The Short Fic Weekly Challenge Thread!

[Magdalane]

AND Queen! FTW indeed!

[kabeone]

A Lovely Singing Voice

JK spoilers

 

 

“Could Master Bakarn talk more?” Kira groaned as Esma unsealed the conference room.

 

Esma rubbed the back of her neck, “Stars, I hope not. A few more meetings like this, and I’ll start contemplating life as a Sith.”

 

“Don’t even joke about that.”

 

“Oh, come on, I….” she paused, listening, “do you hear that?”

 

“What?” Kira cocked her head to the side, “Is that….singing? I thought Doc was out on a mission.”

 

“He is, I’ve been keeping him out of sight as much as possible, Rusk too, so….it can’t be.” Esma sprinted quietly to the downstairs door to listen to the faint sound with an unholy grin on her face; Kira quickly joined her.

 

“He’s not bad,” Kira whispered reluctantly.

 

“I have to see this,” Esma muttered, starting down the stairs.

 

“I’ll pass,” Kira said, “last thing I need is Scourge having another reason to kill me.”

 

Esma walked quietly down the stairs, expecting the singing to stop with each step, but the rich notes continued. She couldn’t make out the words till she got closer, but the tone was sad, a slow, mournful tune.

 

“….red like sunset, cold as the sea,

My love will remain lovely forever,

But she will never come back to me…”

 

He’d set up some sort of workbench in the cargo hold. It was covered with a number of crystals, cloths, tools, and a disassembled lightsaber. He was using an old-fashioned hand file to methodically work a crystal, the rhythm matching his song, his eyes fixed as if deep in memory.

 

She propped herself against the doorframe and listened. His voice was amazing, rich, deep, it seemed to wrap around Esma and hit all the right spots. She shivered. He snapped back to awareness between one note and the next, freezing as she raised an eyebrow.

 

“I’ve never heard that song before.”

 

He set the file down carefully on the table and picked up a smaller, finer one. He began working on the crystal again. “It was popular in my youth."

 

“It sounds very sad,” she paused till he glanced up and met her eye, “and lonely.”

 

He was quiet for a long time. “My life has been empty and colorless but for my hatred of the Emperor. Now, the years stretch before me.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Do not waste your pity on me,” he said scornfully, switching the file for a soft cloth. He wiped the fine dust off the crystal and held it up to the light overhead.

 

Esma walked over and held out her hand for the crystal. He paused and then handed it to her. She looked at it in the light. It was perfect, deep rich green without a flaw to be seen. “Eternity without love is not much of a life.”

 

He stood up and held out his hand with a small smile on his lips, “That does not sound like a Jedi.”

 

She handed the crystal back to him. “The Jedi…and you, are missing out.”

 

He took the crystal, his eyes never leaving hers, red to red. “Yes…we are.”

 

Esma’s breath caught hard in her chest as the silence stretched out. A whistle from T7 in the engine compartment startled her, and in a near panic, she turned and rushed up the stairs, away from the Sith with the lovely singing voice.

 

 

Author's Note:

 

Ahhh!! I can't do it!! Every time I try to write a funny Scourge story it ends up with this tension!! Damn it BioWare, please? Pweety pweety pwease?

And although it wasn't what he was singing, I had "Who Wants To Live Forever?" running through my head as I was writing this. Queen FTW!

 

Beautiful. I held my breath hoping and I love Scourge.

[kabeone]

Umm... confessions part 2!!!!

Pierce cannot be denied!

Assume anything I write has SW spoilers

SW:Ninka

part 1 is here

 

 

 

“So,” Amilla said, taking a sip of a Corellian Sunset, the first drink she had ever had with her father. They sat in the corner of a nearly empty cantina, it would be morning soon, not that night and day were ever any different on Dromund Kaas. “The Wrath.” She widened her eyes.

 

“Hunh.” Pierce acknowledge around a mug of Andoan Ale.

 

“She’s very beautiful.” She said innocently.

 

“Don’t start.”

 

“You should find someone! She really seemed to care about you.” Amilla insisted.

 

“I’m a married man.” Pierce replied with a smile.

 

Amilla was silent for a moment. She had not seen her father in person since her grandfather's funeral when she was thirteen. Truthfully, she had only seen him a handful of times. He should feel like a stranger, but he never did. She knew he loved her and was fiercely proud of her, but she was an adult now and she wanted answers and she may never get another chance. “Mother told me everything.” She said finally.

 

“Everything?” he said raising an eyebrow.

 

“She said she never loved you. That you were only married because of me. That you ruined her life and she was divorcing you now that grandfather was dead.” She looked him in the eyes to see if he would lie to her. As far as she knew, he never had. He would omit the truth, but never lie. He nodded acknowledging everything with a single gesture.

 

“When did she tell you that?”

 

“Just after the funeral. I saw her talking to you. I knew you both did your best to pretend when I was younger, but I saw her face when she walked away, I… she really hates you doesn’t she?” Amilla blurted out the last part. She looked away staring into her cup instead.

 

“That was years ago, you should have said something.”

 

“Would you have told me about it?” She asked, challenge in her eyes.

 

“Not so much because you were so young, but we could have talked about it.” He said meeting her gaze.

 

“Will you tell me now?” she asked quietly.

 

He sighed and signaled for another ale. He sat for a moment gathering his thoughts. “Your grandfather, Moff Tristan,” he began, “was a strict man, an old fashioned man. He’d have disowned your mother if she had a child out of wedlock. Can’t say he was pleased to have a low-born son-in-law but it was better than disgracing his only daughter. And he was head-over-heels for you.” He paused chucking her under the chin. She smiled despite herself. “Unfortunately, he didn’t believe in divorce either so your mother was stuck with me. Can’t say you two would have lived so well on my salary.”

 

“So why didn’t you divorce after grandfather died? Mother said she was going to.”

 

“Moff Tristan’s will.” Pierce said shortly, “Old man said if she got divorced after he passed he’d cut her inheritance in half. Since that would mean no Academy for you, I refused to sign.” Amilla’s eyes widened.

 

“Is that everything?” she asked carefully.

 

“No, it’s not.” He said truthfully. “But, Mynock…” he said calling her by her childhood nickname. “I don’t want you to hate your mother. You’re at the age where things are difficult between you two, and it’s not been easy for her.”

 

“But I do hate her!” she said tears leaking from her eyes despite her best efforts. “I do! She ruined your life! I… You... I saw your medical records and mothers! You’re not my real father!” she said covering her face her shoulders shook. She waited for questions, waited for him to get angry, waited for rejection, instead he pulled her to him, chair and all, and wrapped her in his arms. They sat that way for a few minutes until her sobs finally subsided.

 

“I know.” He said finally. She gasped, pushing away to stare up at him. She opened her mouth for a barrage of questions but he silenced her with a shake of his head. “I was never with your mother, I was sent to kill her.” He smiled at little at her stunned expression. He continued, “I never met the officer that got her pregnant. From what I heard, he was handsome and educated, one of those rising stars with an eye for promotion. Apparently, tying himself to your mother and a child wasn’t part of his plans. Neither was angering her father. So, orders come down sending a raw recruit to take out an enemy spy outpost. A simple demolition job, blow the place up, and all the ‘enemies’ inside. Fate would have it that recruit wasn’t going to blow up a building without doing some recon first. Finds your mother waiting inside for her ‘love’ to run away with her. Would’ve looked like your mother was consorting with the enemy, Moff Tristan would’ve covered it up.” He snorted with disgust. “Then he would’ve killed the recruit who did the demo.” He added.

 

“What did you do?” she asked mesmerized by the tale.

 

“I told her to wait outside while I blew up the building.” He grinned at the memory then his smile faded. “She told me what happened; she looked so lost and broken. I offered to marry her.”

 

“Just like that? Are you crazy?” She exclaimed hitting his arm.

 

He shrugged grinning, “Seemed like the right thing to do at the time. And she was very pretty.” He wagged his eyebrows. “I was just a kid, had no idea what I was getting into or who her father really was. But, she was desperate and agreed. We got a priest and a notary and made it official. And for three years while I was stationed there, I got to watch my Mynock grow.” He ruffled her hair.

 

“Then what happened?”

 

“Moff Tristan did his best at first, but he could tell I wasn’t cut out for high command. My next posting was in a hot zone. So was every posting after that. Not that I minded, turned out its what I’m best at. I came back when I could to see you, but, I was never welcome.” He concluded and took a sip of his ale.

 

“But, why does mother hate you?” Amilla asked, bewildered now that she knew the story. “You saved her! You didn’t have to do anything but she says you ruined her life!”

 

“I refused to die.” He said darkly. “It’s no coincidence I landed in hot zones. Son-in-law of a Moff doesn’t get that kind of post by accident. If I died she could’ve collected my benefits, found someone else.” He shrugged. “Then I ended up in black-ops and the Moff had no control over where I went.”

 

“Is that why you hate Moffs and high command and smooth talking officers?” she asked thinking back to her father’s attitude about the Imperial structure.

 

“There’re a lot of reasons to hate them.”

 

“Did you… kill... my…” she faltered, “biological father?” she asked in a small voice.

 

He smiled, “Why should I kill him? I got his girl.”

 

“But she hates you.” She whispered.

 

He pulled her close planting a kiss on her forehead. “Not that one.”

 

 

 

 

Note

 

 

Thank you everyone for tolerating my Pierce obsession

 

 

Edited February 23, 2014 by kabeone

[iamthehoyden]

Umm... confessions part 2!!!!

Pierce cannot be denied!

Assume anything I write has SW spoilers

SW:Ninka

part 1 is here

 

 

 

“So,” Amilla said, taking a sip of a Corellian Sunset, the first drink she had ever had with her father. They sat in the corner of a nearly empty cantina, it would be morning soon, not that night and day were ever any different on Dromund Kaas. “The Wrath.” She widened her eyes.

 

“Hunh.” Pierce acknowledge around a mug of Andoan Ale.

 

“She’s very beautiful.” She said innocently.

 

“Don’t start.”

 

“You should find someone! She really seemed to care about you.” Amilla insisted.

 

“I’m a married man.” Pierce replied with a smile.

 

Amilla was silent for a moment. She had not seen her father in person since her grandfather's funeral when she was thirteen. Truthfully, she had only seen him a handful of times. He should feel like a stranger, but he never did. She knew he loved her and was fiercely proud of her, but she was an adult now and she wanted answers and she may never get another chance. “Mother told me everything.” She said finally.

 

“Everything?” he said raising an eyebrow.

 

“She said she never loved you. That you were only married because of me. That you ruined her life and she was divorcing you now that grandfather was dead.” She looked him in the eyes to see if he would lie to her. As far as she knew, he never had. He would omit the truth, but never lie. He nodded acknowledging everything with a single gesture.

 

“When did she tell you that?”

 

“Just after the funeral. I saw her talking to you. I knew you both did your best to pretend when I was younger, but I saw her face when she walked away, I… she really hates you doesn’t she?” Amilla blurted out the last part. She looked away staring into her cup instead.

 

“That was years ago, you should have said something.”

 

“Would you have told me about it?” She asked, challenge in her eyes.

 

“Not so much because you were so young, but we could have talked about it.” He said meeting her gaze. She knew it was true. He never lied to her, even if he had to omit things to protect her.

 

“Will you tell me now?” she asked quietly.

 

He sighed and signaled for another ale. He sat for a moment gathering his thoughts. “Your grandfather, Moff Tristan,” he began, “was a strict man, an old fashioned man. He’d have disowned your mother if she had a child out of wedlock. Can’t say he was pleased to have a low-born son-in-law but it was better than disgracing his only daughter. And he was head-over-heels for you.” He paused chucking her under the chin. She smiled despite herself. “Unfortunately, he didn’t believe in divorce either so your mother was stuck with me. Can’t say you two would have lived so well on my salary.”

 

“So why didn’t you divorce after grandfather died? Mother said she was going to.”

 

“Moff Tristan’s will.” Pierce said shortly, “Old man said if she got divorced after he passed he’d cut her inheritance in half. Since that would mean no Academy for you, I refused to sign.” Amilla’s eyes widened.

 

“Is that everything?” she asked carefully.

 

“No, it’s not.” He said truthfully. “But, Mynock…” he said calling her by her childhood nickname. “I don’t want you to hate your mother. You’re at the age where things are difficult between you two, and it’s not been easy for her.”

 

“But I do hate her!” she said tears leaking from her eyes despite her best efforts. “I do! She ruined your life! I… You... I saw your medical records and mothers! You’re not my real father!” she said covering her face her shoulders shook. She waited for questions, waited for him to get angry, waited for rejection, instead he pulled her to him, chair and all, and wrapped her in his arms. They sat that way for a few minutes until her sobs finally subsided.

 

“I know.” He said finally. She gasped, pushing away to stare up at him. She opened her mouth for a barrage of questions but he silenced her with a shake of his head. “I was never with your mother, I was sent to kill her.” He smiled at little at her stunned expression. He continued, “I never met the officer that got her pregnant. From what I heard, he was handsome and educated, one of those rising stars with an eye for promotion. Apparently, tying himself to your mother and a child wasn’t part of his plans. Neither was angering her father. So, orders come down sending a raw recruit to take out an enemy spy outpost. A simple demolition job, blow the place up, and all the ‘enemies’ inside. Fate would have it that recruit wasn’t going to blow up a building without doing some recon first. Finds your mother waiting inside for her ‘love’ to run away with her. Would’ve looked like your mother was consorting with the enemy, Moff Tristan would’ve covered it up.” He snorted with disgust. “Then he would’ve killed the recruit who did the demo.” He added.

 

“What did you do?” she asked mesmerized by the tale.

 

“I told her to wait outside while I blew up the building.” He grinned at the memory then his smile faded. “She told me what happened; she looked so lost and broken. I offered to marry her.”

 

“Just like that? Are you crazy?” She exclaimed hitting his arm.

 

He shrugged grinning, “Seemed like the right thing to do at the time. And she was very pretty.” He wagged his eyebrows. “I was just a kid, had no idea what I was getting into or who her father really was. But, she was desperate and agreed. We got a priest and a notary and made it official. And for three years while I was stationed there, I got to watch my Mynock grow.” He ruffled her hair.

 

“Then what happened?”

 

“Moff Tristan did his best at first, but he could tell I wasn’t cut out for high command. My next posting was in a hot zone. So was every posting after that. Not that I minded, turned out its what I’m best at. I came back when I could to see you, but, I was never welcome.” He concluded and took a sip of his ale.

 

“But, why does mother hate you?” Amilla asked, bewildered now that she knew the story. “You saved her! You didn’t have to do anything but she says you ruined her life!”

 

“I refused to die.” He said darkly. “It’s no coincidence I landed in hot zones. Son-in-law of a Moff doesn’t get that kind of post by accident. If I died she could’ve collected my benefits, found someone else.” He shrugged. “Then I ended up in black-ops and the Moff had no control over where I went.”

 

“Is that why you hate Moffs and high command and smooth talking officers?” she asked thinking back to her father’s attitude about the Imperial structure.

 

“There’re a lot of reasons to hate them.”

 

“Did you… kill... my…” she faltered, “biological father?” she asked in a small voice.

 

He smiled, “Why should I kill him? I got his girl.”

 

“But she hates you.” She whispered.

 

He pulled her close planting a kiss on her forehead. “Not that one.”

 

 

 

 

Note

 

 

Thank you everyone for tolerating my Pierce obsession

 

 

Awwwwww SOOO CUTE!!

[Tatile]

Kabeone, that was adorable <3 If the rest of them are like that, I'm pretty sure we can 'suffer' through your Pierce obsession ^.~

[bright_ephemera]

Umm... confessions part 2!!!!

Pierce cannot be denied!

Assume anything I write has SW spoilers

SW:Ninka

part 1 is here

 

 

 

“So,” Amilla said, taking a sip of a Corellian Sunset, the first drink she had ever had with her father. They sat in the corner of a nearly empty cantina, it would be morning soon, not that night and day were ever any different on Dromund Kaas. “The Wrath.” She widened her eyes.

 

“Hunh.” Pierce acknowledge around a mug of Andoan Ale.

 

“She’s very beautiful.” She said innocently.

 

“Don’t start.”

 

“You should find someone! She really seemed to care about you.” Amilla insisted.

 

“I’m a married man.” Pierce replied with a smile.

 

Amilla was silent for a moment. She had not seen her father in person since her grandfather's funeral when she was thirteen. Truthfully, she had only seen him a handful of times. He should feel like a stranger, but he never did. She knew he loved her and was fiercely proud of her, but she was an adult now and she wanted answers and she may never get another chance. “Mother told me everything.” She said finally.

 

“Everything?” he said raising an eyebrow.

 

“She said she never loved you. That you were only married because of me. That you ruined her life and she was divorcing you now that grandfather was dead.” She looked him in the eyes to see if he would lie to her. As far as she knew, he never had. He would omit the truth, but never lie. He nodded acknowledging everything with a single gesture.

 

“When did she tell you that?”

 

“Just after the funeral. I saw her talking to you. I knew you both did your best to pretend when I was younger, but I saw her face when she walked away, I… she really hates you doesn’t she?” Amilla blurted out the last part. She looked away staring into her cup instead.

 

“That was years ago, you should have said something.”

 

“Would you have told me about it?” She asked, challenge in her eyes.

 

“Not so much because you were so young, but we could have talked about it.” He said meeting her gaze. She knew it was true. He never lied to her, even if he had to omit things to protect her.

 

“Will you tell me now?” she asked quietly.

 

He sighed and signaled for another ale. He sat for a moment gathering his thoughts. “Your grandfather, Moff Tristan,” he began, “was a strict man, an old fashioned man. He’d have disowned your mother if she had a child out of wedlock. Can’t say he was pleased to have a low-born son-in-law but it was better than disgracing his only daughter. And he was head-over-heels for you.” He paused chucking her under the chin. She smiled despite herself. “Unfortunately, he didn’t believe in divorce either so your mother was stuck with me. Can’t say you two would have lived so well on my salary.”

 

“So why didn’t you divorce after grandfather died? Mother said she was going to.”

 

“Moff Tristan’s will.” Pierce said shortly, “Old man said if she got divorced after he passed he’d cut her inheritance in half. Since that would mean no Academy for you, I refused to sign.” Amilla’s eyes widened.

 

“Is that everything?” she asked carefully.

 

“No, it’s not.” He said truthfully. “But, Mynock…” he said calling her by her childhood nickname. “I don’t want you to hate your mother. You’re at the age where things are difficult between you two, and it’s not been easy for her.”

 

“But I do hate her!” she said tears leaking from her eyes despite her best efforts. “I do! She ruined your life! I… You... I saw your medical records and mothers! You’re not my real father!” she said covering her face her shoulders shook. She waited for questions, waited for him to get angry, waited for rejection, instead he pulled her to him, chair and all, and wrapped her in his arms. They sat that way for a few minutes until her sobs finally subsided.

 

“I know.” He said finally. She gasped, pushing away to stare up at him. She opened her mouth for a barrage of questions but he silenced her with a shake of his head. “I was never with your mother, I was sent to kill her.” He smiled at little at her stunned expression. He continued, “I never met the officer that got her pregnant. From what I heard, he was handsome and educated, one of those rising stars with an eye for promotion. Apparently, tying himself to your mother and a child wasn’t part of his plans. Neither was angering her father. So, orders come down sending a raw recruit to take out an enemy spy outpost. A simple demolition job, blow the place up, and all the ‘enemies’ inside. Fate would have it that recruit wasn’t going to blow up a building without doing some recon first. Finds your mother waiting inside for her ‘love’ to run away with her. Would’ve looked like your mother was consorting with the enemy, Moff Tristan would’ve covered it up.” He snorted with disgust. “Then he would’ve killed the recruit who did the demo.” He added.

 

“What did you do?” she asked mesmerized by the tale.

 

“I told her to wait outside while I blew up the building.” He grinned at the memory then his smile faded. “She told me what happened; she looked so lost and broken. I offered to marry her.”

 

“Just like that? Are you crazy?” She exclaimed hitting his arm.

 

He shrugged grinning, “Seemed like the right thing to do at the time. And she was very pretty.” He wagged his eyebrows. “I was just a kid, had no idea what I was getting into or who her father really was. But, she was desperate and agreed. We got a priest and a notary and made it official. And for three years while I was stationed there, I got to watch my Mynock grow.” He ruffled her hair.

 

“Then what happened?”

 

“Moff Tristan did his best at first, but he could tell I wasn’t cut out for high command. My next posting was in a hot zone. So was every posting after that. Not that I minded, turned out its what I’m best at. I came back when I could to see you, but, I was never welcome.” He concluded and took a sip of his ale.

 

“But, why does mother hate you?” Amilla asked, bewildered now that she knew the story. “You saved her! You didn’t have to do anything but she says you ruined her life!”

 

“I refused to die.” He said darkly. “It’s no coincidence I landed in hot zones. Son-in-law of a Moff doesn’t get that kind of post by accident. If I died she could’ve collected my benefits, found someone else.” He shrugged. “Then I ended up in black-ops and the Moff had no control over where I went.”

 

“Is that why you hate Moffs and high command and smooth talking officers?” she asked thinking back to her father’s attitude about the Imperial structure.

 

“There’re a lot of reasons to hate them.”

 

“Did you… kill... my…” she faltered, “biological father?” she asked in a small voice.

 

He smiled, “Why should I kill him? I got his girl.”

 

“But she hates you.” She whispered.

 

He pulled her close planting a kiss on her forehead. “Not that one.”

 

 

 

 

Note

 

 

Thank you everyone for tolerating my Pierce obsession

 

 

wbwlbbluhwah. Speechless. This is enchanting

[Earthmama]

A Lovely Singing Voice

JK spoilers

 

 

“Could Master Bakarn talk more?” Kira groaned as Esma unsealed the conference room.

 

Esma rubbed the back of her neck, “Stars, I hope not. A few more meetings like this, and I’ll start contemplating life as a Sith.”

 

“Don’t even joke about that.”

 

“Oh, come on, I….” she paused, listening, “do you hear that?”

 

“What?” Kira cocked her head to the side, “Is that….singing? I thought Doc was out on a mission.”

 

“He is, I’ve been keeping him out of sight as much as possible, Rusk too, so….it can’t be.” Esma sprinted quietly to the downstairs door to listen to the faint sound with an unholy grin on her face; Kira quickly joined her.

 

“He’s not bad,” Kira whispered reluctantly.

 

“I have to see this,” Esma muttered, starting down the stairs.

 

“I’ll pass,” Kira said, “last thing I need is Scourge having another reason to kill me.”

 

Esma walked quietly down the stairs, expecting the singing to stop with each step, but the rich notes continued. She couldn’t make out the words till she got closer, but the tone was sad, a slow, mournful tune.

 

“….red like sunset, cold as the sea,

My love will remain lovely forever,

But she will never come back to me…”

 

He’d set up some sort of workbench in the cargo hold. It was covered with a number of crystals, cloths, tools, and a disassembled lightsaber. He was using an old-fashioned hand file to methodically work a crystal, the rhythm matching his song, his eyes fixed as if deep in memory.

 

She propped herself against the doorframe and listened. His voice was amazing, rich, deep, it seemed to wrap around Esma and hit all the right spots. She shivered. He snapped back to awareness between one note and the next, freezing as she raised an eyebrow.

 

“I’ve never heard that song before.”

 

He set the file down carefully on the table and picked up a smaller, finer one. He began working on the crystal again. “It was popular in my youth."

 

“It sounds very sad,” she paused till he glanced up and met her eye, “and lonely.”

 

He was quiet for a long time. “My life has been empty and colorless but for my hatred of the Emperor. Now, the years stretch before me.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Do not waste your pity on me,” he said scornfully, switching the file for a soft cloth. He wiped the fine dust off the crystal and held it up to the light overhead.

 

Esma walked over and held out her hand for the crystal. He paused and then handed it to her. She looked at it in the light. It was perfect, deep rich green without a flaw to be seen. “Eternity without love is not much of a life.”

 

He stood up and held out his hand with a small smile on his lips, “That does not sound like a Jedi.”

 

She handed the crystal back to him. “The Jedi…and you, are missing out.”

 

He took the crystal, his eyes never leaving hers, red to red. “Yes…we are.”

 

Esma’s breath caught hard in her chest as the silence stretched out. A whistle from T7 in the engine compartment startled her, and in a near panic, she turned and rushed up the stairs, away from the Sith with the lovely singing voice.

 

 

Author's Note:

 

Ahhh!! I can't do it!! Every time I try to write a funny Scourge story it ends up with this tension!! Damn it BioWare, please? Pweety pweety pwease?

And although it wasn't what he was singing, I had "Who Wants To Live Forever?" running through my head as I was writing this. Queen FTW!

 

I swooned, true story! Gaah, must go play my JK!!

[elliotcat]

Sorry for always writing about the same character...she's just fun to write. And this idea has been kicking around in my head for awhile! No spoilers, set toward the end of chapter 1 of the class story.

 

 

Ever since we left Taris I'd been encouraging Corso to find another job. So I don't know why I was so shaken when he told me he'd found one.

 

"Okay," I said. I was sitting on a chair on the bridge, my legs up on the console, reading. I couldn't look at him. "When are you leaving?"

 

"Whenever we can get there. It's at a ranch back on Ord Mantell."

 

"Sounds nice," I said. I sounded dispassionate, nonchalant. I stared hard at the words I'd been reading, though I wasn't really processing what I was seeing.

 

"You really want me to leave?" he asked me. "Be honest."

 

He sounded a little bit hurt, a little sad. It took all of my strength not to cry out that I didn't want him to leave, that I was horribly saddened by the thought of losing him. This is the right thing to do, I reminded myself. I couldn't keep him here, selfishly, just because I liked him. It was too dangerous. If I really cared about him, I'd encourage him to go somewhere safe. Even if it broke my heart.

 

"It would be best if you did," I said. I tried to make my voice sound light, but I knew he thought I wanted him to leave because I wasn't interested in him. It made my whole body ache to know I'd made him think that. But I felt less guilty about that than I did about constantly putting him in harm's way.

 

He left me alone, staring out the window, unable to even cry.

 

*

 

On the last day before we arrived on Ord Mantell, I shut myself in my room. I thought about taking sleeping pills and just sleeping until I felt better. Mostly I just lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling, hoping I had the strength to go through with this.

 

Someone knocked on my door. I opened it and saw Risha standing in the hall.

 

"Hey," she said. "You wanna talk?"

 

I shrugged. Maybe it would help. I let her into my room and shut the door again. We sat on my bed like schoolgirls, though much more subdued.

 

"What happened? Did you guys break up?" Risha had a nice, soothing voice. I liked her.

 

"What, me and Corso?" I shook my head. "We were never even together."

 

"Really?" She looked surprised. "Guess we still don't know each other that well. But you like him, right?"

 

I nodded. "Yeah, because I'm an idiot." I flopped down on the bed. "It's so stupid. I'm not the kind of girl a guy like that wants."

 

"Why? Because you were a...ah..." Risha considered for a moment. "'Lady of the night', I guess?"

 

"That's a nice way to put it."

 

"It's not as big a deal as you think it is. I don't think he's not the type to judge that sort of thing." She looked at me, her eyes narrowed in thought. "But that's not really why you want him to leave."

 

I sighed. "I don't want him to leave. But it's the right thing to do. I can't keep him here, in danger, just because I'm attracted to him. It's wrong. It's better for him to be safe."

 

For a moment we were silent. "I understand," Risha said. "It must be killing you though."

 

I shrugged. "Whatever. I'll get over it."

 

"I wonder." Risha seemed to hesitate a little. "Do you think this was how your mom felt? Leaving you behind?"

 

I shot up. "I'm nothing like her. This is completely different."

 

But as soon as I said it, I realized I was wrong. I was exactly like my mother. She'd abandoned me because she thought that she was pursuing something bigger and more important than her bonds to other people. She was so sure that she was doing the right thing and that relationships with anybody else had no part in it. And now I was doing it. I was sending away the person I cared about the most, and I was doing it because I thought it was right.

 

I had to stop this. I had to stop myself from making the biggest mistake I ever would. I stood up, before I knew what I was doing, and walked into the hallway. Maybe it was already too late. But at least I wouldn't let it end this way, with him thinking I didn't care. I ran into the crew quarters, where he was packing, and stood breathless in the doorway.

 

"I don't want you to leave," I blurted out.

 

Corso looked up at me, surprised. "What?"

 

"You told me to be honest, so I am. I don't want you to leave." My heart was racing, and I knew I was going to keep talking. Sometimes when I got started, I couldn't stop.

 

"I thought I was doing the right thing," I continued. "I wanted you to be safe. I thought it was selfish of me to ask you to stay when being with me was so dangerous. Maybe that is the right thing to do. But I don't think I care anymore." I swallowed; my mouth was dry. "If you leave now, I'll regret it forever. Everywhere I go, I'll look for you. I'll never stop looking for you."

 

I paused, wondering if he was going to say something, but he was just looking at me. I knew he had been waiting to hear this from me, so I barreled on.

 

"If you don't want to be with me, then I understand. I know I'm not a respectable girl. I'm not the kind of girl you probably ever thought of being with. So if you want to leave, you can leave, and at least I told you how I feel." I took a deep breath, and somehow my heart pounded even faster. "But if you do want to be with me, then please don't go. Please stay with me."

 

For a moment, the only sound was the humming of the ship's engines.

 

I tried to think of something to say, to break the awkward tension in the room. All I could do was meet Corso's eyes for the first time in days. He stepped closer to me and touched my face, and for the first time he said my name: "Ayang..."

 

"Are you going to stay?" I whispered.

 

"Yeah. I'm going to stay."

 

We kissed, me grinning like an idiot. I threw my arms around him, and we held onto each other like we were both drowning. We stumbled into the hall toward my room, kissing with wild abandon. I opened my door and saw Risha still sitting on my bed.

 

"You better leave," I said.

 

She rolled her eyes. "Ugh, you two." She gave me a conspiratorial smile as she left my room.

 

I smiled back.

 

I didn't think I would ever stop smiling.

 

 

 

 

Notes:

 

 

Ayang was basically like "OH LOOK AT HOW NOBLE AND SELFLESS I AM" for the first bit of the class story...she changed a lot because of her relationships with Corso and Risha, who's like a sister to her. By the end she feels like putting family before the greater good is the best thing to do.

 

I love this character, I can't quit writing her...sorry! D:

 

 

[iamthehoyden]

Sorry for always writing about the same character...she's just fun to write. And this idea has been kicking around in my head for awhile! No spoilers, set toward the end of chapter 1 of the class story.

 

 

Ever since we left Taris I'd been encouraging Corso to find another job. So I don't know why I was so shaken when he told me he'd found one.

 

"Okay," I said. I was sitting on a chair on the bridge, my legs up on the console, reading. I couldn't look at him. "When are you leaving?"

 

"Whenever we can get there. It's at a ranch back on Ord Mantell."

 

"Sounds nice," I said. I sounded dispassionate, nonchalant. I stared hard at the words I'd been reading, though I wasn't really processing what I was seeing.

 

"You really want me to leave?" he asked me. "Be honest."

 

He sounded a little bit hurt, a little sad. It took all of my strength not to cry out that I didn't want him to leave, that I was horribly saddened by the thought of losing him. This is the right thing to do, I reminded myself. I couldn't keep him here, selfishly, just because I liked him. It was too dangerous. If I really cared about him, I'd encourage him to go somewhere safe. Even if it broke my heart.

 

"It would be best if you did," I said. I tried to make my voice sound light, but I knew he thought I wanted him to leave because I wasn't interested in him. It made my whole body ache to know I'd made him think that. But I felt less guilty about that than I did about constantly putting him in harm's way.

 

He left me alone, staring out the window, unable to even cry.

 

*

 

On the last day before we arrived on Ord Mantell, I shut myself in my room. I thought about taking sleeping pills and just sleeping until I felt better. Mostly I just lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling, hoping I had the strength to go through with this.

 

Someone knocked on my door. I opened it and saw Risha standing in the hall.

 

"Hey," she said. "You wanna talk?"

 

I shrugged. Maybe it would help. I let her into my room and shut the door again. We sat on my bed like schoolgirls, though much more subdued.

 

"What happened? Did you guys break up?" Risha had a nice, soothing voice. I liked her.

 

"What, me and Corso?" I shook my head. "We were never even together."

 

"Really?" She looked surprised. "Guess we still don't know each other that well. But you like him, right?"

 

I nodded. "Yeah, because I'm an idiot." I flopped down on the bed. "It's so stupid. I'm not the kind of girl a guy like that wants."

 

"Why? Because you were a...ah..." Risha considered for a moment. "'Lady of the night', I guess?"

 

"That's a nice way to put it."

 

"It's not as big a deal as you think it is. I don't think he's not the type to judge that sort of thing." She looked at me, her eyes narrowed in thought. "But that's not really why you want him to leave."

 

I sighed. "I don't want him to leave. But it's the right thing to do. I can't keep him here, in danger, just because I'm attracted to him. It's wrong. It's better for him to be safe."

 

For a moment we were silent. "I understand," Risha said. "It must be killing you though."

 

I shrugged. "Whatever. I'll get over it."

 

"I wonder." Risha seemed to hesitate a little. "Do you think this was how your mom felt? Leaving you behind?"

 

I shot up. "I'm nothing like her. This is completely different."

 

But as soon as I said it, I realized I was wrong. I was exactly like my mother. She'd abandoned me because she thought that she was pursuing something bigger and more important than her bonds to other people. She was so sure that she was doing the right thing and that relationships with anybody else had no part in it. And now I was doing it. I was sending away the person I cared about the most, and I was doing it because I thought it was right.

 

I had to stop this. I had to stop myself from making the biggest mistake I ever would. I stood up, before I knew what I was doing, and walked into the hallway. Maybe it was already too late. But at least I wouldn't let it end this way, with him thinking I didn't care. I ran into the crew quarters, where he was packing, and stood breathless in the doorway.

 

"I don't want you to leave," I blurted out.

 

Corso looked up at me, surprised. "What?"

 

"You told me to be honest, so I am. I don't want you to leave." My heart was racing, and I knew I was going to keep talking. Sometimes when I got started, I couldn't stop.

 

"I thought I was doing the right thing," I continued. "I wanted you to be safe. I thought it was selfish of me to ask you to stay when being with me was so dangerous. Maybe that is the right thing to do. But I don't think I care anymore." I swallowed; my mouth was dry. "If you leave now, I'll regret it forever. Everywhere I go, I'll look for you. I'll never stop looking for you."

 

I paused, wondering if he was going to say something, but he was just looking at me. I knew he had been waiting to hear this from me, so I barreled on.

 

"If you don't want to be with me, then I understand. I know I'm not a respectable girl. I'm not the kind of girl you probably ever thought of being with. So if you want to leave, you can leave, and at least I told you how I feel." I took a deep breath, and somehow my heart pounded even faster. "But if you do want to be with me, then please don't go. Please stay with me."

 

For a moment, the only sound was the humming of the ship's engines.

 

I tried to think of something to say, to break the awkward tension in the room. All I could do was meet Corso's eyes for the first time in days. He stepped closer to me and touched my face, and for the first time he said my name: "Ayang..."

 

"Are you going to stay?" I whispered.

 

"Yeah. I'm going to stay."

 

We kissed, me grinning like an idiot. I threw my arms around him, and we held onto each other like we were both drowning. We stumbled into the hall toward my room, kissing with wild abandon. I opened my door and saw Risha still sitting on my bed.

 

"You better leave," I said.

 

She rolled her eyes. "Ugh, you two." She gave me a conspiratorial smile as she left my room.

 

I smiled back.

 

I didn't think I would ever stop smiling.

 

 

 

 

Notes:

 

 

Ayang was basically like "OH LOOK AT HOW NOBLE AND SELFLESS I AM" for the first bit of the class story...she changed a lot because of her relationships with Corso and Risha, who's like a sister to her. By the end she feels like putting family before the greater good is the best thing to do.

 

I love this character, I can't quit writing her...sorry! D:

 

 

Aw, I got a little teary, probably because you have written so much about her so I know a bit about what she's been through. It's good to see her get some happy

[almostinsane]

Okay, can anyone write a Smuggler/Akaavi fic? Just for me. Don't ever see those two and it's my favorite romance in the game.

[kabeone]

Sorry for always writing about the same character...she's just fun to write. And this idea has been kicking around in my head for awhile! No spoilers, set toward the end of chapter 1 of the class story.

 

 

Notes:

 

 

Ayang was basically like "OH LOOK AT HOW NOBLE AND SELFLESS I AM" for the first bit of the class story...she changed a lot because of her relationships with Corso and Risha, who's like a sister to her. By the end she feels like putting family before the greater good is the best thing to do.

 

I love this character, I can't quit writing her...sorry! D:

 

 

Hey I love her too! If you stop writing her then she disappears for me. <3

[Magdalane]

I'm always writing about the same one too, because it's the one I play the most, that I enjoy the most. I'll think on the smuggler/Akaavi one, tho my smuggler is female. Edited June 17, 2012 by Magdalane

[Tatile]

Hidden Talents; Confessions

 

Characters: Amilia'n and Stion'n, my Sorcerer and Juggernaut respectively.

 

 

 

Stion'n lay on the couch, eating small cakes. Amilia was bustling about the room, selecting and re-selecting different articles of clothing. Various different outfits covered the furniture, though some had been clearly cannibalized into others.

 

"I was just going to wear my armour. If I give it a polish..." Amilia shot her a look, before casting a steely gaze around the room. It was clear what she was implying. "I did read the letter, it's just..." Stion'n popped another cake in her mouth at the next glare and gave up. She had not yet fully recovered from the cave incident and, as much as she would have liked to, could not wear her armour even if she did polish it.

 

"Here." Amilia indicated to three outfits, picked out from the devastation that had once been Stion'n's wardrobe. They had both been surprised by the amount of clothing the Pureblood had simply acquired during her journeys. In particular a large number had been very formal, very attractive and rather feminine - not something one would imagine for the Lord.

 

Stion'n chewed her lip in contemplation. The dress was lovely; a beautiful mid-blue, almost turquoise, which flowed like water and clung to all the right places. Amilia had also selected a body suit, a favourite of Stion'n's. She had picked up in a high-end boutique on Dromund Kaas, having fallen in love with the yellow basque top. The third outfit was some black and white two piece with a cowl neck and a skirt.

 

"You take the dress, I'll have the basque."

 

Amilia shot her a confused and angry glare.

 

"This is for you!" The dressed rippled as she waved her hand over it. "You're the one who's going to this little get together, these are your clothes. It's your family!"

 

"I have a plus one." Stion'n waved the little glass invitation around, after having to rummage for it in the cushions.

 

"I had assumed you were taking one of the marines."

 

"Ahaha! Oh no, no. Rochester would steal them from me," She grinned almost maniacally. "And besides, do you have any idea how randy those guys get after they've had a few? I'm still recovering," Amilia raised an eyebrow a this. "From being crushed," There was a slight pause. "In the cave. By the beast!" Amilia nodded, but said nothing.

 

"Aren't you going there for Lieutenant Windthorpe?" Stion'n shrugged.

 

"I suppose. It's his brother's engagement party, not ours," She picked up the remaining cake and examined it. "Though I'm sure their dad would like to parade us around as well."

 

Amilia started to unhook the back of the basque. It may be fiddly, but it was by far going to be the easiest part.

 

"I was a slave on their estate."

 

"I know. All the more reason to come back, Lord Amilia."

 

 

 

I'm starting bring all the other little bits together, hopefully I can end up at the engagement party scene mentioned above.

Edited June 17, 2012 by Tatile

[Striges]

For the prompt “Confessions”

 

Title: The Good Doctor or What Do You Mean You Failed Again? (in the best Rocky and Bullwinkle narrator voice)

 

Characters: Sha’ra’zaed, Chiss Imperial Operative, Doctor Lokin

 

No actual spoilers here. My agent hasn’t finished Hoth yet, so I haven’t had Doctor Lokin for very long. I trust the following doesn’t contradict his later character development.

 

 

Sha’ra’zaed entered the medbay on her ship. She glanced around. She’d let Lokin install some equipment for his research, but the space was getting crowded. “If you don’t mind, Doctor, I’d like a word with you.”

 

Doctor Lokin looked up from his datapad, “Of course, agent. What concerns you?” he asked.

 

“I noticed you’ve put in a lot of new equip—“ a shiny new device caught her eye, “is that a molecular sequencer?” she asked.

 

Lokin beamed, “It is. Lovely, isn’t it? Not quite top-of-the-line, but then, even your ship doesn’t have enough power for one of those. A little tweaking, though, and I’m sure I’ll get the same functionality.”

 

“I’m sure,” Sha’ra’zaed replied. She approached the new machine. Lokin had squeezed it in between two other new arrivals. “A…an amino acid synthesizer? And you have it integrated with…” she examined the connections, then turned back to Lokin, “a recombinant viral protein array?”

 

“You do know your way around a lab, agent,” said Lokin, still smiling, “I must say, it’s refreshing to work with a colleague almost as interested in medicine and biology as I am. Most of my former associates barely gave thought to using a medpack. They relied on me to patch them up—often. Not a knock, mind you,” he said, setting the datapad down, “Just a statement of fact. I’ve enjoyed being able to get some real research done instead of spending all my time tending a patient in a kolto tank.”

 

“Ah, yes, about that,” Sha’ra’zaed began, “where did you get all these things?” she asked, waving her hand at the equipment.

 

Lokin shrugged, “Oh, here and there. I’ve collected quite a few over the years.”

 

“But these are new,” said Sha’ra’zaed.

 

“Not all of them,” said Lokin. He crossed the room to a smooth, silver device nearly as tall as he was. It resembled nothing so much as an old-style thermal flask elevated off the floor on short, sturdy legs. Distressed caution labels covered the outside, warning of everything from extreme temperatures to powerful magnetic fields. “This nuclear magnetic resonance spectroscope is practically an antique,” he said, patting it with affection.

 

Sha’ra’zaed approached the machine, “Doctor Lokin,” she said, “I appreciate your improvements to the medbay. But I want to know what happened when I asked you to collect specimens on Ryloth.”

 

“Oh, that,” said Lokin. He clasped his hands behind his back, “Terrible heat storm. The authorities wisely forbade anyone from visiting the surface. I wasn’t able to collect anything. Shame, that.”

 

“I see,” replied Sha’ra’zaed, “and Bhargebba Six?”

 

“I arrived too late, I’m afraid. The extermination order had already gone through,” said Lokin, “I said as much when I returned.”

 

“And Ord Dorlass?” asked Sha’ra’zaed, “I thought you would be interested in the plague there, regardless of my request. Your experience with the rakghoul virus could have proved invaluable.”

 

“Ah, recall that I was unable to circumvent the quarantine,” Lokin answered. “But I suspect you aren’t really curious about these events, are you agent?” he asked.

 

“No,” she said, her voice low, “I’m not. I’d like to know what happened to the funds I gave you for these—and other—expeditions. You’ve returned empty-handed every time.”

 

Doctor Lokin shifted his weight, “A run of bad luck, I assure you.”

 

“Come now, Doctor,” she said, “you don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?”

 

“One can always try,” he said, “You’ve come to a conclusion already, though.”

 

“I have,” she said.

 

“That I’ve used the funds to advance my own research,” he stated.

 

“Precisely,” said Sha’ra’zaed.

 

“You’d be correct, of course,” he admitted.

 

Sha’ra’zaed folded her arms, “Just like that? No denial?”

 

“Well, there’s little point,” Lokin said, “You can see the results for yourself,” he indicated the medbay with an expansive wave, “A top-notch medical research facility. Far better use of your credits than collecting some minor samples to indulge your—if you’ll forgive the term—hobby.”

 

Sha’ra’zaed frowned, “My own work is hardly a hobby, Doctor. I’ve improved on the Empire’s mass-produced adrenals and medpacks—“

 

Lokin cut her off, “Yes, yes, I’m aware of your efforts. Fruitful, of course, in their own way. These improved facilities benefit you as well. More so, I should think. To be frank, the technology I’ve incorporated here exceeds your requirements by a wide margin. You ought to thank me.”

 

“For embezzling my funds?” she exclaimed.

 

“Embezzle is such a strong word,” Lokin said, “I merely reallocated the funds to a more deserving project. Which still furthers your medical and biological analysis and experimentation. Which, if I recall correctly, was the stated purpose of the expeditions in the first place.”

 

“Doctor Lokin,” Sha’ra’zaed began, smoldering, “the next time I assign you a task, I expect you to complete it. Not take it under advisement while you advance your own agenda.”

 

Lokin shrugged, “If you insist, agent.” He stepped around her to retrieve his datapad, “Will there be anything else?” he asked.

 

Sha’ra’zaed sighed, “No, that was all,” she said and turned to leave.

 

“Oh, agent?” said Lokin, looking up, “I believe Kaliyo just returned from Nar Shaddaa. You may want to see how she fared.”

 

Sha’ra’zaed stopped at the medlab door, “What was she doing on Nar Shaddaa? She was supposed to investigate Demagol’s lab.”

 

Lokin shrugged, “I’m sure I don’t know, agent. She must have her reasons.”

 

“Yes,” growled Sha’ra’zaed, eyes narrowing, “I’m sure she does,” she concluded, stalking off toward the rear of the ship.

 

 

Notes:

With very few exceptions, I don't incorporate my characters' professions or talent builds into their stories. That always seemed more of a game-mechanic concern to me. I need a build and crew skills to play, so I have a build and crew skills, no big deal. But after having a run of several companions failing in crew missions, I just had to wonder...what did they do with my credits?

 

[iamthehoyden]

For the prompt “Confessions”

 

Title: The Good Doctor or What Do You Mean You Failed Again? (in the best Rocky and Bullwinkle narrator voice)

 

 

Notes:

With very few exceptions, I don't incorporate my characters' professions or talent builds into their stories. That always seemed more of a game-mechanic concern to me. I need a build and crew skills to play, so I have a build and crew skills, no big deal. But after having a run of several companions failing in crew missions, I just had to wonder...what did they do with my credits?

 

Hmmm....now you've got me wondering what my companions are doing with that money. Nice bit of writing there

[Striges]

I always figured Kaliyo spent it partying on Nar Shaddaa, but that's no surprise. What the others waste it on, now that's an interesting question.

 

This was meant to be humorous (hence the Bullwinkle reference by the title). I hope it reads that way.

[bright_ephemera]

This was meant to be humorous (hence the Bullwinkle reference by the title). I hope it reads that way.

 

Humor successful! It helps that I don't-trust Doctor Lokin so hard it hurts. He's far too smart for my own good.

 

On the topic of crafting run results, the Warrior of mine who had a disastrous falling-out with

Quinn has since seen him fail "Devoted to Duty" something like nine times. (It's a slicing mission.) He has a perfectly acceptable (read: near-zero) failure rate on all other missions, but Duty? Faceplant. Every time. I love it.

 

[Striges]

My personal bugaboo was the Treasure Hunting mission "A Grain of Sand" http://www.torhead.com/crew-mission/7aKx9fJ/a-grain-of-sand. Every companion I had at the time failed it. Every time. It was on my Sith Marauder, and nobody managed to complete that one. You'd think the ship droid at least would have had the patience.

 

Though the one that inspired this story was a purple bioanalysis mission that I finally got a high enough skill to use...and it failed.

[Tatile]

Striges that was fantastic, I read every line of Doctor Lokin's dialogue in his voice. Unfortunately that does actually seem like the kind of incredibly well-thought and reasonable scheme he'd pull on the Ciphers. He does like to get things done, after all.

[Striges]

Thanks, I appreciate it. I'm glad you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it.

[Tatile]

Thanks, I appreciate it. I'm glad you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it.

 

Works were the writer have enjoyed what they're doing are usually the best ones to read

 

And that's probably why I use mine as guild punishments; strangely no one ever seems to actually take their punishments. I enjoy writing the scenarios, then come back two days later and realise how terrible they are, so they become punishments. Terrible, unheeded punishments...

[RepublicGurl]

 

Current Prompt:

Week of 6/8/2012 - Allies - When something huge is going down, or just when you need a hand, who can you call that you know is going to have your back? Whether it's someone completely unlikely or exactly what you'd expect, who can you ultimately always rely on?

 

 

Happy writing!

 

 

Features my Jedi Knight Eleya Shevani (Miraluka)

No actual spoilers- used for space conservation.

 

 

The place is buzzing with a multitude of voices, whirls, clicking sounds and other methods of communications available to the current customers.

 

Sitting in the far back of the rather shabby restaurant, with only a dull, flickering light casted above them and an old fan that no longer works, Leya sits closest to the wall in the booth with her former Padawan, Kira, sitting next to her. On the end of the booth table Scourge sits with the dignified air of a Sith Lord trying to associate peacefully with Republicans, (and not doing too bad of a job though the dark aura about him makes any passersby scoot past him with sudden urgency in their steps), with Lt. Rusk and Doc sitting across the two Jedi on the other side of the table.

 

“…why did we choose this place again?” Kira asks, wrinkling her nose in distaste as she picks up the menu. She stares at it in horror, the choices ranging from obscene to downright revolting. “Are we that desperate for a night out together?”

 

Doc has his left elbow on the table, his body half leaned over, with his right hand by his napkin and tapping his fingers impatiently. He peers up at Kira, his eyes partially shadowed by his sinfully long black lashes.

 

His full lips split into a grin that most would definitely classify as sensual.

 

Kira merely raises an unimpressed eyebrow at the display.

 

“What does it matter?” he replies with a roll of his smoky hazel eyes. “Food’s food, eh?” His eyes look Kira up and down in an exaggerated show of trying to check her out. “’sides, I’m sure no matter what you eat it won’t mess up your figure, sweetheart.”

 

Kira gives a mocking smile, while making a point of unhooking her lightsabre and placing it on the table in front of Doc’s elbow. Doc barely hides a wince and tries to nonchalantly pull his arm away from the weapon, acting unruffled.

 

“Keep it up and I’ll make sure you’re the main course,” Kira snarks back.

 

Instead of recoiling at the undercurrent of steel in the young woman’s voice, though, Doc just gives a leering grin and settles back against the booth. He crosses his arms over his muscular chest and clicks his teeth.

 

“How you two manage to keep your hands off of each other, I will never know,” Scourge says sarcastically in his cultured Imperial accent, his vivid red eyes moving back and forth between the medic and Jedi.

 

Husk gives a brisk nod, shifting in his seat, but has nothing to add verbally other than an indecipherable grunt.

 

Leya just turns her face slightly towards the wall, trying to hide a smile at her friends’ antics. Her dark hair is currently in a ponytail, the strands of her eye-covering tied to the back of her head, but nonetheless her facial expression can easily give her away if she isn’t careful.

 

This will never get old, she thinks, nibbling her lower lip as she finally turns to face Kira. She places her hands on the table, linking her fingers together as she regards her former Padawan through her Force Sight.

 

“This place may not be the most reputable,” Leya tries to console Kira, keeping her voice measured though she is fighting the urge to laugh. “However, regardless of that fact, I doubt they will take too kindly to pulling out weapons in plain view with the intent to use them.”

 

“Thank you,” Doc implores with a smile at Leya, but his smile falters when Leya continues smoothly, a hint of teasing in her voice, “…No matter how justified the reason for pulling your weapon out might be.”

 

Doc pouts.

 

“Hey! Whose side are you on anyway?!” He asks shrilly.

 

“I am not on any particular side,” Leya assures him, just as Kira gives him a smug look. “We’re all friends here- even if some of us have to be reminded of that.”

 

Kira and Doc both have the good graces to look contrite, while Husk lets out another grunt and Scourge’s left eye twitches at the word “friends”.

 

As if.

 

Edited June 19, 2012 by RepublicGurl

[RepublicGurl]

This week I've been working a ton, which meant I got a lot of ideas for prompts (they always seem to come to me when I'm working...) so I'm going to post two. Do one or both, it's up to you.

 

Week of 6/15/12

 

Confessions - Everybody has things they don't like to admit. Sometimes it's big, sometimes it's just something small. Sometimes it's nice to finally let it out. What does your character need to admit - and to who?

 

Hidden Talents - All of our characters are good fighters, but people are good at more than one thing. What else are they good at - and how do their friends and family react to learning about this hidden skill?

 

Archive is up!

 

Ooh! I'm just trying to catch up in this thread, (hence the late posting of "Allies", but I will most definitely be doing both of these prompts! )

 

I was wondering, though... is it okay if we stick to a certain character and his/her companions for these prompts? (I have no problem applying the prompts to my other characters, but at the moment I am just in love with my JK and her companions!)

[bright_ephemera]

I was wondering, though... is it okay if we stick to a certain character and his/her companions for these prompts? (I have no problem applying the prompts to my other characters, but at the moment I am just in love with my JK and her companions!)

 

No problem at all! Breadth or depth in your character assortment, we love to read either way.

 

(Also my Agent and my Warrior(s) have my heart cornered, so I'm specializing here, too.)

 

Also the last two sentences of your story made me giggle. A lot.

Edited June 19, 2012 by bright_ephemera

[elliotcat]

Ooh! I'm just trying to catch up in this thread, (hence the late posting of "Allies", but I will most definitely be doing both of these prompts! )

 

I was wondering, though... is it okay if we stick to a certain character and his/her companions for these prompts? (I have no problem applying the prompts to my other characters, but at the moment I am just in love with my JK and her companions!)

 

It's totally fine, I'm guilty of constantly writing about my smuggler. :x