which Malavai's name origins are revealed...

 

 

 

“What kind of name is ‘Malavai’ anyway?” Athra asked one evening as she and Quinn prepared for bed.

 

“A perfectly fine name and in no way associated with anything other than me,” he sputtered.

 

“I’ve heard it’s a certain frozen treat,” she teased in sing-song.

 

“I have no idea what that means,” he said stiffly, climbing under the covers and turning his back to her.

 

“It’s chocolately, a bit nutty, and has bits of caramel.”

 

“I am none of those things,” he pouted.

 

“Mmm, but you are delicious.”

 

“You’re just buttering me up.”

 

“Yep!” she said happily.

 

“I question my sanity sometimes.”

 

“I question it at all times.”

 

He huffed morosely as her side of the bed dipped under her weight. She snuggled up to his back and wrapped an arm around his waist.

 

“I could go for a Malavai Swirl,” she whispered to his back.

 

“Anything to get you to never call me that again,” he pouted.

 

 

 

Notes:

 

 

I like ice cream.

 

Edited August 12, 2012 by irishfino

[Magdalane]

What's in a Name-

 

 

She paced in the night, holding her lynx kitten to her chest. Why? She didn’t know, only that it tore at her. Of all the names she had been called, this one touched her very soul. How many names? She wondered if she could recall them all.

 

When she was a small child she didn’t even know her given name for a few years. Everyone referred to her as “the baby” or “her”. Especially her sister. When she was finally able to go to school, the other kids referred to her as “Spooky”, saying her clear silver eyes were scary to them, forbidding her to look at them. Later, as she grew into her looks, she was called names she didn’t care to recall, hurtful and mean things.

 

Even now, she had many names. Most called her Captain, and she liked that fine. For years, that was the only name anyone needed to know. Her brother in law called her Spitfire, and swears he’s seen her do exactly that. Then she met the man who was currently slumbering in their bed, oblivious to her pacing. He called her by the name her father had given her before she was born, before he died. And when he said it, it was almost like a prayer, he put so much of his love for her in it.

 

She sat at the window, the kitten purring in her lap. Now she had another name, delivered by another man, that made her knees weak.

 

The baby. Her. Spooky. ****. Captain. Spitfire. Miriah. And the one that brought her to her knees, the one that her seven month old baby boy said just yesterday, for the first time.

 

Mama.

 

 

[Selentar]

Well, well, first post for me as I usually lurk in the shadows of this thread but, I decided to take the plunge so, here it is.

 

What's in a name? featuring my light side agent with some minor spoilers from the IA storyline

 

 

Her room was almost silent. The low humming of the ship's systems was all around, a normal sound, yet, for some strange reason, she took notice of it as if she had heard it for the first time. Was this the cause of her lack of sleep? She smirked knowing that such sound was almost a second nature, a constant melody which had been added to her life not too long ago and that, some nights, it had actually helped her fall asleep.

 

She took a deep breath and sighed. Silence. Again. The humming had faded to the back of her mind, now inexistant. Yet, something else caught her attention. What was it? Clicking? For a moment she let her thoughts run and a smile appeared on her lips, turning into a chuckle. Clicking. Somehow she imagined Vector suddenly transforming into a Killik, his mouth replaced by mandibles trying to have a conversation with the doctor. All the while, Lokin would try to take samples, fascinated by the sudden transformation.

 

She remembered the first time Kaliyo had met Vector. Bugboy, she had called him.

 

The agent continued to smile. However, it faded after a moment. What was it? There was something tugging at her mind, something that was keeping her awake and she was starting to get annoyed. She covered her head "I need sleep, damn it!" her voice came muffled from underneath the pillow. Yet, the more she tried to fall asleep, the more noises she would hear, making any form of sleep be impossible.

 

Giving up, she switched the light on. Maybe sitting in the captain's chair would ease her mind, she thought. Grabbing her uniform, she dressed nonchalantly. She did not bother to fully button it up, it was too late and she did not care.

 

The ship's bridge was a familiar place, with all those blinking lights, beeping terminals, switches and screens. It was almost like a miniature Nar Shaddaa without the casinos, nightlife and vices...and without Hutts. And for that, she was grateful. Having a slimy, sweaty Hutt sitting on the controls may...

 

"Ewww..." She shuddered at the thought.

 

"Sir?" came a voice from behind her. She quickly turned around, Ensign Temple was looking at her with a puzzled look.

 

"Ensign?...you are still awake?"

 

"I was recalibrating some of the systems, sir. I wanted to rectify some of the fluctuations in the power matrix which, I believe, were caused by the installation of the new defensive grid which..."

 

"Ensign!"

 

Seeing the look in the agent's eyes, she stopped "Sorry, sir"

 

The agent shook her head "No apology needed ensign, It's just that..." what was it? What was poking and tugging the back of her mind? Not knowing how to explain it to herself, she was in no condition to explain it to another person. Luckily, the ensign broke the silence:

 

"I will continue later, sir."

 

The agent followed Temple with her eyes till she disappeared in the corridor leading away from the bridge. She then sat on the captain's chair, finally catching the show of the tiny luminous dots outside. Watching the stars was something that had always calmed her, since she was a child. When she was nervous or upset, the sky with its stars was were she would find peace. But not now. Why?

 

What was wrong? Was there something wrong? Or was it just her mind slipping away, as if under the influence of another brainwashing? She stood, a growing sense of unease growing within her and she did not know how to stop it. But then, she thought of something, or someone...

 

Entering the storage area of the ship, she found him there. Vector was seemingly meditating but she knew better. His connection to the hive and his status as Dawn Herald allowed him to communicate through the vastness of space with the Killiks. She did not know what it meant to be a joiner but, from what she had seen back on Alderaan, all those who joined possessed such inner peace that it seemed to rival even the peace so stubbornly beseech-ed by the Jedi.

 

She stood in the doorway, watching him. And that is where Kaliyo's voice resounded in her head - Bugboy - causing a smile to cross her lips once more.

 

"Agent..." his voice interrupted her thoughts "...we did not hear you enter"

 

"I did not wish to disturb"

 

"You never disturb us Agent. Is there something you require?"

 

She hesitated "It's just that...I don't know" she let her gaze fall to the floor.

 

He stood and walked towards her but she did not notice, that sense of unease still pulling the strings of her thoughts. I was only when she felt his arms around her that she snapped out of her stupor. She hugged him, feeling her inner turmoil slip away.

 

"Are you troubled?" his voice soothing her. She did not wish to reply, fearing that it would break the calm he had brought but, she knew she had to find the cause and a solution to what was sitting at the back of her mind, mocking her.

 

"I don't know Vector. It's just that there is something that bothers me and I do not know what it is and that's unsettling"

 

"You do not give us much to go with, but we will try our best to help you, if you want us to, Agent"

 

Agent. She felt a sudden rush, as if she had just found the key for the unlocked door. Agent. That's what it was. She slipped away from him, taking a step backward. He let go of her, surprised by the sudden reaction

 

"Did we say something to upset you?"

 

"What did you call me, Vector?"

 

He paused, puzzled by the question "We called you Agent..."

 

There it was again. Throughout her career she had heard that word so many times. Keeper had called her like that. Kaliyo addressed her as agent and so did Lokin and Vector. With the exception of the ensign, who referred to her as sir, following military hierarchy standards, everyone else called her agent. She had been an agent for the imperial intelligence, a double agent while undercover and a cipher agent nine. All those were nothing but titles, aimed at her identity, making her a nameless creature, someone without a name. Her thoughts raced as she felt anger grow within her; she hated that word, which was nothing more than a mockery of a name.

 

Somehow, she never realised how much she hated that title, but to hear it from Vector, it was too much

 

"Do you even know my name?" she spat out the words

 

Vector remained motionless for a moment, unsure on how to respond "Agent, we did not..."

 

"Do not call me like that!!" she interrupted him, her reply coming out like a whiplash

 

"We never called you otherwise because you never told us your real name."

 

She felt bad as her anger suddenly turned into embarrassment "I'm sorry, Vector, I shouldn't have..."

 

"It is alright" he replied, smiling

 

She turned away from him, cursing herself for being so stupid. Of course, he had never known her name, as an agent for imperial intelligence is supposed to remain nameless and faceless. A shadow walking among people, forced to see without being seen. Maybe her name was what had pushed her to join the imperial military, maybe it was that same name that made her so attracted to the night sky and its stars.

 

"Lilith, that is my name" she said, almost whispering. She was surprised at hearing her own name.

 

How long had it been since the last time someone had called her by her name? Too long, as she could not remember.

 

"Lilith" he repeated. She turned to him. It felt strange to hear someone else pronounce her name.

 

"We will remember and cherish it"

 

Of the night, she was once told it meant. Of the night and its sky and its stars and of the shadows that lurk in its darkness. Shadows like her, nothing more than a fleeting glimpse in someone's eye. But she knew that shadows are also cast by light and she had found that light.

 

She hugged Vector.

 

 

Small note:

 

 

My Agent's name is now Lilithy, unfortunately, following the server transfer. Server transfers, oh how I love thee....

 

[kabeone]

Well, well, first post for me as I usually lurk in the shadows of this thread but, I decided to take the plunge so, here it is.

 

What's in a name? featuring my light side agent with some minor spoilers from the IA storyline

 

 

So very sweet. Welcome to the thread I hope to see more of Lilith(y)

[kabeone]

What's in a Name-

 

 

She paced in the night, holding her lynx kitten to her chest. Why? She didn’t know, only that it tore at her. Of all the names she had been called, this one touched her very soul. How many names? She wondered if she could recall them all.

 

When she was a small child she didn’t even know her given name for a few years. Everyone referred to her as “the baby” or “her”. Especially her sister. When she was finally able to go to school, the other kids referred to her as “Spooky”, saying her clear silver eyes were scary to them, forbidding her to look at them. Later, as she grew into her looks, she was called names she didn’t care to recall, hurtful and mean things.

 

Even now, she had many names. Most called her Captain, and she liked that fine. For years, that was the only name anyone needed to know. Her brother in law called her Spitfire, and swears he’s seen her do exactly that. Then she met the man who was currently slumbering in their bed, oblivious to her pacing. He called her by the name her father had given her before she was born, before he died. And when he said it, it was almost like a prayer, he put so much of his love for her in it.

 

She sat at the window, the kitten purring in her lap. Now she had another name, delivered by another man, that made her knees weak.

 

The baby. Her. Spooky. ****. Captain. Spitfire. Miriah. And the one that brought her to her knees, the one that her seven month old baby boy said just yesterday, for the first time.

 

Mama.

 

 

d'awwwwwwwwwww ....

<3

[Zethrodek]

I see I spurred someone else out of the shadows.

 

I'm kidding..

 

Small Note:

 

 

Xynri is a Gunslinger, wonder how many other 'slingers are in this thread, not that it really matters. I enjoy writing and certainly use my head to ponder certain details and subjects.

 

Like my shadow who is tasked with Belsavis now. Her name is difficult to think of a reason and meaning behind it. Zethryncia is more of a personally created name which I tend to prefer, but have no real prepared history as to why my shadow was named such. Maybe such ideas will come to me in time.

 

 

 

Some really good stories here, I might intro my male operative in the future as I have an idea or very general plan regarding him. Oh well, time to get some sleep...

[Crezelle]

Fox and the hound. ( name theme)

Teumessia, smuggler, Corso romance spoilers

from wikipedia:

In Greek mythology, the Teumessian fox or Cadmean vixen, was a gigantic fox that was destined never to be caught. The fox was one of the children of Echidna. It was said that it had been sent by the gods (perhaps Dionysus) to prey upon the children of Thebes as a punishment for some national crime. Creon, the then Regent of Thebes, set Amphitryon the impossible task of destroying this beast. He discovered an apparently perfect solution to the problem by fetching the magical dog Laelaps, who was destined to catch everything it chased. Zeus, faced with an inevitable contradiction due to the paradoxical nature of their mutually excluding abilities, turned the two beasts into stone. The pair were cast into the stars, and will remain there forever more.

 

 

"I love you."

She sighed. She didn't want to have to let him down, but it was obvious things were getting too serious between her and Corso, and she had to be frank with him rather than keep stringing him on. It was foolish of her to have let him "court" her. She figured he would have gotten the hint that she was not the type of women who wanted to settle down.

 

" I'll break your heart."

She could never be tied down. Never be fully committed. This was in all aspects of her life, not just romance. A smuggler always on the run, never settling down, never staying in one spot for long, always escaping. She wanted to tell him she loved him too, and she did, but she knew what she offered was not what this man deserved.

 

"I know i'm not the only man in your life, and you may not be ready to change that. But... I'm going to be the one who's here when you're hurt, when you're old, when you're ready to leave this life. No matter where you go, or who it's with, i'll be waiting right here for you to come home."

 

You'll wait forever... She thought forlornly. Why was he so stubborn...

" Don't fall in love with me, Corso. I'm the wrong girl for you"

 

" Too Late"

Why won't he give up? She cared for him. It was foolish of her to get selfish and lead him on, "allowing" him to "court" her. She never had this much internal turmoil leading on, and then shaking off other suitors.

 

"-and you're going to see me, and realise you can stop running. I've been here all along." He went on.

 

She smiled slightly. Why DID she think she had to run from him as well?

 

" Are you sure you can be happy with that? I can never truly be faithful, I will never be able to settle down in one spot. But i offer you something i won't offer any other man; I won't run from YOU, but if you can keep pace, you may follow me as long as you like. Other men will come and go in my life, but if you are half as doggedly determined as you are, you may be at my side forever, and share my home, wherever i chose home to be that night."

 

She smiled, looking out the bridge window.

" WE will run together amongst the stars."

 

 

 

 

Yeah, my smuggler's a ****, plain n simple. She warned corso all the way in her story, but he still insisted.

 

Edited August 12, 2012 by Crezelle

[Morgani]

Lots of stories published since last night! This 'What's In a Name' prompt is awesome.

 

Kabe: Love your Lord Scourge. I don't have a JK because I'm waiting for Cathar on my main server but you make me itch to roll one up. I've got Ves, but he's male and I don't think the dynamic would quite be the same.

 

Zethrodek: Welcome to non lurking status! Hilarious way to open up. I enjoyed it. Especially the image of your smug banging her head against the wall in plain view. You've made me kick around an idea for giving my Assassin a legacy name.

 

bright_ephemera: I love Ruth and the way she tortures herself.

 

irishfino: I keep up with your Quinn Quotes thread. Hilarious stuff. I like how he can be stuffy and funny at the same time. You do a lot to inspire my Quinn.

 

Magdalane: D'awwwwwwww! Your Corso/Miriah stories make me go squish.

 

Selentar: Welcome to the thread as well! I swear you're the other side of the coin from my IA. Vector calls her Agent for his own reasons, and she had to tell him every time "Vector, don't call me Agent!" It's become a running gag in my own writing. I enjoyed this. It was sweet and well written and your name is so cloaked in meaning. Bravo.

 

Crezelle: A name that is also shrouded in so much meaning. Loved it. Loved the imagery of Corso pursuing her through the stars.

 

Was that everyone? Awesome stuff folks.

[Earthmama]

What's in a Name-

 

 

She paced in the night, holding her lynx kitten to her chest. Why? She didn’t know, only that it tore at her. Of all the names she had been called, this one touched her very soul. How many names? She wondered if she could recall them all.

 

When she was a small child she didn’t even know her given name for a few years. Everyone referred to her as “the baby” or “her”. Especially her sister. When she was finally able to go to school, the other kids referred to her as “Spooky”, saying her clear silver eyes were scary to them, forbidding her to look at them. Later, as she grew into her looks, she was called names she didn’t care to recall, hurtful and mean things.

 

Even now, she had many names. Most called her Captain, and she liked that fine. For years, that was the only name anyone needed to know. Her brother in law called her Spitfire, and swears he’s seen her do exactly that. Then she met the man who was currently slumbering in their bed, oblivious to her pacing. He called her by the name her father had given her before she was born, before he died. And when he said it, it was almost like a prayer, he put so much of his love for her in it.

 

She sat at the window, the kitten purring in her lap. Now she had another name, delivered by another man, that made her knees weak.

 

The baby. Her. Spooky. ****. Captain. Spitfire. Miriah. And the one that brought her to her knees, the one that her seven month old baby boy said just yesterday, for the first time.

 

Mama.

 

 

 

Best name in the world!! LOVED this Mags!

[Tatile]

What's in a Name?

 

 

Broan sat on the chair, waiting. If he said he was nervous, he would be lying. He was terrified. He was still wearing his tattered and blood stained Jedi robes. The red had all but washed out, turning into dirty brown blotches. His fingers curled around the coarse fabric of his trousers, feeling the material scratch at his skin. He took a deep breath, tried to centre himself and failed. He was afraid. The fear was primal and total, overwriting the flight or fight, sticking him to the chair. His breathing was coming in gasps and as he trembled the chair rattled and shook. It had been hours since he had been left alone in the room. At first, he had felt confident, self-assured. But as the minutes had ticked away and melted into hours, that confidence had waned. The empty, dimly lit room had become oppressive. Every corner had shadows, which blurred into shapes, haunting him. His back was to the door and every moment he expected a knife to slip into his neck. All he felt, however, was the cold sweat dripping down his back.

 

At last, when the room had started to stretch and fall away, the door opened.

 

"What are you?" Broan opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. He looked at the Sith, feeling his tongue go dry and tears roll down his cheeks. "I shall tell you. You are nothing. Neither Sith nor Jedi. Little better than a slave. I have no use for slaves."

 

"My Lord, if I may, Broan here may not be entirely worthless."

 

He recognized that voice: the smooth, almost arrogant tones. He knew her, but how or why he could not tell. The room was slowly taking his mind and twisting his memories.

 

"You would find use for this snivelling wreck, Vizloch?"

 

Broan jumped as he felt two strong hands rest on his shoulders. They did not grip him and there was no pain, but he could move under their weight.

 

"I would, my Lord."

 

"He is nothing, worse than Jedi."

 

"Then he is nothing, but he will be my nothing, my Lord."

 

"He will amount to naught."

 

"Of course, my Lord."

 

"If only because I'm sick of seeing people weep while they die." The Sith Lord walked from the room, not looking at either Broan or Lord Vizloch. The oppressive aura lifted somewhat and Broan let out a sigh, not realising he had been holding his breath.

 

"Do you know," Lord Vizloch ran her fingers through his hair, pulling at his braids. The simple ties fell apart and she proceeded to comb out the kinks. "That all Sith are named?" She spoke with emphasis to her words; a meaning he could not understand. "Darth Yt'klor out ranks us both, but he has already named you."

 

"He said," His voice was quiet and rasped with tears. He took a few deep breaths, calming himself. "He called me nothing, said I was nothing."

 

"And Darth Yt'klor was right. You are nothing," She brushed his hair away from his face, before cupping her hands under his chin. Vizloch tipped his head back, fixing him with indifferent grey eyes. "Will you continue to be nothing?" She bent down and kissed his forehead. A shiver ran through him and he felt nauseas. "You will be given a room, child, do not leave it unless you are asked. You will study, I will teach."

 

"Why?"

 

"Because."

 

"I don't understand."

 

"You do not have to," Lord Vizloch considered him a moment, standing above him, still holding his chin. She smiled and did not reach her eyes. Broan shuddered again and they both heard the chair rattle. "You are 'Lord Naught' from now on, as Darth Yt'klor has named you. Welcome to Dromund Kaas, Lord Naught."

 

 

 

Not amazing, but I didn't really want to weigh heavy over the dialogue but adding in any "he said, she said". I know that's how it supposed to be done (ish) but it's something that I just can't use, I don't like it.

[Morgani]

What's in a Name?

 

 

Broan sat on the chair, waiting. If he said he was nervous, he would be lying. He was terrified. He was still wearing his tattered and blood stained Jedi robes. The red had all but washed out, turning into dirty brown blotches. His fingers curled around the coarse fabric of his trousers, feeling the material scratch at his skin. He took a deep breath, tried to centre himself and failed. He was afraid. The fear was primal and total, overwriting the flight or fight, sticking him to the chair. His breathing was coming in gasps and as he trembled the chair rattled and shook. It had been hours since he had been left alone in the room. At first, he had felt confident, self-assured. But as the minutes had ticked away and melted into hours, that confidence had waned. The empty, dimly lit room had become oppressive. Every corner had shadows, which blurred into shapes, haunting him. His back was to the door and every moment he expected a knife to slip into his neck. All he felt, however, was the cold sweat dripping down his back.

 

At last, when the room had started to stretch and fall away, the door opened.

 

"What are you?" Broan opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. He looked at the Sith, feeling his tongue go dry and tears roll down his cheeks. "I shall tell you. You are nothing. Neither Sith nor Jedi. Little better than a slave. I have no use for slaves."

 

"My Lord, if I may, Broan here may not be entirely worthless."

 

He recognized that voice: the smooth, almost arrogant tones. He knew her, but how or why he could not tell. The room was slowly taking his mind and twisting his memories.

 

"You would find use for this snivelling wreck, Vizloch?"

 

Broan jumped as he felt two strong hands rest on his shoulders. They did not grip him and there was no pain, but he could move under their weight.

 

"I would, my Lord."

 

"He is nothing, worse than Jedi."

 

"Then he is nothing, but he will be my nothing, my Lord."

 

"He will amount to naught."

 

"Of course, my Lord."

 

"If only because I'm sick of seeing people weep while they die." The Sith Lord walked from the room, not looking at either Broan or Lord Vizloch. The oppressive aura lifted somewhat and Broan let out a sigh, not realising he had been holding his breath.

 

"Do you know," Lord Vizloch ran her fingers through his hair, pulling at his braids. The simple ties fell apart and she proceeded to comb out the kinks. "That all Sith are named?" She spoke with emphasis to her words; a meaning he could not understand. "Darth Yt'klor out ranks us both, but he has already named you."

 

"He said," His voice was quiet and rasped with tears. He took a few deep breaths, calming himself. "He called me nothing, said I was nothing."

 

"And Darth Yt'klor was right. You are nothing," She brushed his hair away from his face, before cupping her hands under his chin. Vizloch tipped his head back, fixing him with indifferent grey eyes. "Will you continue to be nothing?" She bent down and kissed his forehead. A shiver ran through him and he felt nauseas. "You will be given a room, child, do not leave it unless you are asked. You will study, I will teach."

 

"Why?"

 

"Because."

 

"I don't understand."

 

"You do not have to," Lord Vizloch considered him a moment, standing above him, still holding his chin. She smiled and did not reach her eyes. Broan shuddered again and they both heard the chair rattle. "You are 'Lord Naught' from now on, as Darth Yt'klor has named you. Welcome to Dromund Kaas, Lord Naught."

 

 

 

Not amazing, but I didn't really want to weigh heavy over the dialogue but adding in any "he said, she said". I know that's how it supposed to be done (ish) but it's something that I just can't use, I don't like it.

 

Holy crap. Was this always part of Broan's back story? I'd always wonder why as a Sith Lord he was named Naught. Excellent. Loved it. Thank you.

[Tatile]

Holy crap. Was this always part of Broan's back story? I'd always wonder why as a Sith Lord he was named Naught. Excellent. Loved it. Thank you.

 

The idea was there, but I never fleshed it out until now. He never really "fit in" during Padawan training and when he was aboard Absolution, all the crew referred to him using variations of the Jedi titles (something I tried to put across in First Impressions - I should really expand upon that at some point), so few people actually refer to him by his given-name. Even now I think that Rochester's the only one who calls him 'Broan', whereas everyone else (for obvious reasons) calls him 'my Lord' or 'Lord Naught'. And that's something I think is rather important, as once you start to refer to someone using only their title or rank, you start to deny their individuality - hence why in the past when I'm trying to have one character be insulting to another, I'll start to have them refer to each other by rank and title, or just their surname.

 

Also I should probably explore this time period, where Broan is becoming Sith under the dubious guidance of Lord Vizloch and how their relationship unfolds. I get the feeling there will be a necessary rivalry between them. Darth Yt'klor's estate is focused on Sith philosophy and understanding the universe as a whole.

 

Edit: I might also add that the concept of nothing and the number zero have been quite significant in human culture He has a rather weighty name, despite it being made of a blank space XD

Edited August 12, 2012 by Tatile

[Earthmama]

This is one of last weeks prompts that I was working on while I was on vacation.

 

Short and sweet.

Sith Warrior Ardyth and Malavai Quinn.

Celebration

 

 

 

Ardyth cradled her infant son in her arms, red and lusty, his little fingers wrapped around her own, and he smiled. Marek was everything she hoped, strong healthy and force sensitive, his presence erased her past shame, she could produce strong Sith children, the family dynasty would continue. He would make a fine Sith one day. She turned her eyes to her husband who beamed with pride, she returned his look with a devastating smile and lifted her head up to catch his lips. Ardyth and Malavai Quinn strode into the parlor to meet their guests who were present to do honor to their son, as was his due.

 

The ladies cooed and doted on the small babe, and Malavai was congratulated with hearty slaps on the back, his father-in-law handed him a cigar. On this day being force blind and human was forgotten, his blood had helped produce a true born Sith, on this day, in that moment, he was equal to the dark robed figures who commanded such power. On this rare occasion he smiled with abandon, Malavai did not smile easily, but the pride and love he felt for his son was enough for him to forget protocol, his blue eyes sparkled.

 

After a time little Marek began to fuss, tired and overwhelmed from all the activity. Ardyth went to her husband, she might be the mother, but her son calmed and settled in his father’s arms every time. Like so many times before she handed the bundle over to Malavai, who with a word and a kiss had Marek cooing again. Ardyth suppressed a pang of jealousy, this was her son, yes Malavai had obviously done his part, he was a more than adequate consort, but the tutelage and education of her son fell to her. In time, she would break her son’s attachment, but right now, right now he needed his father.

 

“He’s tired.” Malavai told his wife, who nodded.

 

“Take him then, I’ll see to our guests.” She forced a smile, and swallowed the anger, he knew him so well, she had birthed him, carried him inside her, yet Malavai could read him so well. It would not do.

 

As Quinn walked away shushing his son, he thought about how the dynamics had changed between husband and wife. They finally had what they wanted a family, but still she wasn’t satisfied. He looked down at Marek who was already fading into sleep and smiled a sad smile, remembering the child he had given up. He kissed his silky soft brow.

 

“Papa will be here when you wake up.” He whispered. He wiped away a tear that had escaped, then shook his head and put the memory of his daughter far away. He composed himself and returned to the party.

 

 

Edited August 12, 2012 by Earthmama

[Tatile]

What's in a Name-

 

Very sweet and such a tear jerker.

[Magdalane]

This is one of last weeks prompts that I was working on while I was on vacation.

 

Short and sweet.

Sith Warrior Ardyth and Malavai Quinn.

Celebration

 

 

 

Ardyth cradled her infant son in her arms, red and lusty, his little fingers wrapped around her own, and he smiled. Marek was everything she hoped, strong healthy and force sensitive, his presence erased her past shame, she could produce strong Sith children, the family dynasty would continue. He would make a fine Sith one day. She turned her eyes to her husband who beamed with pride, she returned his look with a devastating smile and lifted her head up to catch his lips. Ardyth and Malavai Quinn strode into the parlor to meet their guests who were present to do honor to their son, as was his due.

 

The ladies cooed and doted on the small babe, and Malavai was congratulated with hearty slaps on the back, his father-in-law handed him a cigar. On this day being force blind and human was forgotten, his blood had helped produce a true born Sith, on this day, in that moment, he was equal to the dark robed figures who commanded such power. On this rare occasion he smiled with abandon, Malavai did not smile easily, but the pride and love he felt for his son was enough for him to forget protocol, his blue eyes sparkled.

 

After a time little Marek began to fuss, tired and overwhelmed from all the activity. Ardyth went to her husband, she might be the mother, but her son calmed and settled in his father’s arms every time. Like so many times before she handed the bundle over to Malavai, who with a word and a kiss had Marek cooing again. Ardyth suppressed a pang of jealousy, this was her son, yes Malavai had obviously done his part, he was a more than adequate consort, but the tutelage and education of her son fell to her. In time, she would break her son’s attachment, but right now, right now he needed his father.

 

“He’s tired.” Malavai told his wife, who nodded.

 

“Take him then, I’ll see to our guests.” She forced a smile, and swallowed the anger, he knew him so well, she had birthed him, carried him inside her, yet Malavai could read him so well. It would not do.

 

As Quinn walked away shushing his son, he thought about how the dynamics had changed between husband and wife. They finally had what they wanted a family, but still she wasn’t satisfied. He looked down at Marek who was already fading into sleep and smiled a sad smile, remembering the child he had given up. He kissed his silky soft brow.

 

“Papa will be here when you wake up.” He whispered. He wiped away a tear that had escaped, then shook his head and put the memory of his daughter far away. He composed himself and returned to the party.

 

 

Knowing what I know of what happens later here, makes this all the more touching. Nicely done, Earthmama!

[Magdalane]

Thanks to all who liked Miriah's name prompt story, she's had no mother to model after so the very idea scares her to death. And, I included the kitten

[Earthmama]

Another one of last weeks prompts, Guilty pleasures. I hand wrote these, and they seemed so much longer in my note book. lol.

 

Anyways, another short moment, this time featuring Akaavi Spar.

 

 

 

Akaavi slipped into her room carrying a small paper bag, she had been thorough, she had not been followed, and she had avoided the rest of the crew. She locked the door behind her in the rented Nar Shaddaa room, and peaked inside the bag, her red and black tattooed face gave way to a satisfied grin. She carefully placed the bag on the dresser and went to pull all the window blinds shut. Slowly she took off her armor, and then her body suit, until she stood naked in the middle of her room. Her body was riddled with scars and more black tattoos. She looked herself up and down in the mirror, she was well muscled, but the curve of her hips and breasts still gave her silhouette a decidedly feminine appearance, attractive she decided. For a man who knew how to handle her.

 

She wrapped the bathrobe around her and started filling the generous bathtub with steaming hot water. Her body gave an involuntary shudder. It had been too long. She hurried and grabbed the bag off the dresser and pulled out the bottle within and unscrewed the cap, the pungent scent of lavender invaded her nostrils, and she breathed deeply before pouring some of the soap under the hot running water. Bubbles formed immediately, and she smiled at herself as she gingerly let the bathrobe fall to the floor.

 

Akaavi Spar stepped into the hot bubble bath and sighed as the hot water caressed her skin, easing her sore muscles. She grabbed the book she had been reading off the ledge, and turned some soft music on. She opened her book, Memories of the Mandalorian War, by Canderous Ordo. It had been a long time since she had read the classics.