The Alternate Universe Weekly Challenge Thread

[bright_ephemera]

Driveby, will read things later.

 

Faith, Hope, and . Another 3.5k words of Wynston/Ruth fluff. Just another splinter, this one carried over from Wynston's little Kaliyo explosion in the SFC thread…what if he hadn't done a cautious series-of-holocalls thing in dealing with a suddenly-upset Ruth? What if work had delayed a little in calling, he had changed his mind sometime in the night, and he had just gone to find her? Extensive Agent and Warrior spoilers.

 

 

It took a couple of days' hunting. Vette, the only crew member Wynston had a personal holofrequency for, cut him off with a regretful but hard-eyed finality. Instead he hit the ground on Corellia and, with the certainty of a Cipher agent, followed the trail of the Intelligence employees that Sith bosses had tracking her.

 

At some point he wondered, why was he doing this?

 

He couldn't bring himself to kill Kaliyo when she finally sold him out and left. She was out there. He couldn't quite wrap his head around that disastrous moment of weakness. When he'd called Ruth for a friendly face she had answered in some dark hard mood and almost immediately cut him off. There was no companionship to be found there.

 

He had tried to sleep that night, and he had failed.

 

So he went looking. Ruth had seemed distressed. She could take care of herself, and always had, he knew that. He wasn't even wanted. But he wanted to talk to her. It wasn't that she knew him, not really. No one did; no one should. But, more than anyone, she accepted what he gave. If for once he was off balance, it might be that she could accept that, too.

 

He would never have caught her passing in Coronet Spaceport if she hadn't been walking with Lieutenant Pierce. Pierce was in that distinctive armor of his; Ruth was in, not only the black Sith-style armor he had seen via holo, but a tight blank mask. Ever since he had met her, the assurance of her carriage had been tempered by a friendly look, a terribly un-Sith tendency for her rosebud mouth to curl up at the corners. That was hidden now, bound up in something dark and unreadable.

 

She stopped in place when she noticed Wynston. He held up his empty hands and held what he hoped was eye contact.

 

Pierce leveled his blaster rifle and watched.

 

"My lord," said Wynston.

 

"Determined," said Ruth in a voice about to freeze over. "Aren't you."

 

He disregarded Pierce entirely; this was to be made or broken on Ruth's will. "You looked like you could use a friend. I'm unarmed. No tricks. I tracked you down by finding and talking with your enemies, but for what it's worth none of the ones I spoke to are left alive. If there's anything I can do. Tell me what happened."

 

She hesitated, and Wynston wished he had been able to prepare better. He wished he knew what he was supposed to prepare for. He wished he knew what had made him believe that she wouldn't hurt him. "If you insist," she said at last. "Walk."

 

She gestured on ahead and walked behind him, Pierce at her side. No chance to observe or talk. Ruth just called turns to the right or left to guide him through the crowd into her Fury's hangar.

 

Once on board Pierce searched Wynston; the big man stayed silent apart from a mild surprised grunt when he came up with nothing. Wynston had dressed with the suspicion that bringing a weapon near Ruth in the mood she had demonstrated over holo would be fatal. Ruth dismissed Pierce with a word and brought Wynston into a fairly large bedroom. There were strange blank spaces in it, some shelves cluttered, some bare. Several weapons stored in plain sight.

 

She faced him then and took off her mask, staring at him with blue eyes frozen and ready to shatter. She was pale, rigid, but she swept her fear out of sight in a breath and what was left was only anger visibly debating which way to go.

 

"My lord," he started.

 

"Don't call me that," she snapped.

 

"I'm sorry. I…Ruth?"

 

"Wrath will do."

 

"Of course, Wrath." Bad sign. "Can we talk? I'd like to help you if I can." He meant it. Right now he powerfully wanted something he could get right. "I'm between jobs. I don't know the details here but if you tell me what's going on I'm yours to try to solve it."

 

She sneered and looked him over. He wasn't out of danger yet.

 

And then she seized his sides, pulled him close, and kissed him, a hard hungering kiss that wasn't a request and wasn't their old game. Her armored body was cold and hard to the touch, her grip painful.

 

He pushed the stranger away. "Ruth, wait. I didn't mean–"

 

She pressed against his warding hands. "You can do what you came for, Wynston, I promise I won't put up a fight, not with you. But this first." Her anger slipped. "No questions."

 

No questions. The thing that cemented their trust in the past, on Quesh when he couldn't say what his problem was, only that he needed help.

 

No questions. The raw plea in her eyes made something in him ache. This wasn't what he had come for. She had told him long ago she wasn't interested, had meant it, and he had let her fade from thought, one among many opportunities that were simply past their time. He wanted to talk now, to find out what was wrong, to tell her what had driven him here. He wanted to sort things out. He wanted to understand.

 

Habit answered her need anyway. He kissed her; the rest could wait. There was nothing of softness left to her, nothing of gentleness, but she moved with him. The rest could wait.

 

When she took off her black gloves he found that she didn't have her wedding ring. Little by little he uncovered her marks and scars, so many more than he remembered from eighteen months ago: signs of the hard road that had brought her here, signs that even as he traced them felt like the least part of her pain.

 

Her returning touch was rough, and kept on being rough. He could take bruises but he didn't want them from her. "You're hurting me," he said quietly.

 

She opened her eyes. Something of the girl he knew offered a silent apology. She was gentler after that. And he matched her, gave her what he could, took what she offered.

 

She didn't push him away after. She rested her head on his chest instead, keeping her arms tucked close to his sides. It was good to feel her relax into him. It wasn't what he had come for, but this kind of thing had substituted for closeness with enough people on enough occasions in the past. It wasn't bad.

 

She didn't look at him, and her voice when she spoke was hard. "Who sent you?"

 

He kept one hand on her back, the other resting on his own chest where it could toy with her short sweat-stiff hair. "I did. My former colleagues in Intelligence will be interested in discussing matters, but they're on your side at the moment and, more importantly, neither they nor anyone is in any position to tell me to harm you."

 

"Former colleagues."

 

"Yes."

 

"That's convenient." She traced a nonsense pattern on his side. "You came to me right after Darth Baras made me his apprentice. You were sweet, helpful, inviting. So inviting. You didn't…you didn't hand me off until I was hooked on the other. You checked in now and then, just in case. Now you're here again. His opposite number, his…his backup. Right on schedule."

 

Quinn. It had to be. The details weren't there but the name surely was. "Tell me what happened."

 

She shook her head violently. "I don't think you really need to hear it. If Vette and Jaesa couldn't be corrupted, you're the closest one left." She seemed to collapse a little. "If you came all this way for me I'm not going to fight you, too. I'm too tired." She whuffed a weak dry laugh. "Still, thanks for the sex. I've been missing that."

 

"I'm not here to fight you, darling." The endearment was more habit after these motions than anything, but it sounded pleasing so he kept it. "I can't prove anything but I hope you know that I'm not the kind of fool who would take Darth Baras's orders and I'm not the kind of sadist who would string you along first for fun."

 

"I don't know anything about you," she said.

 

Part of him had hoped she would never apply that lesson to him. "If I were here to hurt you I would make it quick, if only for efficiency's sake. But I'm not." Against that paranoia he thought about trying honesty. "I came here because I needed you."

 

"You needed me." She tested the words on her tongue. She didn't kick him out, though, or laugh, or fight. "I wouldn't have expected you to come to me."

 

"Sorry." He risked a smile. "Am I ruining my mystique?"

 

She looked up and smiled back. It was the warmest thing he had ever seen. "It's still you." She dove to hide her face against his neck. "But everything else is wrong." A few silent breaths. "My father is dead."

 

Darth Baras's pattern, cutting down the support network. Wynston wondered what her father had been like. "I'm sorry. He was your only family, wasn't he?"

 

"Yes," she said. "He's gone now. Him, and then…"

 

He stroked her gently, rhythmically, but she didn't continue. "Now will you tell me what happened?" he prompted.

 

"Not yet."

 

"I see."

 

"But you called for a reason. You said things happened. Kaliyo. Is it something you want to talk about?"

 

"If you want to listen."

 

She raised her head and pushed up to settle where she could see his face, resting her head on her hand, her elbow on the pillow. "Yes. Tell me."

 

So he laced his fingers in hers and he told her.

 

"I had her in my sights," he said when he was nearly done. "And I couldn't kill her. I didn't even find another way to minimize the damage. I always find another way if the job isn't acceptable, but I didn't this time. I didn't even try. I couldn't harm her."

 

He had settled on staring at the ceiling somewhere on the way, but then he heard a tear hit the pillow beside him.

 

"Ruth?"

 

"I'm so sorry, Wynston." She leaned into him, tightening her arms around him. "I understand, and I'm sorry."

 

He touched her hair, ran his fingertips along her jaw, gently guided her head up to face him. There were too many details that led back to Quinn and his absence. "Where is he?"

 

"He's alive," she whispered. "On the ship, locked up."

 

He kept stroking her hair, her shoulders. He waited.

 

"He was Baras's all along. He got me alone into a trap. He fired at me himself. The look on his face when he was shooting…" She trailed off.

 

He should never have read his own respect into the fixation the man had had on her; that was a novice's mistake and a stupid one at that. "If I'd known I would have come sooner."

 

"I didn't want you to know."

 

Of course. He held her for a little while. A few ideas drifted to mind, none of them useful. Finally he said "I'm moving outside the old Intelligence chain of command. I have resources that will let me operate independently."

 

She sniffled and took a deep breath. "That sounds promising."

 

"In spite of the current upheaval we have a few still focusing on stabilizing the Empire in a good way. That includes cutting your old master out of the picture."

 

"I would be useful to you in that effort." She said it like it tasted bad. He was sure it did.

 

"You would be useful to me," he agreed. "It's not the sole reason I came today, but it's the reason I would have come sooner or later." He nuzzled her hair. "That's the cold transaction. Does it help to know?"

 

"It does."

 

They were quiet for a while longer. He wanted her to be sure of him but he couldn't force it. Softly he asked "Do you remember our first night together?"

 

"Yes."

 

"It was a considerable risk on my part. I kept wondering whether you were the type to kill some no-name alien scum once you were done with him. And then you would smile again and I thought, at least I'd die happy." He wanted her to be sure of him, but his words always came back to the old memorized formulas.

 

"Careful," she murmured, and he heard a smile in it. "Your shamelessness is showing."

 

She still liked it. "Just calling it like I see it," he said, just as he had said then. He squeezed her. "There's no one left in this galaxy who can order me to hurt you. Until I get an assignment that makes sense elsewhere, I'll help you any way I can." She was a good partner. One who didn't make everything a contest of wills or a game of lies. Not thrilling, but then, look where thrilling had gotten him. "If you want him gone, you don't have to be present."

 

"No." She shook her head violently. "He stays."

 

"Ruth, he betrayed you. I know you care for him but love shouldn't be staying our hands, not if it didn't stay theirs. Why let him live?"

 

To his surprise – and with a small hurtful inrush of cool air between them – she pushed away from him. She curled one arm protectively across herself and looked away. "Because," she said.

 

He didn't like that implication. "Tell me."

 

She bowed her head toward the pillow and her hand settled flat on her abdomen. When she opened her mouth only a sob came out.

 

He reached out to touch her belly near her hand. He looked up at her, questioning, and she nodded.

 

He didn't say anything. Instead he closed the distance between them again, took her in his arms, let her hide her face against his shoulder. He felt a tear or tears running hot onto his skin.

 

"I'm such an idiot," she sobbed.

 

"No." He moved his cheek a little against the top of her head while he kept his arms tight and still around her.

 

"You were right about him," she said.

 

"I really wasn't. I thought he was disagreeable but I didn't think he would turn on you." He should have known better. He shouldn't have been blinded by his native dislike of the man and his assumption that anyone close to her would end up under her warm careless impossible charm. "I'm sorry."

 

She squeezed him tighter for a few moments, then fell limp.

 

After a while she spoke again. "I'm sorry," she said. "About her."

 

"Thank you." He wasn't sure he wanted to know what thoughts had brought her back around to that. "You can lecture me if you like, I've earned it. But it was good to talk about it."

 

"No lecture," she said. Then, a while later, "You did everything you could."

 

"I rather conspicuously didn't. She's still out there."

 

"No. I mean you did everything you could for her. Made things fun. Tried to keep her and all her grabby selfishness amused. You weren't obvious about it but I could tell you tried to make her happy."

 

"I don't think amusing her improved anything in the end."

 

"You channeled all that destructive power into something good for a while. Think about it. You managed to get Kaliyo Djannis to accomplish constructive things for the Empire." She reached up to brush his hair away from his forehead. "Her deciding to throw away everything you gave her, in the worst way she could, that was her failure. Not yours."

 

"I know that," he said automatically.

 

She gave him a gentle look that didn't quite call him a liar. "And realizing, when the time came, that you couldn't deal as harshly with her as she could with you. That wasn't your failure, either."

 

"It is, though. People will die because I let her back out there. That's not something a positive affirmation can change."

 

"People will die because she's dangerous, cunning, and determined to hurt. She rigged that battlefield. It was her decision and her fault."

 

The other person's determination was never an excuse, but he accepted the comfort she meant. He tilted his head. "So what if I say the same back to you?"

 

She smiled a small sad smile. "I'll say you're wrong. I'll say his determination is no excuse, I was a fool for letting it happen."

 

"You did everything you could." He kissed her.

 

"Don't blame yourself." She kissed him.

 

"Can I tell you something, Ruth?"

 

"You still feel terrible?"

 

"Huh. Good guess."

 

She half smiled. "I do, too."

 

"But you're talking to me."

 

"I'm talking to you," she agreed. "If you're lying you're being very nice about it." She blinked hard. "I do believe that if you were here to kill me you would've gotten it over with by now."

 

He kissed her. And again, slowly, tenderly, until she pulled away with a smile that was close to steady. Without saying anything she curled to settle her head on his chest again. He lay back and rested.

 

They were still for a while. The timed lights dimmed. He let his hands rest on her sides. Her body was warm, unarmored. Scarred. She was too young to be carrying those scars.

 

"Are you asleep?" she asked a long time later.

 

"No," he said quietly. "Are you?"

 

"Hm." It was almost a laugh. "No." She nuzzled his chest a little, then spoke in a thoughtful tone. "I don't…I don't love you."

 

"I would be a little worried if you did," he said. "That was never us."

 

"Will it be easier this way?"

 

He hesitated. The honesty policy was rapidly getting him lost. "What do you want to hear, darling?"

 

She tensed. "Somebody already told me what I wanted to hear," she said harshly. "Tell me the truth if you have one."

 

"Ah." He sighed. "Truthfully? I'm not the best person to ask. You know what I am. Love's a word for me, a tool, a game at best. I know it means something to people but I've never felt what they're supposed to feel and I've never felt the worse for its absence." Until recently. "I have a few years on you, but I think you've been more in love than me."

 

"For all the good it did me."

 

He guided her chin up so he could look into her eyes. "I wanted better for you. When I saw the way you were with him I thought that if anyone in this galaxy could make that word real, could make it more than a story, it would be you. You deserved that much."

 

He truly had hoped for Ruth's sake that her pretty otherworldly vision would make it. Her chosen partner seemed to be from a more straightforward walk of life than Wynston's; he might suit, even if he was a little thick in matters of emotion in general and love in particular. But no. Her vision and passion couldn't work. Love was a word, a tool. In the end, it turned out that Malavai Quinn understood love perfectly.

 

That cutthroat son of a b*tch.

 

He suppressed the thought and kissed her. All he could do was be here. "I'm sorry."

 

"Would it be…" she whispered. "I know it takes time. But would it be different with us?"

 

No. That was too much for one night. He couldn't even summon up the polite evasion; he was past lying to her, even by indirection. "Ruth, I can't answer that except to say that the myth doesn't happen. Isn't that what brought us here? Falling in love by definition would be either you playing me or me playing you and I don't like either of those options. Love gets used. It gets in the way of what has to be done." Honesty sounded pretty bitter. He was still angry at himself. And at Kaliyo, and at Quinn, but himself most of all. He stroked Ruth's cheek. "But for what it's worth, I would rather have this than what I've seen of the real thing."

 

She didn't get mad. Instead she nodded thoughtfully. "I think I would, too."

 

"Thank you," he said at last. "For hearing me out, and for sharing the rest. I'm afraid I've definitely ruined my mystique, but I…I needed this."

 

"Hmm," she said with an odd variation on smugness. "My Sith power, political clout, terrifying combat skills and all-around utilitarian value are truly irresistible."

 

He smiled but shook his head. "Minor details." He kissed her and studied her eyes, which somehow cast her endless blue back at him even when the only light source was his red. These later things weren't what he had come here for, either, but he thought it might be better. "It'll be all right, darling."

 

She took a deep breath and nodded. "I believe you."

 

 

 

 

Since apparently all this guy ever does is have sex? Oh, also the magic ***** fixes all things, or something. Actually I guess it's more that Ruth can't even get through angry angry escapism sex if somebody she likes asks otherwise.

 

"Love": One of the things Wynston has issues with.

 

I think it horrifies Wynston that, when the job indicated the partner needed to die, Wynston was too emotionally affected to do it to Kaliyo – Kaliyo rap-sheet-a-parsec-long psycho-killer Djannis – but Quinn could do it, calmly and with premeditation, to a good woman serving the right cause. In Wynston's book that makes Quinn either a more praiseworthy professional (unacceptable), a more execrable murderer (unforgivable), or both.

 

 

Edited November 20, 2012 by bright_ephemera

[iamthehoyden]

<3 Wynston. I have no idea why I love him as much as I do, but yeah, totally <3 Wynston.

[bright_ephemera]

I feel like like I'm just spinning my wheels with Wynston at this point, but it feels reasonably pleasant to do so, so hey, may as well. He would agree with me.

 

@Striges, I love the look into Kirya's perspective. Especially the implied disconnect between what Rixik may have intended to impress her with and what she read into the holorecordings. Also? Trust Corso to take advantage of the animal husbandry that Alderaan really does seem suited for.

 

@kabeone Watcher One. And Watcher Two getting to be as hard as she can be. And SCORPIO's disdainful observation right before she blows up. And I hadn't realized, before you started Knightless, how a Balmorran resistance fighter would view anyone identified as associated with Grey Star's fate.

[kabeone]

@bright_ephemera It took me a while and reading all the fanfic to see Kaliyo/Quinn as being a very similar situation. You show it beautifully here. I <3 Wynston/Ruth.

[kabeone]

Double post :]

Remi AU: Knightless - Deadly Sins & Seven Virtues

Sith Warrior/JK Chapter 3 Spoilers

 

Greed

 

 

Darth Baras paced, his movement betraying his excitement. He looked down at his prize. The tall Voss knelt staring up at his captor, his pupil-less red gaze might have been unnerving to a lesser man, but Baras was supremely confident. This was a moment of triumph, one of many to come.

 

“You will be bestowed with a great honor this day, Mystic.” He taunted. He had put up with a great deal of nonsense in order to obtain his prize.

 

“I am aware of what is to come.” The man said calmly.

 

“You were aware of this?” The Sith scoffed, “You knew today would be your last and you came anyway? Don’t bother lecturing me about your visions. I have seen my victory, it is certain.”

 

“Perhaps you see as Mystics do,” the Voss agreed, “but only interpreters can find meaning. You seek to claim everything for yourself, this does not concern me. My vision is clear. I must be here for the one to complete her training.”

 

Baras was tempted to strike the man but he feared damaging his gift. An attendant entered the room, bowing in the doorway.

 

“My lord, you have been summoned.”

 

The Sith leaned down placing his cold grey mask next to the Voss’s ear, his voice dripped with malice, “Just as I have foreseen.”

 

 

 

Faith

 

 

Scourge walked briskly back to his quarters, the Emperor had summoned him for the third time in as many weeks. He wore the body of a strange blue alien and announced that he would be going on a pilgrimage alone. It was unusual but no cause for particular alarm, what sent his mind racing was the Emperor’s words, that his goals were close at hand, and the ritual had already begun. Then the Emperor turned fixed his soulless gaze directly on him and asked after his apprentice.

 

Coremi was on Belsavis and the Emperor knew. He could not warn her, his communications would be monitored, if he left it would be suspect, and he would be watched, possibly stopped or shot down. The Emperor was known for testing his servants, even ones as trusted as he. Yet, she was there, on the very planet where the sacrifice would take place. It could not be a coincidence.

 

He knelt, channeling the Force, he rarely felt the need to meditate, but now he closed his eyes and reached into the swirling maelstrom of the Force searching for a familiar presence. His instincts led him through the chaos, sensing dozens of distant minds, he ignored them striving to find the mind he recognized as hers. He found her, a single soul in the storm. A ball of brilliant light with threads of darkness swirling through it, it pulsed with power even greater than he had seen in her before.

 

She’s beautiful. He thought irrelevantly before he focused on reaching out to her. He sensed her surprise then a joy she could not hide in this form. The ritual has begun. He focused on his message. You must stop Krannus from destroying the planet. Save Belsavis. He sensed confusion, fear, then resolve. He let go and retreated to himself.

 

He opened his eyes certain that she had heard his message. She would stop the ritual and save the planet, now all he could do was wait.

 

 

[bright_ephemera]

@bright_ephemera It took me a while and reading all the fanfic to see Kaliyo/Quinn as being a very similar situation. You show it beautifully here. I <3 Wynston/Ruth.

 

Thanks! Kaliyo and Quinn aren't necessarily similar, but they can be; it really depends on the player's take. Kaliyo sides with the player in the end and that's supposed to make things better. You could read her whole thing as an embarrassing side job. But betraying the Empire is betraying Wynston, and depending on the damage would be considered worse than just shivving him personally. His Kaliyo knew it.

 

Long period of "getting meaningfully involved would be a terrible idea"? Check. Longstanding sketchy side arrangement on the other person's part? Check. Firm belief on the other person's part that it isn't in their nature to do otherwise? Check. Painful, inexplicable inability (both in game and in fic) to do what should be done after? Check. The biggest difference is that Ruth's surprise was at Quinn betraying her and Wynston's surprise was at caring when Kaliyo did.

 

 

In other news, aieee Scourge warning. I like it. And the Voss leadup...with no Knight, but with Scourge Wrathing...I look forward to it!

[iamthehoyden]

Kabe, I like that you had a Scourge piece under Faith. I think it's one of his most defining characteristics, and I really like how this is all building.

[kabeone]

Remi AU: Knightless - Deadly Sins

SW Ch 3 Spoilers

 

Gluttony

 

 

Darth Marr wished for a number of things. He wished the Council did not change members so frequently; he wished he had not accepted the invitation to dinner; and he dearly wished he was wearing his trademark mask to better hide his revulsion. He watched Darth Baras plowing his way through a plate of Bantha steaks. The Force sustained a Sith but it also fed on him, it was unusual for a wielder as strong as Baras to become so rotund, such corpulence required effort. Marr kept his contempt in check as Darth Baras gorged himself on a fourth serving. He wished Baras was wearing a mask as well.

 

“Darth Marr,” the self-satisfied Sith wiped his mouth and took up the thread of conversation he had left off at his second serving. “The wheels are in motion, I offer you the opportunity to stand with me when the time comes.”

 

“To stand with you where?” Marr replied keeping his voice level, “And against whom?”

 

“Against those who would challenge me for power.”

 

“Like your former apprentice.” Marr sipped from his wineglass, his words aimed to irritate.

 

“She proved hardier than I had given her credit for.” He replied stiffly, pausing to take a few bites of his meal, “I still have agents in the field that may yet eliminate her.” He washed down a mouthful of juicy meat with wine and raised his glass for a servant to refill it. “Speaking of former apprentices, you never did find the one who killed yours. I understand that has caused some to believe that you’re vulnerable, that simply won’t do.”

 

Marr would have crushed him, implying weakness was a severe offense among Council members. It was also true, several of his allies in the military had questioned his ability to keep his power structure intact. When a direct strike against one of his own, a highly placed and powerful Sith, went unanswered, it was a sign of weakness. It was also a sign that his reputation was not enough to protect his assets. Some few of those who questioned him saw fit to align with other members of the Dark Council. Indeed, it would not do.

 

“We know that the assassin was a part of the resistance, but no witnesses survived. The assassin or his conspirators erased the surveillance.”

 

“Not exactly, I had my own surveillance set up at Sobrik.” The large Sith pushed a portable holo across the long table. Marr brought it to his hand with a twist of his mind. He turned it on and saw the face of a young woman, a slave judging by the collar around her neck, running away from an explosion. The date and timestamp were the day of Darth Lachris's assassination.

 

“Fascinating.” Marr said drily, “She may already have been killed in the conflict. Having lost Balmorra, it would be impossible to tell.”

 

“Not at all, I can tell you much about her, if you care to know.” Juices ran down corners of the horrible smile that graced Darth Baras's face.

 

“In exchange for what?”

 

“When I make my move you will stand aside, you will not interfere, and you will allow me to prove myself.”

 

“Is that all?”

 

“When I am finished, it will be more than enough.”

 

Marr contemplated the deal, Baras was about to make a power grab large enough to need allies in advance and grand enough not reveal what it was. He would benefit from having someone else drawing the eyes of his rivals while he gained strength and allies. He nodded acceptance.

 

“Recognize her? She’s the Wrath’s apprentice,” Baras resumed devouring the remains of the dish in front of him.

 

“Are you certain?” Marr asked doubtfully, he had only heard rumors of the Wrath's apprentice. The man hardly ever participated in Council politics unless it was to dispatch a member who had offended the Emperor in some way.

 

Baras nodded to the side and a servant brought forward a datachip placing it in the base of the holoprojector. “Keep watching.”

 

After the woman scampered off, another face came into view, this time a Sith pureblood, he stared in the direction the woman had fled.

 

“You’ll be interested to know that the Wrath was dining with your apprentice shortly before the assassination along with four other Sith. He alone survived.”

 

“Not a coincidence.” Marr concluded. He stood, his meal mostly untouched, “I must attend to this new information immediately,” Baras waved his hand in farewell and dismissal, a new repast already in front of him. “I look forward to seeing you prove yourself.” He took himself out, only the sounds of smacking and chewing followed him.

 

 

 

 

Notes SW CH 3 spoiler

 

 

The self-satisfied Sith sneered, swallowing succulent steak slices sloppily.

 

guh.

 

Anyway, I've always thought of Marr as a smart guy, I couldn't figure out what he would gain by supporting Baras's power play. Unless one of those corellia agents had some really good dirt on him. Still, it seemed unlikely so I made up my own reasons for this AU.

 

 

 

Edit: @hoyden Thanks! I see Scourge as being a strange combination of pragmatism and faith.

 

I really wanted to finish knightless with the sins and virtues because they're the best fit. However, I did not realize this story would have to be so long in order to make sense. I don't think I'll be able to finish off all the sins and virtues before prompts are posted so expect late posts and apologies :/

Edited November 21, 2012 by kabeone

[iamthehoyden]

Darth Baras is gross. I know - obvious statement is obvious - but he is!! (It's pretty cool that Remi gets to go up against him. Go Remi and Scourge!!)

[bright_ephemera]

Nice to see other Dark Council members being disgusted by Baras.

 

Now, Wynston and Ruth on the previous idea of 'what if he had just gone straight to her after his Kaliyo blowup?' 1600 words, implicit Warrior Act 3 spoilers. This opens with a loop of a previous Affection post set late in Ruth's Corellia.

 

 

 

Ruth was standing, somewhere, nowhere, she couldn't tell. It didn't matter because Quinn was there with her, kissing her, his arms securely around her, his mouth warm and tender as it was the day he had first held her. It was impossible to hurt when he was here like this, and so without thinking too hard about why, she poured herself into it. She ran a hand through his hair, down around his neck and arm, thrilling to his touch. When his hand slid up her back she felt the snub-nosed blaster moving up to nestle against her neck.

 

She kept running her hands around his shoulders and back, kissing his lips, his cheek. "Walk away now," she whispered, not for the first time, "and I'll spare you."

 

His free arm stayed firmly, comfortingly around her waist. He kissed her nose. He repeated the familiar words. "I cannot do that, my lord."

 

"Malavai. Walk away." She should have said better words, smarter words, more persuasive words, but she didn't have any.

 

"There is only one way this can go," he reminded her.

 

"No. That wasn't true." She kissed him and left the script behind. "It isn't true, you don't have to do it. Don't talk. Don't shoot. Don't anything, just be with me."

 

The blaster brushed the back of her neck, its touch steady and cold.

 

"No." She pulled him tighter. "Don't. You haven't done it yet. We can still be together, I can still love you, at least until I wake. Let me have tonight. Please."

 

Quinn, hard-eyed, opened his mouth

 

"Wake up, sweet." It was a different voice, gentle and insistent. "Look at me."

 

When Wynston's finger brushed Ruth's cheek she seized his wrist, heart pounding, and grabbed at the – nothing in his hand. She frowned at the absence of a weapon for a moment, then looked up at the Chiss.

 

"You're safe," he said, then leaned down to kiss her nose. "Are you all right?"

 

She didn't answer that.

 

"What is it, darling?"

 

"Nothing," she said, purposely calming her breathing, and sat up. "Go back to sleep. I'll be back."

 

"All right," he said. It was a question, but she was already busy. Moving with certainty in the dark room, she grabbed a fresh slip and a robe, then headed out to the shower. Might as well wash him off of her while she figured out what to do with him.

 

She knew what to do with him. She should kill him.

 

Pleasant though it was to have that friendly solicitous presence, someone experienced and sympathetic to offer an illusion of safety and affection, this was nauseatingly obvious. She hated that she was such an easy target. One big bundle of needs, that was her, and they had had Quinn's entire time with her to record what was likely to work.

 

After cold weeks on Corellia she truly had been craving just a little more of the pleasant lie. But that was all she could afford. In the shock of first seeing Wynston's face, after a long day in the field, after more hunting and blood long after she had lost what she loved, then it was easy to say she would suspend disbelief, take his offer and not care about the cost. Now that she felt rested, more alive, refreshed from avoiding the agonizing end of that recurring nightmare for the first time, she found that she did care about surviving.

 

He showed up offering exactly what she wanted. Of course she was supposed to tumble into his arms. Was this really what he thought of her? Show up, make a speech, lead her around by the nose thereafter?

 

Practical: kill him.

 

That would leave left her with the team she had been struggling to keep it together for. Vette and Jaesa, whom she trusted, mostly. It was difficult that they knew little of the logistical and political challenges she was working so hard to navigate. Pierce, who was probably hers so long as she could keep him amused and look better than the canny opportunist's other options. She was playing the "I require a loyal soldier as a direct contrast to Quinn" as hard she could and thus far he was staying in line. Finally she had Broonmark, who would stay in all his bloody facelessness no matter what. A weapon, not a friend.

 

It wasn't enough. It wasn't enough, but there was no place she could find more.

 

What about Wynston's claims? Kaliyo, lost? He had given Ruth his sob story before he had heard hers, but surely he had known enough at the start to guess that 'lover went wrong, how saddening and difficult this is' would be a sound angle of attack.

 

His employers. Intelligence meant Baras; no matter how much she wanted to think otherwise, every Intelligence employee she had identified on Corellia was Baras's. Wynston had consistently expressed distaste for tyrannical Sith since the day she'd met him, but a man could express distaste for a lot of things he had no problem serving. And Wynston favored a strong Empire, too. Practicality, victory. Baras's song.

 

He was so much the same as the last one. Even the differences were calculated. She briefly, bitterly wondered if Wynston had come cheaper than Quinn because he was just an alien. A second attack at a discount must've been an easy decision for Baras. She herself had tried buying people with kindness, but that currency had failed; better to just stop him. Stop them all.

 

She layered her robe over her slip and returned to her quarters, taking one of the lightsabers from the shelf nearest the door as she did so. Wynston had spent enough of his life taunting Sith one way or another; she thought he would be satisfied to die at a Sith's hand. Either that or very surprised. Coming to her this directly really did mark him as the soul of arrogance. Well, it would be nice to surprise the other person for a change.

 

She stood in silence, letting her eyes adapt to the darkness. Wynston was curled up on the warm patch of the bed where she had been lying. Just sleeping.

 

He doesn't even think you're a threat.

 

His hair was tousled beyond all reason, which was her doing. She could just barely make out the shape of his lips, relaxed for once with neither the stiffness of his business demeanor nor the smile he gave so easily to her.

 

His smiles mean nothing. His kindnesses mean nothing. Everything he has ever said to you, it means nothing, except for this: He said 'You know what I am.'

 

She could crush him right now and he couldn't stop her. But then, she had always been taught that having power over people gave her the responsibility not to abuse it. She had the prerogative and the ability to break this man; that didn't make it right to do so.

 

You know what happened to the person who gave you those lessons? He was murdered. This is self-defense. This is what your life as Sith is to be.

 

She had never spilled blood in her own home before, and never someone she felt like this about.

 

What you feel when you look at him, it means nothing. It isn't worth dying for. The terms have changed, girl; learn that, and let Baras know you've learned it. Send his latest gift back to him in pieces. That's the game.

 

That was disgusting. Both sick and wrong.

 

Do you truly believe these people wouldn't do the same to you?

 

She didn't want to believe it.

 

Stop hoping.

 

"Ruth," Wynston said in a low level voice. He didn't move. "Will you be coming to bed?"

 

Her heart sank. "How long have you been awake?"

 

He sat up and swung his legs off the bed. "I haven't slept yet tonight."

 

"I see."

 

"You don't have to do it. I'm hoping you don't want to."

 

"Yes, I'm sure you are."

 

"I brought neither an argument nor a weapon for this particular situation, though believe me when I say I've been looking for ways to improvise both since you brought me here. I had no idea it had gotten this bad for you."

 

"Well then, you learned something useful."

 

"You were talking before I woke you up. You said…someone…didn't have to do it. Don't shoot. Just be with you." He looked up at her, red eyes glowing in the darkness. "That's all I'd planned on doing."

 

"You'll talk to Jaesa tomorrow," she warned. "I'll see what she and her insight make of you."

 

"That's fair. I can't worry about talking to her, she seems like a good person."

 

"Her nature isn't in question."

 

"Will you come to bed, Ruth? Or should I leave?"

 

She hesitated.

 

"I would mention option three but I really don't like it. If you're still worried…I can only say I haven't done it yet. And I won't."

 

He had listened, and the dream hadn't ended with a blaster shot this time. Something might come of it. She wanted something painless to come of it. "Let me have tonight?" she forced past a catch in her throat.

 

"It's ours."

 

She crawled into bed beside him, took him in her arms. Maybe. Maybe he meant something, even if she wasn't sure what. "Now I feel a little bad for threatening your life," she said.

 

He laughed wryly. "Hm. It's nothing new for me, darling."

 

"No, I guess it isn't." She ran her fingers through his hair and squeezed him tighter. "I won't be like that. You can sleep this time," she said softly.

 

He kissed her collarbone. "You know? I believe I will."

 

 

 

[iamthehoyden]

Be careful Bright, I have a feeling this SW AU may get moving on you lol. Cause it's really intriguing!

[bright_ephemera]

Be careful Bright, I have a feeling this SW AU may get moving on you lol. Cause it's really intriguing!

 

What worries me is that, once all the cuddly snuggles and affection-saves-all is done, the broader scenario explored in Ruth Means Compassion is going to present real problems. Wynston's tendency to wander off/disappear may be the only thing that saves him once Ruth starts dealing with the boss. I'm really not sure how to handle things once that starts.

 

Not to mention I have no idea how Ruth feels about monogamy and/or expecting her partner to actually be around all the time. Because Wynston's never gonna be reformed into those two things.

[Striges]

Because I’m slow:

 

@ Bright: I like Wynston and Ruth in both pieces. I like Wynston going for honesty and feeling completely out of his depth. Then there’s his reflection that no one could be around Ruth and not like her, not be won over by her attitude.

 

The contrast later, her perspective, that Wynston must have an ulterior motive, well done. There are no coincidences in her world. A very real sense of Sith paranoia. Or rather Imperial paranoia that’s suffused through all the Empire storylines.

 

@ Kabeone: Baras manipulating Marr—nice touch. Again, I really enjoy this AU for all the little details and threads you pick up and change. All the bits from Balmorra and beyond.

 

Everyone jokes about Baras (there’s a Baras version of the Sith code running around that involves cake or pie or both) but the idea that he managed to “get so rotund” with the Dark Side draining him takes that to a whole new level.

 

@Striges, I love the look into Kirya's perspective. Especially the implied disconnect between what Rixik may have intended to impress her with and what she read into the holorecordings.

 

Rixik’s experiences warp his understanding of relationships. When the inevitable awful thing happens, he skips right past the emotional reaction (since it never helps and no one cares) to ‘how do I survive and/or profit from this’. ‘Trust’ functions more like mutually assured destruction. The fact that Kirya didn’t turn on him when her gave her the opportunity means he’s safe. He can trust her. He knew she’d be angry, but figured the leverage made up for it. What he didn’t anticipate was the depth of emotional pain, the ‘he couldn’t be more unlike her if he tried’ sense of betrayal. That’s what Kirya’s stuck on by the end. She wants to believe him, to trust him, but can’t yet. She needs her own proof, and that will take some time.

[bright_ephemera]

Derp, I'm a derpfest and didn't crosspost the week's prompts! Here:

 

Week of 11/22/12

Home Ec - Our ships and everyday living arrangements have to keep running somehow. Maybe a slave or ship's droid handles it all for you; maybe...not so much. How do your characters manage cooking, cleaning, budgeting, ship maintenance, appliance repair, and more?

Do the Math - On a more abstract level, tons of things in life can be reduced to, or perhaps just unhelpfully compared to, the math that rules our worlds. Write about your characters or things in their lives adding, subtracting, dividing, or multiplying. Or do they ever have to integrate? Or deal with binary logic? Or try to keep a limit on their eccentricity? Or handle something that's just...odd? Write about it! (Somewhat off-the-wall, but I hope y'all find something fun to play with in there, not necessarily strictly math-rigorous!)

[kabeone]

Some late Virtues and Sins

 

Remi AU: Knightless

Sloth (SW Ch 3 spoiler)

 

 

Lord Ninka had not moved from her quarters for days. After escaping Lord Draahg’s death trap she decided to lay low, gather information, and plot her revenge against Darth Baras. That was what she told the others; secretly she did not know where to begin dismantling Baras’s vast network of spies. She considered ways to convince the crew to leave, wondering if Baras would kill them despite the assumption that she was dead. She covered her face with a pillow intending to avoid thinking about the problem for another day. Someone knocked on her door, she assumed it was Vette, complaining about boredom or a dessert ration shortage.

 

“Go away.” She said to the door.

 

“My lord?” It was Quinn, she had given him express orders not to bother her until she left her room. Instead he stood at attention outside her quarters.

 

“My lord,” he began when she appeared, “Am I correct in understanding that you plan to challenge Darth Baras as your ultimate goal?”

 

“I plan to kill him, if I can get near him.” She answered tiredly. “Him and anyone else I find working for him.”

 

“I see,” He replied blandly. “May I offer my assistance. I worked for Baras for years, I know something of what he is planning, and I can aid you in discovering and dismantling his network.”

 

She smiled, “I always knew I could count on you, Quinn. Any assistance you can provide would be much appreciated.”

 

He began to recount several starting points but she interrupted him. “Tomorrow.” She said firmly and shut the door on his face.

 

 

 

Charity

 

 

Dromund Kaas

 

“Hey mental case, that floor isn’t going to mop itself.” The lab foreman shoved the dark haired man toward the supply closet. He had been staring at the collection of insects they kept for experiments. Sometimes he would talk to them or listen to them chitter, it was not the Song of the Universe but it made him feel better.

 

Stumbling as he was shoved again he made an effort not to disturb the cages. “I apologize, foreman.” He focused on using the correct personal pronoun. He opened the supply closet and took out the floor cleaning supplies, the job was usually done by droids but part of his therapy was menial labor in an effort to reintegrate him to Imperial society. He liked the buzz of the floor cleaner, it reminded him of the hum of the nest.

 

“Are you singing again?” Another shove sent him into the wall.

 

“We did not mean to.”

 

“We? We?” The large man repeated mocking him, “Who’s we? I don’t see anyone else here.” The foreman grabbed his neck squeezing enough to cut off any response.

 

“I’m here.” An older voice said sternly from behind them. “You will release him.” The foreman turned slowly to be confronted with a small, thin, mostly bald man. His eyes were keen and his expression was stern.

 

“Well now, this is just cozy. The pub and the bug man together. Go back to your lab pub.” The foreman reached out to push the old man, he would not have harmed him, but he had no respect for pubs even genius level scientists, he realized his mistake when the scientist stabbed his hand with a small syringe. The foreman froze instantly.

 

“New cryogenics,” The old man said conversationally as he walked around the frozen foreman. “One tenth the amount freezes ten times as fast. This man is now my assistant and if you ever want to move any of your parts again you will not touch him. I will inform Keeper of what I have done, I’m sure he’ll want to speak with you.” The foreman’s made a cringing sound, no one ever wanted to speak with the new Keeper. The old scientist turned to the dark haired man who watched the exchange timidly.

 

“I’m Doctor Godera, Nasan if you prefer.” He held out his hand.

 

“Vector Hyllus,” he replied unaccustomed to shaking hands but remembering the practice from his years in the Diplomatic Service. “We… I… I was a Killik.”

 

“Ahh, Killiks, I’ve heard of them. Would you like to tell me about them?”

 

“I would.” He replied smiling a little sadly, the old man took his arm kindly and led him into the lab, leaving the frozen foreman to thaw by himself.

 

 

 

 

@bright I really like this new AU (All the Wynston/Ruth AU I can get!) I do find it funny she would kill the agent in her bed that she assumed would try to kill her but could not kill the one in the brig/cargo bay who did.

Edited November 25, 2012 by kabeone

[Striges]

Eek! Dr Godera and charity together? The universe is ending. Vector is so sad and pathetic here. I want to give him a hug. His obsession with insects and the sound of the floor buffer was very in-character given what's happened. And yay for a bully getting what he deserves.

 

Double yay for Quinn being smart for a change and not stupidly loyal.

[bright_ephemera]

kabe, poor Vector...reintegration therapy indeed. I...truly wonder what Godera would find to do with him.

 

 

I'm struggling to name the whole "Wynston didn't play safe and cautious after his class line" thing. The thought of it is straight out of a passage from a favorite book, but it isn't a passage with any specific useful phrases. Well, I'll leave that aside for now and offer two mathematical notions.

 

Do the Math: Associativity. The "Wynston didn't play it cautious post-Kaliyo" continuation. 800 words, one implicit SW spoiler, no specific Agent spoilers.

 

The associative property states that (a+b)+c = a+(b+c). Among three people or groups of people, combining a and b first, then introducing c, should have the same result as combining b and c first, then introducing a. Or it would, anyway, if the operation of meeting people has the associative property.

 

 

 

(a+b)+c

 

Wynston stayed still when he woke. He took a moment to mentally inventory himself – unclothed, not fully rested, sore bruises on his wrists and elsewhere, nothing that would slow him down – his surroundings – comfortable sheets, smell of Ruth, Ruth herself sitting up beside him – and the local sounds. Just her.

 

He sat up and stretched, watching as she cast him a small smile and went to pull out clothes for the day. He just watched while she selected an outfit and took off her slip.

 

She set the slip aside, then stopped and made a face at him. "Having fun?" she said.

 

"You're very pleasant to look at."

 

She frowned, but she didn't bother hiding the messy latticework of scars that stretched across her torso. "You've got an interesting idea of beauty."

 

"Not every square centimeter has to be standardized beautiful."

 

"Oh? What's the minimum prettiness before I get unpleasant to look at?"

 

"Smile."

 

"What?"

 

"This is a critical part of my answer, darling. Smile."

 

She obligingly smiled.

 

He held up his hands in imaginary framing of the resulting look. "There. That surface area would do the trick. Scar up the rest all you like, just don't ever lose that."

 

She actually blushed. "I bet you say that to all the girls," she said quietly.

 

"I don't wish extensive scarring on most of the women I meet, actually. You're special."

 

"I read that more as permission than active wishing…and you're definitely just trying to delay my getting dressed."

 

He smiled. "Maybe."

 

"There's work to do," she said, and got back to dressing. "I'll explain to the crew while you're cleaning up. They may not all be happy, but we'll manage."

 

"Yes. I suppose that, our Voss encounter notwithstanding, I look like a rank newcomer."

 

"Vette at least remembers you from Nar Shaddaa and Alderaan."

 

"She remembers me getting you into the fight that gave you your finest scars there. I'm not sure that'll count in my favor."

 

"She'll listen. They all will." She paused and gave him a more genuine smile. "I was getting into trouble with you before I met any of them. Well, except Vette."

 

"I don't have a problem with them considering me the outsider, but it'll be something to be aware of when you're making assignments."

 

"We'll manage," Ruth repeated. "Go on. Meet me in the holo room when you're done."

 

 

a+(b+c)

 

Ruth and the crew were assembled in the holo room when a freshly washed and combed Wynston emerged from the refresher. Vette was shuffling in just ahead of him.

 

The Twi'lek turned and blinked at him. "Wow," she said. "I really don't know where to start. Nice to see you, probably?"

 

"Good to see you, too, Vette. Still avoiding early mornings?"

 

"Hey. Someone's gotta work the sleeping-in shift."

 

Wynston nodded to Broonmark. "Broonmark." Then Pierce. "Lieutenant."

 

Lieutenant Pierce crossed his arms and eyed him.

 

"Master Wynston," said Jaesa. Her sweet winsome smile hadn't changed since Voss. Which made her unique in this crowd. "Welcome."

 

"Hello, Miss Jaesa. – Lord Jaesa? You're not Lorded yet, are you?"

 

"Not lorded," she smiled.

 

"Well then, Miss Jaesa. I'm to submit to an inspection of some sort. Do I need to do anything?"

 

"Already done," she said.

 

He hadn't felt a thing. That worried him. "All right. Did I pass?"

 

"Both nature and intentions are bright, master. Not just focused. Good."

 

Ruth nodded. She wasn't looking at him; she seemed more interested in appeasing the crew. Fair enough.

 

"That's reassuring," added Wynston. "I would be rather distressed if I turned up evil."

 

"More'n distressed, I promise you," rumbled Pierce.

 

"Anyway," Vette said loudly. "Wynston. Breakfast?"

 

"Sure. After that I'll need to pick up my kit from my ship, Ruth. – My lord." Around her crew he wasn't sure which way to go.

 

"Ruth," she said.

 

"Ruth, then. I was entirely serious when I said I hadn't brought any gear to see you."

 

"We've got blasters to loan," Vette said cheerfully.

 

"Yes? How about pants?"

 

"Okay, maybe you should go to your ship."

 

"I can provide an escort, milord," said Pierce. "Keep things on the up-and-up."

 

"All right," said Ruth. "Do."

 

"Ruth," Wynston said, "can I beg a statement on record that you disapprove of my mysteriously dying on my way through the spaceport?"

 

"Now why would you think that'd happen?" said Pierce.

 

"My highly cultivated spy sense," Wynston said dryly.

 

"Pierce won't start anything," said Ruth. "You're with us now. Pierce…if anything does happen to him, I will require evidence of a reason."

 

"Sure," said Pierce. "All right, Blue. Eat up and then we go."

 

 

 

Do the Math: Intransitivity. The "Wynston didn't play it cautious post-Kaliyo" continuation. 1000 words, nonspecific and mostly made-up Agent hints, indirect SW Act 3 spoiler.

 

The transitive property states that if a=b, and b=c, then a=c. Set in terms of trust: if a trusts b, and b trusts c, the transitive property would imply that a trusts c.

 

Trust does not have the transitive property.

 

 

 

Pierce stayed beside and half a step behind Wynston as they proceeded through the spaceport. Fair enough.

 

Of all Ruth's people, this one was the most dangerous. Broonmark liked shedding blood more, but would obey Ruth's commands to the letter; Jaesa and Vette probably freestyled around the rules more, but had no desire to hurt Wynston; Pierce had no problem enforcing the greater concern at the expense of the lesser rules.

 

"So," said the big man. "What's your game?"

 

"She's the best bet against Baras. And Baras has angered more than one person around here."

 

Pierce snorted. "Try again, Blue."

 

Wynston was quite familiar with that delivery of the nickname, the tone that turned it into a slur. It changed precisely nothing about the situation except to say something about Pierce. "I don't believe I will," Wynston said levelly. "The man has been trying to control Intelligence, to the detriment of our people and our effectiveness, for years, and he's finally succeeded in tearing out a bloody chunk of it; I'll be damned if I let him keep it."

 

"And the Wrath?"

 

"That's between her and me."

 

"Not sure you entirely understand your position here."

 

"I'm not trespassing, am I?" Wynston said mildly.

 

"Ha! No." Pierce quickly cleared the amusement from his face and voice. "But you're not a trusted ally by all our lights. A little fieldwork on Voss proves exactly nothing. A good lay proves the same."

 

"Your oracle seemed satisfied with my intentions."

 

Pierce shrugged. "I'm sure Jaesa thinks she saw something. Seems to me she didn't call the last one that well. So. You're here to help in a personal way, goody for you. 'f you try to tell me it's because you're in love with the Wrath I might just wring your neck."

 

"I'm not in love with her. I'm an operative, not a puppy."

 

"No part of that reduced the chances of me wringing your neck."

 

"I'm an operative who prefers sane employers. At this political level that makes her very nearly the only game in town. I want her to be well and happy, yes, but she understands I have practical reasons. I'm not in this for true love."

 

"This one of those 'she understands because the subject didn't come up so I didn't have to lie about it'?"

 

"Oh, no, I told her outright."

 

"Really. Was that before or after you bedded her?"

 

"After, in fact. She took it pretty well; actually, she said it first."

 

"…Wait, really?"

 

"In so many words."

 

"And that worked?"

 

"Seemed to come easily enough to her. She's been in an odd mood lately, I don't know if you've noticed."

 

"So what would you do if she weren't so happy to see you?"

 

"Sleep in the guest quarters, I imagine. Or get beheaded, depending how not-so-happy we're talking about."

 

"Hm." Pierce let him walk in silence for a few moments. Then: "Don't suppose you brought any of your Intelligence friends in on this?"

 

"Dangerous times. I have one I trust implicitly and I'll call him as soon as I get Ruth's approval. There are others who have a high-level view of the situation and will be very glad to have a high-ranking Sith's sympathy. Knowledge, I can call in easily. Materials and personnel may be more trouble."

 

"In short the officials don't even know you're here."

 

Wynston craned his neck to look Pierce in the eye. "The ones who need to know where I am and what I'm doing know."

 

"So the officials don't even know you're here."

 

"Perceptive of you. So long as I get the results we need, it won't matter. I'll report to them when it's appropriate."

 

"You've got some nerve, Blue."

 

"I'm aware. The Wrath needs people with nerve. You're impressive so far, but there's only one of you."

 

They had reached his hangar; Wynston paused at the ramp. "I'll have to ask you to wait outside."

 

Pierce snorted. "Not likely."

 

"Well, it was worth a try. Let's assume you signed the promise-not-to-look-at-classified-things form?"

 

"Not likely," he repeated imperturbably.

 

"As you like." Wynston wasn't in a position to argue. "Come in."

 

He proceeded straight to his quarters. It wasn't like the more sensitive equipment was lying in plain sight, anyway. He grabbed his blaster pistol, med kit, a couple of changes of clothes, a small case of more specialized tech. Pierce didn't bother asking. Wynston enjoyed not explaining.

 

After a second's thought, he took his disused but carefully maintained blaster rifle. Just in case.

 

He settled his bag strap over his shoulder and faced Pierce. "Just a question. Isn't there anything we can do about him?"

 

"Nah. She told me and Broonmark to lay off breaking things."

 

"Sod breaking things. Did she explicitly forbid killing?"

 

Pierce crossed his arms. "Yes. How thick do you think I am?"

 

"Just checking." Wynston passed Pierce to head out of the ship. "You seem bright enough thus far, but I'm not taking anything for granted."

 

"Nice," Pierce said dryly. "Appreciate the flattery in general, but if this is the win-me-over session, you're not getting off that easy."

 

Fine. If he wanted to keep things unfriendly for now, Wynston could work with that. So long as the man was solid he didn't have to be cozy. "Lieutenant, apart from a very short acquaintance on Voss I don't know you. I only know you came to her after Baras started in on her, you're very good at your job, you've played nice so far, you're one of the coolest killers she knows, you've considered how to neutralize everyone on that ship, I'm quite sure you'll do it if you think it's necessary, and even though she trusts you, sometimes she trusts things that aren't good for her. Need I go on?"

 

Pierce was quiet for a moment. Then he growled "I wouldn't turn against her."

 

"Nor would I. She's special. If you know that, there's hope for you. I want to work with you, Pierce, because I really am inclined to believe you're one of hers and we need every reliable hand we can get. If you want to keep an eye on me while we're at it, do so. It should put us just about even."

 

Pierce paused in the doorway that led back into the concourse. "Fine. Wynston. Are we finished here?"

 

"Yes. Let's go."

 

 

 

Edited November 25, 2012 by bright_ephemera

[kabeone]

@bright I love the math prompts, translating those properties to something like trust is a very neat concept.

 

Late prompt for Restraint I realized after the fact that the presence of Watcher X it might have fit the math prompt as well.

 

Remi AU: Knightless - Virtues Restraint (or Math Prompt Ohm's Law I = V/R )

IA Chapter 2 spoilers kind of.

 

 

 

Scourge had not contacted Coremi since warning her of the attack on Belsavis. He felt the eyes of the Emperor’s minions on him. Weeks turned to months and still he waited. Finally, long after the Emperor left on his pilgrimage, the Hand sent him to Belsavis to investigate Executor Krannus’s apparent failure. He had not seen her in all that time, but he had been unable to forget the way she appeared in the Force.

 

He watched her meditate on a raised platform, noting how she had changed, she was stronger, and the Force flowed through her without spiking or fading. Wires ran from the platform to metal cuffs around her wrists, the air hummed with the electricity running through her, but her face was serene, her eyes were closed, and if she felt pain she did not show it. He saw her and sensed her, a locus of light as the Force flowed through her, threads of darkness danced and swirled around her. It was beautiful, she was beautiful, and it had been centuries since had been able to appreciate beauty. Before he could wonder at what he was seeing and feeling, the man beside him spoke.

 

“What do you think of our experiment?” Watcher X interrupted his reverie while adjusting the dial to the next setting, the increased voltage had no outward effect but the displays monitoring her vitals spiked and spun.

 

“What is its purpose?”

 

“Her connection to the Force is flawed, or so she said. These experiments test the points at which her connection fails and surges. She has used a number of meditation techniques to strengthen her control and connection.” Scourge watched the man ignore her as a person in favor of the stream of numbers the experiment produced.

 

“It takes only ten milliamps of current across the heart to kill a human woman of her size. She is channeling the Force to increase her body’s resistance.”

 

“Why is she unclothed?”

 

The former watcher looked mildly annoyed at what he considered to be an irrelevant question. “She caught fire during the first experiment. As the voltage increases and is resisted the power dissipated takes the form of heat.” A monitor beeped. “Do you see that spike? Her body temperature has risen to the point where she has begun to sweat. This lowers her body’s natural resistance so she must increase her use of the Force. She could create a shield to protect herself but she wanted to learn fine control. She’s quite good her heart’s only stopped once so far.”

 

The only reason Scourge did not kill the man before him was that he did not know how to shut off the machine. “I see.” He clenched his jaw to keep from saying more.

 

“This research is merely secondary to the first problem she brought me, how to resist mind control.” Watcher X studied him with the same dispassionate scrutiny. “At first, I thought she wanted to defend herself from you. Obviously that isn’t the case.”

 

“Obviously.” Scourge narrowed his eyes. “Did you find a solution?”

 

“Yes and no. The method I have developed is proof against outside influence, but Force persuasion does not work the same way. In our tests, a person subjected to Force persuasion behaved as if the command came from within. If she seeks to guard herself against mind control by a Force user, she may need to give complete control of herself to someone else.”

 

“Meaning what?”

 

“She would be a slave, a thrall, incapable of disobeying assuming her body didn’t shut down entirely. I asked her if there was anyone whom she would trust so completely and she said you.” He peered at the large Sith, “Curious choice.” He turned back to his console and flipped several switches, the sounds of a large generator powering down echoed through the room. He handed Scourge a vial and a datachip.

 

“Her body would shut down?” He prompted accepting the datachip but taking the vial reluctantly.

 

The man leveled a cold stare at him, “All of my experiments resulted in death within a few hours.” He grabbed the robe that hung over the railing next to him along with a medkit and handed both to him. “My research is complete, the results are on that datachip along with instructions for the serum.” He stood and backed away from the towering Sith, Scourge did not follow except with his eyes, within moments the man was gone.

 

Scourge moved to help Coremi, she was still kneeling, head bowed almost touching the floor. He sensed her using Force to replenish her energy. He draped the robe over her shoulders and knelt beside her.

 

“Sith,” she said sitting up slightly while pulling the robe on, “I thought I sensed you. Finally managed to get away?”

 

“I was sent to investigate the failure of one of my master’s agents.” He replied noticing the burns trailing up her arm. He opened the medkit and applied kolto strips to the worst of her wounds. “Remarkably a single Jedi attacked Krannus and his agents. She disarmed his explosives and saved the Republic’s secret prison operation.”

 

“Amazing, a Jedi, they just ruin everything don’t they?” She grinned at him, her smile faded as she scanned the room. “Where’s Watcher X?” Her eyes widened, “You didn’t…”

 

“No,” he answered, annoyed that she would worry about the man. “But he is gone.”

 

“Oh,” she sounded disappointed, “I wanted to thank him.” Then she shrugged chuckling a little, “I guess he wouldn’t have cared, he reminds me of you. Did he give you the serum?”

 

“He did.” Scourge scowled at both the question and the comparison.

 

She held out her arm silently.

 

“You know the risks?”

 

“We don’t really have a choice.”

 

“You told him you would trust me.” He wanted to know if she had meant it.

 

“Well, who else have I got?” she tried to make it a joke but it fell flat and the silence stretched between them. She held out her arm again.

 

Still he hesitated. “You could die.” His voice was less than a whisper.

 

She reached out as if to touch his face but after a moment’s hesitation took the vial from him instead. “If I fail everything dies.” She injected the contents into her arm. “We don’t know how much time we have and the serum takes weeks to activate.” She shuddered as the solution immediately began affecting her nervous system.

 

“Are you ready to come back with me or did you need more time?” Scourge asked helping her to her feet and holding her steady as she swayed from fatigue and reaction. She pulled the robe around herself tightly before stepping away. He let his hands drop to his sides awkwardly as the question hung in the air. They both remembered the reason she left.

 

She rubbed the injection site of the serum and forced a smile. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, Sith. Take me home.”

 

 

 

Edited November 26, 2012 by kabeone

[bright_ephemera]

Oh, Watcher X. You really would like that opportunity, wouldn't you? Hmm, and a single Jedi is out there, but she's lacking some qualifications for future actions...

 

 

This prompt has unleashed a monster within me. Conceptualizing the world in these terms is my entire career.

So, Do the Math: Local Minimum.

 

The local minimum of a function occurs when it bottoms out someplace; it's higher right before and it's higher right after. However, the derivative (rate of change) at precisely that point is always zero: for one moment in time it looks like nothing is changing at all.

 

This is an alternate telling…and alternate supporting cast, obviously, with Wynston's presence…of a scene directly out of RMC. 1100 words, spoiler for a Sith Warrior quest on Corellia.

 

 

 

July, 12 ATC – two weeks before the confirmation of the Wrath

 

Corellia

 

There were seven Jedi in the room along with a scattering of Republic guards. Everyone turned when Ruth entered. She took off her mask and signaled for Jaesa, Pierce, and Wynston to stay by the doorway while she walked a little ways in and permitted the Jedi to surround her.

 

"What is this?" asked one of the Jedi, his clothes and bearing suggesting leadership of some degree. "Sith, stop where you are. You're badly outnumbered."

 

She spoke to the room in general. "Darth Baras's spy – identify yourself so you don't die with these Jedi."

 

"Are you suggesting that one of us is Sith?" said the Jedi leader.

 

"A pathetic trick," said another Jedi. "She's in over her head, and so she makes a desperate play to destabilize us."

 

Ruth had intelligence that one of Baras's deep cover agents was such a Jedi and was leading this party into a trap designed to pit the Jedi against some of Baras's Imperial enemies. The agent's entire purpose seemed to be tipping off and leading the Jedi like that: practically Baras's personal strike force against his own rivals. That had to go as part of Ruth's bid to cut his support before striking at him. "Last chance, my fellow Sith. Speak now or die with your pretend brethren."

 

"Hold. I must speak." A middle-aged brunette stepped forward and bowed slightly to Ruth. "You're becoming a legend among us, my friend. I am thankful you've given me a chance to save myself."

 

The Jedi leader struggled for words. "Master Injaye…?"

 

Injaye smiled. "All these years, right under your nose. I was to lead you to your deaths today. Instead I'll watch my new friend destroy you."

 

Ruth's voice transformed, suddenly thick with something Wynston didn't recognize. "You really won't, traitor. Did you think I was here to save you?" Ruth drew her saber; a murmur ran around the room, but the Jedi did not move to intercept. "You chose the wrong master. I'll be sure to let him know you failed."

 

Too late Inyaje went for her weapon. Ruth struck her down before she could raise a defense.

 

Wynston prepped his rifle but held steady while the Jedi leader spoke. "She was leading us into a suicide mission, then. We'd be walking to our deaths if not for you."

 

"Spare me your gratitude," she said. "It sickens me you couldn't see her for what she was. Have you Jedi ever gotten anything right?"

 

"I think it would be best for us to part in peace. Now," said the leader.

 

"We should arrest her," said another. "Whether she saved us or not, she's a Sith Lord, and no friend of ours."

 

One Jedi raised his saber. Ruth instantly charged.

 

"Master, no!" shouted Jaesa, starting forward.

 

Pierce barred her path with one arm. "Let her go," he said quietly.

 

Some Jedi were standing back, Force throwing things in Ruth's direction. Wynston aimed. He fired.

 

Jaesa still talked. "But they aren't–"

 

"She finally figured out we're at war," said Pierce. "And she needs to fight. Let her go."

 

Wynston aimed. He fired. Ruth's frenzy tugged at his attention. He had no problem with her killing Jedi, but it wasn't like her to do so without any kind of negotiation. Without finesse, or precision, or mercy. Darkness visibly curled around her as she battered down the defenses of her opponents and dealt savagely powerful killing blows. The ugly pained fury he knew from lesser Sith's expressions looked utterly out of place on her face.

 

She could have negotiated. They could have been useful against common enemies. She didn't have to make it slaughter.

 

The situation being what it was, Wynston aimed. He fired.

 

"Go on in, Jaesa," said Pierce, taking a shot himself. "Wynston and I will clean up the edges, then go watch the perimeter. You let her do what she needs after."

 

Jaesa nodded and pushed into a rapid sprint toward the battle. Wynston glared at Pierce. "Are you out of your mind? Ruth's in pain, I'm not leaving her like this."

 

Pierce shrugged, then took aim and picked off one of the Jedi. "She gets the job done. And unless you've got some way to halt lightsaber hits, you're not going in there 'til she's calmed down. Come out with me. We'll watch the entrance. Jaesa will mind things here. Standard."

 

Wynston aimed and took the next opportune target to separate itself from the melee. Large in Wynston's sights, a snarling Ruth beheaded one of her opponents.

 

A few moments and a few shots later, Pierce grunted. "That's all we'll get clean shots at. Come on."

 

Wynston reluctantly followed Pierce out to the lobby. The big man took up watch behind the counter, eyeing the doors and stairways. Wynston stood beside him.

 

Pierce threw him a bored look. "She's been like this, if you're wondering," he said. "Ever since. Maybe a little wilder each day, hard to tell."

 

"That can't continue."

 

"Is what it is. She's stronger than ever. Finest Sith I ever saw."

 

"I didn't come here for a Sith! I–" He got a hold of himself and shut up. He had come here for a Sith. That was the whole of his defensible reasons.

 

Pierce gave him a long hard look, then grinned darkly. "Don't know what you're after, but you won't find it here any more. You want your ally against Darth Baras, you've got her, and when she gets close enough to strike it'll splatter for parsecs. Just enjoy the show."

 

A show. He thought this was going to be a show. "I've seen her be reasonable. More reasonable than that. It's safer for all of us if she chooses to be."

 

"Sure. Good luck with that."

 

He had only had one night to try so far. Surely a little time, a little more safety, would bring her back out of hiding. Out of that darkness. Actual, physical darkness. Around her. She was supposed to be hope for the Sith and the Empire and herself. Not this.

 

It took several minutes more for Ruth and Jaesa to emerge from the building. Jaesa looked miserable. Ruth looked red-eyed and weary.

 

She added shame and something like dread to that expression when she looked at him. "This is how it is now," she said quietly. "No questions."

 

"There are questions this time," he said.

 

Her shoulders slumped. She didn't otherwise answer.

 

"Tell me what I can do."

 

"What you can do? Don't ask. Failing that, just come with me." She slid her mask back on. "We can talk tonight." She moved on past him.

 

Jaesa reached out to squeeze Wynston's hand on the way by. She smiled in an anxious way that was probably meant to be encouraging. He couldn't summon anything in return.

 

 

 

Do the Math: Hysteresis.

 

Hysteresis describes the dependency of a system on, not only what's going on now, but what has happened in the past. Some systems can be fully described, and their next step predicted, by the snapshot of their status and their inputs right this moment. Others can't be entirely predicted unless you also know something about its state before this moment.

 

1100 words, Warrior Act 3 spoilers.

 

 

 

After work Ruth went straight to her quarters. She felt more than heard Wynston behind her. Damn him. He tried to hide it, but with the heightened sensitivity of her barely-harnessed turmoil she could feel the disgust in him. She walked well into her room and didn't turn around. "She had it coming," she said. "From a practical standpoint, they all did."

 

"Practical?" he said. His voice was very calm. "Look at me. Please." He didn't say anything else, and so, heavy with dread, she turned around. "That was butchery, Ruth."

 

You don't understand. The Jedi were fools, all fools, they never saw the traitor in their midst and they deserve to die for that failure. "It's how I fight now," she said. "I derive quite a lot of power from anger. More than anything I've ever felt. It works."

 

"I remember you being quite effective the other way."

 

You remember a child. "You don't know what I'm up against now."

 

"If you take this strength, there's a cost. Maybe no one else cares. I do think some of your friends do. But say that no one else cares. You're still hurting yourself."

 

I still don't know what to do with you. Is this the game? Try to break my will to fight with a kindness I didn't expect? Credit where credit's due, I would never have thought of that. "That doesn't matter for the Wrath. That's all I've got time for."

 

"Does it matter for the people close to you? I realize this anger helps you stop thinking. Perhaps that's a comfort." He pushed up his sleeves to show a set of dark purple bruises on his wrists. "I should count myself lucky this is all you did when you were trying not to think last night."

 

Guilt lanced through all the conflicting things she felt toward him. "Stars. Wynston, you should've put kolto on those."

 

"I'm finding the warning more useful."

 

No. Don't use that against me. "You don't have to warn yourself against me."

 

"If these weren't here I might agree."

 

"I wouldn't do more than that to you!" Not unless I had to.

 

"I don't know what you would and wouldn't do anymore, darling." He was still so terribly calm. "I'm yours either way, at least until the job's done, but if today is any indication you've become more dangerous than I think you know."

 

"Don't do this. I can't take it, not from you."

 

"Don't do what?" When he approached her, the desire to keep him near won out over the defensive impulses. He put his arms around her, and the scent and warmth of his closeness was both comforting and painful. She turned her head to avoid looking at him; he just whispered in her ear instead. "Don't care for you? Don't want you to be happy and whole? There are some orders I can't follow."

 

She sobbed in spite of herself. "Part of me still doesn't believe a word you say."

 

"Well." He stroked her back and whispered slowly. "Some truths stand on their own. Your hair is brown. Your skin is pale. You're in pain. And you can heal."

 

Her resolve was breaking whether she wanted it to or not. "No. You don't understand. My father was the healer. Quinn, in his way, was a healer. One is dead and the other's a traitor. I'm not the one who fixes things. I never was."

 

"You survive. You protect. If you want to, at least." He stroked the fine hair at the nape of her neck. "If you don't, darling, then I'm yours until the job is done, and after that I won't watch you do this." He kissed her hair. "But you have friends either way. You're not alone, I promise you."

 

She didn't resist when he led her to the bed and settled behind her, his body molding to her, his arms securely around her waist. "Can I ask you something?" he said.

 

She wiped her eyes, a pointless gesture against the flow of tears. "If you must."

 

"I don't know what you focused on before. What it was that made you move the way you did, let you close combat with that precision. Without crying. Is it still there somewhere?"

 

"After what happened? I don't know."

 

"All right."

 

"Is it really something you expect me to pick up again?" If you are here to wreck my morale, recommending a second viable combat technique the moment you ruin my taste for the other one is…kind of stupid.

 

"It'd be good."

 

She lay there, trying to not cry, until her stomach growled. Loudly. Wynston immediately squeezed her and let her go. "I'll get you something," he said, jumped out of bed, tucked her in, and was gone.

 

Hm. I'm going to bet he was hungry. It was such an ordinary thought. She found herself smiling.

 

He came back a few minutes later with a tray of food. "Jaesa and Vette say hello," he reported. "The lieutenant says harrumph, but I think it was in a good way."

 

She found that she actually did have an appetite, and so she cleared the tray while he settled behind her again and provided quiet warmth. Then she rested in silence again.

 

Eventually she was moved to speak. "You're being very nice," she said suspiciously.

 

"I am."

 

"You seem to have put a lot of thought into the details of being very nice." You're manipulating me and I sort of like it and I hate that. After the last one, I hate that.

 

"I do have some experience with helping strong, competent people through rough spots." He sounded a little amused. "It may not be obvious from our shared history, but my skill set extends well beyond killing and lovemaking. The most important thing I can do for you is to make sure you're in a position to handle matters yourself."

 

"Mm." Well, maybe I don't hate it that much. She settled her hands on his wrists and squeezed affectionately. To her horror, he gasped. She jerked her hands away from the bruised finger marks. "Please," she said. "Let me get something for that."

 

He tightened his arms around her. "No, darling. Everything you do matters. I'm not wiping this one out."

 

"What happened to being supportive?"

 

"I don't hate you for it. But everything you do matters." He kissed her neck. "Even when you're having a hard time."

 

She turned to press her forehead to the pillow. After this kindness she really did hate having hurt him. "So why are you here if I'm so disgusting?"

 

"Well, one, I've repeatedly mentioned that there's a job to do. Two, I don't find other people's wounds inherently disgusting. And three, I do believe in you. I've seen malice, Ruth. And cruelty, and brutality, and what for lack of a better term I'm forced to call evil. Your anger isn't that. And if you're willing to try, you'll never be that." He let a few moments pass. "Rest now."

 

But she stayed awake for a long time.

 

 

 

 

Notes:

 

 

Aaaand Wynston's back on "being heroic at somebody else means I don't have to let anyone look at me"! Surprised? I'm not. Well, he's got a job to do, and that should keep him happy.

 

Whether he realizes it or not, he's not entirely unscathed post-Kaliyo. Of late he has no problem carrying around a large, crude, and socially-unpleasant rifle.

 

Ruth is abusive when she's badly upset. This is not the first time this behavior has appeared, and it bugs me, but it's very characteristic of her.

 

Meanwhile, Jaesa isn't quite assertive enough to give her this sort of talk; Vette's not nuanced enough; Pierce and Broonmark don't think there's any problem.

 

For those keeping score at home, this applies RMC canon right up until mid-late Corellia; thus Ruth's father was killed by Draahg 2.0 while Ruth was en route to Corellia.

 

 

Edited November 26, 2012 by bright_ephemera

[bright_ephemera]

Double post. I think I'll call this AU Lodestone. It's predicated on one moment of Wynston going where he's drawn without regard for the charts.

[iamthehoyden]

Kabe

Poor Vector How on earth did he end up there?

 

Also, I love how Coremi puts Scourge just slightly off his stride. The amount of trust she's putting in him is...whew.

 

Bright

"...That surface area would do the trick. Scar up the rest all you like, just don't ever lose that."

Words. For this. I...mmmph..

 

Wynston and Pierce's truce is interesting. I could see them working together well.

Wynston's confrontation of Ruth and what she's become, though... <3 Both in the fact that no one else would have done it and how he went about it - completely point blank, but not harsh. If he'd cared a little less it would have been cold, and yet it wasn't. Good stuff.

 

I think the thing I'm wondering about is how this one change will affect the Ruth storyline going forward. Does this Lodestone (I like the name btw) story wrap back around and change practically nothing in the end, or push everything in a different direction? Then, again, I've always been fascinated by the butterfly effect. Looking forward to seeing how it goes!

[iamthehoyden]

Home Ec (All these math concepts are reminding me how not fun math is for me, lol. Give me science and history for 1000 please )

 

Snack Run

Ukaita and Scourge

jk spoilers (and some early Act 3 IA spoilers)

Background:

AU in which Scourge's vision featured the fabulous Chiss Sith, Ukaita, defeating the terror from...wait, wrong op...the anicent emperor of the Sith! And so our intrepid heroes must band together to protect All Life In the Galaxy and possibly snatch the throne itself from the waiting horde of people in bad purple make-up.

 

"Where ya off to?" Ukaita asked as Scourge walked past where she sat, feet up on the table, reading a datapad. She admired the fit of the pants he was wearing. No cape to block her view for once. She grinned up at the Sith who glanced at her.

 

"I am meeting with a contact in Intelligence," he said, eyeing her suspiciously before heading for the exit.

 

"I thought they were disbanded," she said, setting the datapad down and following him.

 

He snorted, "Intelligence officers never stop being Intelligence officers. The knowledge of power and secrets in the Empire would make them a valuable ally."

 

"And if they don't want to join with us?

 

"Then they are a liability." He shrugged.

 

"While you're in Voss-Ka could you pick up some more of those cookies? The ones with the cute pink flower icing? They were yummy. Thanks, hun!" She kissed him briefly before heading back to her datapad - there was a steamy scene coming up that was going to be fabulous.

 

"I am not your errand boy," Scourge growled after her.

 

"And a couple flasks of that hot tea they make. Thanks!!"

 

"Ukaita...."

 

"Oh, here," she said, scribbling a few more items down, "might as well pick up the rest of the groceries while you're on planet." She bounced down the hall and tucked the list in his back pocket, patting his behind while she grinned up at him. Hm, interesting, he was seething. "Don't forget the cookies."

 

She could feel his eyes glaring at her and hear muttering under his breath as she made her back around to the central room in the ship. She settled back into her seat and grinned as the grumbling was finally cut off by the sound of the door sliding shut. Cookies, tea, a good book, and an errand boy with a great a**. The day was looking pretty good.

 

Author's Note:

She's such a brat, lol.

 

[Striges]

@ Bright: So many maths! Looking at relationships in terms of mathematical properties is really interesting. I enjoyed all four of your "basic properties" pieces, both as stories and as illustrations of the appropriate properties with people instead of numbers. Relationships instead of functions. Where are the Gree when we need them?

 

@ Iamthehoyden: Ukaita is so naughty! I know I've said this before. This...this is what happens when you tell the Chosen One that they're the Chosen One. They sit on the sofa eating cookies, irritating the crap out of everyone around them until it's time to Become the Hero. Very funny.

 

@ Kabeone: Besides reiterating that I really really like this AU, I loved the idea of electrical resistance as a simple focusing exercise for Coremi to refine her connection with the Force. Also: you are the first person to find a benevolent use for our favorite serum. Congratulations are in order.

[kabeone]

@iamthehoyden hahaha, Ukaita is the best <3. Errand boys with great assets FTW.

 

As to what happened to Vector I wrote a drabble that explains how he ended up that way here it's the Alderaan one.

 

@bright I was so sad at the canon scene you used for Hysteresis I had hoped Wynston's presence would bring a better outcome but it made sense that he wouldn't know what she was like now and that there would be nothing he could do to stop her. Believing that the Jedi deserved to die because they couldn't see the traitor in their midst UGH (so sad!), and I really love how Wynston refuses to treat his bruises to remind them both of what she's becoming.

 

@Striges Thanks! I think part of the reason I wrote this universe was to make something good out of one of the worst experiences in the game (that darn serum!).

 

Remi AU: Knightless

A short thing!

 

Home Ec

 

 

Dromund Kaas

 

Coremi hummed to herself cheerfully as she cooked breakfast. Real eggs, toast, and sausage. None of it stolen or spoiled, and no one shooting at her, yet. They lived on an Imperial planet of eternal stormy night surrounded by Sith and yet it was the closest to peace she had ever experienced. She placed a loaded plate in front of Scourge taking a smaller serving for herself. She pulled up her latest self-assigned research project on a datapad expecting to eat in silence.

 

“You cook well.” Scourge remarked. He had agreed to a trial of cooking for themselves, neither of them enjoyed the scrutiny that public settings brought on both of them.

 

She looked up from her datapad, “How can you tell? I thought you couldn’t taste anything.”

 

“You cook efficiently, without waste. The meal is cooked thoroughly but not burned, the texture is not rubbery or runny, and you seem to enjoy it well enough.” He raised an eye ridge inviting comment.

 

She snorted at his observations but answered his unspoken question. “My mother made me learn so that when the war was over I could find a husband.” She rolled her eyes. “I had to have something to help me catch a man.”

 

“Was that your goal? To become someone’s wife?” he asked displaying none of his usual contempt only curiosity.

 

She shrugged pushing her food around her plate, “It was a joke between us. Neither of us really thought we’d live to see a free Balmorra.”

 

“And now you have.”

 

“Yeah,” she thought of her mother and the friends she had lost, “I guess so. Anyway, used up scrawny assassins aren’t really wife material, most of the men I knew on Balmorra wouldn't want someone like me.” The corners of her mouth turned down, she hid the expression turning back to her plate concentrating on the mechanical act of chewing.

 

He frowned as he studied her, still seeing the aura of power she radiated to anyone who knew how to look. He knew her face without looking, her image etched indelibly in his mind’s eye, red hair, fair skin, amber eyes. He stood taking his plate to the sink for the cleaning droid to attend to.

 

She had turned back to her datapad but she only stared at its surface, her mind parsecs away. He paused on his way out the door. “The men who could not see your beauty were not worthy of your regard.”

 

She gaped at his back not knowing what to say and continued to stare long after he was gone. Finally, she looked down at her half eaten meal. “Huh,” she muttered to herself, “I guess the cooking actually works.”

 

 

 

Edited November 28, 2012 by kabeone

[iamthehoyden]

As to what happened to Vector I wrote a drabble that explains how he ended up that way here it's the Alderaan one.

Oh that's right! jk spoilers

Because Remi wasn't there to stop the Death Mark laser.

It's all coming back to me now

 

Glad you guys are enjoying Ukaita's antics. I don't think I've ever written such a bratty main character, lol.