#au fynta
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One more, because they really are all good words. PROTECT
[Wooo, this is one of a bunch of prompts that I've sat on for a good long while, and the 'must write something' urge hit me hard enough tonight to get it out! I never actually used the word directly here but the sentiment is definitely what drove me to put this together. Based on several conversations with @cinlat musing over the SIS/Republic side of things in the werewolf au, here's Crow and Fynta having a nice little chat post his Imperial defection. >.>]
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“Fynta. Hey. Hey is that you?”
“Crow!?” Fynta’s voice, a little rough with static through the hacked comm, sounded even more incredulous than he’d been expecting. But that quickly switched to pure acid as she went on. “Crow, what the kriff do you think you’re doing, you son of a-”
“No time for pleasantries. Please. Listen to me.”
“Like hell I’m going to give you the time of day, traitor. How about you drop by HQ and tell me what you think I need to hear from behind bars?”
He could hear the snarl in her tone, and even though he understood the place of hurt it came from, there was nothing she could say that would make him double back on his choices. He was also reasonably sure that it was that hurt that would have her hang up on him sooner than any of the ferocious anger she clung to, so he decided to get to the point before she did. “Did you know they built a homing device into me?”
Fynta’s momentary silence was telling. When she spoke again, her tone was heavily guarded. “A what?”
“Homing device. Return to sender. Override of my own damned body. Did you know that? That the SIS could flip a switch and my wings would fly me straight to ‘em if I just happened to come into range…”
Fynta snorted. “Sounds like a good insurance policy to me. So what, now you get to live the rest of your life just hoping you never drift in range of an SIS signal tower? Have fun with that. Look forward to seeing you again.”
“Fynta.”
“C’mon. Try ‘Captain’. Just once, once ever. Surely it won’t burn a hole through your tongue now that it doesn’t mean anything to you any more.”
“Fynta. Please.”
“Or was it just me?” Her tone continued to be goading, sneering, making Crow wonder if there wasn’t some part of her that wanted to hang onto any sort of conversation with him, even if it was through antagonistic stabs. Like she couldn’t dare let the conversation veer into a place that reminded her of the times they’d actually enjoyed one another’s company, but couldn’t quite bring herself to end it. “Didn’t ever like the way I talked about your pretty little ex, did you? Made you never want to show me even an inch of respect…”
Crow pressed his fingers into his forehead. “Fynta stop. The homing device is coming back to you. Dunno where exactly, but it’ll be soon, and I ain’t attached to it.”
He was gratified to hear silence from Fynta as she chewed on his words. “And you’d be telling me this exactly why?”
Crow puffed out a slow breath. “I’ll be slaughtered if they ever find out about this conversation.” Well, not me specifically. It’s Thirteen who’ll be ground up for mince meat on account of my little transgression, but there’s no kriffing way I’m telling you that. “It’s not like Intel was gonna find that tech and leave it on me. They stuck it on a probe droid. Rigged to the antennae with detonite. Whoever winds up dealing with it is gonna wind up disintegrated.”
There was a fractional pause, and Fynta’s tone was cold. “And I’m supposed to believe you’re risking Intel crashing down on you to let me know this. How do I know this isn’t some Intelligence gig, and they’re feeding you every word you tell me?”
It was Crow’s turn to pause, and consider the fact that it was entirely possible that Fynta never would trust another word to come out of his mouth for the rest of his life. He wasn’t sure how to describe the working relationship they’d had, at odds with one another as much as they’d been in sync, and yet undeniably in it together. But whatever it had been, he’d betrayed it completely.
He didn’t regret it, but a heavy sigh filled the silence before he spoke. “The Republic might be a lesser of two evils, but the SIS sure as hell ain’t what’s keepin’ it that way. I don’t give a flying feth about ninety-nine per cent of your colleagues. But who d’you reckon is the most likely person they’re gonna send out to retrieve what they figure is ‘me’? Who knows my specs better than anyone, and I’d go as far as to include me in that? Who d’you think would leap at the chance…?”
“Rivet,” Fynta said, her tone softening against her best efforts otherwise.
“Yeah. Rivet.” Crow’s tone was uncharacteristically solemn. The team’s mechanic, engineer, programmer, technician… name it, and she could work with it. Easily as important as a medic, as far as the team’s physical fitness was concerned, and far moreso in terms of their functional capacity as elite, specialised agents. A bright eyed squib with more optimism than one could ever expect to fit into such a diminutive body, Rivet had a knack with cybernetics that was well beyond uncanny. She and Crow had gotten on like a house on fire.
“Broke her heart when she realised you weren’t coming back.”
“She deserves better.”
“Not too late for you to come try to make good with her for never saying goodbye. If any of us has it in them to forgive you-”
“Nah, I mean she still deserves better. Even now. Better ‘n the life the SIS lets her have. Definitely better than walking head first into an Intel trap. All the rest of us might’ve been lost causes when we signed up, but not her. You see she’s taken care of, Fynta.”
Crow ended the call before he’d even voiced the final syllable. He’d done enough.
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Ghosts That Linger
Endwalker Spoilers Below the Cut
Word Count: 2505
Even in a world ravaged by blasphemies, the people of Eorzea found the time for a proper spectacle. Fynta stood in the back of the crowd that lined the harbors of Old Sharlayan. She watched the grieving faces of strangers and allies. Masses filled the courtyard and peered from the decks of ships. She didn’t know how many had come to mourn the vaulted Warrior of Light, but Fynta estimated it was most of what was left of their star.
“She’d ‘ave hated this.” Kirin inhaled through his nose, then let out a shaky breath. His eyes were fixed on the stern visage of a tiny Au Ra woman who’d proven herself to be larger than the gods. He shook his head. “Too many people.”
“Serves her right.” Fynta didn’t glance at her long-time friend when he looked at her. She allowed herself a respectful smile, then slid her gaze to meet his. “She shouldn’t have been so godsamned heroic.”
Kirin snorted, but there was no mirth in the sound. If not for him, Fynta wouldn’t have come. She hated memorials and the weeping of people who had nothing better to do. Their star had lost a hero, and there were too many people present to allow the ones who truly grieved a chance to do so.
True, Kirin and the Scions had been given time with Isashi's body. Fynta thought back to their first meeting in the pugilist’s guild. How she’d used her larger size and strength to overpower the smaller woman. Or, so she’d thought. It had taken a year to convince Isashi to teach Fynta the strike that had laid her out cold. Mostly because the au ra didn’t trust Fynta to use it responsibly. All of that fire and discipline had drained away in those final moments aboard the ship between worlds, leaving Isashi a small, fragile husk with nothing to fill it.
According to Thancred, they’d almost revived her. Isashi’s eyes had fluttered open after her final match with Zenos and she’d spoken. No one had heard what she said, but Fynta bet it had something to do with the miqo’te standing next to her.
“You want to get out of here?” Fynta asked, staring at the platform where Lord Aymeric was no doubt giving a heartfelt speech. Isashi had been a regular fixture in Ishgard during her marriage to Harchefaunt, and she’d befriended many of the Elezen there. The Scions of the Seventh Dawn fanned out behind him, Estinien and G’raha included. Thancred’s keen eyes searched the crowd, but Fynta had positioned herself and Kirin in the shadow of a monolith.
“Soon,” Kirin answered. His ears perked forward, likely picking up on the speech that Fynta couldn’t hear. She nodded and leaned against the stone, searching the crowds for something to occupy her mind.
A red feather caught Fynta’s attention, and she smiled at the gaudy red mage beneath it. No doubt Arya was with him. Fynta was glad that X’rhun had made it. He and Isashi hadn’t dated long, but the worn-thin warrior had found new life during her time with him.
Loud sobs echoed from somewhere behind Fynta, and she didn’t need to turn to know that Hildebrand was mourning the loss of a dear friend too. She’d seen his father earlier, wearing a pair of black, cut-off breeches and a bow tie with little else. All throughout the area, Fynta spied familiar faces. A hulking samurai hovered near the spiky black hair of an eastern lord. The royal crest of the Fortemps family had been engraved into the wood surrounding Isashi’s portrait on the stage. Even the odd tuft of a moogle bounced in and out of view. They had all come to see Isashi into the aetherial sea.
Fynta glanced at Kirin, who had barely spoken since Isashi's body had been lowered from the ship hatch. She had witnessed their final conversation, though that hadn’t been her intent. Kirin had gathered the courage to kiss Isashi, who’d looked more annoyed about his piss-poor timing than the act itself. Isashi had promised to revisit the topic upon her return, as the ship’s great engines had already ignited and the primals were restless. He’d watched her depart from the shadows, never to finish that fateful conversation.
“Okay,” Kirin said, turning from the raised dais as Urianger took the podium. “I need a drink.”
Later that night, while Kirin snored in the bed next to Fynta’s, a knock tapped softly on their door. She ignored it, assuming someone was looking for a good time in the wrong place. Then, light bloomed in the crack beneath. Fynta raised onto an elbow, squinting until it faded. She trod softly, though it wouldn’t have mattered with how much Kirin had drank and pulled open the flimsy door. The hallway was dark, as empty as one would expect for such an ungodly hour, save for a pearlescent crystal on a gilded stand.
Fynta knew it on sight, though she’d never beheld one before. With one more glance up and down the hallway, she lifted the white auracite. It was both heavier and lighter than she expected, with red and blue crystals wrapped in a spiraling pattern. Fynta nudged the door shut and carried it to her bed where she studied it in the dying candlelight. No black smoke swirled out of it, nor did it radiate any sort of aether. For all purposes, it was a pretty rock.
Deciding it would be best to leave the study of such things to more intellectual, and admittedly, sober, minds than her own, Fynta placed the bauble on the rickety table that separated hers and Kirin’s beds and flopped back onto her pillow. She succumbed to the weight of liquor and emotion in minutes.
That was when the dreams began.
#cinlat writes#ffxiv#endwalker spoilers#RIP: Isashi Tosho#au ra warrior of light#kirin mir'sheb#miqo boy#final fynta#hyur highlander#passing of the torch
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Work in Progress Wednesday
I was tagged by @curiousartemis thanks!
I’m a day late; I didn’t see the tag until late last night. But hey, it can be WIP whatever day, lol.
I’ll tag @cinlat, @sleepswithvillains , @rainofaugustsith, @semper-draca
So, I’ve sidetracked into a couple of collabs the last few days. And rather than Dance in the Shadow of Honor, I’ll post something from the draft of an AU short story, working title “Accidental Allies”, that I’m writing with @cinlat. Which has been far too much fun; I’m not sure the universe would be prepared for these two together.
Fynta Wolfe has a very unexpected encounter on Nar Shaddaa...
>>>>>>>>
Ucevi offered Fynta a hand up, then Fynta glared at her, hands on her hips.
“You’re Sith? You couldn’t have hand waved him against the wall before he bloodied my nose?”
The other woman shrugged. “You looked like you had it under control.” She wiped a trickle of blood from the cut on her forehead away from her eyes, then offered the other hand to Fynta. “I’m Ucevi, by the way.”
“Fynta. Fynta Wolfe.” She accepted the hand, then reached into a pocket for a cloth to wipe away the blood from her nose.
The Sith woman rolled her shoulders, then turned to the bartender. “Hey, you alright?”
The young woman was staring at the mess, including the unconscious bodies, and simply nodded weakly.
Ucevi followed the line of her gaze, took in the busted tables, and sighed. “Here.” She reached into a pocket and tossed a credit chip to the bartender. “That should cover the damages and make sure your boss doesn’t take this out on you.”
#swtor#fanfic#sith warrior#republic trooper#ucevi#fynta wolfe#A sith and a trooper walk into a bar...#comedy#au
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a-muirehen replied to your post “16. Dark secrets/’skeletons in the closet’ and 17. Regrets, for Noara?”
Oh wow, where can I find out about all versions of Noara?
Oh there are a few now @a-muirehen. I need to be better about writing and actually share some of these. Mostly I plot a lot with @cinlat and we end up with different versions of our characters because we are suckers for the phrase “but what if?” Could I spend more time on other characters? Sure. Could I choose one and stick to it and get some substantial writing done? Probably. Someday. Until then here are my many versions of Noara Starspark/Lewton who always eventually becomes a Cadera anyway.
Canon Jedi Knight/Outlander Noara
This is the main, original version of Noara. The one who wants to save the galaxy, even if it never did anything good for her and always puts more responsibility than she can handle on her shoulders. This is the Noara who ran missions with Kira, Doc, Scourge, T7 and Rusk and all that other good stuff in game. I have a not totally different version of her in an AU where Torian becomes the Outlander and they actually met back on Taris when their missions there overlapped but she is close enough to main Noara not to get her own entry.
Jedi Sitters AU Jedi Knight Noara
This is Noara in the fic series Jedi Sitters that is a coproject with Cinlat. Noara isn’t the canon JK, instead she is another Jedi that was part of the strike team that took on the Emperor the first time and lost. The fallout of her incarceration landed her in a very bad spot and when the main members of Havoc decided it was time to get off the front lines, Fynta and company were assigned to be her minders and make sure she didn’t go off the rails and kill everybody. That that anyone was willing to word it that way. Instead they get a startling view into the life of a Jedi (particularly appalled by the fact she doesn't get wages for her work, something confirmed by canon and everything) and end up adopting her into the family.
Soldier Noara
Soldier Noara Lewton’s Force sensitivity was never discovered and therefore never joined the Jedi. Instead she grew up loved and happy with her parents, three younger siblings and grumpy godfather Aric Jorgan. Following her father and godfather’s footsteps she joined the military and trained as a sniper. She thinks she is an amazingly skilled soldier and marksmen but in fact is using untrained Force abilities to achieve her high marks. She is no more pleased to learn this than Aric is to see the tattoos she got without warning anyone so they could talk her out of it.
Bounty Hunter Noara
This version of Noara also grew up with her family but, much like her sister Juli who went into smuggling, rebelled against their military upbringing and decided she needed something a bit more action filled. This is probably my least developed version of her so far, but I love the way that tattoo looks on her so I had to share.
Sith Noara
Springboarding off a drabble I did to explain the scar on her face, The First Brush With A Sith, the idea of what would have happened if Noara had not been saved that day but instead whisked away by the Sith to be her new pet/plaything. This Noara is angry, bitter, aggressive, addicted to spice and pretty suicidal because her life is pretty much terrible until she makes friends with a deep cover SIS spy in Fynta, who later introduces her to Torian and things look up from there until the tragic end. She does totally get to deck Satele in the face and Marr enjoys it terribly.
Trigger Noara
If you read Cinlat’s Heart on a Trigger you might have noticed a certain Jedi being added as one of the background characters. This of course led to me write fanfiction of a fanfic and now a whole new version of Noara exists. This one is a bit older and more jaded than the others, though not as much as Sith Noara. During the 5 years Fynta was in carbonite Noara was sent out into the galaxy to try and slow Acrann’s domination anyway she could. After an unfortunate run in with a Zakuulian Knight on Nar Shaddaa she ended up loosing her lightsabers and being stranded on the planet on her own. She met Fynta while working as a bouncer at a cantina called the Drunken Gundark. After throwing the rowdy commander out on her ass for causing a ruckuss it was a no brainer to Fynta that she needed this lady in the Alliance. I’ve actually written quite a bit for her and might actually post that stuff someday.
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❌️ for best girl of course.
[Werewolf Ahuska has the most fun repressed memories, and of course I had to do one dedicated to Fynta! I promise she didn't mean it...]
The moon was bright and her belly was full, and best of all the pain had stopped, she’d found the source and shut it down and now everything was still and peaceful. The aches and cuts she wore were negligible, compared to the searing hurt that roared under her skin when somebody wrong was around, the battle bruises under her pelt were easy to ignore now that she could rest.
Now that she could close her eyes and feel the kiss of the moon on her muzzle, its song ringing through her blood.
She felt good, as she sprawled across the earth, and began to clean the blood from her fur, content enough that the appearance of the Man actually prompted a mild grumble as she lifted her head and stared his way. It wasn’t that she disliked him; only that whenever he showed up, it meant it was time to go. He was always in such a hurry, and tonight was no different. Idly, she wondered if he knew that she could smell the stress on him, in the sweat that beaded on his brow despite the pleasant chill in the air. She wondered if he knew how keenly aware she was of the thudding of his heart, and she wondered why he always felt the need to worry so. Couldn’t he see? She was huge, and strong, and had never been bested. The bodies slowly going cold around her were testament enough to that, so what was left to be worried about?
She was sure he could have a pleasant night too, if only he cared to breathe a little more slowly, and take some time to lay under the stars. But of course he did not.
“Wesk,” he whispered, even though he already had her attention, her tail wagging despite the little creases in her muzzle. “Time to go.”
Again she rumbled, the sound low and quite distinct from any noise of animosity. She didn’t want to go.
“Wesk,” he stated again. She knew what was coming now, the timbre of his voice always changed when he was preparing himself to speak the Words. “Luna lux.”
Immediately, he had her full and perfect focus.
Immediately, she cared about nothing else but what he expected of her.
She rose when she was asked, she pushed her face into his hand when it was offered. He told her she’d done well, and a little ripple of delight shivered through her.
She followed him away from the scene of carnage, torn bodies and scorched earth, away from what had once been Havoc Squad, now so still and quiet.
The next morning she would wake with the sun on her face and smile into the warmth with Bothan features, clean and comfortable and with no memory of the night just passed.
She would go to work as she always did, her supervisor would idly ask how she’d slept, and he would chuckle good-naturedly when she complained that it hadn’t felt like nearly enough.
#ask meme#repressed memories#werewolf au#werewolf ahuska#I'm so sorry Fynta!#And Ahuska will be one day when she's allowed to remember#>.>;
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Whiskey and Tihaar: Alderaan Part Two
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight
You can read it by following the above links (for better formatting), or below the cut (for lazy formatting).
This AU is purely self-indulgent. Most chapters will feature a mutual’s OC that they have graciously trusted me with. Everything about this universe is my excuse to play with Fynta and Aric in different roles and have them interact with all the original characters in this fandom that I’ve come to love. Thanks everyone!
Chapter Summary: Every time Fynta and Aric make a little headway, something reminds them that they have nothing in common. These two need a good mediator, and thankfully, one is on the way.
Word Count: 5,522
Special guests: @tishinada Ucevi @kunoichi-ume Noara
Alderaan
Darth Nemesis Safe House
"Well, that could have gone better." Fynta stared at the darkened archway where Aric had vanished. She still felt his fury and hated that she was the cause. Ironic since she'd spent their first couple of weeks together pushing the Cathar to his limits because. She'd wanted the measure of his temper. Now, she had it.
"He doesn't seem to like me," Nora mused from her position in the opposite entry. She'd held back, keeping Aric at bay while Fynta tried to convince them both not to kill one another. The Chiss hummed in thought, and Fynta silently cursed Ucevi for her secretiveness for once. She knew what was coming before Nora spoke. "He's not Sith, not with the way he wields the Force."
Slowly, Fynta turned to face her hostess. Red eyes widened, then snapped to Fynta. "Please tell me that you didn't bring a Jedi into one of my secret havens."
Though Nora's tone was sweet, the underlying threat was obvious. Fynta blew out a breath and tried to think of a reasonable excuse. "Technically, the Jedi brought me here."
Pale brows reached Nora's hairline, but it was her apprentice who spoke. "Did he defect?"
Noara was still in her early twenties, not yet granted the title of Lord of the Sith. She was strong in the Force, but with too gentle a heart to use it for evil. Thus, she was Darth Nemesis's studious assistant in the public eye. Only a chosen few knew that the girl had once been a Jedi Padawan.
Fynta shook her head. "No, he's still very much a pompous ass." She sighed. "But he's a vital part of my mission. Grandmother approved."
"Does this have anything to do with that information you wanted about Nox?" Nora asked with a wary side glance at her apprentice. Fynta opened her mouth to respond, but the Chiss raised one manicured hand. "Never mind, I don't need to know. So long as Ucevi deems it critical, I'll allow whatever this is." She waved that same hand past Fynta towards where Aric had gone. Judging by Nora's expression, she wasn't pleased with how well the Jedi knew the layout of her safehouse.
Dropping her hand, Nora turned to her apprentice. "Be a dear and activate the service droids. We'll stay only long enough to refuel and restock. Then, I feel as if it's best that we are in the eye of the public while Fynta and her Jedi complete their task."
"Yes, my lord." Noara waited for her master to turn away before leaning closer to Fynta. "Meet me on the blaster range in half an hour. I want to show you my birthday present."
Fynta grinned. She'd taught the youth to shoot once she'd recovered from her stay in Nox's reeducation cells. Noara had come a long way from the skinny child barely holding onto her sanity. Fynta hadn't planned to become someone's hero that day, but she'd never regretted her choice to steal Nox's newest pet. Ucevi had placed the girl with Nora shortly after, and Noara had flourished under that gentle tutelage.
"Deal." Fynta agreed, then she cursed and reached for Noara's arm as the girl turned to leave. "Make it an hour; I need to handle Aric first."
Noara's expression turned serious. "Be nice to him. It can't be easy being surrounded by your enemies. I don't need to know what you're up to, but I'm going to guess it is parsecs outside of his comfort zone. But, he's still here."
"Yeah." Fynta chuckled, then ruffled Noara's dark bangs like she used to. It was hard to see her as the adult that she'd become, rather than the adolescence Fynta had grown to care for. She widened her smile and made a hand gesture of honesty. "I'll be nice, promise." Rolling her eyes, Noara left to do her master's bidding while Fynta followed after Aric.
The walk to Aric's room seemed to be too long and too short at the same time. Fynta stood outside the door with her knuckles poised to knock but unable to make the connection. She had no idea what to say to mend the sort of hurt that she'd felt in Aric before he shut her out. Even now, Fynta could sense the Cathar's restlessness, but it paled in comparison to what they normally shared. He'd walled off his emotions so that Fynta only caught glimpses of what leaked around the seals.
Fynta shored up her defenses and rapped her knuckles against the door. No answer came. Sighing, she extended her senses to confirm that Aric was in the room, then knocked again. Fynta considered breaking the locking mechanism, but given his mood, she decided against it. "You know this door won't keep me out," Fynta called.
The threat worked as expected. Aric's door slid open, but he stood across the room with his arms folded and familiar scowl fixed in place. He'd donned his armor, everything but the trademark cloak. A strange heaviness rose in Fynta's chest at the sight of his chest plate and greaves. "What do you want," he growled, finding a spot above her head to stare at.
To apologize. At least, that's what Fynta meant to say, what came out was completely different. "To see if you're still sulking."
Aric snorted and looked out the window, maintaining a firm glare at the snowcapped scenery beyond. Nora's hideout was nestled into the side of a mountain, according to the schematic that Fynta had found when they arrived. She hadn't ventured into that frozen hellscape. Clouds covered the moon, throwing the room into shadow that left Ari's eyes glaring in the glass. Fynta opted for casual contempt and propped one butt cheek on Aric's bed. "You realize why I couldn't let you kill her, right? That's even if you got close enough to try. You've vastly underestimated that woman's power."
One side of Aric's mouth lifted in a lopsided sneer that revealed the tips of his canines. Fynta thought the expression was adorable, but managed to keep that thought to herself. When Aric didn't respond, she reached for him through the Force.
"Don't," Aric growled, taking a step away from Fynta as if that could weaken their connection. She felt a surge of panic, quickly tamped down, but present all the same. Aric's glare turned to his feet, and Fynta realized for the first time that he hadn't looked at her since she'd walked in. "Just—stay out of my head."
Fynta stood and took a step closer, noting the repeated spike in fear. It wasn't surprise or anxiety, but the raw terror of trapped prey, an emotion she'd become well acquainted with in her line of work. Fynta had never thought to inspire such feelings in the stoic Cathar, though. "What's wrong?"
When Fynta moved again, Aric snarled in earnest. The sound brought her up short. She'd heard him growl in many circumstances, most involving her, but none had ever felt threatening. Aric moved into a loose-limbed defensive stance. "You almost had me," he said, tone low and edged with malice. "You almost convinced me that there was more to the Empire than what the Order thought. But it was a lie. You're just like all the rest."
"I'm—" Fynta sputtered, red coloring her vision and rage boiling through her veins until lightning crackled between her fingers. She bared her teeth and jabbed one of the sparking digits at Aric, holding onto her control by bloodied nails. "You have no idea what you're talking about you self-righteous, pompous di'kutla utreekov."
Fynta had the short-lived satisfaction of seeing the Jedi's brows climb his forehead before she spun around and stormed from the room. She slammed the door hard enough that sparks sprung from the safety mechanisms. It might have jumped off its tracks, but she didn't care enough to look back.
Alderaan
Private Residence of Darth Nemesis
Aric stared at the mangled wreckage of his door. Not only had Fynta's outburst short circuited the electrical system, but it had ripped part of the track out of the frame. Without the right tools, Aric wouldn't enjoy the false security of a locked door again.
Sighing, Aric nudged the leaning slab of metal and watched it groan outward. An almost hidden spark of light distracted him. When Aric looked up, the young woman from earlier stood in the hallway with a tray while her pale blue gaze focused on the carnage that had once been his door. "I take it the talk didn't go well?"
Aric snorted a laugh before he could stop himself, then sobered with the reminder that this woman was also a Sith. There was a familiar gentleness in her, though. "Who are you?"
"Oh, right." The woman wiped a hand on silk pants so green that they almost looked black, then extended it to Aric. "My name is Noara Starspark. I'm Nora's apprentice."
Cautiously, Aric accepted the greeting. When their hands touched, he felt the warmth of Tython in the back of his mind. It reminded him of a stream he liked to visit as a boy. A place covered by trees, where the breeze brought with it the crispness from higher in the mountains. "You're not Sith," Aric decided before his higher brain caught up with his instincts.
"Not really, no," Noara answered, then lifted the tray. "A gift from my master, may I?"
"Nothing stopping you." Aric kicked the door for effect.
Only after the shock wore off did Aric realize that Nora must be Darth Nemesis's given name. He kept the younger woman in sight while she went to one of the many tables around the room. Aric folded his arms. "Your master won't be mad that you call her Nora in front of me?"
The young woman waved a dismissive hand. "There are millions of Noras in the Empire, and her birth records are sealed. Good luck weeding her out." Noara set the tray on a dark wood table and removed the lid to show the half drank whiskey from his doomed game with Fynta and two glasses. "You seemed fond of this one."
Aric eyed the gift, wondering what sort of poison had been slipped into it. As if reading his thoughts, Noara smiled. "It's not tampered with. All I did was put the stopper in. When I was cleaning up, my master suggested bringing it to you. I'd hoped that Fynta would be here, but…" She trailed off and left the drink and glasses alone. "If there is anything else you need, please let us know. You are Nora's guest, and thus under her protection. We will leave first thing in the morning to avoid any further stress."
"You said not really," Aric ventured, picking up in the middle of his thoughts. When Noara's head tipped to the side, he reworded his question. "When I said you weren't Sith. What does that mean?"
A small, sad smile pulled at Noara's lips. "I was a Padawan. Nox killed my master and took me for his apprentice." Aric nodded, watching the branches of Darth Nox's control grow before his eyes. Fynta hadn't been exaggerating when she spoke of her former master's reach. "Fynta found me in one of his cells. I don't remember much about how we got out, only that my rescue is what sparked her resignation from Nox's service."
Aric unfolded his arms. There was a lot that Noara left out, but the idea that she and Fynta were so closely connected intrigued him. "How old were you?"
"Thirteen," Noara answered, then shrugged. "I think. I lost a lot of my earlier memories during Nox's intake process. It's why I wasn't returned to the Jedi; I couldn't remember where I was from until months later. By then, Nora had already accepted the position as my new master. They offered me the choice to return, but I preferred it here."
"In the Empire," Aric grumbled, reevaluating the ease with which he accepted Noara in his space.
Noara let out a delicate laugh. "No. I don't care about Empire versus Republic. I chose to stay with Nora because in the few months I lived with her, I learned more about the Force and my connection to it than in years on Tython. She encouraged me to explore, and—" Noara stopped and laughed again when Aric snorted. "Not like that. She taught me to find my way to meditate, to discover where my strength flourished. She was patient and kind."
"That's not the Darth Nemesis from our files," Aric admitted. Fynta had warned him that nothing was as it appeared in the Empire, their Sith included. Ucevi had been cordial and welcoming. Aric had to assume from her relationship with Fynta that the woman was higher ranking than she seemed. Could it be possible that Darth Nemesis was the same?
A kind smile made Noara look younger still. "It's all a disguise. Nora has a real chance to make things better for the Empire, but no one will back her if she appears weak. So, we leak stories to the news to bolster the sort of reputation the Empire expects from their Dark Council members."
"That's barbaric," Aric replied with a curled lip. The thought that someone would use murder and torture to bolster their societal standing made no sense. Then again, he'd never understood the way a Sith's mind worked, even now that he'd spend time with so many.
Shaking her head, Noara poured two glasses of whiskey and lifted hers in cheers. "That's politics." She took a sip, smacked her lips, then continued while examining the glass. "The senators in the Republic are no different, only the reverse. They pretend to be better than they really are. Nora, she just wants to get her foot in the door."
Aric downed his share of the whiskey, hating how much he enjoyed the burn. "What else can you tell me about these Sith?" He needed a better understanding of who to be vigilant around. Though Aric knew it was folly, he trusted the word of this once Padawan. Despite her upbringing in the Empire, he sensed no deceit in her.
Noara shrugged. "You need to trust Fynta as much as she trusts you." Aric lifted a brow, and the girl's smirk returned. "She cares about your opinion. And, whether you like it or not, she's adopted you. Welcome to the club."
With a final salute, Noara drained her glass and placed it upside down on the tray. "If Fynta says they are safe, then they are. Simple as that. Ucevi is a good woman. If you don't threaten her family or her network, you'll be fine. As for my master…" Noara trailed off. "Well, she regrets upsetting you. Fynta mentioned that you hunt Sith and Nora is on your list. For the sake of the Empire, forget about tonight and Darth Nemesis. We need her alive more than you can imagine."
Noara stepped away from the table, bowed the way a Padawan would to her master, then headed for the door. She paused to run a hand over the damaged wall, "I'll send a repair droid."
Then, the woman was gone, leaving Aric with more questions than he'd had before. He'd grown up with two simple truths: the Empire was the enemy, and Sith were evil. The picture Noara painted blurred those lines. And, every Sith that Aric had interacted with so far had been cordial despite knowing who and what he was.
Aric poured another glass of whiskey and swallowed it in a single gulp, letting the burn in his throat signify the fires of this new trial. He had made a promise to Fynta, one that he would keep on his honor as a Jedi. The galaxy would be a better place without Nox. After that, Aric couldn't promise anything.
Alderaan
Darth Nemesis Safe House
Two Days Later
Aric only left his quarters late at night, when he was certain that he'd be left alone. He walked the silent halls, stopping to admire the snow outside. Fat white flakes drifted lazily onto statues of people he didn't recognize, lending them a ghostly quality.
Closing his eyes, Aric reached out and felt for Fynta. Her chaos was quiet, lulled into the almost peace of sleep. Darth Nemesis and Noara had left the morning following their disastrous introduction, as promised, with the latter stopping by to bid Aric farewell and wish him luck. In return, he had promised to consider the girl's request. Aric had been alone ever since.
Ucevi was scheduled to arrive in the early morning hours the next day. The closer the moment came, the more Aric regretted reaching out to her. When he had agreed to let the Sith Blood shield his mind, Fynta was still speaking to him. As it stood, he'd only caught glimpses of the woman as she drifted through the estate. Aric could find her if he wanted, but he wasn't ready for that conversation. Fynta had invaded his thoughts in a moment of vulnerability, and she'd wrested his control away. He couldn't forgive that so easily.
An alarm chirped, and Aric looked towards the east to catch the drive plume of a small ship. The panel next to him illuminated with a warning of an incoming vessel, then clicked to green when it recognized the access code. Aric's pulse leapt into a staccato when he realized that Ucevi was early.
In the back of Aric's mind, Fynta stirred. He hadn't realized that he was still connected to her, and quickly withdrew before she could accuse him of spying while she slept. He started for the hangar, then thought better of it and went to his room. Though wearing his armor wouldn't protect Aric from a mental attack should Ucevi decide to avenge Fynta's wounded pride, it made him feel better.
Aric had expected the women to go to bed. He knew that Fynta and Ucevi shared a past relationship, though could only speculate on its nature. Fynta hadn't fully admitted to it being romantic, but Aric had his suspicions. So, when someone knocked on his door less than an hour after Ucevi's arrival, Aric jumped.
The void behind Aric's door must have been Ucevi, because Fynta showed up as a mirror, rather than a lack of being, when she hid from him. Squaring his shoulders, Aric answered the door and found himself looking up into the golden eyes of a smiling Sith Lord. "Good evening, Master Jorgan. May I enter?"
Aric stepped back, surprised again by how large the woman was. His mind had made her smaller, stamping the standard female frame onto someone who was anything but. Still, Ucevi moved with a sinuous grace that made the black fabric of her flight armor shimmer in the light. Shaking himself, Aric poked his head into the hallway and found it empty. His chest squeezed, but Aric told himself it was for the best.
"How are you healing?" Ucevi asked, stopping to pour a glass of the whiskey that Noara had brought two nights before. She inhaled the fragrant alcohol with a satisfied sigh, then smiled at Aric. "You look better than when we last spoke."
"Autodoc says everything is good." Aric stood awkwardly in the doorway, hands flexing without anything to do. Eventually, he folded them into his robes. "My DNA is altered, but no signs of transformation. So far, I haven't noticed any significant changes."
Ucevi sipped her whiskey, then nodded. "That's good." She lifted the glass in Aric's direction. "And, we might be able to use that to our advantage. If Nox got a read on you while on Rishi, the rakghoul venom could have fundamentally altered you enough to hide you from his sight. In theory, at least."
"So, you're a specialist on rakghouls now?" The casual conversation eased some Aric's tension, enough that he could move further into the room, at least.
Ucevi shrugged one bare shoulder. Her flight suit left impressive biceps exposed, a trend that Aric had noticed that the Sith Blood employed often. He couldn't decide if it was an intimidation tactic, or because she was proud of her physique. He supposed both were possible. "I read over the thesis of a colleague. The man is a little too interested in rakghouls if you ask me, but his research is fascinating."
Aric spared one more look over his shoulder, expecting Fynta to walk in complaining about lost sleep, but not surprised when she didn't. Sighing, he turned back to the red woman. "As entertaining as this topic is, we should probably—"
"Of course." Ucevi drained her glass, then gestured at one of the plush chairs decorating Aric's room. "If you'll make yourself comfortable. This may take some time since your essence is unfamiliar to me."
Aric did as instructed, perching on the edge of the cushion. "What can I expect?"
Ucevi leaned one hip against the desk and folded her arms. "I'll start slow. It will be uncomfortable at first. I'll need to compartmentalize the various sections, if that helps. I'll see some of your memories, though I promise not to linger. You'll feel my presence, but there shouldn't be pain unless you fight me. If there is anywhere that I should avoid, it's best to tell me now. I will not be gathering intel, so any classified information should remain so."
The brow stalks above Ucevi's eyes pulled together. "This is an unprecedented event. If I encounter resistance, I'll move on unless you want me to push through, but those areas will remain vulnerable. Shielding isn't a blanket process, but a precise, almost surgical practice. It takes trust and time, both of which we are desperately short on. So, I'll ask one more time, are you sure about this?"
Aric wanted to say no. He wanted to walk out of the room, board Fynta's ship, and return to the Republic. Nothing had terrified him so much since his childhood fear of the dark. Now, Aric was inviting the darkness into his soul. Letting out a shaky breath, Aric met the woman's burning gaze. "This is the only way to keep those bastards out of my head, isn't it?"
"Not the only way," Ucevi admitted with a tilt of her head. "But, certainly the most expedient."
"Then, let's get on with it." Aric leaned back in the chair and folded his hands in his lap. "All of it." After all, he didn't sit on the council, and he didn't carry any of the Order's secrets. Aric had never been good at it.
After a few failed meditative breaths, Aric gave up and glared at the fireplace. It was impossible to relax while preparing to let a Sith in. He anticipated pain, because no matter how much he tried, Aric knew he would resist.
A wave of chaos rose in Aric's mind, and he jolted forward to see Fynta stalk into the room. Before he could think better of it, Aric was on his feet. "You came."
"I said I would, didn't I?" Fynta snapped, though the relief of Aric's greeting was palpable. It wasn't until that moment that he realized Fynta hadn't been avoiding him because she was angry, but because she thought he was.
Walking around the chair, Fynta put her hands on Aric's shoulders and pushed him back onto the cushions. When he was seated, she remained behind him. Her next words were directed at Ucevi. "Where do you want me?"
The Sith Blood looked between them, a single brow stalk raised. "There is fine." Aric wondered if Ucevi could sense the conflicting emotions rising within him, or his relief that Fynta had come. If so, she didn't comment on it. "So long as Master Jorgan is comfortable. I may need your help calming him until we've been properly introduced."
"That part sucks," Fynta muttered, squeezing Aric's shoulders. She added a playful wink. "Don't worry, I'll protect you."
You need to trust Fynta as much as she trusts you. Noara's words echoed in Aric's ears, and he nodded. Trust was not something that came easily to a Jedi. They were raised to see into people's hearts, and few of those were pure. Then, he'd met Fynta. While she would lie to someone's face to get what she wanted, her intentions were laid out for all who cared to look. Every act of evil was backed by the desire to do good. She was the enigma that he'd been taught to fear. And yet, Aric continuously placed his life in her hands.
Dipping his chin to Ucevi, Aric inhaled until his lungs burned, then let the air out in staggered breaths so that his pulse would slow. Ucevi set the desk chair in front of Aric and lowered herself into it. Her hand hovered above Aric's knee. "I'm going to touch you now. It solidifies our connection and keeps me grounded while I'm in your thoughts. Do I have your permission to begin?" Aric nodded, his focus torn by the warm hands on his shoulders and now his right leg. Ucevi hunched into a more comfortable position. "Now, I need you to enter a meditative state."
Aric glanced behind him to where Fynta stood. "How does she manage this with you?"
"Practice," Ucevi chuckled. "I take it you tried to teach her too?"
"She's a lost cause," Aric answered, letting the banter ease him into a calm mindset that would make meditation easier.
Fynta's hands tightened almost to the point of pain. "You're both assholes."
Ucevi's chuckle seemed to vibrate the air around them, and Aric realized that he'd already slipped into the first stage of meditation. It was like falling asleep, half in and out of consciousness. Sounds were louder, while the rest of the room muted to grey, then black as he went deeper.
Aric lingered in that calm place until he lost track of time, then a flash of green trees and babbling brooks shimmered into view. He stood with his master, overseeing the construction of the Twi'lek village that had barely survived another Flesh Raider attack. Aric wanted to track the culprits down, but his master denied his request. Anger filled him, quickly overshadowed by helplessness as a small boy dug through the burned rubble of his.
The oily sensation of the Dark Side brushed Aric's consciousness, and he was transported to a battlefield. Red filled his vision, and Aric threw his blade up in time to avoid being hewn in two. The Rattataki Sith bared pearly teeth in a snarl. His eyes were as red as the weapon he wielded, his teeth stained with blood. Aric pushed the man back, then Ucevi was there. In the chaos of the moment, all he saw was another Sith. He was outnumbered and desperate. Aric reached for the Force and found it denied to him.
Panic seized Aric. He'd felt this before, remembered the stab of electricity behind his eyes. The memory was barely a fragment of the pain Aric felt, and he cried out. "Focus, big guy." The words fluttered through his mind like leaves on an autumn breeze. Aric breathed the hot agony away, pouring all of his concentration into the target shaped tattoo that hovered before him. It inspired feelings of safety, and Aric clung to it.
"Fynta, back off, you're too close." A disembodied voice ground out. "Damn it, Aric you have to let go."
Aric's vision spiraled, specters overlapping so quickly that he couldn't make sense of them. The sting of a whip against his back. A child huddled in the corner of a tiny cell. The wrinkled skin of a Flesh Raider. A boulder looming in the distance. The shame in dark blue eyes as they looked away. Burning muscles, and the thin air of a mountain peak. Blood pouring through his fingers.
"Almost there," the voice rasped. There were familiar cadences in that strained sound that made Aric feel guilty, but he didn't know why.
"I'm still here," Fynta whispered. Her warmth enveloped Aric, acting as a buffer between him and the onslaught of anguish and rage. "Trust me."
With those final words, Aric surrendered to the gentle pressure of Fynta's touch, and the images faded. He blinked, revealing the solace of an eternal void, his hands entwined with hers.
Alderaan
Darth Nemesis Safe House
Aric inhaled as he came out of the trance, then slouched deeper into his chair. Fynta let go of the Jedi's shoulders and went to her old friend. Ucevi sagged against the desk, a sheen of sweat coating her face, neck, and chest. Fynta pushed back the dark strands of hair that had come loose from the Sith's pristine bun and steadied her. "Are you okay?"
When Ucevi's gaze met Fynta's, it burned with something just short of anger. "Do you realize what you've done?"
"You'd have killed each other." Fynta forced a smile and pretended that her stomach wasn't trying to empty itself. "Stubborn as an akk hound with a new bone, the both of you."
Ucevi wouldn't have stopped until she'd shielded Aric, and he would have shredded both of their minds trying to escape. It was in their natures, a nurturer and a warrior. Still, Ucevi shook her head. "I can't undo this."
"You couldn't have stopped it," Fynta countered, sitting back on her heels to give Uveci room to straighten. The woman's deep crimson skin had paled, and her hair hung limp with sweat.
Shaking her head, the Sith Blood pushed into a backward arch to stretch her muscles. "I could have barred your entrance, or—"
"It wouldn't have changed anything," Fynta interrupted, but she placed her hand on the woman's knee to soften the sharpness of her tone. "Something happened on Rishi. A connection developed. All I did was replace a rope bridge with a permanent structure."
Ucevi leaned forward again, taking Fynta's chin in strong fingers so that she had no choice but to look into the Sith Blood's eyes. "A rope bridge can be burned. What you've done can't be broken. Even after death, his soul might cling to yours."
Jerking her chin free, Fynta shoved to her feet and stalked a few steps in each direction. Her gaze settled on Aric, who'd slumped into an uncomfortable looking position. "It's done." She ignored the rapid beating of her heart as she did anything that terrified her. Eventually, Fynta would need to face this issue, but it didn't have to be right now.
The soft expletive that Ucevi released made Fynta wince. She kept her back to the woman so that Ucevi wouldn't see the fear Fynta struggled to hide, but she knew it was futile when the Sith Blood sighed. "Help me get him onto the bed. He needs rest."
So do you, Fynta almost argued, but she joined Ucevi in pulling Aric from the chair and dragged his heavy ass to the plush mattress. Ucevi pulled the blankets back with a wave of her hand, then they deposited their Cathar burden more or less in the center of his bed. Ucevi studied him for a moment, then shook her head. "It seems rude to leave him in that uncomfortable armor, but I doubt he'd appreciate it if we removed it."
Fynta snorted a laugh and tugged the blankets over Aric. He was there, chasing fitful dreams in the back of Fynta's mind. If they weren't careful, these episodes of shared pasts could become a dangerous distraction.
When Fynta looked up, Ucevi was still staring down at the sleeping Jedi. "You'll need to be more careful about how you treat him."
"What do you mean?" Fynta didn't think that a Force bond affected someone's strength, but she didn't know much on the subject.
"No more casual flirting." Ucevi glanced up, and the reprimand was clear in the set of her jaw. "Any feelings from before will be amplified, and given a Cathar's nature, you could trick him into believing that you're his lifemate."
Fynta took an involuntary step away from the bed, which coaxed a rueful chuckle from her old friend. "Exactly. So, either submit to a lifetime of monogamy, or destroy all possibility of him becoming too attached to you. Those are your options."
"Fierfek." Fynta hugged her arms around her torso and glared at the prone Cathar. She hadn't considered that, nor the fact that she'd have to deny her nature to keep them from both making terrible choices. There was regret too, buried so deep that Fynta almost didn't recognize it. She liked Aric, and the thought of pushing him away when they'd come so far hurt in a way that Fynta couldn't describe.
"Fine," Fynta spat, then circled the bed and took Ucevi's arm. The Sith Blood didn't complain when Fynta pulled it over her shoulders, or when she angled them out of the room. For now, she'd take care of the Sith at her side. Later, Fynta would worry about the Jedi in her head.
#whiskey & tihaar#fynta wolfe#aric jorgan#sith fynta au#jedi jorgan#sith fynta/jedi jorgan au#tish oc: ucevi#ume oc: Noara starspark#a turning point#for better or for worse#swtor
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Whumptober: Day 9
A look into the development of Sith Fynta and Secret Jedi Ahuska’s rocky relationship. As requested by @dingoat (I’ve never written Ahuska pov before, but it was the only one that made sense. I hope I did her justice.) Better late than never, right?
9: The Very Noisy Night
Sleeping in Shifts | Tossing and Turning | Caught in a Storm
Word Count: 482
Ahuska yawned and rubbed one eye. Her datapad chirped another warning that the door to the stable had been breached. It was probably a chunk of ice lodged in a seal again, a common occurrence this time of year.
The closer Ahuska climbed to the surface, the colder the temperature became. Finally, she heard the sound of the storm raging outside. Being one of the individuals less bothered by the cold, Ahuska wasn’t surprised to be the only one treading through these halls.
One more yawn and a few blinks brought Ahuska around the final turn to the stables. She expected to find nothing amiss. She’d also expected to find it locked. It was none of those things, and the bloody hand print next to the caved-in durasteel mechanism made her wish that she’d thought about a weapon.
Easing the door open, Ahuska groped inside for the rake she’d left after mucking the stalls. The wood felt reassuring in her hand, though the state of the door meant that it probably wouldn’t do her much good against this particular intruder.
Ahuska moved with the quiet steps that came with years of working around skittish animals. Her ears pricked any sound that didn't belong. A tauntaun near the central heater snorted, and a female voice answered. “Don’t see what you’re complaining about. You’ve got all the fur.”
Any fear that Ahuska felt was quickly replaced by irritation. She knew that voice, and nothing good ever accompanied it. Sighing, Ahusha set the rake down and stopped at the stall where one of her larger females was pressed into the corner. She stepped onto the built-in bench to look over the gate.
“What exactly are you doing?” Ahuska’s eyes adjusted quickly, revealing her own personal Sith nuisance huddled by the gate under the tauntaun’s blanket.
Fynta didn’t bother looking up. “Dying.” The woman curled deeper into the rough material, then hissed and pressed a hand to her side. “Your animals are loud as shit, by the way.”
“Yeah, well, you’re in her territory and she’s pregnant. You’d be grumpy too. Why are you—” A dark stain drew Ahuska’s attention, and she scowled. “You’re bleeding on my fresh straw.”
“My bad.” Fynta’s words slurred a moment before she tipped and her head thumped against the wall.
Ahuska growled, then sighed, then rolled her eyes for good measure. She should clean and treat Fynta’s wounds. Technically, she should get the woman to the medcenter. But, given her current location, Ahuska couldn’t help but wonder if that might invite more trouble. Of course, it would; it’s Fynta.
Shoving the gate open, Ahuska apologized to its normal occupant before dragging the intruder out. She’d need to clean up the blood, but first, she had to tend to the Sith. As Ahuska laid her burden out on the floor next to the heater, she resigned herself to a long night.
Again.
#whumptober2022#whumptober#sith fynta#secret jedi ahuska#sith fynta au#i do love their dynamic here#not friends#not REALLY enemies#and ahuska is generally just too nice to turn fynta away#in return fynta MIGHT have taken care of one or two individuals who got curious about ahuska#not that she'd tell the bothan#ahuska probably wouldn't approve of murder...
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Whumptober: Day 2
Thanks for the ask @dingoat and for letting me borrow Ahuska (kinda) and Crow (Rev, I can’t tag you! Did you change your url?)
2: Nowhere to run
Corners | Caged | Confrontation
Word Count: 208
I don’t want to give away too much! haha. But, I really wanted to do this because this scene has been in my head for two weeks.
The weight in Fynta’s hands shouldn’t have felt as heavy as it did. The night air turned her lungs to ice, amplifying each wheezing breath in her ears. Moonlight spilled over the land, painting hills in silver and trees in the deepest of blacks.
“Just—hear me out, will ya?”
Crow stood with his hands raised while a monster frolicked behind him. Fynta couldn’t make the shot from here, not with a pistol; even with her augmentations. Her gaze flickered to the blur of fur as if flitted in and out of view. Crow took a step to the side, filling Fynta’s view again.
“You don’t wanna do this.”
Fynta bared her teeth as if she were the animal her name claimed. Like the one she’d come so far to kill. “You don’t know—”
“I do,” Crow assured. His hands never strayed towards his weapon, though he hardly needed that to make things more difficult for Fynta. There was a sliver of her friend in those blue eyes. “Believe me, I do.”
Shaking her head, Fynta tightened her grip on the blaster. She could feel him worming into her mind, his words making sense. She couldn't let it all be for nothing. Otherwise, why had she become a monster?
#whumptober2022#day 2: Confrontation#fynta wolfe#werewolf au#ahuska#crow#thanks for the ask!#cinlat answers
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A little late for the match maker game, and well as much as I adore them as friends, I also think that in the right world/circumstances, Fynta/Crow would get on like a house on fire. And probably leave multiple houses on fire. (Don't tell Ahuska.)
Okay so, yes? Do you remember that married couple that you fight when storming Shae Visla's stronghold on Rishi? THAT would be a Crow/Fynta match.
These two have a zeal for life that can not be contained and they enjoy it (and each other) to the fullest. The galaxy is not prepared for the romantic ridiculousness of Fynta/Crow. Honestly, I think it would be a pure and fun loving relationship where their fists speak as loud as their mouths. The ultimate battle couple.
They'd storm a fortress, blasters blazing, rescue some prisoners, then collapse into bed that night with a contented sigh and some highlights about what a good day they had.
Don't make me need things I can't have, Dingoat!
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Sparring practice: Because someone needs to get Jorgan back into shape after 4 years of riding an ops desk.
#cinlat plays swtor#the sniper and the spy#for that au I'm not writing#or thinking about constantly#aric jorgan#fynta wolfe
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“Laugh it up.”
“This was your idea.”
This is for PLOT people. Not solely for my amusement and absolutely not for that AU I’m not writing.
#cinlat plays swtor#the sniper and the spy#fynta wolfe#aric jorgan#don't mind me#just another au#i want to hear your theories in the comments#tell me why YOU think Jorgan is in a loincloth
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These are absolutely not images from a play through that I decided to do for an AU that I’m not writing about how differently things could have gone for Fynta and Jorgan.
Namely, him being charged with treason instead of demoted and having to call on his SIS ex-girlfriend to help clear his name. It’s not a thing...promise.
#cinlat plays swtor#it's dark and gritty and i'm in love with it#everything about the story changes if vander doesn't save jorgan's career#and if fynta is still in the SIS#fynta wolfe#aric jorgan#the sniper and the spy#working title#not that it has one#not another au#my fingers are crossed behind my back
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Whiskey and Tihaar: Alderaan Part One
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven
You can read it by following the above links (for better formatting), or below the cut (for lazy formatting).
This AU is purely self-indulgent. Most chapters will feature a mutual’s OC that they have graciously trusted me with. Everything about this universe is my excuse to play with Fynta and Aric in different roles and have them interact with all the original characters in this fandom that I’ve come to love. Thanks everyone!
Chapter Summary: Things get heated, then they get HOT. For better or for worse.
Word Count: 9,563
Special guests: @tishinada Ucevi @sleepswithvillains Nora @kunoichi-ume Noara
The Shershoy
Location…Fucked
Fynta jerked awake in her bunk with no idea how she’d gotten there. A hazy memory of Aric Jorgan chained to her bulkhead floated through the confusion, but it had the indistinctness of a dream. There were vague flashbacks of a mumbled apology overlayed with the tangy scent of kolto. Those probably explained the Wookie pounding against the inside of Fynta’s skull at least.
After a few more breaths to clear the hangover from what Fynta hoped had been a good time, her senses began to register other things. “Fierfek,” she groaned, lifting an arm that weighed twice as much as it should have. She wiggled the numb fingers in front of her face just to make sure that they were still there. Her toes tingled, and an incessant ringing filled one of her ears. The more that Fynta inventoried her symptoms, the more certain she became that someone had shocked the shit out of her.
Finally, the buzzing in Fynta’s ear coalesced into the sound of her comm, sounding somewhere around her feet. Shoving into a sitting position, she let loose several more curses, varying the languages just to make sure that she still remembered them, before attempting to find the damn thing. After a few clumsy slaps, Fynta managed to answer.
“It’s about fucking time.” Ucevi’s blurry features came into focus after a couple of blinks. Fynta would have complimented the woman on the attractive color on her lips had they not pressed into a thin line that almost made them disappear. “Have you arrived?” The woman snapped before Fynta could think of a better greeting.
“No clue.” Fynta looked around her ship, then remembered that there was supposed to be another body in the rumpled blankets of Aric’s bed. She blinked at Ucevi. “Where am I supposed to be?”
The Sith Blood rolled her golden eyes. “You really were out of it. Where is the Jedi?”
“That was next on my list.” Fynta managed to climb to her feet, with some effort and a lot of grunting. When she was steady, she shuffled towards the bridge while balancing the comm in her hand. “Want to fill me in?”
Ucevi explained the call she’d received, Fynta’s loss of consciousness, and the difficult choice that she’d been forced to make. “You should be on Alderaan, at Nora’s safe house. I’d rather not have brought her into this, but it was the closest one to your position.”
Fynta nodded, bracing one hand against the wall as she staggered through the ship. She’d just turned the corner onto the bridge when Ucevi spoke again. “He asked for my help.”
Pausing, Fynta lifted an eyebrow. “Who?” When Ucevi matched her expression, Fynta’s other brow joined the first. The hazy image of a scowling Cathar fought through her sluggish thoughts. “Aric-I’ll take my chances-Jorgan asked you to shield him?”
One dark rope of hair fell over Ucevi’s shoulder when she nodded. “I think your encounter with the assassin rattled him. I’m en route, but it’ll be a week before I get there.” The woman’s lips flushed back to red as they curled into a taunting smirk. “Do you think that you can manage that long without me?”
Fynta started to snark back, but a hand dangling over the arm of the captain’s chair interrupted her limited concentration. “Shab, I found Aric. Let me call you back.” This time, she waited for Ucevi’s acknowledgement before disconnecting.
Circling the navigation system, Fynta cursed again when she saw the way Aric had slumped into the chair. He’d be a beast to drag out of it. Then, Fynta noticed the fresh splash of red across the green fabric on his chest. Kneeling beside the Cathar, she peeled up the hem of his shirt. Grimacing at the shredded remnants of stitches, Fynta lowered his shirt. “Well, fuck.”
Fynta wasn’t sure if Aric had torn the wound open during their fight or when he’d manhandled her sorry ass into bed. The only thing that Fynta knew was that he had landed them in a private hanger, presumably Nora’s. She stood and tried to sort her jittery thoughts into something cohesive that would benefit her situation.
Movement drew Fynta’s attention to the hanger door, and she managed a snorted laugh when a meddroid trundled towards the ship hauling a gurney. Once again, Ucevi had thought of everything. It was one of the reasons that Fynta followed the Sith Blood, and why she would never want the woman’s job. Are all of Ucevi’s agents as big of a pain in the ass, Fynta wondered as the droid picked its way toward the ship.
It took twenty minutes to lug Aric’s bulk out of the chair and onto the stretcher, even with the aid of the droid. Fynta tried using the Force, but her control was shaky at best. Better to strain a muscle than launch the poor bastard into the ceiling.
Fynta followed the meddroid through a maze of hallways. Nora's crest decorated each entryway, leading Fynta to hope that the Order hadn't gathered that much information on Darth Nemesis. Otherwise, Aric would be a major pain in her ass.
Of course, Fynta had never spoken to the Chiss about the design she'd chosen to represent herself, but Ucevi had explained the open hand of peace and watchful eye of Darth Nemesis. Fynta liked it, though she couldn't say the same for everything else. While tastefully decorated, the pastels made Fynta want to flee. It suited Noara, however.
The medcenter looked exactly like Fynta expected. A tank sat in one corner, while shiny, modern equipment gleamed around every inch of the room. Even the crisp, filtered mountain air spoke to the precise nature of the woman who owned it.
Fynta and the droid managed to slide Aric from the gurney to a medtable, complete with scanners and other machines that she had no clue how to work. Fynta set the autodoc to scan the Cathar, then dismissed the droid. As helpful as it had been during the heavy lifting, Fynta didn’t trust them with the finer aspects of medical treatments. She'd seen too many turned against their masters by talented slicers.
While the machine whirred around Aric, Fynta found a mirror and grimaced at her reflection. Her hair was a matted mess, while splotchy red and blue marks surrounded both eyes from Aric’s centermast strike to her face. With her head clearer, Fynta’s memories filtered back in. Ucevi had filled in any gaps with the explanation that Aric had given her. Their words, coupled with the muscle weakness and splitting headache, left Fynta with a clear enough image of what had happened.
When the machine scanning Aric chimed its completion, Fynta pushed away from the mirror with a huff. As expected, his bloodwork showed an unknown pathogen, but the levels were dropping as she watched. Though the rakghoul venom still coursed through his system, the vaccine seemed to be doing its job. Apart from that, general exhaustion and the reopened wound were his most pressing problems.
Digging through Nora’s impressively organized supplies, Fynta found a needle and surgical thread. She disinfected her hands and the wound, pulled on a pair of gloves, then applied a coagulant to Aric’s side. He hissed, claws flexing at the end of curled fingers, then settled back into unconsciousness. As a precaution, Fynta added a couple of arm restraints before pulling up a chair.
Once the bleeding stopped, Fynta recleaned the area and examined the wound. Two jagged lines began at the bottom of Aric’s ribs, then zigzagged down his side, coming to a jumpy halt below his hip bone. Fynta assumed the marks were left by different claws as they followed the path around Aric’s armored plates. The armor had protected his organs, at least; scans only showed tissue damage.
Pushing into a standing position, Fynta muttered an apology to her unconscious and probably unwilling patient as she unfastened his pants and pulled back the side that she needed to access. Aric Jorgan was a well formed male with impressive musculature. Fynta assured herself that her admiration came from a place of professional courtesy, but she couldn’t convince herself. The Cathar had a nice body, even battered and broken.
Fynta found a sheet in one of the cabinets and draped it over Aric’s waist to protect his modesty. And so he wouldn’t grow more irritable when he realized that Fynta had cut off his shirt. Once satisfied that she couldn't be accused of salacious intent, Fynta retook her seat and set about closing his wounds.
The first indication that Aric was starting to wake up was the curl of his fingers. Fynta leaned back half a second before he jerked on the restraints. His bestial snarl vibrated through the air. Fynta rolled her head to release the tension in her shoulders and met the Cathar’s glare. “Good morning, no, evening? Shab, I don’t even know.”
“Why am I bound,” Aric growled a second time, ignoring her greeting.
Fynta lifted the Cathar’s hand to display the claws at the end of each finger. “Call it self preservation. If you hold still while I finish closing you up, I’ll—”
“Where are my clothes?” Aric’s tone shifted from anger to indignation, just as Fynta had expected. His jaw worked like there was more that he wanted to say, but couldn’t find the right words.
Fynta unbuckled the restraints, keeping her hand on Aric’s arm. His muscles twitched, but he didn’t pull away. “I’m serious, I’ve only got a few more rows left. I need you to stop moving, because if I have to start this over, you’re doing it alone.”
Aric glared for so long that Fynta wondered if he would demand the needle after all. His gaze darted around her face, landing on the bruises beneath her eyes. At last, the Cathar nodded. Fynta hunched forward over his hip to see where the wound narrowed. The only indication that Aric gave of discomfort was the near constant flexing of his fingers. Fynta kept her eyes on her task, resisting the urge to glance higher to see if her proximity had any affect on the man.
Finally, Fynta straightened with a groan. She’d tied the sutures twice and clipped them. She jammed both fists into her back to stretch out the tight muscles. “All done. Maybe take it easy for a bit.”
“I could say the same for you,” Aric managed as he twisted on the table to examine Fynta’s work. “Not bad.”
“I’ve had some practice.” Fynta removed the bloodied gloves, then offered her good hand to Aric. The other ached with a bone deep pain that indicated she should probably have it splinted. “Sit up slowly.”
Aric took Fynta’s offered assistance, grimacing as he curled into a sitting position. He started to speak, but Fynta cut him off. “The kolto tank is ready. Do you want something to eat before going in? I’ll bet this kitchen is packed with the best food.” And booze, she added silently. Darth Nemesis had expensive taste, and Fynta didn’t think the Chiss would mind if they helped themselves to a bottle or two.
Without answering, Aric took Fynta’s swollen arm in a gentler grip than she’d thought possible. He examined it, turning it over with warm hands that drove away some of the pain. “This needs to be treated first.”
“I’ll get around to it.” Fynta tried to pull back, but Aric resisted. She sighed, even added an eye roll for effect. “Promise, but I’m starving.”
Swinging his legs over the table, Aric pulled Fynta closer and placed the tips of his fingers around both of her eyes. Fynta lifted her brows, but the Jedi ignored her unspoken question. His eyes closed, and the heat radiating off him increased a noticeable degree. The ache in Fynta’s head receded, pulling into the bridge of her nose, then scattered like smoke. Similarly, the pain from her battered arm dissipated, leaving her only with the reminder of an injury. When Aric’s eyes opened, they were brighter. Then, he sagged back against the bed and it was Fynta’s turn to prop him up.
“You can heal?” Force healing was a rare gift, one that needed years of training to hone into what Aric had accomplished. It was apparently exhausting, too.
Aric shook his head. “Your injuries are still there, I just masked the discomfort.” His jaw tightened. “So, remember your promise.”
A memory from Rishi surfaced. Of a dying slaver and Aric's fingers sinking into a bloody gap in the man's torso. She'd been too angry then to recognize the shift in her target's behavior. Aric had known the man would die from his wounds and had chosen an easy interrogation. Once again, Fynta was forced to reevaluate the intention behind Aric's actions.
Fynta wanted to thank the Jedi for putting what little strength he had into helping her. Then, she remembered that it was half his fault that she was in the shape she was in. Fynta settled for a lopsided smile and offered him her good arm. “Want to help me raid the kitchen?”
Alderaan
Imperial Territory
Mountain Safe House
Sometime That Evening
Raiding the kitchen turned out to be more lucrative than Aric expected. He felt more agreeable after filling his stomach with fine meats and a bottle of red that Fynta found in the cellar. Each time that Aric started to ask whose safe house they were in, he couldn’t bring himself to burst the temporary bubble of kinship they’d developed. For the moment, he and Fynta were the only people within ten miles of mountainous terrain, and that was enough.
Aric stepped out of the kolto tank and stripped off his wet undergarments. A shower stall took up the opposite corner of the spacious room, and he couldn’t wait to wash the residue from his fur. After cleansing, he wrapped one towel around his hips and used another to scrub his head and torso dry. While Aric was happy to be rid of the stench of antiseptics, he didn’t enjoy being wet.
After eating their fill, but before seeking medical aid, Aric and Fynta had toured the sprawling compound and settled on their rooms. His was larger than anything he’d stayed in before, with a massive bed and private fresher. When Aric opened the door, he’d expected it to be empty. He stopped at the sight of Fynta stretched across his bed, momentarily wondering if he’d gotten their quarters confused. Then, he saw the weathered pack in the corner with his armor piled beside and growled at his intruder.
Stalking forward, Aric had every intention of sending the Sith nuisance on her way, until he realized that Fynta was asleep. She lay on her stomach, stripped to a pair of indecent shorts and a shirt that had ridden up along one side. In that moment of peace, he considered Fynta’s features. The woman’s sun-kissed hair and bronze skin were appealing, though her battle-defined muscle stole some of her womanly curves. It didn’t make her look less feminine; if anything, it made her more attractive. Aric’s gaze lingered on the curve of Fynta’s ass just long enough to be respectful before tearing his gaze away.
Fynta inhaled, then rolled away from Aric. Her shirt rose higher, and he was distracted by the patchwork of thin scars overlaying thicker ones that covered the woman’s back. They looked intentional, reminding him of the harsh reality that Sith faced. Before he could ponder too long, Fynta flopped onto her back with a groan and blinked at the ceiling. Then, her bleary gaze found Aric.
“Get lost?” Aric asked. He remembered the towel around his waist when he put his hands on his hips. Fynta scanned his body, but Aric refused to react. She was in his room, after all. He had nothing to explain.
Fynta groped around the bed, then lifted a bag of frozen vegetables from somewhere in Aric’s sheets. He hoped that it hadn’t left a wet spot; he’d just gotten his fur dry. Then, he winced when Fynta dropped it onto her face. “How was the bath?” The question was muffled by the woman’s homemade ice pack.
Aric swallowed his apology; Fynta would wave it off, anyway. That didn’t stop him from grimacing whenever her battered face greeted him. Aric must have taken too long to answer because Fynta lifted one corner of the bag to peek at him. “It was warm,” he responded, then tilted his head. “You should try it.”
The swelling in Fynta’s right arm had gone down, and the autodocs seemed convinced that the bones weren’t broken. Still, Aric worried about the woman’s dominant fighting hand out of commission. She sighed as if reading his thoughts and raised the arm in question, rolling her wrist to prove that she had full mobility.
“Why are you in my room?” Aric finally asked, growing tired of the push and pull of trying to get Fynta to tend to her injuries with more than basic field medicine.
Fynta yawned. “Originally, it was to make sure that you followed through with your treatment. Then, I figured I’d wait to see how it went. Then, the bed called to me and that’s the last thing that I remember.” Her eyes swept over Aric again, and she hummed deep in her throat. “It’s a damn shame I’m so tired.”
“You haven’t even bought me dinner yet,” Aric tisked, moving to his duffle on the floor. He ignored the unnatural rhythm his heartbeat had taken up.
While rummaging for a clean pair of clothes, Aric heard the brush of fabric as Fynta sat up. “I did sneak you into an enemy camp so that you wouldn’t turn into a rakghoul.” When he looked over his shoulder, Fynta’s head tilted to one side and a lascivious grin lit her features. “And helped you steal expensive treats from a powerful Sith. Surely that entitles me to at least a peek.”
“Out,” Aric growled, jabbing one finger at the door. He kept the other hand wrapped around his towel just in case Fynta decided to get cute.
Huffing, the woman scooted to the edge of Aric's bed and slid off. She made it two steps before remembering her makeshift ice pack. After backtracking, Fynta offered Aric a pitiful excuse for a wink through her puffy eyes, then flounced out of his room. Aric used the Force to shut and lock the door behind her, though he wasn’t sure if it was enough to guarantee his privacy.
Aric ignored the tightness around his stitches while he dressed. He’d calculated that three kolto baths would get him back into fighting shape, or at least, make him not worthless. If only he could convince Fynta to do the same. Aric didn’t understand the woman’s aversion to healthcare. He wondered if Theron had any information on her background.
Finally decent, Aric considered trying out the bed, but he was too restless for sleep. He wasn’t hungry thanks to Fynta’s scavenging skills, so he walked through the compound. The halls were dimly lit, well enough that Aric could make out the artwork. There were no images of who owned the place, but he assumed the repeating sigil was important. He took a picture with his datapad to research later. Aric didn’t think that it was Ucevi’s. She wouldn’t hesitate so long if it was one of her properties; not for Fynta.
Aric paused at a window overlooking a snowy courtyard. Since arriving, he’d been so focused on survival that he hadn’t taken the time to explore their surroundings. The moon reflected off the snow, painting the world in a cold silver that seemed frozen in time. For that moment, he felt peace at the pale serenity spreading before him.
“It’s like hell froze over,” a voice murmured behind Aric. He barely stopped himself from jerking away when Fynta appeared at his side. She sighed, arms folded around herself while clutching a blanket to her shoulders. He hadn’t felt her approach, either through the Force or his other senses. The woman moved like a ghost.
“How do you do that?” Aric kept his voice low even though they were alone in the safe house. The frigid air felt too fragile to disturb with raised voices. He sniffed, catching a hint of the soap that Fynta had showered with. If he didn’t know better, he would guess that the woman had been working on suppressing her scent as well.
Fynta pulled the blanket tighter and shivered as she stared out the frost hazed window. “Would you like me to teach you?”
Aric faced the woman, abandoning the picturesque scenery for the Sith who looked somehow small in the pale moonlight. “You’d do that?” Aric squared his shoulders and glared down at her, searching for a trap. “You’d teach a Jedi how to evade detection by other Sith?”
“I’d teach a friend,” Fynta commented, tearing her gaze away from the courtyard to meet Aric’s. “If you’ll trust me.”
“I do,” Aric answered before he realized the words were true. Fynta’s brows rose, and Aric took a step backwards to open space to think. She waited, and he took those seconds to gather his thoughts.
Aric wondered when he’d grown to believe the word of a Sith, or how Fynta had wormed her way inside his defenses in so little time. He knew that she wouldn’t hurt him, just like he knew that he wanted Fynta there when Ucevi delved into his mind. Fynta would protect him, even from an old lover and friend. Aric didn't know why he believed it, though, and that troubled him more than anything.
Finally, Aric nodded. “I do,” he repeated with more force. Then, he manifested a playful note in his voice. “With my mind, at least. My body, not so much.”
Fynta barked out a laugh that lit up her face. “Damn shame about that, too.”
Laughter bubbled out of Aric with surprising ease. He relaxed his stance and let his mind open to the possibility of moving with the stealth that Fynta commanded. “Where do we start?”
Fynta crooked her finger with a smirk that tightened Aric’s stomach. “Let me show you how I meditate.”
The earlier ease that Aric had cultivated in Fynta’s presence evaporated with each step that he followed her down the hallway. It vanished completely when she opened a door that led downstairs. Aric spared the Sith a side glance. “Planning to lock me in the basement?”
“If I was going to chain you to something, Master Jorgan, it wouldn’t be in a basement.” The devious chuckle that followed Fynta’s statement didn’t encourage Aric’s confidence. Especially, when she activated the lights to reveal a long, narrow room that must have run the length of the estate they occupied.
Fynta moved around, flipping levers and powering on computer terminals. Aric stopped inside the door and realized where they were when he spotted the targets on a motorized pulley system. “A shooting range?”
Spreading her hands wide, Fynta let the blanket fall from her shoulders and pool around her feet. “Welcome to my temple.” She tapped in a code on the weapons locker against the wall, then curled her fingers into a fist when it rejected her attempt. The lock splintered in a shower of sparks, and Fynta pushed the door open to reveal a decent collection of low caliber blasters.
Aric took a subtle breath to steady his pounding heart, then kicked her blanket under the metal table on his way to join Fynta. “I hope you’re on good terms with whoever owns these.” Aric noticed that she had taken care not to damage anything other than the lock, though. He supposed this particular Sith had the means to replace something so commonplace.
Without speaking, Fynta leaned in and collected a blaster that Aric recognized. She presented it to him. “Have you ever shot one of these?”
“Once, a while ago.” Aric felt the weight of the weapon in his hand. He’d always been fascinated by the inner workings of blasters, and had been taken in by a lieutenant on Hoth one day when everyone was stuck indoors by a storm.
Felix had shown Aric how to break down, clean, and fire a hand blaster. They’d spent the day on the firing range with a dozen other soldiers. Aric had refused to use the Force, and more than one of the soldiers had been willing to teach a Jedi how to work such a primitive weapon. The day ranked high on the list of Aric's favorite memories.
Fynta nodded with approval when Aric checked the charge magazine before bringing it up to sight. “Come on, let's see how much you remember.”
Aric followed Fynta to the bench at the start of one of the lanes and held out her hand. “Watch me.” Aric surrendered the blaster and stepped back to do as instructed.
The woman planted her feet, hips squared with her shoulders and arms extended in front of her. The grip rested more naturally in Fynta’s palms than his, but Aric assumed that came from a lifetime of practice. Mandalorians learned how to fire a blaster early. Aric wondered which of Fynta’s parents had taught her to shoot.
Aric studied the lines of Fynta’s body as she settled into firing position. The muscles of her now exposed arms bunched, the tendons flexing in her elbows, wrists, and fingers. He watched her ribs expand and contract beneath the black fabric of her halter top, and realized that her breathing had slowed. Then, the air exploded with a concussive blast that made Aric jump. Green lights flashed down the line to signal a hit, and he couldn’t hold in an appreciative snort at her accuracy. “That’s what, thirty, forty yards?”
“Forty-five,” Fynta answered with no small amount of pride. She lowered the weapon and grinned over her shoulder. “Want to take a shot?”
Aric stepped forward and accepted the blaster. He remembered the weight in his hands, and lifted it to stare down the sight, careful to keep his finger outside of the trigger guard. When he was satisfied, he tilted the weapon and examined the charge pack. It glowed gold instead of the blue or green that he was used to. “What’s with the color?”
Nodding in approval, Fynta turned Aric towards the target. “Target rounds. The rechargeable kind so that I don’t have to blow a ton of credits replacing them.” She positioned Aric on a pale line painted on the floor. He didn’t register her hands on him until Fynta gripped his hips and yanked him into a better stance. Just as quickly, her touch was gone.
Aric looked back, keeping his body still, while Fynta retrieved a set of noise suppressors from the cabinet. She plopped them over Aric's ears, enveloping him in silence. Then they beeped a greeting, and suddenly, he could hear again. “These have an NRR rating of 30.” When Aric didn't appear to catch on, Fynta waved a dismissive hand. “Noise reduction rating. Basically, they protect those sensitive ears of yours.”
“What about you?” Aric's voice sounded loud in the void surrounding him. It left him with the urge to pop his ears.
“My hearing has been shot for years.” In contrast, Fynta sounded reserved, but Aric didn't know if that was due to her admission, or the protective gear. “Now, show me what you can do.”
Filing this conversation for later questioning, Aric silently recounted the words of his teacher. Take a breath, find your target, then squeeze on the exhale. As a soldier on Hoth, Felix Iresso had been accustomed to long days trapped inside when the planet’s surface was uninhabitable. He'd been a patient teacher, something Aric had tried and failed to emulate since.
The crack of the blaster wasn’t as loud as before, but it still made the hair on the back of Aric’s neck stand on end. The suppressors muted the sound to a thump that Aric felt in his chest and behind his sinuses. Slowly, Aric lowered the blaster and squinted down the firing line.
“Not bad.” Fynta folded her arms. She wore a stern expression that Aric had yet to see on the woman. He supposed firearms were one of the few things that she took seriously. “That’s a hit. Not a kill, but he felt it.”
Aric tried not to be flattered by a Mandalorian’s praise, but pride wormed its way to the surface. He lowered the blaster to look at Fynta. “Got any tips?” Her kind were the best shots in the galaxy, after all; it wouldn't hurt to pick up a new skill in case of an emergency.
“Try this.” Fynta pushed Aric’s arms up, tapping the bottom of his elbows to straighten them. Then, she slipped into the space between and pressed her back to his chest.
“What are you—” Aric started to back away, but Fynta reached back and jerked his hips in line with hers.
Fynta returned Aric’s arms to the ready position encircling her shoulders, then straightened so that Aric had to as well. “Feel that?” Fynta asked, and Aric had no idea which part of this he was supposed to be focusing on. Mostly, it was the way her ass pressed against his groin.
Looking over her shoulder, a light of amusement entered Fynta’s eyes. “Still with me, Jedi?”
“I’m—” Aric cleared his throat and made himself meet Fynta’s gaze. “I’m not sure what we’re doing.”
“You were slouching, leaning into the shot.” Fynta reached back again to pat Aric’s hip, and he jumped. He tried to cover the movement with a scowl, but Fynta’s continued humor assured him that she wasn't convinced. Her chuckle added to his discomfort. “Feel how straight your spine is now?”
Aric nodded, suddenly aware of how close Fynta’s face was to his, and how easily he could fall into the playful expression that made her look so alive. Then, she ducked out from under his arms, leaving Aric cold and fidgety. Fynta leaned against the counter and motioned down the line. “Again.”
Heaving a long exhale, Aric made himself look at the target. His stance felt unnatural, but when he tried to adjust, Fynta clucked her tongue. He found the steady pattern of his breathing the same way he used for meditation. The noise of the estate drifted into the back of Aric’s mind, and the world tunneled down to the sight on the end of the blaster and the target behind that. Air filled his lungs, then he squeezed the trigger.
“Kandosii.” Fynta clapped her hands and pressed the button that would bring the still illuminated target back to them. Her grin brought on the same swell of pride from before, and Aric found that he’d matched it when she turned to him. “Hell of a shot. That’s a kill.”
With a slap to Aric’s shoulder, Fynta moved to the next lane and lifted her verpine. They spent the next hour side by side in what the woman considered meditation. After losing himself to the rhythmic sensation of firing, reloading, taking aim, and repeating, Aric understood. There was purity in the action that standard meditation lacked. The ability to move changed the experience enough to make it addictive.
When Aric reached for another charge pack and found nothing, the trance broke. He blinked at the empty bench, then over to where Fynta was cleaning her Verpine. Aric gathered his equipment and followed. “I didn’t want to disturb you,” Fynta said without looking up, but there was a twist to her lips. “Enjoy yourself?”
“That was fun,” Aric admitted, setting the blaster on the table next to Fynta’s. He leaned closer to examine the individual pieces of Fynta’s broken down Verpine. “What is that?”
Fynta pointed to the cylindrical chamber. “Physical ammo.” She rolled it with one finger and metal rattled within. “The Verpine is a slug thrower, effective against people like us. Mine’s…modified.” She gestured to a switch on the side, and Aric noted the file marks along the matte black finish where the security identification code should be.
“Who would have guessed,” Aric deadpanned with a smirk. He pointed to the missing numbers. “I take it this would be hard to explain in most civilized sectors.” Fynta winked, then reached for the barrel of her Verpine and dropped the end of a pipe covered in fine wires into it.
Fynta nodded to the blaster in Aric’s hand while she scrubbed the one in hers. “Do you know how to break that down?”
Aric set his blaster on the table and watched Fynta tug the pipe through the other end of the barrel she held, stripping grit and black oil from within. Aric was surprised by how dirty it had gotten in a single use. “I assume you want to teach me?” Felix had shown Aric the process, but Fynta’s lessons were usually more hands-on. He found that he wouldn’t mind a refresher lesson in the woman’s company.
A smirk pulled at the corner of Fynta’s mouth. She pointed to a notch near the back of the barrel. “Use the key hanging on the wall to start the process. Disengage the slide first, then remove the barrel. Don’t drop any of the springs that try to pop out once that’s free.”
Aric ran his fingers along the small cylinders, searching for the correct size while Fynta watched. He felt the weight of her gaze and hoped that he didn’t do anything stupid while taking the blaster apart. To Aric’s surprise, the process was self explanatory once he mastered holding the slide and removing the pin at the same time. He used the Force when Fynta wasn’t looking.
Once all the pieces were laid out on the bench, Aric startled at the feel of Fynta’s shoulder against his. “Good job,” she remarked over his elbow. “Clean your blaster often. After each discharge, if possible.”
Fynta went back to her task, leaving Aric alone with his thoughts. They worked in silence apart from his questions about the tools and Fynta’s quiet answers. Aric had gotten the grime out of every crevice in the blaster and was about to begin reassembling it when Fynta handed him a bottle of lube. “It helps with the friction,” she added with a barely contained grin. “You want a nice, smooth sliding action.”
Aric blinked at the woman, unsure if she was having a go at him or not. When he was able to tear his gaze away, it was to confirm that the bottle was registered for use on blasters and rifles. Carefully, Aric lifted the bottle and turned it. Fynta tutted at him. “A little goes a long way. You wouldn’t want to make it too wet.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Aric managed, though his throat had grown tight with the heady mixture of pheromones filling the space around Fynta.
With another wink, Fynta moved away, and Aric remembered how to breathe. She reassembled her Verpine, slapped a charge cartridge into it, then tucked the weapon into the holster on her hip. “While you get that put together, I’m going to take my turn in the kolto.” She sighed as if the idea of healing annoyed her, then her smile returned. “Feel free to come rescue me if you get lonely.”
Before Aric could formulate his response, Fynta was gone. He looked at the parts of the blaster spread on the cloth before him and sighed. His body still hummed, like tiny live wires in his arms and legs that left him fidgety. If he wasn’t careful, Fynta would entice him into making a mistake that would condemn him and the Jedi Order both.
Alderaan
Emergency Safe House
Over the course of the next three days, Aric and Fynta held to a shaky routine. They took turns in the kolto tank, bickered about theology, raided Nora’s kitchen, argued about sex, spent time in quiet contemplation on the blaster range, and rounded out the evening debating morals over dinner. They were in the middle of one such meal when Aric put down his fork. “Where are we?”
Fynta was surprised that the question hadn’t come up sooner, not that she had a better answer than she would have earlier in the week. She scooped another spoonful of desert into her mouth and chewed. Meanwhile, Aric stared at her, clearly unwilling to back down. Fynta swallowed, then smiled. “Does it matter? We’ll be leaving as soon as Ucevi does her mind thing.”
Aric tensed, and Fynta took another bite of her food. “It’ll be fine,” she added around a mouthful, “Ucevi’s been doing it to me for years.”
“That’s not comforting,” Aric grumbled as he pushed away from the table. Fynta watched the Cathar rinse his dishes and place them to dry. When he turned to face her, Aric pressed his palms against the kitchen counter and drummed his fingers. “I need to know.”
Rolling her eyes, Fynta dropped her spoon into the bowl. “She’s a good person, Aric, like Ucevi. You need to stop worrying so much about where your allies come from and more about what they do.”
“Because Sith are so trustworthy?” Aric asked, folding his arms. It was the same argument that they’d had every night, but this time, he ran a hand down his face and sighed. “Ucevi will be here in two days.”
Fynta leaned back in her chair, waiting for the Cathar to get to the point. Aric glared at his feet. “I’m going to let a fucking Sith climb into my head and hope that she won’t scramble everything that she finds.” Fynta started to argue, but Aric’s expression when he looked up stopped her. “I want you in there.”
“Me?” Fynta felt her brows lift. “You want me there when Ucevi goes in?”
Aric nodded, though he radiated unease. “I need to trust someone if we’re going to kill your old master. So far, I don’t see a reason why it can't be you.”
There was a moment of silence while Fynta tried to figure out how best to respond, but again, Aric spoke over anything she might have come up with. “I know she’s your person, but can I count on you?”
Fynta finally understood why Aric had been so curious about Ucevi. He thought they were in love, or at least an item. The waves of jealousy that Fynta felt from him weren’t because he wanted her, but because he wanted what he thought she had with Ucevi. The sort of trust that came from years of shared hardship, not love.
The idea of love, at least the sort that Aric alluded to, had never interested Fynta. She had people that she trusted, people that she had fun with, and people that she used. Sometimes, the lines between those classifications blurred. Love in the context that Aric meant included growing old together and a lot more commitment than Fynta ever intended to subject herself to.
A memory surfaced, hazy and colored by time. When she’d escaped Darth Nox, the detox and stripping of the Sith’s control over her mind had left Fynta weak and ill. Ucevi had been there, holding her hair back and cooling her fevers. She was the only person that Fynta had ever let that close. Maybe Aric was right about the bond she shared with the Sith Blood, but not in the way he suspected.
“Yeah,” Fynta answered, only realizing after Aric began to fidget that she’d forgotten to answer while untangling her complicated relationship with Ucevi. There would be time for that later. Lifting her eyes, she met the Cathar’s cold glare. “I’ll be there.”
Aric nodded, and an awkward silence fell over them. While Fynta tried to think of a way to fill it, an idea occurred to her. “You want to play a game?”
Fynta didn’t need the Force to see Aric’s apprehension. She chuckled and got to her feet, bowl in hand. “You grab the booze while I clean up.”
“A drinking game?” Aric asked as he watched Fynta with a predatory smirk. When he spoke, it widened to show the sharp points of his teeth. “You do realize that Cathar have a higher metabolism than humans, right?”
Fynta turned on the water to rinse her dishes, peeking playfully over one shoulder. “And Mandalorians start drinking at thirteen, I think I’ll be fine.”
Leaning so close that Fynta felt Aric’s breath on her neck, the Cathar whispered, “You’re on.” He shoved away from the counter and sauntered into the next room where they’d drank more of Nora’s stash than she’d be pleased with. Meanwhile, Fynta tried to shake away the chills that Aric’s proximity had left her with.
When Fynta joined Aric in the sitting room, he’d pulled two chairs to either side of a low table and placed a full bottle of whiskey in the middle. A shot glass sat in front of each chair. Fynta grinned and took her seat. “You got the good stuff.”
“I’ve developed a taste for it,” Aric admitted, tipping the bottle of Corellian Whiskey to fill each glass. “How does this work?”
“Simple, I make a statement, and if it’s false, you drink.” Fynta lifted her glass in a salute. “For example: Never have I ever lost a bar fight.” Aric tilted his head while Fynta knocked back her shot. The whiskey went down smooth, burning a satisfying trail through her chest and stomach. She sighed and set her empty glass down.
Aric rubbed his chin, failing to cover his smirk. “You lost?”
“Hell yeah I lost,” Fynta laughed. “I never picked a fight with a Wookie again. I was lucky that she was only in it for a good time and didn’t rip my arms off.”
Aric rumbled a low laugh. “Okay, my turn.” He took a moment to consider, his stare locked on Fynta. “I’ve never framed anyone for murder.”
“Oddly specific,” Fynta said, but she drank anyway. Still, Aric’s glass remained untouched. “It was an accident, but I guess it still counts. I didn’t know that the butler was in the house until the news announced that he’d been arrested.”
“How did that turn out?” Aric asked, and Fynta was surprised by the lack of scorn in his tone.
Smiling, Fynta glanced at Nora’s crest. “Ucevi and one of her political allies pulled some strings, and the man went free. We got him off planet, just in case.”
The noise Aric made could have been approval, but he didn’t speak. Fynta leaned forward to refill her glass. “My turn.” She racked her brain for anything that would even the odds before she was too drunk to play. “I’ve never used my personal belief system to mete out judgment on those I perceived as evil.”
Aric lifted his glass, scowled at Fynta, then knocked it back. “Not the way I’d word it,” he hissed around the burn. Fynta allowed herself a victorious smirk.
The Cathar licked his lips and studied the glass in his hand. When he spoke, he didn’t look at Fynta. “I’ve never slept with the enemy.”
“Yet,” Fynta teased, saluting Aric with her glass before dumping the contents down her throat. Her head felt pleasantly light and her tongue loose. She was well on her way towards being drunk, and her adversary was annoyingly sober.
Slamming the glass onto the table between them, Fynta grinned. “I’ve never been indoctrinated into a cult as a child.” At least when Nox had her, it was forced servitude with a hint of brainwashing. She’d never adopted his way of thinking.
Aric’s scowl deepened. “That’s not how it happened.”
Fynta shook her head and snapped her fingers at him while filling the glass. “Drink, Jedi.” He did, then quickly poured another. Fynta found that response intriguing. Aric didn’t argue past the weak defense, leading her to wonder if the Cathar harbored doubts about his precious Orders recruitment policies.
Aric lifted his glass and looked into Fynta’s eyes. “I’ve never kissed someone for the sake of a job.”
It stung, but Fynta drank. She’d been taught from the cradle to win, no matter the cost. The Sith nurtured that belief, twisting it into a soul shredding mantra. What Nox had done went so far beyond the academy’s teachings that Fynta wasn’t even sure that she had a soul left to worry about. But using Aric without his knowledge had been wrong. Hell, Fynta didn’t even need his consent, but she should have at least warned him.
Spinning the glass between her fingers, Fynta studied the floor. “If it’s any consolation, I regret that.”
Aric snorted and drank his shot anyway. “This game was a bad idea.” He turned his glass upside down on the table and stood. When Fynta reached for the bottle, Aric grabbed it and walked towards the main bar.
Fynta followed Aric while eyeing the bottle in his hand. She didn’t think that he was drunk yet because she was bordering on tipsy, but considered separating him from the alcohol before their argument could escalate. Nora would not be pleased to return home to lightning scorched floorboards and claw marks on the furniture.
Fynta held her hand out for the whiskey bottle when Aric stopped by the bar. “I think I’m going to need that before we continue.” To her surprise, he surrendered it.
Tipping the bottle back, Fynta took a heady swig, then wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. She lowered the bottle and leveled Aric with as serious of an expression as she could manage. “I am sorry.”
Aric ran a hand down his face and released a sound somewhere between a growl and a sigh. It vibrated through Fynta’s bones, and she shivered with unexpected pleasure before she could stop herself. Thankfully, Fynta didn’t think Aric saw it.
“Let’s make sure that we’re on the same page from now on.” The Cathar grumbled, reaching for the bottle dangling from Fynta’s fingers. “Deal?”
“Deal.” Fynta watched Aric take several consecutive drinks and winced at the open space in the bottle. She’d have to replace that before Nora found out.
When Aric smacked his lips, the vibrant glow of his eyes drew Fynta in. She stepped closer and lowered her voice, if only to make sure that she wasn’t yelling at him. When Aric didn’t retreat, Fynta lifted her chin and pasted on what she hoped was a flirty grin. “Admit it, you liked it a little.”
Aric glared out the window at the snowy landscape illuminated by a cloudy night. “I’m not into bondage.” Fynta followed his gaze and shivered. She hated the cold, but Aric wore a wistful expression that grabbed her attention. In the pale light, the sharp angles of his face were accentuated by shadow and his eyes glowed a blue that nearly matched the snow outside.
Fynta bit her lip and glanced back at their glasses. If they were going to work together, she couldn't leave it like this. Pouring two shots, Fynta offered one to Aric.
Perhaps it was the intensity of Aric's stare when he accepted Fynta’s gift, or maybe the alcohol fueled warmth driving away the Alderaan cold, but Fynta lifted her glass. “To new possibilities.”
After a moment's hesitation, Aric tapped his glass to Fynta’s and offered a tight smile. “And broadening horizons.”
They drank together. When the glasses were empty, Fynta brushed her fingers over Aric’s when she collected it. “It was a pretty shitty first kiss.”
Shugging, Aric let his smile expand just enough to show the tips of his teeth. “I’ve had better,” he agreed.
Taking a step closer, Fynta looked up at Aric. The toes of her shoes crossed the threshold of his boots. Her thigh brushed his when she shifted, and it would take little effort to close the gap between their chests, but she’d leave that to him. “We could always try again.”
The fact that Fynta voiced the offer that had been tempting her all night surprised her nearly as much as Aric’s response. “Why?” He didn’t break eye contact, and Fynta felt the press of his will against hers. She opened her mind enough to let him sense her sincerity, but not so much that he’d tumble in like the last time.
Aric inhaled deeply enough that his chest expanded through the empty space that Fynta had left between them. She smiled and lowered her voice. “Because I think you want to know what it feels like as much as I do.”
“Yeah,” Aric exhaled, his voice dropping low and husky. “Maybe I do.” Then, his lips were on Fynta’s, one hand pressing against her lower back to drag her against his body, the other still supporting his weight against the counter.
Fynta expected cold hunger, maybe the bite of a predator who had been pushed to his limits. Instead, a gentle warmth suffused Fynta’s body as Aric’s emotions tangled with hers. He was calm, rather than the frostbitten anger and frustration that she normally sensed in him. There was a peacefulness in Aric’s reaction that was as undeniable as the snow outside their window.
Steadily, Aric’s other hand moved to cradle Fynta’s head, fingers slipping through the loose strands of her hair so that he could tilt her mouth closer. A steady rumble built inside of him, pushing through his body and into Fynta’s. Aric’s rough tongue scraped pleasantly against hers, and the overwhelming sense of rightness of the moment threatened to swallow Fynta whole. She knew instinctively that Aric would drive her mad with patient caresses should they ever make it to a bed.
Fynta pressed closer, rubbing herself against Aric in a way that made it clear how far she was willing to take their new exploration. He growled encouragement against her lips, splaying his fingers across the bare skin of her back. When he’d slipped his hand up her shirt, Fynta had no idea.
A warning bloomed in the back of Fynta’s mind. She ignored it, claiming blissful denial in the fear that if she gave in, the spell would be broken. Aric would come to his senses and remember that she was his mortal enemy, that this was a terrible idea.
The pressure of an intruder grew even as Aric’s hand worked Fynta’s shirt higher. He’d just reached her ribs when she tore her lips free with a snarl. “Fierfek.” Aric pulled back to stare down at Fynta, his heavy breaths puffing against her face and the lust that brightened his eyes faded while she watched.
Pressing her finger to Aric’s parted lips, she closed her eyes to focus on what had grown from a distraction into an annoyance. Then, her eyes widened with understanding. “Fierfek.”
Alderaan
Imperial Territory
Unknown Mountain Safe House
“What is it?” Aric whispered, pressing his lips next to Fynta’s ear. Their bodies were molded together, and when she shifted, Aric was reminded of how close he’d come to making a grave mistake. He shouldn’t have accepted Fynta’s offer, but looking into her brilliant eyes while moonlight poured through the window to illuminate tanned skin, he’d lost himself.
Carefully, Fynta untangled herself from Aric’s arms. The room felt cold without her body pressed against his. While he’d expected her willingness, Aric hadn’t been prepared for her enthusiasm. She had met every stroke of his tongue, never shying away from what most species considered uncomfortable. The heady scent of Fynta’s arousal still simmered in Aric’s blood. Until her eyes popped open to show alarm instead of lust. “We’re not alone.”
Icy dread doused the flames of Aric’s desire. For the span of a heartbeat, he wondered if Fynta had betrayed him again. Had she lured him into that damn game to lower his defenses? To prove that he was a weak willed Jedi? Then logic rose, and Aric realized that Fynta’s body language was not one of someone who had expected visitors. Her hand flattened against his chest, but he resisted when she tried to push him back.
Aric touched Fynta’s arm, trying not to be distracted by the firmness of her bicep or the memory of her muscles playing under the scarred skin of her back. “Who is it?” Aric mouthed when she urged him behind the bar.
Aric felt the warmth of Fynta’s expanded senses and shivered at the way his body craved more. “A problem,” she answered, then shimmered from sight.
Aric stared at the place Fynta had been, caught between irritation that he still couldn’t do that and respect for how smooth her transition was. He reached for Fynta through the Force and found a flicker of life, nothing that he’d have caught were he not intimately familiar with her signature. Aric turned his ear in the direction that he assumed Fynta had gone and opened his physical senses. Again, she was there, but muted to the point that he couldn’t pin down her position in the room.
A brush of the Dark Side made the fur on Aric’s neck stand on end. He thought it was Fynta, until he realized how powerful it was. She didn’t present that way, and the sensation from this person felt controlled, like it had been bundled into a box barely suited to the task.
Aric ducked around the counter that Fynta had pressed him against short seconds ago. A small figure entered the room, her pale skin glowing in the scattered moonlight. She looked young, with hair as dark as the shadows surrounding her, and deceptively thin. The girl glanced around the room, then tilted her head as if listening to some far away sound. Aric risked enough contact to know that she wasn’t the source of the darkness. This one felt more like him in the sense that she carried the Light Side with her. Though it had been corrupted long ago, there was no doubting its touch.
If not for the strength of the person trailing the younger woman, Aric might have approached her. The girl turned sharply, squeaking a startled yelp when Fynta popped into existence. They exchanged playful barbs, which included a shove from the younger one, but it was to the figure yet to show themselves that Fynta spoke.
“You should have commed,” Fynta complained. Aric felt a jolt of apprehension and realized that it wasn’t coming from him. Fynta was displeased by the appearance of their visitor and hadn’t given him the all clear to join her.
“It is my safe house,” a woman laughed, and the blood that had once boiled with desire froze in Aric’s veins. He’d heard that voice, and he knew who it belonged to before the Chiss stepped into the kitchen. “Ucevi sounded worried, so I thought I would—”
Aric rose with a snarl before he could stop himself. Now, he understood why Fynta had refused to tell him where they were. Why she’d dodged every question that could have led him to realizing how precarious his position was when he’d felt a measure of safety.
Red eyes widened with momentary surprise before he felt the crush of Dark Side pressure against his mind. Whereas Fynta had always been sneaky, tangling him in playful tendrils, Darth Nemesis hit Aric’s shields like a battering ram. Pain spiked through his mind like cracks in the ice. He pushed back, reaching for his weapon and cursing its absence. Aric vaulted over the counter anyway, prepared to battle with teeth and claws if need be.
Then, Fynta was between them. Her words were muffled against the roar of psychic battle. Aric looked into her eyes and saw what she wanted, but he couldn’t stop, not when Nemesis was so close.
Having failed to dissuade Aric, Fynta turned to the Chiss, who now had the aid of the younger woman that Aric had sensed light in. Neither had drawn their lightsabers, but it was only a matter of time. Aric didn’t know if he could cast Fynta aside and survive this encounter, but he had to try.
A warm hand rested against Aric’s cheek, and heat suffused his body. He sucked in a ragged breath at the images that played out in his mind’s eye. Naked skin under his hands and panted breaths against his ear. The desperate whispers of a lover and gentle laughter after completion. Aric staggered away from Fynta, his attention momentarily ripped from Nemesis. He tried to growl out a warning, but her betrayal choked him. Fynta had snuck into his mind and turned it against him with the same ease that Nox’s assassin had. He felt the violation in his soul.
“Aric,” Fynta whispered. She took a step towards him, and he moved back. He saw the confusion in her eyes and bared his teeth to make his stance clear.
Pointing at Darth Nemesis, Aric snarled. “Keep that away from me.”
Fury roared through Aric as the window to end one of the greatest threats against the Republic snapped shut. Spinning on his heel, he stalked away from the woman towards his room. With each step, he felt the strands of his connection with Fynta fray and snap. She’d betrayed him.
#whiskey & tihaar#sith fynta/jedi jorgan au#sith fynta#jedi jorgan#tish oc: ucevi#sleeps oc: nora#ume oc: Noara starspark#fynta wolfe#aric jorgan
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Whumptober: Day 5
This is from a future chapter of Whiskey & Tihaar.
5: Every Whumpee’s Needs
Blood Loss| Running out of Air | Hyperthermia
Word Count: 303
Fynta blinked, trying to stay awake while her body did its damnedest to shut down. Her breath stuttered in a thick cloud in front of her as a mockery of her weakness. Feeling had abandoned Fynta’s fingers and toes, which had become apparent only now that she was laying on the ground after stumbling over the small emergency heater.
“Ready to stop being stubborn?” Aric asked as he righted the device. He’d drawn the hood of his robe up, hands stretched over the warm glow. He shifted his gaze in Fynta’s direction. “Pretty sure that humans don’t come in blue.
“So you’re a fucking expert now?” Fynta snarled as she pushed herself into a sitting position. Darkness crowded around the edge of her vision, and she breathed through her nose to drive it back.
Sighing, Aric pushed to his feet, and grabbed the emergency heater. “You’re going to freeze.” He set it at Fynta’s boots and knelt behind her. The weight of her armor lessened, but it took her sluggish thoughts a moment to realize why.
Fynta glanced over her shoulder when Aric set her pauldron aside. “About time.” Her teeth chattered, making her cringe at the unsexiness of her flirtation. “But maybe wait until we’re back at base?”
“Haha,” Aric retorted, never taking his eye off his task. Once Fynta’s chestplate had been removed, he eased down behind her, his legs stretching out to either side of hers, and tugged her against him. “I need you alive if we’re going to defeat Nox.”
The relief was instant. Aric’s inhuman warmth seeped into Fynta’s back, unknotting muscles and relaxing the hitched pace her lungs had adopted. “Better?” Aric asked, but his voice from far away. The darkness rushed in faster than Fynta could defend against, and with that modicum of comfort, Fynta succumbed.
#whumptober2022#day 5: hypothermia#fynta wolfe#sith fynta#aric jorgan#jedi jorgan#sith fynta/jedi jorgan au#she's never been good in the cold
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This chapter of Whiskey & Tihaar is an absolute beast. But I finally finished the first part of it....which is roughly 24 pages long. So, I’ll need to figure out how to break that up. In the meantime, have some Sith Fynta and Jedi Jorgan being painfully Sith and Jedi.
Shout out to @kunoichi-ume (Noara) @sleepswithvillains (Nora) @tishinada (Ucevi) for letting me borrow their girls for this one. There is a lot going on.
One side of Aric’s mouth lifted in a lopsided sneer that left the single tip of his canine trapped between his lips. Fynta thought it was adorable, but managed to keep that thought to herself. When Aric didn’t respond, she reached for him through the Force.
“Don’t,” Aric snarled, taking a step away from Fynta as if that could weaken their connection. She felt a surge of panic, quickly tamped down but present all the same. Aric’s glare turned to his feet, and Fynta realized for the first time that he hadn’t looked at her since she’d walked in.
Fynta stood and took a step closer, noting that the sense of fear spiked again. It wasn’t surprise or anxiety, but the raw terror of trapped prey; an emotion she had become well acquainted with in her line of work. Though, Fynta never thought to inspire such emotions in the stoic Cathar. “What’s wrong?”
When Fynta moved again, Aric snarled in earnest. The sound brought her up short. She’d heard him growl in many circumstances, most involving her, but none had ever felt threatening like now. Aric moved into a loose-limbed stance as if ready for an attack. “You almost had me,” he said, tone low and edged with malice. “You almost convinced me that there was more to the Empire than what the Order thought. But it was a lie. You’re just like all the rest.”
“I’m—” Fynta sputtered, red coloring her vision and rage boiling through her veins until lightning crackled between her fingers. She bared her teeth and jabbed one of the sparking digits at Aric, holding onto her control by bloodied nails. “You have no idea what you’re talking about you self-righteous, pompous di'kutla utreekov.”
Fynta had the short-lived satisfaction of seeing the Jedi’s brows climb his forehead before she spun around and stormed from the room. In her anger, Fynta slammed the door so hard that sparks sprung from the safety mechanisms and it might have jumped off its tracks. She didn’t care enough to look back.
Alderaan
Private Residence of Darth Nemesis
Aric stared at the mangled wreckage of his door. Not only had the force with which Fynta slammed it shorted out the electrical system, but it had ripped part of the track out of the frame. Without the right tools, Aric wouldn’t enjoy the false safety of a locked door again.
Sighing, he nudged the leaning slab of metal and watched it groan outward. A spark of light distracted him, only because he hadn’t felt it in such a long time. When Aric looked up, the young woman from earlier stood in the hallway with a tray, her pale blue gaze focused on the carriage that had once been Aric’s door. “I take it the talk didn’t go well?”
Aric snorted a laugh before he could stop himself, then sobered with the reminder that this woman was also a Sith. Though, there was light in her too. She was the source of that peace Aric had felt earlier in the evening. “Who are you?”
“Oh, right.” The woman wiped her hand on silk pants so green that they almost looked black, then extended a hand to Aric. “My name is Noara Starspark. I’m Nora’s apprentice.”
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Whumptober: Day 4
4: Dead on your feet
Hidden injury | Waking up Disoriented | Can’t Pass Out
This is taking another dip into @dingoat and @askshivanulegacy werewolf au. Where Fynta gets to be a bad guy. (Thanks guys!)
Word Count: 489
Fynta was cold. Not just physically, but to her core. Darkness surrounded her, pierced by vivid snatches of conversation and color. Teeth the size of a vibro blade, the sound of tearing flesh and panicked shouts, brilliant blue eyes, and so much red.
“She’s spiking again.”
Fynta writhed in the confines of her weightless prison. The pain had reached a crescendo so long ago that all she felt was the memory of it. Her bones had broken and been put back together, her senses made stronger. The air smelled and tasted sour when Fynta remembered to breathe.
“Test the new inhibitor chip.”
That voice, low and gruff, authoritative. It sparked new memories; new pain. Fynta stood over a closed coffin, her fingers bloody and a still beating heart in her hand. She considered squeezing. “I can offer you the chance for vengeance.”
Fynta scoffed, knowing without seeing the older woman at her side. She tucked the heart away, out of sight so that no one else would see it. Maybe if she left it there long enough, even she would forget. “You didn’t see what I saw.” There had been six of her then, now she was diminished.
“You know that I can do it.” The older woman touched Fynta's shoulder, and she jerked away. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“You’ll make me into one of them, a monster like those things you sent us after?” They had been unprepared, convinced that it was just another Sith or horror of science and technology. Had she known, he—no, she wouldn’t speak his name; not yet. Besides, he didn’t believe in the Manda, so where had his soul gone.
The voice faded to a whisper that echoed through Fynta’s thoughts. “Sometimes, we must become the monster in order to defeat it.”
“Inhibitor chip active…pulse dropping. General—I think it’s working. We should—”
“She owns you now,” a familiar voice, gruff with exasperated amusement said. It belonged to the heart, speaking from that hidden place where Fynta had left it. “She’ll turn you into her.”
Fynta shrugged. Just long enough to avenge you. The heart sighed, then fell quiet. Fynta wanted to call it back, but the voice clutched at her chest and squeezed until she couldn’t breathe. Better to let it rest.
“Bring her out.”
“It’s too soon. There are tests—yes, General.”
Fynta’s grey world brightened to blue bubbles and blurred images. She shied from the light, pressing against the cool, hard surface to put space between her and the unpleasant stimuli. Only after it had dimmed did Fynta blink through the medicated haze of her tank. The woman on the other side was familiar. Wrinkled cheeks pulled into a wide smile, sharp eyes crinkling at their corners. “Welcome back, Captain Wolfe. Are you ready to work?”
Pale fur and yellow eyes flashed in front of Fynta’s mind. Her blood boiled, heating the water until the glass cracked. “Good,” General Garza smiled. “Very good.”
#whumptober2022#day 4: waking up disoriented#fynta wolfe#werewolf au#general garza#fynta as a bad guy
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