#will be crossposted elsewhere later | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonstrider9904 · 2 years

Text

Burned

Chapter 22 of Moonwalker: The Batch

{series masterlist} {next chapter} {previous chapter}

{join my taglist!} {crossposted to Wattpad} {crossposted to AO3}

Summary: Tipoca City was shot down with Clone Force 99 inside, and in the struggle to get out alive, the squadron must finally face the difficult decisions lying ahead.

Word count: 5.4k

Tags/warnings: Mature. Angst, arguing, more and more angst. An odd mix between fix-it and my own Crosshair bias. No regrets.

Songs: the garden

A/N: THIS IS IT OMG!! Enjoy this first part of the finale!

Tipoca City had gone dark, with only the orange light of the fires from the explosions to illuminate the pathways along certain doom. It wasn’t long before Sarah and the squadron couldn’t even keep themselves standing upright, as the central platforms pillars had finally been shot down by the three venators above it, sending everyone down a fall of terror and debris.

Sarah clung to the walls, watching as Tech and Echo did the same not very far above her, but her worry was placed elsewhere. Somehow, her eyesight allowed her to find Wrecker in the darkness, and he was still holding onto Crosshair for dear life, who was still unconscious from being stunned.

“Sarah!”

Tech’s voice calling her name warned her of an incoming beam that was making its freefall trajectory toward her. Using her almost-healed broken wrist, Sarah manipulated the Force around it and led it away from herself, sending it to fall down the very middle of the tram where it could hurt no one. Relief was short lived, however, when a new and greater danger presented itself in the form of a booming loud crash and the strength of inertia forcing everyone to fall down again.

The platform had reached the ocean floor, and as it settled its own weight under water, everyone was left to their own devices for those eternal few seconds.

When the movement around her stopped, Sarah could hear a high-pitched ringing in her ears. She slowly opened her eyes, groaning more out of misery than of pain; it had been a miracle she hadn’t wounded herself even more after such a fall.

She got up, panting, looking around in hopes of finding everyone safe and sound. She found Tech, Hunter, Echo, and Wrecker already standing, all of them still with their helmets on.

Wrecker was no longer holding onto Crosshair; he was nowhere in sight, nor were Omega or Azi, and before all of them was a closed mechanical door.

“Crosshair,” Sarah breathed out as she ran toward the door and rested her palms on it to later bang it with her fists. “Crosshair!”

She could feel Hunter’s eyes on her as she banged the door, calling out his brother’s name; she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to let him be taken from her again.

“Sarah!” Omega cried out behind the door.

Sarah stopped her outburst, focusing on the young girl. “Omega, are you okay?!”

“We’re fine,” the kid said, hesitant. “But Crosshair��s still unconscious, and the water level’s rising quick!”

Sarah took a step back and extended both of her arms, trying as hard as she could to get the door open, even if she had to tap into her fear of losing them, her anger at everything that had gone wrong since the war ended. The door began to creak open, but barely, and it wasn’t until Wrecker took one half and Tech took the other that the three of them could finally get the door open enough for the accumulated water to course through, eventually letting Omega, AZI, and Crosshair come through it.

Echo caught Omega securely in his arms while the strength of the water that rushed directly toward her knocked Sarah back, and it wasn’t until she recovered and brought herself to her feet that she saw Hunter stopping Crosshair with a foot on his shoulder, leaving the now conscious sniper to scurry to his feet as well.

He looked around at everyone until his eyes fell on Hunter, anger clouding his gaze. “What have you done?”

“Your precious Empire opened fire on the city,” Hunter snarled. “We weren’t gonna leave you behind.”

Sarah would ignore the irony of that statement. Feeling that they were both getting angrier at one another by the second, Sarah went to stand in between them, keeping them from doing or saying anything rash.

“We have to find a way back to the Marauder, and we’re never going to do that if you two don’t stop arguing,” Sarah said and turned to Tech. “What do you suggest?”

Tech gave a heavy sigh as he looked at his holopad. “I can chart a pathway towards somewhere safer than here, but I am afraid it will only be a temporary solution.”

“We can use it while we think of something else to do,” Hunter agreed and signaled to the squad to move. “If you want to stay here and die, that’s your problem.”

“Hunter!” Sarah glared at him, unbothered by the fact that everyone would see her snap at him.

She couldn’t believe he could talk that way to his own brother.

“Let’s move,” Hunter said and led the way, with everyone following.

Without a second thought, Sarah took Crosshair’s hand and led him down with her; at least it would be a way to guarantee he’d be by her side.

But they all ran down the very platform where that overlooked the cloning facilities, a sight chilling in its alien darkness as it fell apart over itself. It was impossible not to think of the clones that had once been there, so much that everyone came to a stop as they watched the place where their brothers had been created, where Echo himself had been born.

It was only the water breaching through the wall’s creases that made them keep running, but before Sarah could, she felt she had to tug on Crosshair’s wrist.

She could sense his hesitation, and she panicked.

“Crosshair, come,” she looked at him, her worried eyes pleading him to move.

He looked like he was doubting as he looked past her at his brothers running off, leaving her and him behind. Sarah could sense his sorrow, his fear of not being wanted, but it only made her wrist tighten around him.

“Crosshair, I’m here with you. I want you with us,” she spoke above the mayhem. “I refuse to leave you behind, and you’re not getting rid of me. Now please, come with me.”

Crosshair’s brown eyes landed on her, and they flashed as though he were coming to his senses. Finally, the two of them followed after the squad down the rumbling halls. Oblivious to where exactly she and the others were heading, Sarah didn’t make out a good sense of direction until she was inside the quiet room with the others.

As she looked around, her heart sank when she realized they were in the old barracks.

And everyone else seemed to be looking around with the same melancholy, no doubt flooded with memories of better days when the place would be a mess, wreak of testosterone, and house them all like the family they were.

Sarah caught Crosshair looking at Wrecker’s wall, wondering if perhaps he’d found himself looking at it more times than he’d dare to admit when he still slept there with his elite squad. He then looked up, realizing it wasn’t only Sarah who looked at him, but everyone else as well.

Everyone except Hunter.

“All those missions together,” Crosshair said quietly, finding Hunter with his gaze, “and you threw it away.”

Hunter’s anger was evident through his helmet; Sarah didn’t need their bond to feel it.

“We made a choice and so did you,” Hunter said back.

“I think you chose for everyone,” Crosshair taunted.

“None of us wanted to march ourselves into a deathtrap,” Hunter growled. “Seems it would have been a waste anyway.”

“One of you did make the attempt,” Crosshair looked at Sarah and then back at Hunter.

“That was when you shot her,” Hunter chose to hit the sore spot. “Just like you’ve probably done the same to countless other people in the name of your Empire.”

“Soldiers follow orders,” Crosshair said.

“Pawns follow orders, and that’s what you’ve reduced yourself to,” Hunter stepped closer to Crosshair. “You think yourself a big shot commander when really you’re one of the Empire’s tools, and they’re gonna get rid of you next. They already left you for dead here. You’re not a leader, a leader protects their squad.”

“Like you’ve protected them?” Crosshair eyed the others. “Like you protected Sarah?”

“Don’t speak of her like that,” Hunter fumed.

“They’re going to die because of you,” Crosshair smirked, proud that he was getting to Hunter. “Because of your failed leadership.”

“Okay, stop,” Sarah walked up to them and took Hunter’s forearm, pulling him away from the others and to the very edge of the barracks. Hunter took his helmet off to look at her, and she could see he was still angry.

“I wish you’d stop talking to each other like that,” Sarah whispered as calmly as she could manage. “I’m trying, Hunter, I’m really trying to see both sides here. But I’m not going to keep letting you talk to him like that.”

“How can you be defending him?” Hunter asked her lowly. “You heard him, he doesn’t have the chip. He wants to be with the Empire, he’s no better than the rest of them. I figured you’d be on my side.”

“This isn’t about picking sides, it’s about getting us back together and getting out of here alive,” Sarah said as she took his hands in hers, squeezing them as she looked directly into his gorgeous brown eyes.

“I don’t think he has it out,” she whispered finally.

Hunter sighed, evidently disappointed. “Open your eyes, Sarah. He’s gone.”

“Hunter,” Omega’s bright little voice traveled across the room, catching his and Sarah’s attention onto her as she paced over to them. “We landed over the tunnel that leads to Nala Se’s lab, and AZI thinks that he can open a pathway for us to travel through it.”

Sarah looked out the window at the glass tunnel that in fact remained in one piece, even if it was cracked.

“It looks incredibly risky,” Sarah said as she looked at Hunter.

Hunter sighed, clearly upset at Sarah despite her change of subject. “We don’t have much choice. Are you sure AZI can do it, Omega?”

“I calculate a 99.034% chance of success,” Azi hovered over. “I must warn you, the remaining percentage of uncertainty could be considered quite high given the risks that are implied.”

“It’s that or we stay here and run out of air, and I’m not willing to condemn us to that,” Hunter looked over at Crosshair, and then at Sarah. “I don’t care what he says.”

Hunter put his helmet back on and walked back to the center of the room with Omega and AZI, and Sarah’s heart squeezed for a moment, wanting to reach out to him, but she remembered he had no memory of her.

AZI managed to successfully open a passage to the glass tunnel. One by one, Sarah helped each member fall safely onto the tunnel until she was the last one to hop in, using the Force to break her own fall. She squatted back up to standing, finding Crosshair’s gaze already on her, and she smiled to let him know she was okay. They slowly walked side by side, following the others, with their steps featherlight and cautious.

Crosshair looked up at the cracks in the glass, finding droplets of water traveling along them. He reached for Sarah’s hand to bring her attention to the subject, after which he faced her and the others.

“We need to go back,” he said.

“I told you to stay if you wanted to,” Hunter replied without looking back at Crosshair. “If you’re here, deal with it.”

“The tunnel’s going to burst at any moment,” Crosshair protested.

“Will you quit complaining?” Hunter turned around, aiming his lantern directly at Crosshair’s face.

“Stop it, both of you,” Wrecker surprised everyone by speaking up, his tone nostalgic. “I can’t stand to hear you fighting all the time.”

Everyone’s eyes were on Wrecker, including Crosshair’s, whose gaze seemed to soften at his brother.

And it took Sarah’s whole willpower not to cry when memories of them engaging in friendly competitions on the battlefield or provoking other clones together flooded her mind; she didn’t doubt they were thinking the same thing.

But as much as Wrecker wanted everything to go alright, he still had a wall up between him and Crosshair, with his helmet only put on halfway and balancing over his head.

“Why didn’t you try to come back?” Wrecker asked. “If you don’t have the chip anymore, why didn’t you try to come back to us?”

“Wrecker…” Crosshair trailed off.

“I know we screwed up in not coming back for you either,” Wrecker averted his gaze. “I’m sorry, little brother… but just keep coming with us. Just a little further, okay?”

“Wrecker’s right, darling,” Sarah walked up to Crosshair and rested her hand on his forearm. “A lot of things happened to us while we were apart too. But that doesn’t mean we didn’t miss you, or that we don’t want you with us now.”

“I stand by my point that this tunnel isn’t safe,” Crosshair looked away, not daring to meet her or Wrecker’s gaze.

“It’s our only way back to the Marauder,” Sarah cupped his cheek with her hand, making him look at her. “None of us can survive a swim that long, and we have no other cover. This is it.”

Crosshair seemed to look for Hunter with his gaze, but the former sergeant seemed to be avoiding him. Crosshair finally looked away, resigning himself to the opinion he and possibly the rest of his brothers had formed of him, and slowly, he slid himself from Sarah’s grip and walked forth until he passed Hunter.

“Let’s go, then,” Crosshair crooned, and the rest finally followed the way down the rest of the tunnel.

Sarah deemed it a miracle that the tunnel had held long enough for them to arrive at the tract made of durasteel, but the climb up was a challenge. With everyone helping each other, they eventually made it into a different section, a laboratory Sarah had never seen nor had she heard of.

She took notice of Omega walking into it as if she knew her way by heart, even if the look on her eyes was more grim than of relief. As the others scattered around the lab, Sarah walked behind the child as she made her way to the large window on the other side, but just before Sarah could arrive, she heard Omega letting out a gasp.

“What is it?” Sarah ran over the rest of the way until she could finally get a visual outside the window, her heart sinking at the sight.

“The rest of the tunnel’s gone…” Omega spoke. “And that was our only way out.”

“So that means…” Sarah trailed off.

“Yes,” Omega looked down in dismay. “We’re trapped here.”

The lab was eerily silent as the discovery fell on everyone’s shoulders; it was somehow darker than any other spot they’ve been in despite the lanterns, but what was most unsettling was the division. Hunter and Crosshair were on opposite sides of the laboratory, while Tech, Echo, and Wrecker were on another corner, uncertain as to which side to go to.

Sarah then noticed Omega was also looking at the others, but she got the feeling Omega’s mood was due to something else. She knelt to be at Omega’s height and looked at the child trying to muster as much comfort as she could.

“Omega,” Sarah said. “What else is on your mind? What is this place?”

Omega raised her gaze to switch among the troopers. “This is where they were created, all except Echo, of course. I was much younger, but I remember seeing them in their pods, watching as they got their mutations enhanced, but they don’t remember any of it.”

Sarah smiled. “You’ve been with them since the beginning.”

Omega gave a little pout. “Not as much as I would have liked to.”

“Is that why you were following us? Back when the war ended?”

Finally, the child smiled softly. “Yes. And when I heard you and Echo had joined the squad, I was so excited to meet you.”

Silently, Sarah’s smile widened at Omega’s remark, finding it sweet that she’d truly loved Clone Force 99 all of their life. But both of their smiles would fade when the two looked at Crosshair as he watched out the lab’s window at the darkness of the ocean.

He stopped only for a moment to bend forward, his hand clutching the front of his head as he grimaced in pain.

Sarah found no other explanation for it.

“I used to think the chip made him that way,” Omega commented quietly.

“It did,” Sarah insisted, looking back at Omega with worry. “We just—we can’t lose hope or faith in him.”

“You think so?” Omega asked.

“Look, Hunter brushed me off immediately, but you were a medical assistant and knew about the chips before any of us,” Sarah said. “And I really don’t think he had his chip removed.”

Omega looked at Sarah with remorse. “I think he did, Sarah…”

Her dim, nebulous eyes looked downwards at her hands, only to see Omega reaching out for them.

“I know why you doubt,” Omega said. “And it’s probably good that you do, but… I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

Sarah smiled in irony. “You sound like Hunter. Just… nicer.”

“He’ll come around,” Omega comforted.

The sound of glass being moved around caught Sarah and Omega’s attention back to the center of the lab; it belonged to Tech moving large glass pods closer to where the others could see, until with his gaze he looked around for Sarah and Hunter.

“I have an idea,” Tech began as the rest rounded up in front of him. “There are just enough pods for all of us, and if we distribute our weight evenly, the pod should still have enough buoyancy to float all the way from the surface, after which we should be able to manually row our way to the platform where we landed the Marauder.”

“We have enough explosives to blow that window,” Wrecker commented.

“But there’s too much debris out there,” Echo protested. “And a glass pod isn’t going to hold against the durasteel floating around.”

“I can move it,” Sarah said. “If we can position whatever pod I’m in at the front, I should be able to use the Force and clear our path.”

“And I can assist with directing the pods from the outside,” AZI added.

“But AZI, your battery’s running low,” Omega looked at the little droid with worry.

“My duty and programming make my sole objective to be that of delivering you all to safety,” AZI replied. “My battery power should not be of consequence so long as I can aid you in getting to the surface.”

“Then it’s settled,” Sarah said. “AZI will control the direction while I clear the path. Tech, you’re the expert, tell us how to distribute ourselves.”

“Echo, with me,” Tech said. “Wrecker will have to go alone, and Sarah, since we need you to float quicker then you should be by yourself as well. That leaves Hunter and Crosshair in another pod and Omega alone as well.”

Sarah looked over at Hunter and Crosshair, worried they’d fight so much on the way that they’d put themselves in danger.

“You two will just have to deal with it,” Tech told them as they glared at one another, oddly mimicking Hunter’s words from earlier. “Wrecker, help me with the explosives before you get in your pod, the rest of you get ready.”

Sarah stepped into her pod and got ready, and she couldn’t help looking over at Hunter and Crosshair, thinking of what things would be like once they made it out of Kamino. She sighed and tried her best to trust in the Force and in their bond as brothers; whatever differences they had, she knew they had to be able to work them out.

Finally, Tech and Wrecker went over to their pods; everyone gave a thumbs up of confirmation and Tech held up the switch, nodding over at Sarah before he pressed it.

The window exploded, and the strength pulling the pod caught Sarah off guard—it was far more than she anticipated. But so far, it was all going as planned. Sarah struggled more with the Force given that wielding it underwater had never been something she did often, particularly not given her origins on Jedha, but she successfully moved most of the debris away from the path, being careful not to send it backwards.

Her pod was the first one to emerge, and she opened it as soon as it naturally came to a horizontal position to watch the others emerge one by one. Echo and Tech sat up form theirs, then Wrecker, then Hunter and Crosshair, but there was one pod still missing.

“Omega!” Sarah called, her worried eyes finding Hunter.

In a hurry, Hunter looked over the side of his pod. Sarah tried to get a visual into the water, but it was difficult to see. She dipped her hand into the water to try and feel for Omega, and she felt herself freezing when she realized Omega wasn’t making her way upwards.

She was sinking, and to add to her alarm, Sarah then caught sight of Hunter ready to dive into the water.

“Hunter, don’t! You won’t make it!” She yelled.

“I have to get to her!” Hunter called.

“Hunter,” Crosshair said as he stood up and aimed his rifle just past Hunter with the string and hook attachments ready.

Hunter looked back at Crosshair, wary, until Crosshair aimed wider and shot the hook into the water. The seconds that transpired after that felt endless; they all felt their hearts stopping for that short while before Omega finally emerged from the water, clutching a deactivated AZI in her arms as Hunter scurred to bring her to safety.

When Sarah sighed in relief, she looked around at the others, who had their weapons pulled and aimed at Crosshair. The marksman looked back at them, wounded.

“What are you doing?” Sarah asked the others.

“Did you not see him pull his rifle?” Echo said.

“Did you conveniently not see him assemble the hook?” Sarah called. “Put your weapons down!”

“Don’t worry, Sarah, I know how they feel about me,” Crosshair dove from the pod he was on and swam over to Sarah’s, and she reached down to help him into her arms when he emerged.

“Hey,” Sarah looked at him, her hand brushing his cheek. “You know how I feel about you, don’t you?”

Crosshair’s silence was a confirmation.

“Is it enough?” She asked him, her voice hushed.

Crosshair’s eyes were sadder than she’d ever seen them, and he quickly looked away, only opting to then pull her in for a kiss. Shameless, Sarah returned it out of spite, out of fear of losing him, the relief that they were all miraculously alive and out of the rubble. Then, Sarah finished pulling Crosshair into the pod with them and, without looking at anyone else, she began to row her way in the direction of the platform with the Marauder, visible in the distance.

The sun had just started rising when they arrived at the platform and the clouds had cleared up, granting Kamino a rare and ironic sunny day. The sun made its way farther up in the sky in the time it took everyone to climb up the ladder of the platform, but eventually they all made it up, with only the wind howling among them in the midst of their silence.

It was impossible not to look at the ruins of Tipoca City when they were all on the platform, each with a different set of thoughts racing through their minds, but one shared feeling of sorrow at everything they’d just lived.

Then, with a soft clear of his throat, Wrecker broke the silence, looking at Crosshair.

“You’re coming with us, right?”

Standing at the side of the formation, Crosshair turned around to look at all of them. Dismal, his gaze brushed everyone, including Hunter, but Sarah sensed Crosshair’s hesitation, his own sadness pushing him to decide.

“I’ve made my decision,” Crosshair said. “This doesn’t change anything?”

“You offered us a chance, Crosshair,” Hunter spoke up. “This one’s yours.”

Crosshair looked at Hunter intensely trying to appear angry, but Sarah knew he was more heartbroken than anything else. In the end, Crosshair settled for looking away, his watchful eyes falling on the ruins of Tipoca City, and one by one, the rest of the squadron dissipated and made their way back to the ship.

“What?” Sarah asked in disbelief. “No, where are you going?”

“Sarah…” Hunter said, his voice low. “Come.”

“No,” she shook her head and looked at Crosshair, alarmed, who looked at her with his expression unchanged.

“Crosshair,” Sarah began again, approaching him only for him to turn his back on her. “Crosshair, come with us.”

“I want to stay, Sarah,” he spoke. “Please, go with them.”

“Sarah,” Hunter called to her.

“No!” Sarah sobbed. “Hunter, let me.”

She could feel Hunter’s pain, but ultimately, he let her try to get to Crosshair.

“I am not leaving you,” Sarah said. “Not this time, not ever again.”

“I belong with the Empire,” Crosshair spoke. “I can be a commander here, shape the Empire, do something worthwhile. I’d rather do this than drift around, unstable, living by the day. It isn’t for me, Sarah.”

There was little she could do to understand the words he was saying, each of them an extra dagger straight into her heart. In times past, Crosshair never would have cared about any of that. He would have been fine lying under the shadow of a tree on a sunny day, napping, chewing on a toothpick, maybe playing an instrument. He would have valued his family over anything else, done anything for them.

The chip had to be in there still.

Then again, if it wasn’t, Sarah wouldn’t blame him for wanting to stay. If the roles were switched, she wouldn’t have wanted to choose to stay in a group where she was doubted, where she wasn’t trusted, where she’d been treated like shit just as Crosshair had been.

Sarah intended to keep her promise.

She looked at the smoking ruins of the city and her heart clenched. Tipoca City had been a home to the clones, and it had been important to her too. It was where she’d met Echo and Fives, where she’d later lose Fives to the chancellor’s schemes. It was where she’d feared to return, and where she’d found a new home thanks to Crosshair, to Hunter, Tech, Wrecker.

All of that was now in flames, and now, more than ever, it was important to her that they stay together. But if that wasn’t going to happen, Sarah knew she had to choose.

Crosshair stood in front of her, his back turned on her as he stared at the ruins of his old home as well, and Sarah could feel it. Sarah knew she didn’t want to be away from him, she couldn’t. She couldn’t leave him to his own devices in such a terrible Empire, she couldn’t abandon him again.

“Then I’m staying with you,” Sarah walked up to him and, firmly, set her feet on the ground of that platform.

“No, you’re not,” Crosshair slurred. “Get on the ship.”

“If they want to leave you here, so be it—”

“I’m choosing to remain here, Sarah,” Crosshair corrected.

“So am I.”

“Sarah,” Crosshair turned to face her.

She turned too, and her big, nebulous eyes stared into him. Short and fierce as she was, and though no one was to doubt her determination to remain with Crosshair, her gaze was pleading. She was afraid to lose him, afraid to not see him again, afraid he’d be all alone in that heartless empire, with no one to look out for him.

If she let him be alone, she would never forgive herself.

She heard steps coming up behind her, and even Crosshair’s gaze went from her to the person behind her. Sarah didn’t need eyes to know it was Hunter; she could feel him anywhere, anytime.

And when she turned around, she noticed Hunter carrying his hand blaster, its blast mode still set to stun.

“Good,” Sarah took a step back, giving him an opening to aim at Crosshair. “We should have done this a long time ago.”

Hunter and Crosshair looked each other in the eyes. No words were spoken between the two brothers who used to tell each other everything, who used to rule the worlds they stepped in. Anger, resentment, a lack of understanding, all of these clouded their vision of one another, a vision that would only ever overlap again in their mutual love for the woman standing between them.

Hunter had a clear intention, and Crosshair knew what it was. His ever watchful eyes landed on the blaster before they met Hunter’s again.

Crosshair wouldn’t try to stop him.

Sarah looked intently at the marksman, clearly having no intention to leave him to his luck in the hands of the empire, no matter how much he claimed he wanted to be a part of it. She deemed it bullshit. She wouldn’t let it happen.

All she had to do was wait for Hunter to pull the trigger.

And when Hunter finally pulled the trigger, Sarah felt the stun bolt hitting her body, slowly feeling as her muscles went limp and her vision went black.

Crosshair

He hurried over to catch her before her body could hit the floor, and in his arms, her eyes fully fluttered closed until she was off in a slumber.

Crosshair tried to keep himself from shedding a tear that begged to come out at the notion of not being there when she woke up.

Before he could bring himself to let her go, Crosshair tightened his grip around Sarah, needing to feel her warmth and her embrace one more time—he doubted it was the last time he’d see her, but he knew there was no turning back for him now. There was no salvation, no redemption.

He was a monster. Hunter saw it. Tech, Wrecker, Echo, they could all see it. Crosshair saw it too.

Sarah would have to come to terms with it.

But he didn’t want to let her go, not just yet.

“Crosshair.”

The marksman looked up at his brother, who had holstered the blaster away and didn’t want to see him holding Sarah any longer than was necessary.

Crosshair stood up, carrying Sarah in his arms until he let Hunter hold her, hesitant to let go of the one person who’d ever loved him unconditionally. His heart squeezed; some corner of him was certain that Sarah could have witnessed him killing Gerrera’s fighters, the civilians, even his own comrade, and yet she’d still have faith in him.

She was the one who would never give up on him.

“At least you still know what’s good for her,” Hunter said as he took Sarah in his arms.

“She’s not going to be happy with you,” Crosshair barked back, a futile attempt to hide his heartache.

“She’s my problem now,” Hunter said, a hint of possession in his tone.

Their gazes met, and the silence grew thicker than the smoke emerging from the very ashes of Tipoca City. Crosshair knew there were many things he could say, but there were many more he wanted Hunter to speak. Perhaps a last minute change of heart to ask Crosshair to go with them after all, or the reassurance that if he ever changed his mind, he knew how to reach them, or even a thank you for saving the kid from drowning.

Crosshair would have given everything, from his strength to his voice to his eyesight to his ability to breathe, if only it meant hearing Hunter say those words, to hear his oldest brother say that he wanted him back.

But Hunter didn’t say anything. He just held Sarah in his arms, turned around, and left.

And with that, Crosshair convinced himself he’d made the right choice.

He belonged in the Empire, and he repeated that to himself as he heard the whirring of the Havoc Marauder gradually grow quieter the further it got, and even his will of iron couldn’t keep him from turning around to get one last look at the ship before it disappeared beyond the atmosphere.

At last, Crosshair finally let the tears stream from his eyes, stifling his own sobs as he felt Sarah’s presence leaving the planet.

Taglist: @nunanuggets @sageislostinspring @rexandechosandwich @purgetrooperfox @redheadgirl @coffeyorky @zoeykallus @dangerousstrawberrypie @salaminus @ladykatakuri @whore4rex @seriowan @kimageddon @rain-on-kamino @prozacspice @eyecandyeoz

#the moonwalker series #moonstrider writes #oc sarah adhara #tbb hunter x oc #tbb crosshair x oc #the bad batch #the bad batch fanfic #tbb fanfic #tbb fanfiction #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars tbb #clone force 99

35 notes · View notes

olderthannetfic · 2 years

Note

On Works being Translated. I’ve been approached to have a few of my fics be translated, mainly to Russian. And I told all of them that they are welcome to translate but the only stipulation is that they only post it on ao3 using the built in features to link it back to the original. A few wanted to post elsewhere on a Russian language fanfic website and I told those ones I didn’t feel comfortable with that. Is that weird? Should I have let them post it elsewhere even if they credited me?

I would have let them personally, but I don't have as strong an opinion on this.

AO3 does have Russian users, and it has a decent interface for this, so on the one hand, it's reasonable to ask them to stick to AO3. On the other hand, I know Russian fandom has a lot of events, and if they wanted to do translation as one of their entries for an event not hosted on AO3, that requirement would prevent this. Last time I got translated into Russian, I just went and stalked the comments on whatever journal site the translation was first posted on. The translator also crossposted to AO3, but based on what I saw, I think most people were doing their first round interacting and reacting to fanworks on their journals and then using AO3 for long-term storage. Even now, years later, it has zero AO3 comments.

Depending on the language/fandom/etc., asking them to post only to AO3 may be asking them to lose out on the majority of the audience. I tend to just let people do whatever because they know their own fandom communities better than I do. Most of them will at least crosspost to AO3 if they found the fic on AO3.

I guess the question is what the problem with the other site is. If the issue is a lack of control, you don't control their AO3 translation either, and if you delete your work, it doesn't delete theirs. If the issue is that you want to google translate comments to see what people said about the translation, the translator might need to help you figure out how to sign up for that other site if it's locked, but this can still be achieved without AO3. (And if that's it, I very much sympathize. I find it annoying when I get translated and I don't know where it was posted and cannot see if there were comments.) If the issue is distrusting sites one isn't familiar with... well, there are a lot of fandom sites, and crossposting leads to less loss of content, so I'm in favor.

The kind of reason I personally might refuse would be if the other archive has some kind of philosophical stance I'm opposed to or if I want to force a fannish population onto AO3 by centralizing content there. I can't think of a lot of examples where I'd feel this way. FanLib, certainly. Asking a translator to post the cleaned up final version to AO3 rather than tumblr/twitter, sure. But as far as I know, Ficbook is a perfectly reasonable archive that looks and works much like all of the other classic fic archives.

39 notes · View notes

kalpasio · 2 years

Text

Quikflip

In Which Kalpas Picks A Design And You Meet Timbers

A Kalpas x reader fic crossposted on my ao3

Chapter 5 below!

After finishing all your projects for the day, you closed up early and went to the canteen for food. Rather than eating there, you brought the food back to your room where you worked on the adjustments to Kalpas’ battlesuit while you ate. Making the necessary changes didn’t take very long. As soon as you were done, you sent over the files for him to look through and turned off your datapad for the night.

Being a higher-ranking MOTH meant you had your own room—which you appreciated—but it had always been rather baren. Even when you shared a small apartment with your parents, they both spent so little time at home, they felt decorations were unnecessary. Moving out, you did your best not to fall down that path, but you eventually gave up. Anything with sentimental value that you didn’t particularly care about stayed in your room, but all your most important possessions were in your workshop.

Whenever you had a free moment to spend in your living quarters, you regretted that decision; but, given how rarely that happened, you didn’t see a reason to change. After such a long day, you wished you had more in terms of entertainment, but you were also grateful just to have some background noise so you could turn off your mind for an hour or so before heading to sleep.

The next morning, you felt well-rested (for once) and you were pleasantly surprised when no one stopped you on the way to your workshop. Humming to yourself, you started up a cup of coffee and sat down to look at your list for the day. With no urgent requests jamming up your inbox, you sorted through any new messages and got to work.

About an hour later, you got your first visitors of the day. Sakura and Kalpas walked in side by side, but there was no banter between them, and it set you on edge. Were they mad at each other, had something happened, or were they both just brooding? You knew the ninja preferred silence, but her companion always seemed to have something—usually rude—to say, though he rarely held an actual conversation.

“I have a request,” Sakura spoke as she stopped in front of your workstation. You turned to give her your full attention and saw the shattered sword in her hands which caused you to grimace. That would be nasty to repair, and you secretly hoped she would just ask for a replacement.

“We got a little carried away in training,” she glanced at Kalpas who was leaning against the table with his back to you both. “This is only my training blade, so there is no rush, but I would appreciate a replacement as soon as you have time.” The blade fragments were placed delicately on the table, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

“I have a couple of training blades I keep on hand,” you explained as you walked over to one of the floor-to-ceiling cabinets that lined the wall. “You can look through these and let me know if they work or need any modifications.” Sakura followed you over and you left her to test out the various swords.

“Anything I can help you with?” Kalpas hadn’t moved a muscle, though that didn’t surprise you.

“Number four.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes, “do you ever speak in complete sentences?”

With a sigh that sounded more like a grunt, he elaborated. “The fourth design was good.” Pulling up the schematic for the battlesuit he was talking about, you nodded to yourself.

“I’ll put in the request for materials and let you know when it’s done. Should be about a week and a half, assuming acquisitions does their job.”

Kalpas gave you a deep hum, pushed off the table, and then he was gone; off to brood elsewhere, you suppose. A minute or so later, Sakura came over to show you the weapon she would be taking before she left too, your shop was silent again. Unfortunately, the peaceful moment was broken not even five minutes later as a MOTH walked in loudly banging on your door.

Timothy Roberts was a nuisance on a good day, and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had one of those. He insisted people call him “Timbers,” (It’s my first and last name smashed together, get it?) and was quite possibly the loudest person you’d ever met. Apart from Sakura, he was your main source of in-person requests, which was rather upsetting in your opinion.

“YO! If it isn’t my favorite mechanic!”

“Good morning Timothy,” you droned, clearly less than pleased.

“C’mon, ‘Timothy’ sounds so lame, just call me ‘Timbers’!”

Not even if it would get rid of all the Honkai in the world, you thought as you focused back on your work.

“Anywho! I got a request for you!”

You blindly picked up a datapad and held it out while still looking at the greatsword in front of you. “Any requests can be submitted through a datapad, workstation, or comm messages by connecting to the ‘make a request page.’ Requests can also be sent as direct messages to your designated mechanic and will be processed within twenty-four hours.”

That was the speech every recruit got when they joined, and you’d said it in hopes that Timothy would get the hint and fuck off somewhere else. Your hopes went unheard as he just laughed and ignored the datapad. He had a laugh that would make a person swoon and the looks to match; unfortunately, he knew this and almost always got what he wanted.

In this case, what he wanted was to be your favorite, so he’d be bumped up on the request list permanently. Few agents knew the trick of flirting with your mechanic, but it one hundred percent worked—though you would never tell anyone. Sakura had always been nice to you, and she was always first on the list. You would never jeopardize a mission, but agents that were rude—which was most of them—got pushed to the bottom of your list every time.

“This request is a bit more personal.” If this motherfucker asks me out, I cannot be held responsible for my actions. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop from yelling as he continued. “You do so much work for me and everyone else in Cocoon,” Don’t need you to remind me, asshole.

“I want to say thank you and get to know you a bit better. Why don’t we go get coffee when you’re free sometime?”

“I’m busy,” it wasn’t a lie, and you doubted you could say much more without losing your cool.

“Come ooooon, can’t you spare a few minutes?”

“Humanity is on the brink of collapse,” you sent a harsh glare that did nothing to dull his obnoxious grin.

“That’s exactly why we should take what little time we have to enjoy the people around us!”

“Go find someone else to enjoy then. I’m busy,” you realized how that could be misconstrued as soon as you said it, but thankfully Timothy didn’t comment on it.

“I get it,” he laughed. “You ever have a chance, that offer for coffee remains. I’ll even bring it here for you if you want!” I want nothing more than for you to get out of my shop, you thought, and were thrilled to see him leave right after.

The rest of the day passed quietly (aside from some yelling about losing an arm coming from Dr. Mobius’ lab). Left on your own, you were able to get several jobs filled, and it was late in the evening when you stopped for the day. Checking your inbox, you had one new request, several memos you were expected to read even though they never pertained to you, and a message from Sage, a fellow mechanic.

There wasn’t necessarily a rivalry among MOTH mechanics, but there was rarely any communication amongst you either. Sage had been studying weapon forging at the same time as you, and the ten-year age difference between you both made them more of an older sibling to you than a co-worker.

In the—very long—message, Sage detailed a new technique they had developed for battlesuits. Super-magnets were used to repel an outer layer of armor so that heavy suits could be worn without being cumbersome. This also greatly improved the battlesuits Honkai resistance; since the suit wasn’t in contact with the wearer, any Honkai energy absorbed by the shell part would remain there and not transfer immediately to the person wearing the armor.

The topic would be bland to most, but it was fascinating to you, and you already started thinking about how you could incorporate this technology into future battlesuits.

The first suit on your mind was Kalpas’. He wouldn’t wear a full suit of armor, you knew that, but the shoulder guards he had demanded had been bothering you. Putting spikes like he wanted would greatly reduce his range of motion and make it impossible for him to fight without stabbing himself.

If you could levitate the guards with magnets the way Sage had described, then Kalpas would get the look he wanted, and you wouldn’t get fired for accidentally killing a MANTIS. Editing the agreed upon design took only a few minutes, and you sent it over with a brief explanation on the enhancements.

It was just past two in the morning, but you figured Kalpas would see your message when he woke up. Staying up a bit later to thank Sage for their message and ask if you could see the prototype battlesuit they had made, lead to staying up another hour making your own designs. All in all, you’d say it was a pretty good night. Getting up in the morning would suck, but the fact that you hadn’t needed to pull an all-nighter made up for it in your book.

1659 words I knooooow Eden designed most of the flame chaser's battlesuits but let me have this. This is a weird detail, but in chapter 30 Vill-V always refers to herself as a "Mechanic" for the flame chasers and I'm sure it's probably a localization thing but I think it's just the term they use in the Previous Era. Like that's just how the language evolved, so a mechanic is someone who builds and designs weapons and battlesuits meant to fight against Honkai. That's why I specifically use that word and not a variation.

#kalpas x reader #honkai x reader #tamalethebear #azaryawrites

6 notes · View notes

electricbluebutterflies · 1 year

Note

"They're gone, it's okay."

Late-era Jessica/Leto, vaguely NSFW (Things Happen but it's not the POINT here), late queued crosspost // also on ao3.

It’s over. Skies, it is finally over.

The nicest thing he can say about these incidents is that their frequency has decreased over time, and in another decade or so they will… perhaps never stop entirely while he lives, but at least change focus, at least be understood enough that he is past the point when most people marry. The door must always remain open, but only by an inch or two, not enough that anyone realistically thinks it’ll ever happen at this point. The recently departed envoys clearly knew that, but this is a necessary stop when some mid-tier House has a newly-of-age female to advantageously ship elsewhere, and there may not even be need for a formal rejection this time, and-

He has made his choices, and as long as the delicate balance holds everything will be alright.

With that carnival of false fronts and respectful lies over with, he can turn to what actually matters, to the reasons he has no desire to bind himself to some trinket of a girl less than half his age. How could he ever, he wants to ask, when his domestic life is already full enough, when he already has an heir who is everything he could hope for in a legacy, when he already has-

It is the issue of his partner that weighs upon him hours later, when he finally has time to deal with her. They have discussed routines for these occasions, practiced enough that there is no need for discussion anymore. She compartmentalizes herself so well when she must, does not hide herself away as if scandal could be avoided at this point but does what she can to minimize all the same. Less flattering dresses, a retreat to the bedroom at the other end of the hallway that otherwise is no more than storage space, he doesn’t think he’s heard her say more than a few polite words at a time in nearly a week and-

She is where she belongs now, in their shared spaces, done up like she does when she wants attention and he hates that they are like this but at least there are routines, at least her storms are predictable. He has tried to be respectful with her over the years, especially when she was still deciding who she was, but she’s pieced together what he is particularly attracted to and when she needs that information she uses every bit of it. She is a vision now, hair loose, burnt orange slip-dress they both know won’t stay on her long, frustration in her eyes that will go every possible direction, perched on the edge of their bed like a thousand other nights she’s wanted something and-

How could he ever even think about any other potential life when he is so gloriously overwhelmed by this one?

They meet in the middle as they always do, and he knows her better than he suspects she will ever let anyone else see her but it is still not enough sometimes, still no open explanations for some of her behavior. The distances she keeps are more than he would ask – it is becoming less important that she pretend she is not what she is, and if she ever has doubted the depth of his commitments to her then she’s been kind enough not to say – but these reunions afterwards are everything, reminders that they have been together so long and she is still desire incarnate and-

“They’re gone,” he murmurs, as if he doesn’t know damn well she hasn’t spent the past week watching everything of interest in ways he does not care to understand. “It’s okay.”

“I’m hibernating next time,” she replies as she leans in to take a kiss, and going several days without that is just unfair. “I mean it. I’ll hide for a week and you can pretend I’m dead or something.”

“You threaten that every time. You’d get bored. You’re dangerous when you’re bored.”

“And you love it,” she breathes, almost laughing and skies these rare moments she seems almost happy are always so confusing. Build a life with someone, take their body as one’s own, take seventeen years of their midnights, and still-

“Doesn’t make you any less-“

She makes one of her low sounds, and oh there are days he wonders what she would’ve been like if she wasn’t burdened with such a combination of obligation and damage. “I am your heart,” she says like she’s spent the past few days reminding herself of that commitment with every breath she takes. “And I am much better at being your red right hand.”

He will not confirm or deny, so much occasionally rides on his presumed innocence, but… she is not and never wrong, and her combination of ability and determination is at times… better not to know, but one of the more likely reasons they’re still alive, he can admit that once. One of the great many reasons he adores her, one of-

“Love-“

“Does anyone even believe you anymore? Are we safe?”

He answers her with kisses, hopes this will be enough. There is such comfort with her – he lost track years ago of how many important conversations they have had while their bodies are entwined, there is something about touching her that gives clarity – but it is too early to call. There will be another way to figure out the possible alliance, there is always another way, but-

“Give me time.”

“How is that the harder thing you’ve asked me for?”

She is not as confrontational as she usually is, at least there’s that. Routine only goes so far, and sometimes these rituals end in a harshness neither of them is usually inclined towards, desperate movements and strange aftermath. They are perhaps too predictable in their intimacies, but they have had time to become so, time to learn how to mesh preferences. It may have helped that she didn’t exactly come with any, but-

There were others before her, but none since, no space in his mind to even think otherwise. Who could ever betray her? Who could look at her like this, glowing in the half-light, and want anything else in the known world?

They both know where the line is, what they want and what he will never do. If he actually were the person the outside world thinks he is, he’d ignore it all and marry her. They have acted as such, maneuvered situations accordingly, and it would just be a formality but it still remains unthinkable and-

As it is, he kneels for other reasons, for the sake of routines and an understanding of how to overwhelm his partner. She asks for so little and still has the nerve to say he doesn’t ask for enough, and her dislike for attention is as real as anything about her but that doesn’t make it any less frustrating. He still remembers all too vividly how cold she was at the start, how she let him do anything to her without any real response, and at least they got past that but sometimes he wonders if normal routines are really that much of an improvement. Touch is not her love language, but it is his and it is safe and she allows and that is enough, it is less than he wants but it is enough, it is-

“You don’t need to-“

“I want to.”

He’d talk, if she’d let him, if he thought she’d listen instead of getting all defensive and turning it into a fight. He’d make clear every way he can that he loves her in a way that challenges his understanding of himself, in a way that defies every belief he’d had about entanglements before her. They challenge each other, and the effects their dynamic has had on her are perhaps more obvious but he is also the person he has become because of her, because of the clarity he finds even in their disagreements. Because she tries so hard, and they are real, against the odds they are real and-

He would remind her of these things, if he thought she was in a mood for it. But he knows her signals, knows what kind of communication she actually wants when she dresses the way she has tonight, and there are other ways to say the same things without words.

There is maneuvering – she ends up on the edge of their bed, there is no reason to cause discomfort – and there is a different understanding with this particular intimacy. It is not something either of them usually enjoys – she doesn’t like her thighs getting marked up, and he doesn’t care for the limitations on their communication – but there are times it makes sense, times there is no other way forward. He does want, and she is cooperative enough, and there are worse consistent forms of apology and-

Breathe, she signals against his shoulder. She prefers quiet when they are entwined – a comment about how she tastes would be answered with a particularly sharp glare no matter how clearly he means it – and she is efficient, still unwilling to accept that he might want to take time enjoying her. She makes herself easy, never any real need for foreplay, and-

At least she allows this. At least she keeps her legs parted and lets him kiss her core until she’s pleasantly overwhelmed, until she falls apart in near-complete silence with only a single sharp breath as a signal. At least they understand each other.

There is nothing for her to fear, he’d say if he actually thought she needed the reminder. There is nothing more important than them.

He stays put long enough to make himself clear, long enough that he makes up for a few days of ignoring her. Trying to predict her desires is this side of impossible, but her touch-need is loudest when she has been denied – she will be clingy for a week or two, they both know, and he will make time for reassurances as he can. She is everything, he thinks on repeat as he tends to her, she is everything and sometimes he does wrong by her but there is always a way back, there is always-

Come here, she signals against his shoulder, and whomever created that language could not have meant for it to be used by lovers but it is convenient sometimes and-

“You’re too covered,” she murmurs, standing at the same time, hands instinctively going to his collar. “It isn’t right.”

“You’d still have me?”

“I wouldn’t feel threatened if I didn’t want you,” she breathes, leaning in for a deep kiss. “I wouldn’t hurt if I could imagine letting someone else get this close. Someone else getting to know how beautiful you are.”

They are not as young as they once were, and there is a certain power in her reminders, in how real her attraction still is. Her kisses are still real, the movements of her hands are still real, the way she brings him into her is the most real thing in the world and-

“You know better,” he breathes against her skin, and he is unsure where he ends and she begins. “There is only you.”

She gives him a look that is improper for their current condition, and if his lover is daydreaming about where she might have to hide other bodies as he covers hers, well… who is he to complain?

#ebf writes fic #leto x jessica #queue

0 notes

personasintro · 2 years

Text

monachopsis | 04

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; after receiving unpleasant news that doesn’t allow you to grow your family, your husband comes up with an idea that unfortunately involves his brother whom he despises

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: yoongi x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst, fluff, smut, mini series

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, oral sex [male receiving], unprotected sex, dick pierced!yoongi (yes, that deserves a warning)

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.8k+ ↳ chapter index ⇢ intro | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 crossposted: wattpad | AO3 (to be added)

A little bit over a month later and you're at this place again. The time has passed awfully slowly and it might have had something to do with Yeonseok's absence and his presence required at work. You understood that this time of year is always one of the busiest and your husband wants to get everything done before he comes home, so he can fully focus on you. Although, the lack of presence of Yeonseok caused your mind to linger elsewhere.

Somewhere it probably shouldn't have and you had to stop yourself as soon as you realized you're thinking about his brother a little bit too much. Trying to pursue yourself it's just about the fear of the future and what it holds for you, but deep down you know Yoongi has something in him that intrigues you. Maybe it's the fact that it's finally something exciting happening in your life, considering the past few weeks were boring.

Yeonseok tried to make it up to you by taking you out for dinner or simply prepared one for you at home, so you can't blame him. You tried to occupy yourself but even the slightest boredom has brought one pair of sharp eyes to your mind.

And now that you're walking to his apartment, ready to take another step in your deal that makes your stomach clench with nervousness – or maybe there's a small amount of excitement as well. And you feel guilty and sick to your stomach because you shouldn't feel excited. Is it a bad thing?

Just like you told Yoongi, you contacted him first and you know he had to be smirking once he finally got your clear message with only one purpose. Date and time saying 'does it work for you'?

“It sure does” he replied and caused you to take a few deep breaths as you tried to shoo away that feeling once again.

After proposing to visit a hotel, Yoongi declined and said it'd be a better idea to just come straight to his place and do it there, since it doesn't catch any unnecessary attention and you had to give him that. You're not a public person and to be honest, strangers definitely don't care about you but you're trying to do this as discreetly as you can.

However, despite your inner feelings that you're experiencing, your walk is more confident than the last time, when you were here and even when he opens the door and you face him again, your eyes are full of bravery and confidence when you're met with that same amused and cocky smirk.

As he opens the door and allows you to come in, you take a quick glance at his appearance, finding him wearing jeans with a nice button-up, something you haven't seen him wearing before and you wonder if he made himself look more elegant for this occasion. Unsure about him, your intention of wearing a nice tight dress is quite obvious. You had nothing specific in mind for today's day and spent at least a good twenty minutes staring into your closet, trying to think of what would be the best option. You’ve settled on your casual yet still slightly elegant dress that compliments your body. With a nice pair of underwear, the guilt only intensified and you tried to tell yourself it is for you and to make yourself feel better. You haven't worn your best pair of underwear or dresses, only because it would be too wrong to make yourself look nice for someone who isn't your husband.

But still, the purpose of this whole deal is the main priority. You just have to get done with this, both get what you seek and then you'll be out of each other's hair. However, nobody knows how long that will take. Maybe today is the last time you do and experience this with Yoongi and maybe there are months ahead of you.

“Make yourself at home,” Yoongi says once you make it into his living room, after shaking off your thin coat and taking off your heels. There's a playful grin smearing across his lips as he offers you a drink which you agree to right away.

A minute later, Yoongi hands you the drink which happens to be whiskey with cubes of ice – totally not your favorite or usual choice of drink but you'll take it. Cringing at the bitter and strong liquor taste, you put the glass down as you watch Yoongi who joins you, his own but same drink in his hand as he silently sips on it.

“So, we are doing it, huh?”

Cringing at yourself this time, your features remain serious and confident despite your embarrassment by your own words but Yoongi doesn't mock you for it, although he does chuckle a little as he sets his glass down and leans against the back of the couch comfortably.

“Are you having second thoughts again?”

That makes you frown, not wanting him to question you all over again. You finally got yourselves here and you're not backing down. Everyone including your husband is fine with this and the sooner you get this dealt and done with, the sooner you'll be able to enjoy the time with your husband and preferably a new addition to your family. That's what you're here for, right?

“What do you mean again?” you scoff, something Yoongi ignores.

“Want something else to drink? Preferably something that makes you loosen up?”

And there it is – the amusement and sparkles in his eyes that you've grown to know and instead of feeling annoyed, you bite the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from chuckling.

“I think your strong whiskey is good enough,” you inform him.

“Sorry, it's not something fancy you're probably used to.”

Ignoring his jab, you roll your eyes instead and lean towards him, keeping eye contact. “Are you always this annoying?”

“You should probably know by now,” he says back, not hesitating a second as you let out a breathy chuckle.

“I was just curious if you're aware of it, that's all…” you mutter, leaning back as you reach for the drink again and take a big gulp.

He watches you the whole time but doesn't say anything back, although he has that stupid and gorgeous grin on those small and plush lips.

Looking away, there's an awkward silence while your eyes linger around the room, stopping at the plant in the corner. “You like plants?”

You're not sure what made you ask that, probably the awkward silence and Yoongi does seem to be all amused with you again, and he tries to mask his amusement by rubbing his nose a little.

“Um, not really?” he asks unsurely, catching your gaze and he stays quiet for a moment, as if he's contemplating whether he should go into details or not. But you glance at him, soft eyes almost pleading him to say something and he sighs, looking at the plant rather than you. “My friend said this place needs to look more domestic, suggested plants so here they are.”

“Ah,” you murmur, touching your knees as you drum your fingers against it and still look around with pursed lips. Can the floor swallow you whole? Why is this suddenly getting so awkward?

“What? You didn't peg me as someone who's got plants?” he jokes, but there is a slight edge to it. Almost as if he's judging you and that makes you scowl, getting your attention to the point where you look back at him.

Yes, at your first visit here you were quite surprised, you're not going to deny that. But seconds after you've realized, you don't want to stereotype him or judge him.

“No, that's not it,” you shake your head, “I think it's interesting.”

“What is?” he scoffs, resting his arm on top of the couch's back.

“You,” you answer right away, “I think there are many interesting things about you that not many people know.” you tell him honestly, catching him off guard because his mouth slowly opens in a slight surprise and his sharp eyes watch you attentively.

“And you deduced all of that because of plants?” he scoffs, obviously trying to play it off and build that wall all over again.

You get the feeling as soon someone gets close to him, he tries to back away. But that could be only because of you, because you're his brother's wife. You're from his side of the family at the moment, people he's not very pleased with for his own personal reasons you're yet trying to understand.

“No, not just because of them. Just in general.” You settle to say, another beat of silence following before Yoongi suddenly straightens, clearing his throat. Reaching for the glass, he chugs down the remaining liquor there and the glass clicks against the surface of his coffee table.

“Should we get to it?” he asks straight away, averting the topic and conversation somewhere else and you're left speechless.

Shaking yourself out of your own surprise, you stutter over your words and do the same thing as he's done – drinking all the whiskey even though it burns down your throat and makes you visibly cringe. You're here for one thing and he obviously doesn't want to talk about himself, you've probably made him uncomfortable. He's keeping his distance, you realize.

“Yeah, we probably should,” you tell him, standing right when he does.

“Uh, so…” he starts unsurely, rubbing the back of his head slightly. “Where do you wanna do it?”

You almost choke, not knowing whether you want to laugh or get even more embarrassed by the blunt question . “I, uh, I don't know? This is your place.”

“Well, I'm not gonna fuck you in my kitchen, am I?” he mutters, “My bedroom is fine? Or you wanna do it here? The couch is small though, it might get uncomfortable.”

Cheeks all hot, you still need to get used to his bluntness and sharp tongue, and you wonder if it's even something you really have to get used to. You're here for one thing, it shouldn't matter that much anyway.

“Bedroom is fine,” you assure him, “If you're okay with it.”

He has the audacity to roll his eyes, just doing it at the right time for you to catch it, right before he turns his head. He wouldn't offer it if he wasn't okay with it, he thinks as he grumbles at you to follow him.

“Actually,” you speak, voice slightly nervous as you fumble with your hands but stop as soon as Yoongi sends you a glance across his shoulder with arched brow. “Can I use the bathroom real quick? I'll join you in a second.”

He searches your face, just for two seconds or three, trying to detect something on your face but chooses to let out a sigh as his hand waves lazily at one of those doors, silently telling you where the bathroom is.

Rushing there and closing the door behind you, you're met with a small bathroom but luckily with a mirror above the sink where your reflection meets you. You don't look bad and if you haven't felt your cheeks being all hot and a heart almost jumping out of your chest, you would believe that you're totally okay. It's your eyes that hold something in them – nervosity, excitement and shock of your own actions of what you're about to do.

You're not overthinking it as Yoongi would think. No. You're sure what you want to do and you've gone so far now, it would be a shame to back down. Pupils dilated and mouth slightly opened, you know you're ready for this. You wash your face, wanting to splash some of the cold water onto your face but decide against it since you're wearing make-up. Knowing as soon as you open the door, this is it and you've to find Yoongi, you take a deep breath and walk out of the bathroom.

There aren't many other doors, just only one where you've seen Yoongi going in and are left ajar, you slowly make your way there. He's there.

He turns around at the sound of your feet padding against the floor, button-up in his hands as fingers momentarily stop from unbuttoning it at the sight of you. It doesn't take long and he continues at his task, but not before he says something to you across his shoulder.

“Take your clothes off,”

You shouldn't feel a spark in your stomach at the demanding, yet not that demanding tone at all, but it is there and all the worries seem to fade away slowly. You're living in the moment, currently focusing on that excitement and slowly growing pleasure that starts to flood your body.

“Or you don't have to. Whatever you prefer.” he adds, muttering under his nose but you hear him perfectly, suddenly being blessed by a sight of his exposed back as the button-up slights down his body and drops to the floor.

You're silent, too silent. Letting him lead this, you come to the conclusion that you want to take your clothes off. Some part of you wants to show yourself to him, wanting him to crave for you because if he won't, it's going to be so fucking embarassing. He needs to want you for this to work, strictly biologically and physically speaking.

Your dress slides off your body effortlessly, pooling around your ankles as you momentarily stop, catching a sight of Yoongi unbuttoning his jeans. However, you don't expect him to turn around to check on you, jeans unbuttoned but still wrapped and laying lowly against his waist. Suddenly, there's a bit of insecurity once his eyes drop down your body as he notices your lingerie.

He doesn't have any particular reaction, not hinting at anything which makes you insecure and nervous even more. And then your eyes meet and you're not sure if it's you, but you feel arousal pooling between your thighs just from a single glare. Too occupied to fully grasp it, you take off your bralette and show off your breasts to him.

Straightening, you nibble on your bottom lip, just a stupid habit of yours whenever you're unsure – and let your own eyes drop to where his groin is. A trail of hair disappears under the jeans and his visible boxers, reminding you what's laying under all those layers and somehow, you grow impatient and excited at the same time.

“Come here,” he prompts you, eyes watching as your body gets to move towards him.

He doesn't touch you, not just yet but as soon as you're closer to him, he lets his eyes drop down your body all over again, enjoying the view from a better proximity. But still, he looks back at your face to check your reaction.

“Get on the bed,”

And you do.

Met with a plain white ceiling, he stands at the edge of his bed and the sudden rustle sound makes you look at him, finding him taking off his jeans. Eyes shamelessly dropping to his groin, you're pleased to see the slight hardening bulge. That's good… you think and settle your nerves.

You're not sure what to do, you just lay there and think how embarrassing this feels like, despite you're feeling yourself getting horny and wanting to feel more of him. He hasn't touched you yet and all you can focus on is him touching you.

Yoongi gently taps your calves, your body listening to him as you spread your legs for him – the fabric of your lingerie barely covering your sex. Yoongi settles between your legs, hands slowly and gently grazing the skin of your thighs. From the way he keeps glancing at your face, you realize he's been checking on you this whole and doesn't plan to stop anytime soon, something you appreciate even though you want him to quicken up the pace.

“Can I take these off?” he asks you, fingers grazing your panties this time, very close to your actual sex and you pray he doesn't see how you pathetically and needily clench around nothing.

“Yes,” You almost slap yourself at how slow and weird you say it, but Yoongi simply obeys and starts sliding the underwear down your legs.

Fully naked in front of him, he takes a moment to look you up and down but he gets to work quickly, pushing your thighs even more apart as he digs right in. You're startled at his tongue brushing and licking a long stripe up and down your sex.

Is he not going right in? You're not sure why you're so shocked though. You've expected him to just fuck you, not prepare you and definitely not in a form of eating you out again. Some part of you is very happy though, he's very skilled with his mouth and the memories of his mouth on you are craved freshly in your mind – adding just more guilt. And you've had his cock in your mouth, it's not small and the stretch would probably hurt. So keeping your mouth shut, you let him do his work.

You're not sure what his intentions of exactly this are, but he helps you relax and you haven't even realized you needed it, not until your whole body lets go of the tension and the first moans and gasps resound from your mouth. You're drenched, Yoongi licking and sucking all of it and the sounds of his dirty mouth jolts your hips to move against his mouth. He's gripping your thighs tightly, going fully in and even entering you with his tongue which makes you see stars. Literally.

It's pure bliss and you whine, silently begging him for more and getting more vocal, being the complete different person from the woman who unsurely stood in her underwear in front of him.

Gasping aloud, your back arches off the mattress as he slides his fingers in, two at the same time but thanks to your wetness you welcome him and the sudden pleasant stretch makes you moan. Your hands are occupied by gripping the sheets, one of your hands mindlessly goes between your legs where Yoongi is and grip his hair.

“Shit, that's so good,” you moan, urging Yoongi to make you feel even better and he adds another finger, fucking you with his tattooed fingers.

Soon enough, he brushes against your sensitive spot which makes you moan even louder. Surprising yourself at the sounds leaving your mouth, you throw your head back. With each finger he adds, you enjoy the slight burn and stretch and it makes you think how much you needed this.

In the middle of it, you glance at Yoongi and after a few seconds, it's almost as if he senses your look because he reciprocates it and he freaking smiles. Smiles and your eyes are scrunched right away, his fingers never stopping as he adds his tongue which flickers your tongue. Not holding back any longer, not that it's physically possible, you cum around his fingers and mouth.

He doesn't pull away right away, fucking you right through your first orgasm while your hand slowly eases its way out of his hair.

“You think you good to go?”

Prying your eyes open, you find his mouth and chin being drenched in your cum and wetness, your eyes widening as you give him a quick and sharp nod. He chuckles, reaching for the hem of his boxers to expose his hard cock.

You couldn't forget about the fact this man has a freaking dick piercing but when you see it again, it's almost as if you're slapped by the fact itself all over again. Despite your first orgasm, there's so much more pleasure lingering inside your body and the sight of naked him, so you can't wait to feel him inside you.

Is that weird? Probably yes. But you currently don't care. You can worry about that later.

“You sure?” he asks, causing your eyes to roll in a mere annoyance but a light grin gazes at your lips.

“Yes, I am sure,” you assure him, boldness appearing from you as you tug onto his arm and make him hover over you even more. You let your hands drop down his chest and stomach, his body tensing for a moment before he relaxes underneath your touch. “Just fuck me, Yoongi.”

Something in his eyes darken. Who is Yoongi to decline free sex? Sure, there is a whole purpose of why you're doing this and he can't bring himself to think about it.

He should be disgusted by himself though. Not only he's about to fuck his brother's wife (with his approval though), he's also about to fuck a baby into you. There's something very erotic about it and he has never experienced it. It brings a lot of mixed feelings to him but he would rather focus on how sexy that is for some reason. It's dirty, maybe it's the evil side of him that almost seems to be proud that he's about to fuck you raw, possibly making you pregnant tonight when your brother isn't the one to do that at the moment.

Rather, not thinking about him, Yoongi gives you a chance to back away but when you don't and give him an eager nod instead, you even wrap your arms around his neck and bring him closer, he doesn't hesitate to get to it.

It's been a while since he had a condomless sex and his mouth falls open as he gets to feel your warm and wet walls around him. He enters you, both of your mouth falling open and gasping at the feeling as he slowly bottoms out. He's careful though, letting you adjust to his length as the piercing grazes over your walls and it's weird because you can feel it here and there.

Although, you know the real power of his silver jewelry once he starts thrusting in, finding your sensitive spot in a minute or so. The piercing brushes against it, leaving you to whimper as Yoongi gets comfortable and buries his face into the crook of your neck. It feels intimate, despite you're having sex after all, but the closeness is welcomed and you use that chance to grab onto something that happens to be him.

He makes you feel so good, you almost don't understand it and the shameless sounds of your bodies colliding and the wetness gushing out of you is getting too much. His cock is drenched in your wetness, moving effortlessly in and out of you despite the stretch still burns, but you love it. Yoongi's arm is hooked under one of your thighs, bringing it closer to his hip making you feel him even deeper. Eyes rolled back, you clutch onto his back desperately, shamelessly moaning Yoongi's name.

Even Yoongi is surprised to hear his own name leaving your mouth repeatedly, silently praying you won't moan out Yeonseok's name instead. He could care less about that, although it'd be pretty embarrassing for his ego and he already feels like a freaking king for fucking you.

Thanks to the previous and all the hook-ups Yoongi has experienced, he has grown to know a woman's body well. So the first indications of your orgasm coming, he picks up the pace and rolls his hips into you, causing you to whimper as you urge him to go harder and faster. Despite the pretty normal and very common missionary position, nobody has ever made you feel this way.

Maybe it's his skills that should put you off, knowing he has to have a lot of experience, or maybe it's the piercing that adds something to his magic work. Not caring about all of it, even the purpose of you doing this flies over your head, the chase to your second and the biggest orgasm of tonight yet seems to be far more important.

And it's totally worth it because you're falling apart around Yoongi in seconds, not able to move as he fucks you through your orgasm, still chasing his own.

“Cum inside me,” you moan, slowly but surely growing sensitive but you urge him to move.

Of course he knows this is the whole purpose of you having sex, for him to cum inside and maybe it's the sweet tone of yours that makes him listen to you and nudges him closer to his own end.

Different from Yoongi, you're used to feeling cum inside you thanks to all the attempts you made with your husband. But still, nothing prepares you for his warm cum shooting at your walls as he groans into your neck. His thrusts slow down until they stop, cock softening as he pulls out of you and lays next to you. Both of you breathing heavily, you open your eyes to stare at the ceiling once again.

“You think it worked?” he asks, your heart skipping a beat because you've heard a similar sentence a few times now.

The thought of it working on the first time settles a bubbly feeling in your stomach and you force yourself to turn to him.

“I don't think so,” you answer honestly, “It usually takes more tries.”

He nods, completely unaware of this fact because he has never cared about it. Sure, he knows sometimes it's easier and sometimes it takes more tries, just like you said. But it's like he only now realizes it. It's crazy how he never thought and cared about this, and now he's just guessing and talking about it.

“Is this your way of asking to have more sex?” he teases, taking the opportunity to joke instead because it suddenly feels weird to him.

The thought of you being pregnant feels weird to him. You could be slowly getting pregnant and it might actually work as you talk about it.

Surprisingly, you chuckle at his question as you give him a perfect roll of your eyes. “We can try next month if it doesn't work,” you offer, “Or we could be trying for the next few days.” you add more quietly.

You still ovulate for a few more days, it's better to get this over with. At least that's what you're trying to say. Maybe you're not able to go for another round right away, but the thought of having sex (this kind of sex) with Yoongi for the next few days makes you all hot all over again.

“Whatever works best for you,” he reminds you, sounding nonchalant but there's some kind of softness in his voice. Or maybe you're just trying to tell yourself that. “You okay, though?”

Brows pinched, you gaze at him just to find him staring at the ceiling instead. “Yes, thank you for asking. Are you?”

He seems surprised of you asking the same thing and he clears his throat. “Yeah, I mean who says no to free sex.”

Snorting, you nudge him in his shoulder as you stand up. No matter how good it felt to be just laying down after sex like that, your body almost pleading to go back because tiredness is getting to you, you know you shouldn't stay here any longer.

His eyes are on you as you're collecting your clothes off the floor and you're aware of them, purposely not looking at him for multiple reasons. This is getting too dangerous and you've to remind yourself why you've done it in the first place.

“Shouldn't you be laying with your legs up or something?” Yoongi mutters, rubbing his face exhaustedly.

Laughing a little, you relax slightly and slide your panties up your legs. Yoongi's cum is already running down your legs and you wince at the feeling, looking around for some tissue to wipe it off.

“You can take a shower, you know.”

Looking at him, you look unsure and Yoongi somehow knows you just need a little push. Thinking about it, you sigh and hold the clothes closer to your naked chest.

“Okay, thanks,” you tell him, walking to the bathroom.

As soon as the door is closed, you lean against it with your back and take a deep breath. Your heart is about to jump out of your chest, the adrenaline still present while reality slowly hits you. The shower was very much needed, not only to wipe off the sex stench and sweat, but for you to collect your thoughts.

This is what we wanted, you tell yourself and finally let yourself relax. You'll get this over with, hopefully get blessed enough to get pregnant and you and Yeonseok will be a happy family. Yoongi will get his money and you won't have to see him ever again.

That is the plan.

#networkbangtan #ksmutclub #ficswithluv #bts smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #bts angst #bts fluff #bts au #personasintro

951 notes · View notes

glimmeringtwilight · 2 years

Text

The Lone and Level Sands Stretch Far Away - Chapter One

There's 5 chapters finished already so I'm going to spam the shit out of my unsuspecting blog with this. Updates will not usually be this quick. Formatting may be wack as hell because I'm copying and pasting it without checking formatting. I'll go through and fix it later when I have time, bear with me.

Crossposted on Ao3 HERE.

CW: Nothing to note for this chapter. Mild angst.

You meet Zhongli in your next life.

You work as a florist, so naturally, you’re not unfamiliar with the funeral parlor, who often come to you for arrangements. Zhongli was usually the one sent to ensure the quality of the followers and appraise the arrangements you made once he’d picked the best flowers you offered.

And if you were being honest? You hated him, at first. He was picky. The first few arrangements you made, he’d frown and pick apart your technique. It was… hard to accept it as constructive criticism, when it was constant and his grievances were over minor mistakes, or things that came from your lack of experience (because while you pride yourself on your work, you where by no means an expert, having taken over your aunt’s flower business only two years before.)

You’d once said to him, early on: “If you dislike my work so much, take your business elsewhere.”

It was probably unprofessional, sure. But you were tired of his scrutiny, and it’d reached a point where you’d recognize the sound of his footsteps, or you’d catch a glimpse of him standing outside through the storefront window, or you’d hear his rumbling voice as he chatted another customer’s ear off, and your mood would plummet.

Zhongli, for his part, was understanding. He had the decency to look ashamed, at least, and apologize for his criticism. He promised to stop, and said that your arrangements were always… “acceptable.” What a backhanded-ass compliment.

But you accepted his apology, apologizing yourself for your harshness. With how calmly and earnestly he responded, you felt kind of bad for snapping like you did. Maybe you overreacted…

Your problem with him didn’t end there, though. True to his word, Zhongli stopped complaining about your arrangements, but that didn’t stop the slight frown that tugged at his lips whenever he wasn’t pleased with your work. It happened slightly less often than at the start, but the frown on his face got under your skin nonetheless. You wouldn’t snap at him, not again. He wasn’t actively complaining, so you couldn’t complain either.

This went on for months.

Then, one day, you asked:

“What would you suggest I do differently?”

Zhongli looked up from the arrangement, confused. You’d done a lily and chrysanthemum spray this time, filling the space leftover with some orchids and lily of the valley. “I didn’t say it was bad.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting to keep the scowl off your face. “You didn’t have to. You always look so… disappointed whenever I present a finished arrangement to you. I know you promised to stop complaining about my work, but instead of telling me what I did wrong, you can tell me what to do right. Tell me what you’d do differently.”

Zhongli pauses, staring at you for a long moment in silence as he considers your words. It’s both flattering and kind of unnerving, the amount of thought he seems to give you. Flattering, because you don’t think you’ve ever met anyone who’s listened so earnestly and with as much interest as Zhongli. All your gripes about the man aside, he’s a good listener.

“Well… to start, I would shock the flowers in hot water– not boiling–immediately after cutting them.” That… you didn’t know that.

It was like you opened the archons-damned floodgates. Zhongli obviously prided himself on his knowledge in many things, this apparently being one of them. A very good thing, at least, that his voice was (you’d begrudgingly concede) very soothing, like warm wax, or a good wine that burns just right on the way down.

You learned a lot that day, and you took notes on every tip he shared, including certain compounds you needed to preserve your flowers better after cutting them. Some of those compounds you were able to buy from merchants by the docks, some you could make from your own personal garden (which you’d started in case you ever needed to make your own medicines, of which you had… rudimentary knowledge), and some you had never heard of before. Zhongli promised to buy the latter for you, waving away your indignant protests of “I can pay for it myself-!”

From that day on, your opinion of the eccentric but well-mannered funeral consultant improved. He stopped frowning at your work entirely, instead praising you for your improvement and offering advice where he could. You found yourself beginning to enjoy his presence in your quaint shop.

One day, he told you there was nothing left for you to improve.

“Very good, this arrangement is exquisite. I couldn’t have done it better myself.” Something about his praise brings heat to your cheeks, spreading all the way to your ears. If he notices, he says nothing, and you’re thankful for it.

Shamefully, you find yourself replaying his praise in your mind, an unfamiliar warmth blooming in your chest.

It goes much like this for the next few months. Zhongli praises your work to the high heavens, and you awkwardly accept his praise, hoping you didn’t look as warm as you felt. You started to look forward to his visits more often, perking up at the same sound of footsteps that you once dreaded.

“I’d like to treat you to dinner,” He tells you one day, interrupting the routine the two of you had comfortably slipped into.

“What?” Immediately, your face betrays you, and you can feel heat burning at the tips of your ears. Zhongli’s eyes seem to twinkle knowingly, like he knows the effect he has on you. Does he know he’s handsome, too? And just where did these thoughts start coming from?

Ever gracious, Zhongli doesn’t comment on your reddening face. “If you’d allow me… I’d like to invite you to have dinner with me. My treat. It’s the least I can do to repay you for allowing this old man to talk your ear off for so many months.”

Old man? You think, he looks the same age as me. Sure, he carries himself like he knows more than his years, but he looks relatively young, to you. Not boyish, definitely not, but not… old.

“I’d like that.” The reply leaves your lips before you have time to second guess your decision.

Zhongli smiles, amber eyes warm like the morning sun. Your heart skips a fucking beat. “Wonderful. I’ll come to pick you up tonight then, after sundown. Is that alright with you, my dear?”

The pet name sails straight over your head with how fast your heart is racing. You’re not sure it would change anything if you did catch it, anyway. Even though you were friends with him, at best, he’d never shown any romantic interest in you. You'd assumed he was married, if anything.

Zhongli, punctual as ever, shows up just as the sun dips below the horizon. You were finishing closing shop, and he smiled in understanding and waited patiently until you were done. You’ll admit, you rushed the cleaning, but you didn’t want to keep him waiting any longer and you were excited to be going out someplace for the first time in… years. Besides, morning you could worry about whatever mess was leftover.

Stepping outside, your heart racing with excitement (...to be going out with a friend, that’s it, you swear), you take Zhongli’s proffered arm and let him lead you to… the bougiest fucking restaurant you’ve ever seen.

The second you’d stepped in the doors, Zhongli holding it open for you (you’d expected no less, with how elegantly he carries himself. Of course he’s the perfect gentleman), you’d noticed the faint scent of what was undoubtedly an expensive incense. You’d smelled it once, you think, when you’d decided to treat yourself to an expensive pair of earrings. The jewelry shop reeked of it, and the smell was so strong it almost made you turn back. What made you leave instead was the disdainful stares the employees gave you. “Are you sure you can afford that? We typically sell to noble families…”

“What’s wrong? Would you like to eat somewhere else?” Zhongli asks, and you immediately realize the bitterness at the memory must have shown on your face.

“No, no,” You slip your arm from his to emphatically wave his concern away, ignoring the slightly disappointed look in his eyes when your touch leaves him, “It’s fine. This is fine. It’s just…”

You take in the décor, the gilding on the wall trim, the paintings that look like they belong in a museum, the undoubtedly expensive tapestry. Zhongli patiently waits for you to finish, golden eyes never leaving your face.

“This place looks expensive,” You finally manage to croak out. Zhongli looks confused.

“I said I would pay for this evening, did I not? You needn’t worry about the cost.”

A sigh escapes you, and you shake your head. “It’s nothing. Forget it.”

He looks like he wants to press further, but you don’t look back at him, fixing your eyes forward to stare distantly at an art piece that no doubt costs more than your shop and everything in it. Thankfully, he seems to take the hint.

You’re escorted to a table, already filled with warm food, and Zhongli pulls out a chair for you before sitting across from you.

“I took the liberty of ordering ahead. Let me know if it isn’t to your liking, or if you wish to order something else.” He tells you, carefully picking up his chopsticks and setting his own plate. You do the same.

There’s too much food on the table, and much of it looks like it comes straight from a fairytale, too good to be true. There’s no way the two of you can finish off this much food, and part of you feels ashamed of the waste. Your guilt, however, dissipates the second you take a bite.

It’s the best food you’ve ever tasted. You tried some of the jade parcels and wanted to cry at how good it was. Is this what rich people ate like? It’s not like you’ve never had good food, but this was more complex and delicious than the homestyle cooking you were used to. Speaking of, just how can Zhongli afford a place like this? Isn’t he a funeral consultant? Just how much do they pay him, you wonder.

Now that you think of it, he never did bring money himself when buying flowers and arrangements from you, simply saying the parlor would cover the cost. And they did, always… But you found it odd that he never seemed to carry money with him to pay up front. You didn’t expect him to pay with his own personal funds for things he had to purchase for his work, but he acts like he’s never had to worry about money. Maybe he comes from a noble family, and he’s used to having someone to foot the bill.

It would explain a lot of his eccentric mannerisms, at least.

The two of you are quiet while you eat. He doesn’t make any conversation when you’re mid-bite, and you’re thankful for that. You do catch the amusement crinkling his eyes as he watches you eat like you’re starved, and, embarrassed, you slow down.

“Would you care for dessert?” He asks at last when you finally slow down, having finished before you.

“I… If I eat anything more I’ll be sick,” you sheepishly admit. You’d completely forgotten to save room for dessert.

“Another time, perhaps,” Zhongli rumbles, smiling reassuringly. Another time? He wants to do this again? You suppose it couldn’t hurt. You’re not going to complain about a free meal, at least.

The two of you get up, and Zhongli tells the host to send the bill to his benefactor. The host looks unamused, rolling his eyes but nodding anyway. It seems Zhongli does this often. You figured.

He offers his arm to you again and you take it without complaint, stepping out with him into the cool night. The sun has long dipped past the horizon, lanterns lighting the streets and stars shining down at you. You can’t help but feel like something’s looking back, as you peer up at the twinkling lights.

You break from your staring at the night sky to look back up towards Zhongli, who seemed to be watching you intently, and he looks embarrassed to be caught staring. Recovering, he clears his throat, motioning with his free hand towards the harbor. “Mind if I take you on a walk around the harbor?”

“Not at all,” You smile. “Lead the way.”

He does exactly that, and the two of you make your way to the harbor.

Despite it being dark, the harbor is just as lively as ever. Merchants calling out their wares to passersby, children race around the docks, laughing excitedly. As you walk, Zhongli begins explaining the history of this harbor, and some of the early mercantile traditions of Liyue. Occasionally, you’re interrupted by a particularly eager merchant, many of whom know Zhongli by name. All of them try to coax Zhongli into purchasing something, offering him bogus “discounts” that are blatant attempts to gouge him of money.

It’s… appalling, how shameless some of them are, and you hope Zhongli sees it, but… He just smiles gratefully, thanking them for their generosity and telling them he’ll come back another day. You try not to balk. There’s… there’s no way he’s that gullible, right? They’re obviously scamming him, and yet he doesn’t bat an eye.

The two of you continue your walk, thankfully undisturbed as you reach the end of the harbor, but you’ve stopped paying attention to Zhongli’s ramblings. You don’t even realize he’s asked you a question until he stops, and you turn to see him looking down at you questioningly.

“Sorry, what?”

“Are you ok? You look upset.”

“Oh.” You look down. Are you really that easy to read? How long had he known you weren’t listening? “I’m fine, it’s just…”

Your thoughts drift back to the merchants, and something coils deep and ugly inside your chest, like an old, scabbing wound reopening, You don’t know why, and it’s probably not your business, you shouldn’t pry, but the idea of people so callously using and taking advantage of Zhongli’s kindness makes an ugly bitterness rear its head.

A memory surfaces in your mind. Not yours. It’s your face, but you don’t recognize yourself; you’ve never seen yourself so… unhappy. In this memory that’s not yours (you swear, but there’s a nagging at your subconscious that insists) you watch yourself swallow back obvious tears. Someone’s talking to you. No, not that: someone’s talking down to you, tone condescending. They’re scolding you for being selfish. Selfish? You have been anything but selfish your entire life. They were the one who was selfish. They took advantage of your friendship, your selflessness.

“Can we talk? I really need a shoulder to cry on, right now.” You agreed. You always did.

“Can you do this for me?” And you would. You always did.

But the one time you came to them, needing something yourself for once, they scowled. “I don’t want to hear about it. It’s not my job to make you feel better. Get over it, stop bothering me.”

So the next time they came to you tearfully, wanting to talk to you about their troubles and hear your gentle reassurances. You refused.

“Excuse me? How DARE you. Are you really going to hold a grudge against me over last time? Get over yourself.” You didn’t budge, ignoring their harsh words.

“You know what? Fine. You should be grateful I ever was your friend, with how terrible of one you were to me. I’m going to tell everyone what you’re really like. You’re a terrible person.”

The memory fades, but the sour taste in your mouth doesn’t. Zhongli’s still looking curiously at you, concern beginning to bleed into his expression. Right. He was waiting for you to finish your sentence.

“Those merchants back there, do they… do that often? Offer you ‘deals?’”

Zhongli nods, “Yes, why?”

“You realize they’re scamming you, right?” You turn to face him fully, slipping your arm from his. He looks bothered, again, once your touch leaves him.

“Money is no object. I have no qualms paying the full price,” He reassures you, shaking his head calmly.

“That’s not the point!” You don’t mean to yell, but it just pours out of you, “They’re taking advantage of you, Zhongli. Doesn’t that bother you? Don’t you have any self respect?”

He frowns, and you wince, immediately ashamed of your choice of words. “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s alright. It’s fine, I understand-” Zhongli reaches for your arm, recognizing the look in your eyes and trying to ground you. You shake your head, stepping out of his reach.

“I’m sorry. I’m going to head home. Thank you for dinner, Zhongli. It was lovely.”

“Wait-” But you’re already walking away, practically running in your haste to get somewhere private as tears sting your eyes.

You overstepped. Shame and resentment presses in on you from all sides, suffocating. You shouldn’t have said anything, and now you’ve hurt his feelings. He probably hates you, doesn’t he? Not that he’d ever say it to your face, he’s too polite for that. Where did that memory even come from? Why did it upset you so much? You don’t even know the other person in the memory, so why did it feel so real, why did it hurt so much?

The walk home is short, with the way you practically sprint there, biting out “I’m fine!” at every concerned look from a millileth, and every earnest “are you ok?” from well intentioned mothers or shopkeeps.

You make it to bed with tears pouring hot down your cheeks. In the morning, you roll out of bed, still dressed in your clothes from yesterday with a headache building behind your eyes. You consider closing shop for the day and taking a sick day, but some of your current stock can’t go even a day without being watered, and you’d have to head down to put a notice in the storefront window anyway if you were to stay home sick.

It’s with that in mind that you roll out of bed, putting on some clean clothes and then heading out for the day.

Zhongli stops by sometime after noon, thankfully after the medicine you’d taken for the headache had kicked in, but not before the nerves from the memory of last night had worn off. The air is heavy and tense as he goes through the motions with you, picking out flowers for a requested arrangement. You don’t even bother asking for payment, just handing him a slip of paper with the purchase and the price so his work can cover the cost.

Even after you’ve finished your business with him, he lingers, feigning interest in the glaze lilies proudly on display in your storefront. You try to ignore him. You know he wants to ask about last night.

Maybe if you ignore him he’ll- “So how are you feeling?” Nevermind.

Your shoulders slump, a sigh leaving you in a long exhale. “I’m fine.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You don’t. Or maybe you do, you’re not sure.

“I don’t know.”

He hums, dropping his feigned interest in the flowers and turning to you. You don’t make eye contact, and this time you’re pretending, scrubbing at a nonexistent stain in the vase you’re cleaning. Zhongli folds his hands together behind his back as he steps back toward the counter.

“Those merchants you saw last night…” He begins, pausing when you scowl. You pretend it’s directed at the nonexistent stain, humming for him to continue, “It is harmless. I have no issue paying whatever price they ask, after assuring the quality of the goods they offer me. I will confess… I am not used to limiting how much I spend.”

Ah. So he probably is a noble, or something. He definitely comes from wealth. You decide to ask. “So what, you’re from like, a filthy rich family, or something?”

He smiles, eyes warm. There’s a conspiratory look on his face, like he knows something you don’t. “Something like that, yes.”

“Okay.” Wow, smooth. Zhongli doesn’t seem bothered by your lackluster response, at least. If anything, his smile widens. Just slightly.

“Something tells me that’s not what’s bothering you.”

“It’s not,” You confess. “But I don’t know how to explain it.”

“I understand. If you’d like to try…” He trails off. “I’m here,” remains unsaid, but you smile at the sentiment regardless. So he doesn’t hate you. At least you didn’t fuck up too terribly last night.

“I remembered something last night.” You begin, gnawing on your lip. You really don’t know how to explain this, not without sounding crazy. He raises a brow in interest, waiting patiently for you to continue. “But it wasn’t like… It wasn’t my memory. Or it was. I don’t know… It didn’t feel like mine, but it was my face and my voice, and it felt so… real. But I didn’t recognize anyone else in it, just myself.”

“I see.” Zhongli places a hand on his chin, a quirk of his that you noticed he does a lot. He seems to be giving it some genuine thought, at least.

“I really don’t know how to explain how it felt. I just- I knew it was my memory, but at the same time not. Or maybe not from this life-” Now you just sound silly. Not from this life? You’ve read too many fairy tales as a kid.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?” He asks, finally, like he’s finished the puzzle in his head already. The contemplative look is there still, but replaced mostly with understanding.

“I haven’t really thought about it.” You admit. You realize you’ve stopped pretending to scrub at the vase, so you set it down and dry your hands, reaching below the counter for the watering can. “Maybe? I guess so. I don’t strongly disbelieve it.”

“Well, I think perhaps this memory of yours was from a previous life.” He pauses, watching you carefully as you let his words sink in. “Like that sense of deja vu one can get… sometimes entire memories can resurface too.”

A smile makes its way to your lips at the conviction he tells you this with, like he was telling you how the sky is blue and not discussing something as vague and subjective as reincarnation. “You certainly seem to believe in reincarnation, at least.”

Zhongli returns the smile with a small one of his own, nodding. “Of course. It’s a belief that’s persisted over the course of centuries. I’m sure there must be some truth behind it.”

That knowing look again, like he knows more than he’s letting on, but he won’t tell you. You don’t ask, instead brushing it off as one of his peculiarities.

“Well… What does it mean, if it was from a past life?”

“I’m not sure. I think that’s something you’ll have to find out for yourself.” You groan at that, standing up with the watering pail and setting it on the counter so you can put your head in your hands.

“And so it shall remain a mystery forever,” You grumble dramatically, fighting to keep your face distraught at the amused rumble that comes from Zhongli.

“You’ll figure it out, eventually. I’m sure of it. You’re plenty capable.” Is he calling you intelligent? Probably not (or maybe he is). Your heart flutters at the compliment regardless. You mutter out a quiet “thanks” in response. To be polite.

He keeps you company as you step outside to fill the watering can, quietly basking in the Liyue sunshine and listening to the chatter of the busy streets. You watch the water fill your can, trying to just enjoy the moment, but there’s something bothering you.

“Zhongli?”

“Hm?”

“I’ve been wondering… Where do you come from?” You ask, forcing the words out before you can second guess them.

“Liyue.” You roll your eyes.

“That’s not what I mean. Who are your parents? Where did you grow up? What did you do growing up?” Maybe it’s a lot of questions, maybe too many, but it’s been bugging you slightly, how vague he is about his past.

Zhongli doesn’t seem bothered. There’s a warm twinkle in his honey gaze as he looks down at you. “How about I tell you over dinner?”

You pause, turning off the water before you look up at him from where you’re kneeling. “Are you sure?” After last time?

“I’m sure. I enjoyed your company last night. And if you’ll have me… I’d like the chance to do so again.” You consider telling him no, brushing him off, to save yourself the embarrassment of potentially snapping at him again. But before that, last night was fun. You enjoyed spending time with him, and you’d hate to turn him down after how kind he’s been to you.

“Okay.” You concede, offering him a tiny smile.

“Wonderful. Same time tonight,” He tells you, and fixes his suit before taking his leave, saying something about “procrastinating far too long.” Right, he was supposed to be working, but you figured the parlor was used to his antics. With how particular he was about everything, it wasn’t uncommon for him to spend a long time picking the flowers for the arrangements.

You watched him leave, a strange warmth budding in your chest.

You’re looking forward to it.

#yandere #zhongli/reader #chapter one #the lone and level sands series #zhongli x reader #yandere zhongli #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere zhongli/reader #zhongli/you #my writing #dead dove do not eat

70 notes · View notes

unforth · 4 years

Text

Rules of the Gusu Lan Clan

Since I wrote my fic about junior Wei Wuxian trying to follow every rule, I’ve been wanting to compile a list of all known rules across multiple sources, and apparently today is the day for that.

General notes:

According to the MDZS novel, there are 3,000 rules at the time of the lectures, and 4,000 rules 13 years later after Wei Wuxian is resurrected. According to CQL, there are 3,500 rules at the time of the lectures.

These rules are presumably numbered, as when Lan Wangji is being beaten, Lan Qiren asks him “what is the 52nd doctrine of the Lan clan?” However, they are given in a different order in different sources so establishing how they are numbered is impossible. Since we can’t know the order they “belong” in, I’ve organized them by grouping them thematically. For the few I know numbers for, those numbers are included in parenthesis.

I don’t know how these rules are referred to in Chinese; in English they are translated as rules, principals, doctrines, or laws. Based on contextual clues, it’s possible that the rules are sorted into different categories (ie, principals vs. doctrines vs. rules)

I did my best to consolidate the rules listed duplicatively over multiple sources, but as I don’t speak Chinese and therefore cannot say which are identical in the original, there is likely some redundancy. This is exacerbated by a lot of rules apparently being given in both “do not” and “be” forms - ie, “do not disrespect elders” and “be filial” and “be respectful to teachers” are all rules. The reason I opted to leave these areas of redundancy is that this compiled list is around 175 rules. There are 3,000 plus of these things. If just ~175 have this much duplication the amount of redundancy in the actual list must be insane, so I think these overlapping rules are intentional and consolidating them would be inappropriate.

Crossposted to AO3

Sources I used to compile this list:

The “Book of Righteousness” notebook, as translated by BigBadRedPanda. They did two translations, posted on Tumblr and on Twitter, which don’t always match on translation choices.

The inscribed wall is shown in the donghua, as translated by my-otp-list, based on a list transcribed by an unknown Weibo user.

The MDZS wiki, which draws on multiple sources.

The Netflix translation of CQL: I watched through the episodes of the lecture and transcribed these myself. I do not have time to rewatch the whole series for those that might have been listed elsewhere. I specifically rewatched: the fight between WWX and LWJ and WWX arrives at Cloud Recesses in episode 3; the “NHS has a bird” scene in episode 3; the “putting a turtle on LQR’s back” scene in episode 4; and the scene where LWJ is punished in episode 43.

For anyone with a lot of patience and a working knowledge of Chinese and English, in CQL episode 3, timestamp 23 minutes on Netflix, there’s a carved stone with the rules on it. Also, in episode 4, timestamp 2 minutes on Netflix, Wei Wuxian is shown sleeping amidst the copies he’s made, there are more rules visible then. Same episode, timestamp 3:30 or so, a disciple opens a pamphlet of the rules and some are shown. (I expect there’s much overlap between these three sources). Information there might be able to expand this list? Or it might be entirely redundant. I don’t know. I’m sorry.

Interpreting the list:

“Source” indicates which source(s) include this rule. (this isn’t exhaustive and there is a fair amount of overlap between CQL and MDZS)

notebook - “The Book of Righteousness” translation by BigBadRedPanda

donghua - the translation of the list in the second episode done by my-otp-list

CQL - the Netflix translation of CQL

MDZS - the Exiled Rebels translations of the novel.

“Also translated as” is a different translation from the same source (ie, two different translations of the Book of Righteousness)

“Alternate” is a similar rule from an alternate source that overlapped so closely that I lumped them together (ie, overlap between Book of Righteousness and donghua)

THE RULES:

Rules pertaining to appropriate behavior and comportment:

Lan clan disciples must follow the principles of the Lan (source: CQL)

Do not work after 9 pm (source: notebook)

Do not rise after 5 am (alternate: wake up at 8 am (??)) (source: notebook, donghua)

Do not go out at night (also translated as: venturing out at night is prohibited) (source: donghua)

Those who come at night should not be allowed in until 7 AM (source: CQL)

Do not be late (source: CQL)

Do not enter Cloud Recesses without permission (source: CQL)

No one is permitted to attend the lectures without an invitation (source: CQL)

Do not enter the back hills without permission (source: CQL)

Do not fight without permission (alternate: fighting without permission is prohibited) (source: notebook, donghua)

Do not create damages (source: donghua)

Do not take life within Cloud Recesses (alternate: do not kill within the premises) (source: notebook, donghua)

Do not stand incorrectly (also translated as: do not stoop while standing) (alternate: have a proper posture) (source: notebook, donghua)

Do not sit improperly (also translated as: do not slouch while sitting) (alternate: do not sit with a disgraceful pose, sitting improperly is prohibited) (source: notebook, donghua, CQL)

Do not make noise (alternate: do not make an uproar, causing noise is prohibited) (source: notebook, donghua, CQL)

Do not hurry rashly (also translated as: do not rush while walking, do not walk too fast) (alternate: do not act impulsively; running is prohibited) (source: notebook, donghua, CQL)

Do not move arbitrarily (source: CQL)

Do not smile for no reason (also translated as: do not smile foolishly, do not laugh for no reason) (source: notebook, donghua)

Sneering for no reason is prohibited (source: donghua)

Do not drink alcohol (alternate: alcohol is prohibited) (source: notebook, donghua, MDZS, CQL)

Do not consume meat (source: MDZS)

Killing livestock within the area is prohibited (source: MDZS)

Do not be difficult with food (alternate: do not be picky about food) (source: notebook, donghua)

Do not eat more than three bowls (alternate: eating more than three bowls is prohibited) (source: notebook, donghua)

Do not talk during meal times (source: MDZS)

Pets are not permitted (source: MDZS)

Change clothes after a shower (source: CQL)

Wear a headband to discipline yourself (source: CQL)

Do not touch others’ headbands without permission (source: CQL)

A headband is not to be used for any other purpose (source: CQL)

Only a spouse or child may touch the headband (source: MDZS)

Do not bribe a law enforcer (source: CQL)

Do not use a concealed weapon (source: CQL)

Do not hide an edged tool (source: CQL)

Do not wear any jangling objects like beads (source: CQL)

Do not wear more than three accessories around your waist (source: CQL)

Do not alter clothes secretly (source: CQL)

Never hurt insects or plants (source: CQL)

Do not borrow money (source: CQL)

Rules related to personal virtues (virtues in the English sense, not the classical Chinese sense):

Love and respect yourself (source: donghua)

Behave yourself (source: CQL)

Be respectful (alternate: be courteous) (source: donghua, CQL)

Be modest (source: CQL)

Arrogance is prohibited (source: donghua)

Hide your wisdom (source: CQL)

Do not show off your skills (source: CQL)

Be humble (source: donghua, CQL)

Do not be supercilious (source: CQL)

Be amicable and united (alternate: be cordial) (source: donghua, CQL)

Be strict with yourself (source: donghua)

Have a strong will and anything can be achieved (source: donghua)

Diligence is the root (source: donghua)

Morality is the priority (source: donghua)

Harmony is the value (source: donghua)

Be ethical (source: donghua)

Uphold the value of justice (source: donghua)

Be just (source: donghua)

Shoulder the weight of morality (source: donghua)

Perform acts of chivalry (source: donghua)

Have courage and knowledge (source: donghua)

Have courtesy and integrity (source: donghua)

Do not be ill-mannered (source: CQL)

Have affection and gratefulness (source: donghua)

Be compassionate (source: CQL)

Be generous (source: donghua)

Frugality is a moral (source: CQL)

Give more, take less (source: CQL)

Do not expect rewards after giving (source: CQL)

Do not be miserly (source: notebook)

Do not regret after offering (source: CQL)

Accumulate virtue and merits (6th rule) (source: CQL)

Make sure to act virtuously (source: donghua)

Be grateful (source: donghua)

Be grateful when praised (source: CQL)

Stop bad habits (source: donghua)

Destroy the five poisons (the five poisons are desire, anger, ignorance, pride, and jealousy; references: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Five_Poisons; http://www.chinabuddhismencyclopedia.com/en/index.php/Five_poisons)

Do not indulge in pleasure (source: CQL)

Do not be promiscuous (alternate: do not commit acts of promiscuity; promiscuity is prohibited) (source: notebook, donghua)

Do not indulge in debauchery (source: notebook)

Do not wallow in luxury and pleasure (alternate: do not live extravagantly, do not be luxurious) (source: notebook, donghua, CQL)

Be peaceful when insulted (source: CQL)

Do not succumb to rage (also translated as: do not get angry) (alternate: do not be over-the-top; do not be aggressive) (source: notebook, donghua, CQL)

Speak meagerly, for too many words only bring harm (source: donghua)

Do not be haughty and complacent (source: notebook)

Do not be of two minds (alternate: be of one mind) (source: notebook, donghua)

Do not exult in excess (also translated as: do not be overly happy) (source: notebook, donghua)

Do not grieve in excess (also translated as: do not be overly sad) (source: notebook, donghua)

Do not covet the property of others (source: CQL)

Do not steal (source: notebook)

Do not be greedy (source: notebook)

Be careful with your words (source: donghua)

Do not use coarse language (source: CQL)

Do not tell lies (source: notebook)

Do not take your own words lightly (source: donghua)

Do not sow discord (source: CQL)

Do not use flowery writing (also translated as: do not write about love and sex; do not use frivolous language) (alternate: do not spread empty line (sic) ) (source: notebook, donghua)

Do not say one thing and mean another (alternate: do not break promises; do not go back on your word) (source: notebook, donghua, CQL)

Do not boast about your own strengths (source: CQL)

Believe sincerely (source: donghua)

Do not be suspicious (source: CQL)

Do not be wasteful (source: donghua)

Do not break faith and abandon right (source: notebook, donghua)

Do not be unreasonable (source: CQL)

Rules for training, studying and learning:

Learning comes first (source: donghua)

Train your body and your mind (source: donghua)

Maintain your own discipline (source: donghua)

Organize work properly (source: donghua)

Do not neglect your studies (source: CQL)

Do not give up on learning (source: donghua)

Do not lose your life goal (source: CQL)

Nurture aspirations (source: donghua)

Rules for interacting with others:

Love all beings (source: donghua)

Embrace the entirety of the world (source: donghua)

Honor good people (source: donghua)

Appreciate the good people (source: donghua)

Good people will be esteemed, blessed by natured, and accompanied by good fortune (source: CQL)

Respect the filial ones (source: donghua)

Be fair, and they will follow you (source: donghua)

Be trustworthy, and they will believe you (source: donghua)

Be mighty, and they will die for you (source: donghua)

Be loyal (source: donghua)

Earn trust (source: donghua)

Win friendships with kindness (source: donghua)

See friends as neighbors (source: donghua)

Steer away from bad men (source: donghua)

Correct others by correcting yourself (source: CQL)

Do not fear the strong (source: notebook)

Do not ignore others and be undisciplined (source: CQL)

Help the lonely (source: CQL)

Take pity on the desolate (source: CQL)

Do not despise poverty (source: CQL)

Do not bully the weak (alternate: do not bully others; bullying is prohibited) (source: notebook, CQL)

Do not mix public and private interests (source: notebook)

Help the underprivileged (source: donghua)

Care for the weak (source: CQL)

Lend a hand to those in need (source: CQL)

Rescue those in danger (source: CQL)

Do not take advantage of your position or connections to oppress others (source: notebook)

Do not build wealth by using others, for this wealth won’t last (source: donghua)

Do not curry favour (also translated as: do not flatter) (source: notebook)

Do not go tuft-hunting (source: CQL)

Do not be a social climber (source: CQL)

Do not form a clique and exclude others (alternate: do not form cliques) (source: notebook, donghua)

Do not insult people (alternate: do not slander others) (source: notebook, CQL)

Do not use bad words to hurt others (source: donghua)

Do not tease others (source: CQL)

Do not praise yourself and slander others (source: notebook)

Do not jump to an unfounded conclusion (also translated as: do not make assumptions about others) (alternate: do not judge others quickly) (source: notebook, CQL)

Do not judge people behind their back (alternate: do not speak ill of others; talking behind other people’s back is prohibited) (source: notebook, donghua)

Speak not about other people’s weaknesses (source: CQL)

Be easy on others (source: donghua)

Be sad for other people’s sufferings (source: CQL)

Rejoice in other people’s blessings (source: CQL)

Regard other people’s gains and losses as your own (source: CQL)

Do not hold grudges (source: donghua)

Have wins and losses (source: donghua)

If others win over you, do not envy (source: donghua)

If others lose to you, do not look down (source: donghua)

Do not take apprentices excessively, nor pass ordinary people (source: CQL)

Interacting with Wei Wuxian is forbidden. (added by Lan Qiren at some point post lectures...yes, really...heck of a lot of good it did anyone...)

Rules for respecting those in authority:

Respect the elderly (source: CQL)

Do not disrespect the elder (source: notebook)

Do not disregard the younger (source: notebook)

Do not forget the grace of the forefathers (source: donghua)

Be loyal, filial, friendly and dutiful (source: donghua, CQL; donghua only lists the first two)

Be a filial child (source: donghua)

Do not argue with your family, for it doesn’t matter who wins (source: donghua)

Honor the teachers and respect the elders (source: CQL)

If your senior is standing, you may not sit until they have done so (source: CQL)

Teachers have extensive knowledge and are examples of moral integrity (source: CQL)

Disturbing female cultivators is prohibited (7th rule) (source: MDZS)

Rules on cultivation, good and evil:

Concentrate on cultivating (source: CQL)

To suppress and eliminate ghosts and monsters, liberate them (source: CQL)

Stay on the righteous path (source: CQL)

Take the straight path (alternate: follow the righteous way) (source: donghua, CQL)

Reject the crooked road (alternate: do not take the crooked ways) (source: donghua, CQL)

Eliminate evil and establish a just law (source: CQL)

Do not associate with evil (source: CQL)

Do not befriend the evil (52nd doctrine) (source: CQL)

Do not fall to evil (source: CQL)

Resist evil (source: CQL)

Promote good (source: CQL)

#mdzs #meta #lan clan #lan clan rules #this took a shockingly long time #hope it's useful to anyone #untamed

252 notes · View notes

laylainalaska · 4 years

Text

I posted this over on DW late last night - crossposting here because I was thinking about Torchwood (as one does).

I think one thing about this show that makes it so satisfying for me is that it doesn't hesitate to commit. Whether or not it makes narrative sense. And I was thinking about Owen's condemned man's walk in "Dead Man Walking.”

That scene when he's walking to his execution is such an absolutely gorgeous scene - the way it's staged and shot, the facial expressions, the subtleties of his unspoken goodbyes with his teammates. Some parts of that scene are the ones that stick with me most from the episode - especially running his hand up the railing next to Ianto's (there's something so intimate about it, for all that they don't touch each other), but also Gwen's spontaneous, clinging hug, and the way that he walks into the Hub, for what he thinks is the last time.

It's also, in some sense, absolutely unnecessary, from a big-picture narrative standpoint. It's staged as a huge dramatic thing - but he not only doesn't die, but the plot veers off in a completely different direction a few minutes later. It's a scene that's set up like a climax or a major game-changer in an episode in which it's not actually that, a scene that would almost certainly be cut down to its basic elements in a show that was trying to keep the plot "tight" and cut or combine any scenes that aren't narratively necessary.

But it's gorgeous! It's an absolutely glorious scene that is part of what makes the entire episode feel as emotionally indulgent as it does. Do we need Owen slowly running his hand up the railing next to Ianto's hand? Not really! But ... we also kind of do.

if you think about it, that scene is focused on his farewells with the teammates who aren't the ones he has his closest connections with. He has big dramatic moments with Tosh and with Jack elsewhere in the episode, but that particular scene is focused on saying goodbye to Gwen and Ianto. As far as any of the characters knows, these are his last moments to say anything to anyone. But one thing this episode does really well is spreading out the big emotional moments between the characters, and across the entire span of the episode. If he had goodbyes with Tosh and Jack here too, the scene would be crowded and it would essentially just repeat emotional beats that we get elsewhere.

So instead, the emotional weight of this scene is focused almost entirely on his connections to Ianto and Gwen. In addition to the moments mentioned earlier, I love that bit where they flank him like a sort of honor guard.

The different ways the goodbyes are handled gives a really different feeling to each relationship. Tosh is the nearly-girlfriend and perhaps his best friend; Jack is his boss and mentor and the emotional fulcrum of his life at Torchwood; and Ianto and Gwen are his comrades in arms, which is very solidly conveyed here with the two of them being the ones who are basically his honor guard and pallbearers while he's still (sort of) alive. All of this is in contrast to earlier, in the autopsy goodbye scene, when it was, instead, Tosh and Jack who carried the emotional weight there.

But the general effect is to give heft and weight and uniqueness to each of his different relationships with his teammates. When confronted with what they think are their final moments with Owen, Tosh confesses her love (and refuses to leave him later; he has to trick her to get her to go), Gwen hugs him, Ianto offers wordless support, and Jack is - well, Jack is Jack, with a little of all of it, really. And we get all of that in a single episode, spread out enough that each of his goodbye scenes with his teammates gets its own flavor and stands alone enough to be memorable and have its own emotional heft. And it goes ahead and carries into the next episode, where we get unique and individual scenes with all of Owen's various relationships yet again (with the addition of more with Martha that time around) - also maybe "A Day in the Death" didn't develop Owen and Gwen quite as much? But there was a lot going on, and it managed to get in strong individual scenes with all of the others, plus the frame story with Owen and Maggie.

And I just really appreciate that the show went out of its way to do this. This was actually a problem I had with Agents of SHIELD this season - spoilers for AoS season 7 follow:

Agents of SHIELD incorporates Daniel Sousa (from Agent Carter) into the team in season 7, but also ... it kind of doesn't? I really enjoyed the first couple of Daniel episodes, and my interest slipped with each succeeding one, because the only relationship they really built in any detail was with Daisy, whose love interest he was. It would have been so easy to give him some individual and distinct relationships with the other teammates, but he just doesn't really ever have that. I think AoS in general has a problem with this - they have one or two major relationships per teammate, and you don’t really get a lot of sustained development of the team relationships beyond that, which I think is one of the reasons why - while I like the show - they never really turned into one of those found-family ensembles that I'm ride-or-die for.

Because it's not just having emotional scenes with the characters, it's also providing enough additional touchstones with them to suggest that it matters. One show that used to drive me absolutely bonkers with its lack of this sort of follow-through was Lost, which would start to develop some kind of character relationship, and then just drop it - you'd get a single episode of two characters bonding, and then they'd never share an important scene again.

With Torchwood though, you don't get a lot of future scenes with any given duo from the episode, but you get enough (Owen going to the theater with Ianto and Gwen, say, or dancing with Tosh, or the little shoulder-touch in “Fragments”) to suggest that this episode's emotional pivot-points actually did anchor something important.

And ... in a way, you don't even have to do this intentionally, if you commit to enough emotionally meaningful scenes with the characters; narratively necessary or not, throw in enough heartfelt touchstones and real feelings fall out. (Claremont's X-Men did this too - structurally it was a mess, but if you stick in enough relatively contiguous scenes of characters Having Feelings at each other, even if the overall plot is wandering in a million directions, you do tend to get something genuinely emotional out of it.)

#torchwood #owen harper #meta #agents of shield spoilers #kinda

82 notes · View notes

jeonggukingdom · 4 years

Text

✰ m a s t e r l i s t

[ All the stories linked in this masterlist are the fruit of my own imagination, don’t copy or re-post elsewhere without permission. ]

I crosspost all of my stories on AO3 and nowhere else so if you find them somewhere other than these two accounts, please report them to me, thank you. I do not allow reposting, not even with credits, and I don’t allow translations of my stories, especially if you never asked me permission to do so.

⟶ guilty as charged ⟶ ✘ ↳ established relationship!AU, FBI-agent!AU, dom!AU ⟶ one-shot ✪

« Your boyfriend works for the FBI and you have learned how to appease him when he comes back home tired and stressed from work. Tonight, though, when he enters and you immediately take on your submissive stance, you still have no idea what you are going to get. When he ties you to the chair and spreads your legs, though, you quickly realize you are in for a treat.»

⟶ longing in Tokyo ⟶ ✘☀︎ ↳ established relationship!AU ⟶ one-shot

« It has been just two weeks. Two bloody weeks of nothing but text messages and phone calls and, quite frankly, Namjoon can’t simply take it anymore. He needs you. And it’s exactly that firing desire that prompts him to call you in the middle of the night in the hopes of quenching his unyielding desire for you once and for all.»

⟶ coming soon

⟶ love in the times of movies and duvets [feat. Jungkook] ⟶ ✘ ↳ exhibitionists!AU, three-some!AU ⟶ one-shot

« At the annual reunion at your friend’s house for an Harry Potter movie marathon rewatch, things get spicy between you and your boyfriend Jeongguk while everyone else is asleep. Or so you thought. When you catch Yoongi staring at you with one of his hands on his crotch, you can’t help but invite him in on the fun for a night none of you three will ever forget. »

⟶ to the beat of my heart ⟶ ✘ ↳ dancer!AU ⟶ one-shot ✪

« When you walk into the studio that Sunday afternoon, all you expect is a lonely and chill practice session but, a few hours later, your programs are shattered in thousand pieces by the unexpected presence of Jung Hoseok. And nothing could have prepared you for what he had in store for you. »

⟶ the bride of Ashmedai ⟶ ✘☀︎☁︎ ↳ demon!AU ⟶ one-shot

« You were born with only one purpose to fulfill: sacrifice your life to a Prince of Hell and save your entire lineage from eternal damnation. When blood trickled from your hand that night you were ready for doom or even worse, death. What you didn’t expect was for you to find gentle eyes of molten chocolate waiting for you and a wanton tongue welcoming you home. » ↳ alternatively: the prince of lust has a thing for cunnilingus and, apparently, so do you.

⟶ under the spell of a demon’s touch ⟶ ✘☀︎☁︎ ↳ incubus!AU ⟶ one-shot ✪

« You had believed, for your entire life, that creatures of the underworld were only a myth but you were proven wrong by the existence of Jimin. He is, according to his definition, a smaller type of Fae called Incubus. A creature of sex. Someone that can only live and strive as long as his sexual appetite is satiated every day. And Incubi are known in all of their myths to be insatiable and ravenous creatures. »

⟶ salacious propositions ⟶ ✘ ↳ phone-sex-operators!AU ⟶ one-shot

« You had been friends for years now and you were quite accustomed to the crazy ideas of Kim Taehyung but when he proposed to you a summer of working as phone-sex operators you had your doubts. Still, you indulged him and one day, passing in front of his door, you hear him. Next thing you know, you’re asking him to watch him as he works and well, from a call to being sprawled on his bed the step is ridiculously short. »

⟶ dick on the go ⟶ ✘☀︎★ ↳ friends!AU ⟶ one-shot ✪

« It was all shits and giggles when you and Taehyung were desperate seniors in High School, having no idea what to do with your lives, wondering if you’d ever find a decent job or even graduate in the first place. It is not so funny anymore when you come home from the big city to enjoy your vacation time and you find his sex-shop right in front of the house you grew up in when you were a kid. “If nothing works out I’m just gonna open a sex shop and call it something obnoxious like ‘Dick on the Go’ or something with a stupid zucchini logo flashing on top of the building.” He had said one time. Shit, you had no idea he actually meant it. »

⟶ across a lifetime ⟶ ✘☀︎ ☁︎ ↳ time-travel!AU, criminals!AU, sci-fi ⟶ one-shot

« In your world only a few rules exist: don’t reveal your true identity to anyone, kill or be killed and, most importantly, do not get caught. It only takes a few moments for the scale to be tipped to the wrong side, for the fine equilibrium to be easily ruptured by an inexplicable turn of events and for you to lose the only person that ever mattered to you. With the love of your life lost in the distant past, you are left with only one option: get caught.»

⟶ the shower experiment ⟶ ✘☀︎ ↳ newlyweds!AU ⟶ drabble

« You thought being on a honeymoon was not only about the sex but also about the cities and making memories together and taking pictures for everyone to see. Instead, you have been stuck in your hotel room and your infaticable husband has no intention of leaving anytime soon. The next room to conquer? The bathroom and, more precisely, the shower. »

⟶ the sea watcher ⟶ ☁︎✘ ☀︎ ↳ pirate!AU, witch!AU ⟶ one-shot ✪

« They call the women of your kind “The Sea Watchers.” Born under the favor of the Gods, your kind was bestowed with the power to bend air and water to your will. And with that power, you are set on saving the lives of your brother and your lover, Jeon Jeongguk. Two years have passed since you last saw either of them but you kept your promise, you have waited for him to return and now, all that is left to find out is if he has waited for you too. »

⟶ your every wish is my command ⟶ ✘☀︎★ ↳ genie!AU ⟶ one-shot ✪

« It’s Friday night and everyone you know in a 12 miles radius seems to be out and about dancing or drinking their lives away. Bored out of your mind you decide to call out the Genie that happened to fell in your hands a month prior to this very night. You just want some company, somebody to talk to and entertain you but things take a spicy turn when you accidentally make your very first wish and it’s a rather impious one. »

⟶ house of cards ⟶ ☁︎✘ ↳ apocalypse!AU, zombie!AU ⟶ one-shot

«What does safe mean when you are chased by zombie, when every corner you turn could be the last one for you? What do words like home and future mean when you’re always on the run and every moment could be your last? They mean nothing and everything at the same time and Jeongguk is all of the above. He is your safe haven, he is your home and he is your future. But things like that crumble easily in your world. »

⟶ split at the seams ⟶ ☁︎✘☀︎ ↳ dystopian!AU « Life in the Outskirts is not easy or grand and waking up every morning is both a blessing and a curse. On the verge of the breaking point, Jeongguk turns to the only thing out there able to save you: The Ring. So that first night, when he came home battered and bruised holding more money in one hand that you had seen in quite some time, you knew trouble would quickly follow. But if there’s something that life has taught you it’s this: as long as you and Jeongguk are together, nothing can stop you. »

⟶ splinters of love ⟶ ☁︎✘☀︎★ ↳ a collection of drabbles (one for each day of April) based on prompts by an online prompts’ generator site.

#!masterlist

260 notes · View notes

spc4eva · 3 years

Text

Mandokar: Chapter 1

Summary: The Mandalorians owe a debt. This is to be repaid by taking an Anaxian princess in as a Foundling in the wake of the planet’s destruction. How will she fare being raised Mandalorian?

Word Count: 13,188

Author Notes: OMG I have been planning this for so long, so thank you for any who are willing to ride it out with me and wait for updates because I'm going to be a PITA on editing and making certain that absolutely beautiful chapters come out. I'm going to try and update weekly, but we'll see if I can get the cogs turning and maybe post 2. Doubt it, because I really want the time to edit and putz around with dialogue.

My intentions for this fic are simple - I want a Mandalorian raised OC of my own self-serving elven race that I've made up. HATE ME. DO IT.

Originally, I wanted this to be a fem!OCxPaz, but after much deliberation, decided against it in favor of fem!OC & BigBrother!Paz, because their sibling relationship has given me so much damn life and daydreams. For those hoping this will be smut with a plot, I'M SORRY, but it's not.While there are definitely adult themes much... much.... MUCH later when Sena becomes an adult, that's a long way off and so is any smut since that's not the intention of this fic.

Full intention is to delve, dive, and describe day to day life of the Tribe, growing up as a Mandalorian, and the challenges our little bird will face along the way. This will include Mandalorian slice of life, culture, strife, and angst - but also tons of rewarding drabble and accomplishments.

Armorer will be around and of a similar age to Paz. Whereas, Din will be the same age as Sena. Whether or not I ship them, I haven't decided, because I intend for them to be rivals and the intention isn't to make this a full on romance fic (though I'll not lie and way down the road it might turn into that).We all want a BAMF Mandalorian OC, so here I am gonna gush all over the culture and vomit up tons of content for you to swallow. If ya want it.

Crossposted on AO3

"Your grace."

The morning was chill, much more so than typical for the mid season. Lifting her palm toward the sky, she felt a few drops of dew splatter to her palm, pressing cool kisses to her skin. Cocking her head, her eyes slid back from the balcony toward the servant entreating her. She broke a gentle smile. Today would be a fine day. Faylen wasn't certain why, but she had a good feeling. Birds trilled in the thicket of trees that surrounded the grounds in a verdant embrace, sheltering the beauty of the architecture which had long since been replaced elsewhere in the galaxy. Not here. Genmaris was one of a kind, the beauty of the Anaxian culture still in full swoon. Protected, hidden, secret.

"Yes, Merith?" the girl, only just 13 years old, turned gracefully, the pale ivory skirt of the night shift skimming her calves.

"Your father sends word that we shall be receiving guests today. He requests that you dress accordingly," Merith bowed her hair, dark hairs scattering around her cheeks as she bowed respectively. Like the princess, she had tanned skin and long pointed ears, however she did not share the same golden eyes nor the speckled teardrop marks of the goddess that pressed against the girl's shoulders and latticed down beneath her bodice, twinkling like amber teardrops, visible beneath the thin material of her chemise. Kissed by the goddess - a great honor and blessing.

"Do you know who these guests might be? It's very rare that we receive outsiders," Faylen trotted forward, drawing near the bath as Merith turned on the water. The servant's fingers skimmed the heat, making certain it was not too scalding for the girl's skin as she threw her chemise off and climbed into the copper tub. Drawing her knees up to her chest, more markins slid down against her tummy and against the outside of her legs. On the tops of her feet, the golden teardrops were double lined in the shape of crescent moons toward her toes. So many kisses, so purposefully placed. Few laid eyes on all the girl's markings and aside from her parents, these people had only been servants and a couple of doctors. Rumors floated through the air on wings. Despite not seeing them, many knew of her markings throughout the lands. Most Anaxians were graced with a handful at most, if they were lucky, but the princess had one hundred and twenty two. Skimming her spine, forming another half-moon at the base of her neck, cradling her chest, and trailing down her throat in a purposeful line. The common folk speculated what this meant, foretelling that the princess had a great destiny ahead of her.

"Well..." Merith drawled, uncertain on whether or not to betray the information she'd heard for the sake of it not being true. Yet, when the honey hued irises turned up toward her, she melted like a candle hearted by a raging flame. "I hear they're Mandalorian." Bending down, she began to scrub the girl's warm toned skin with a sponge, careful not to work her markings too hard.

Faylen perked up, her long ears twitching slightly before Merith poured water over her head, plastering her inky hair to her adorable face. The servant chuckled slightly as the girl moved her mop of hair out of her face, peering out like a swamp monster. "Mandalorian?" she repeated curiously. "As in the best warriors in the galaxy?"

"None other, your grace," Merith smiled, beginning to lather the girl's thick hair. Even on this remote planet, the legend of the Mandalorians had reached them. The princess had heard about their prowess, just as anyone else. The corners of the servant's lips remained pinned up as the teenager drew in a doleful breath, fluffed her cheeks out.

"Why? What do we have here that they could want?" Faylen asked.

"I cannot begin to fathom, your grace," Merith admitted calmly, pouring water over her head again, causing the girl to sputter. "Only that there are two of them and your father is entertaining them."

Sinking lower into the water, the child's hair floated on the surface like dark tentacles. She blew bubbles, smelling the minerals and floral soap, sniffling slightly at the pungency. Her father had told her a few stories about Mandalorians and she knew that they were fearless warriors who wore armor of beskar - the strongest iron in the galaxy. T-visor helmets, obscured faces, an ensemble of weapons and gadgets, skill in hand to hand combat, prowess that could rival Jedi. A shiver went down her spine, despite the warmth of the water, wondering what it would be like to meet one. Would they be intimidating? Did they remove their helmets? Would they be gruff or courteous?

"Let's not keep them waiting all day. You wouldn't wish to offend or upset the Mandalorians would you?" Merith scolded as Faylen skulked in her own head, continuing to blow bubbles. Jolting upward, her eyes went big like saucers, wondering if she was being rude with how long she was taking. "C'mon now, your grace." Offering a towel, the girl scampered out of the bath and let Merith swaddle her before fussing with her hair. "So much of it, Maker, so much hair."

Faylen chose a proper dress for guests, spending longer than she ought to. Did Mandalorians even like dresses? Or did they only like armor? Maybe she should wear pants to prove she wasn't just a prissy little princess. Her father had taught her how to shoot a blaster, how to use a dagger, and a little hand to hand combat. Papa had said that people might wish to hurt a princess, so it was important that she could defend herself should the need ever arise. Faylen was still soft though and didn't spend half as much time as she ought to in practicing. Instead, she'd play in the forest, dirty her expensive gowns, and hide in hidden alcoves and glades. Princess Faylen was notorious for eluding guards and making her papa sick with worry. Wasn't her fault that Anaxes had such interesting fauna that she just had to follow. There wasn't even anything outside the palace to worry about, Faylen had long since realized the vipers were amongst the court.

Merith chastised her for taking so long. "We should have been done by now, your grace-" she continued on her tirade of banter, the child drowning her out as the female brushed through her long tangles of inky hair. Not listening, the girl stared in the mirror at the shimmersilk gown of pale blue. The goddess marks on her throat and collar were visible, but the others were hidden beneath the luxurious material. Merith twirled pieces out of her face, leaving the rest loose, keenly aware that Faylen would rip apart any hairstyle too ornate. Lifting a platinum circlet, she placed it on the girl's brow before letting out a low sigh. "Try not to get this one dirty. That'll be the fourth shimmersilk gown you've destroyed this moon."

"I don't try to destroy them," Faylen groused, rolling her eyes at the servant in the mirror. "Last time was definitely not my fault, I swear. Rathas was chasing me through the gardens-" she puffed out her cheeks like a frog. Rathas was a sore topic for her, a blight on her existence, and a hellion pretending to be her friend. Faylen wanted nothing to do with him.

"Don't do that, it's not a very lady-like expression," Merith huffed, shaking her head at the hopeless princess. "And Rathas is likely to be your betrothed one day. You'd do well not to scuttle away from that boy and make friends with him."

Faylen feigned a retching noise, repulsed by the very idea of the boy even glancing in her direction. "Gross! He's so gross! Papa would never make me marry him," she retorted, voice hitching into a plaintive and very high, tinny tone. "He tried to kiss me you know. I punched him in the nose. He was boasting that he fought one of the sabre boars in the forest, but it was really me."

Merith groaned. "Oh my Goddess. That was why-" she rubbed her face, pulling down on her lower lids as she tried to wonder how the king could have such an unruly daughter. His majesty was so well mannered, patient, and benevolent. His daughter could be polite and courteous when necessary, but a little too curious and explorative for her own good. Having never had a proper scolding in her life, she rarely realized that her behavior was inappropriate. The princess wasn't a brat, but there was certainly some work that could be desired for the child's disposition. "You're ready now, your grace. Let's go to the gardens to meet the guests."

Standing up, Faylen took Merith's arm, her heart thumping excitedly in her small chest. Mandalorians. What did their armor look like? What color would it be? Maybe they'd let her touch it, if that was allowed. Leaving behind the wispy elegance of her chambers, she stepped out into the hallway. Genmaris' Castle was constructed of polished wood and elas stone - a pale white marble streaked with veins of gold. The wood panels were tangled with vines, full leaves leaning eagerly toward the passerbyers. Flora was very much a part of their everyday life. It was almost everywhere around the castle, the grounds; in the halls, on the balconies, even in the washrooms; acting as the lifeblood and veins to all of Anaxian life. Drawing a deep breath, Merith released her as she skirted down the wide staircase leading to the fronds of blue grass that hemmed the entrance to the topiary section of the garden.

Sunlight slanted fingers through the trees above them, casting little peeps of warmth. King Ardryll stood in simple regal, a fine emerald doublet chased in golden embroidery, a set of tan trousers, and dark leather boots. Aside from the golden circlet on his tanned brow, he might've been easily mistaken for another castle goer. Entreating a pair of armor clad figures, his topaz eyes slid over toward his daughter as she stumbled through the grass and collided into his side with big, excited eyes. Chuckling lightly, he brushed a stray piece of hair behind a long ear. Despite how wild the girl could be, he would not trade her exuberance or grins for anything.

There were two Mandalorians, one in a full suit of dark, sherwood green armor. He was tall, lean, and had an impressive posture that reminded her of the knights around the castle. Her eyes went to the vambraces he wore, including the right one which had a ton of tiny buttons on it. Beside him was another Mandalorian, whose helmet was similar, but two pieces he wore were actually made of beskar. He was tall too, almost the same height as the green warrior, though his chestplate was made of durasteel.

"Ah, here she is," Ardryll hummed, drawing his daughter in, holding her shoulder, giving her a meaningful look. Almost as if to say ‘please try not to be too silly’. She was a princess after all, even if she forgot herself when she was too excited.

"Welcome to Genmaris Castle. It is a pleasure to have you here," remembering her manners, she grabbed her skirts and curtsied prettily, before stealing one look up at her papa. He gave an approving nod, before her eyes turned back toward the Mandalorians. She had so many questions, but sucked on her teeth instead of asking.

"This is my daughter, Faylen," Ardryll introduced.

The green Mandalorian stepped forward, kneeling down to that he was of a more similar height to her. She was astonished by how close he got, his dark visor setting into her eyes; dark and shaded so much she could not even see his eyes even this proximity. "I've heard a lot about you, Princess Faylen. Your father and I are old friends. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Hux Vizsla," he introduced, taking her hand in his glove and giving her a warm pat. "Now... my son, Paz, has never been to a proper castle before. Would you mind showing him the grounds?"

Her head tilted, scattering her long waves of hair as she realized that he was referring to the other Mandalorian. Given the warrior's height, she had assumed he was an adult; maybe he was, she couldn’t tell how old either of them were. Big eyes slid over to him and she swallowed hard. "Of course! It would be my honor, Mr. Vizsla," clearing her throat, trying not to twist her hands anxiously as Hux returned her hand she glanced up toward the visor of the other Mandalorian. "Sir, please come with me-" she puffed out her chest, offering her arm to this... Paz.

"I'm not-" his visor turned toward Hux and she might've believed that he was slightly anxious from the cracking of his voice. The green warrior stood up and gave an affirming nod, Faylen still holding her arm out, trying not to look dejected as she thought he was going to ignore her. Finally, he took it, and Faylen preened slightly. "You don't have to call me sir," he grumbled.

"Papa, we'll be around the gardens first," Faylen proclaimed, feeling the leather of the Mandalorian's glove through the thin material of her gown. It was sort of rough, but sent tiny shocks of electricity lancing up her skin as being so close to a feared warrior. Guiding him away from the pair of adults, she stole a few sideways glances before gliding past the bantha shaped bush. "As you can see the shrubs are very... shrub-like-" she announced, using her princess voice which was rather courteous and dry, trying to seem as dignified and royal-like as possible. He was utterly silent, which made her a bit nervous. "Is that a vibro-blade?" He was quite a bit taller than her, his belt about chest level for her, meaning it was easier to glance down than up, assessing the tiny arsenal on his utility belt.

Pausing, the suit of armor finally glanced down at his belt which she was eying. "Yes," he confirmed, unsheathing it so that she could stare at the way the sunlight caught the reflection. Brushed grey steel, verdant with the fingers of sunlight chasing down, reflecting the garden greenery. "Why does a princess know what a vibro-blade looks like?"

"Cuz-" she sucked in air and bent down, pulling her own out of her boot. "I carry one. This is Pig-Sticker. It's not as nice as yours," she held it up, scrunching her nose as she glanced between the differences. The Mandalorian's knife was twice the size as hers. Still, she had a knife and knew what they looked like, so she had a certain sort of pride about her as she brandished the little toothpick.

"Pig-Sticker?"

"Well, it's kinda small. Probably wouldn't even stick a pig, if I'm completely honest," she contemplated out loud, turning the knife over in her hand, glancing back over at his. "I just thought it was a funny name. People name blades, don't they?"

The Mandalorian rumbled with a laugh, the soft noise crackling through the vocoder. "They do. Sometimes. "

"So what's the name of yours then?"

"I didn't name mine," Paz betrayed.

"What about..." she cocked her head, narrowing her eyes as she leered at the blade. "Now that ought to be a good Pig-Sticker, but mine's already named that. So maybe Bantha-Sticker?"

The Mandalorian laughed again, a little louder this time. Faylen warmed at the noise, excited that she'd made the mysterious warrior chuckle. He didn't seem as scary or intimidating as the legends said. Rather, she thought he was sort of nice - nicer than most people around the castle who just feigned smiles down at her and pretended to be kind. She’d heard some of the ladies in waiting complaining about her before, despite having been silkily sweet to her during tea time. Faylen didn’t like when people were double-faced like that, but being honest wasn’t a very common quality round these parts.

"Bantha-Sticker," he considered carefully, spinning the blade dexterously between his fingers. "Who have you been sticking with that blade, your grace?"

"Oh," she tucked it behind her back as if she shouldn't have revealed she had it. Kicking at the grass, slightly doleful, she rolled her shoulders. The only reason she'd taken it out was because she wanted to ask a bunch of questions and it was the easiest way to bridge the gap. "Trees sometimes. I've never actually had to stab anyone... Yet."

"I hope you shouldn't ever have to. Can you show me what you might do if you needed to?"

She blinked a few times, slightly taken aback that he wanted to see. Giving an overly exuberant nod, hair flying around her, she pulled the dagger back out. "I'm in a dress, so I might not be as good," she told him quickly, sweeping her foot back and bracing her wrist before turning the hilt in her palm. "But I'd stick them like this. Papa says that since I'm small, supporting my knife hand is important."

The Mandalorian circled in front of her. "Your father is a smart man."

"I know that," Faylen scowled, but quickly replaced the expression with delight. "How do you hold your knife?"

He humored her, dropping into a similar stance, though it suited him much better in armor than in a shimmersilk gown. Using a reverse grip, he also braced his arm, gripping his vambrace as he displayed his form. The princess turned her blade to try and mimic him. Hoping that maybe she could possess even one ounce of the warrior’s impressive form or the way in which it looked so natural, like wind blowing through the leaves in the trees. "Oh careful there-" he reached out before she could cut herself, steadying a hand as she nearly turned the metal onto her supportive wrist. "Takes a lot of training to be able to hold it like that."

"Gotta start somewhere," she shrugged, but was nonplussed by Paz's steady hand keeping her from cutting herself. "I'm supposed to be showing you around..." she realized, her mouth dropping into an O shape. "Sorry, I'm being an awful host. I just got really excited. I've never met a Mandalorian before and then I saw-" she began to gush, bending back down to tuck Pig-Sticker back into her boot to save herself showing her face, which had began to grow hot with blush.

"It's fine, your grace. You're considerably more hospitable than most people," Paz revealed, which made her brows push together. People weren't kind to Mandalorians? Did they have some sort of death wish? He held his arm back out to her and Faylen eagerly latched on, not feeling intimidated by the tall young man. "So the shrubs. What would you say about this one?" He pointed up toward one of a local creature.

"That's Cù-sìth," she told him, admiring the beauty of the canine bush. "It's like a dog. They live in the forests. Most of the time they're harmless, except when you make them angry. They have a very distinct bark. If you hear the first one, you better start running. If you linger long enough to hear the third, you'll go raving mad."

"Ah, sounds very pleasant," Paz acknowledged warily.

"I mean, they're cute. I've seen some before. As big as banthas, shaggy green fur, adorable amber eyes."

"I have a feeling that you tend to like things that are no good for you, princess," he chuckled softly.

"I've never had one bark at me," Faylen insisted as they resumed their walk through the grounds. "Most of the wildlife here won't bother you unless you bother it. Cù-sìth is much the same. They just want to be left alone to their peace."

"What other kind of interesting fauna do you have here?"

"Plenty! Let me show you where the Frynocks. Now those are things you really don't want to meet. I swear, they'd survive even if Anaxes were nothing but a pile of rubble," she tugged him toward where the strange creature was hewn into green leaves. "They can only come out at night. The sunlight hurts them. So we don't ever see them around here... but some are bigger than you."

Faylen continued to pelt the Mandalorian with information about the animals native to the planet, specifically those she had come in contact with during her wild escapes. Rather than scold her, he listened on politely, offering a few questions and comments. His intrigue made her blather on much longer than she should have, but she was so excited to share and not be told that what she did was very unbecoming of a princess. Plus it was a Mandalorian, so who knew how long it’d be before she met another one. Anaxes wasn’t renowned for being the most frequented planet, so she doubted she’d see a Mandalorian for a very long time. If rambling kept one in her attendance, then Faylen was going to keep spewing words until the sun set.

"Is that beskar? Your helmet I mean. I think your chestplate is durasteel if I'm not mistaken," she decided to lob a question at him, since he wasn't utterly stoic.

"Yes, it is," he informed her. Maybe she mistook it, the slight bit of surprise that she knew what durasteel armor was when her home was gilded of stone, wood, and marble.

Faylen sucked on her teeth again, her face screwing up slightly as she tried to swallow her next question. "Can I feel it?" The words fell out of her mouth anyways.

"Uhm-"

"Sorry!" she squeaked, cheeks burning. She’d crossed a line, she knew it. "You don't have to. Don't feel obligated. I won't order you or anything. Just because I'm a princess doesn't mean I can make people do whatever I want. I was just curious because I've never seen a Mandalorian before or beskar or-"

"Breathe, your grace," he reminded her kindly. She had let the words basically vomit out of her mouth for fear of offending him. "It's alright, here-" In the same manner that Hux had, he knelt in front of her and tilted his head forward. "Just... touch. Don't try to remove it or I might have to use Bantha-Sticker on you."

Faylen wheezed slightly at his deadpan joke, splitting a wide smile. Lifting a hand, her tanned fingers brushed the side, icy cold beneath her pads. Testing at first, she then pushed her full palm against it, gazing on curiously as the frigid metal before drawing her hand back. "It's colder than normal steel. I'm surprised, since it's not ever very cold here... Thank you... for letting me-"

"You're welc-" but the warrior was interrupted, tensing slightly as a figure trundled out from behind one of the shrubs. Moving swifter than a lightning strike, the Mandalorian was back on his feet and brushed her behind him. "Stay behind me, princess," the warmth of his voice vanished in an instant and her eyes widened as he touched the blaster on his hip. Despite the order, the tremor of power in the male’s voice, she peeked her head around his figure and spotted the assailant that had startled them.

“Oh, it’s just him ,” her voice dripped with irritation, lips tugging down as far as they would go as the gangly boy froze as if he’d been placed in carbonite. Rathas was in his gawky, in between phase, not quite growing into his new longer limbs, a pudgy baby face haunting him each time he looked in the mirror, trying to hide behind a curtain of lank greasy hair. She knew he didn’t like to wash it often because it curled and made his face look more rotund. Didn’t change the fact that it reeked, despite the oils he put in it in a vain attempt to mask the stench. “Mr- uh, Paz. It’s alright.”

“You know him, your grace?” the warrior craned his head slightly, the edge of his visor catching her in his peripheral.

“Wish I didn’t,” Faylen snarked quietly, as not to be overheard. Stepping out from behind the shadow of the Mandalorian, she crossed her arms over her chest and drew up as haughtily as she could. For someone so small, the girl was little more than a skulking loth-cat, especially dwarfed by her blue durasteel and beskar counterpart. “What do you want, Rathas? Can’t you see that I’m escorting a guest around the grounds?” He had no place in interrupting or being there. It did not strike Faylen’s mind that he might also be curious. No, she was rather greedy, wishing to have all the time of day to drill Paz Vizsla with questions without being interrupted.

Rathas recovered swiftly after the Mandalorian’s hand slid off his blaster. Drawing himself up to his full height, he pressed a hand over his doublet, to his collar. “My apologies, your grace,” he simpered, hazel eyes mostly muddy save for a few flecks of amber and jade. “I heard that there were a pair of barbarians trolloping around the grounds and wanted to make certain that you were safe. Since you are the heir to the throne and of petite stature, I was worried for your wellbeing.”

Faylen’s temper flared at Rathas calling the Mandalorians barbarians. The same boy who’d tried to force a kiss on her a few weeks back was now pretending that he cared for her health? No, she knew he just wanted to interrupt and cause her a bit of misery after what she’d done. “Those ‘barbarians’ are the guests of the Crown and you’d do well to mind your tongue. Nor my father or I will suffer such indignance,” her voice was sharp, slightly petulant, but she did as papa had told her: to own her tone in moments like this. Even if she did not like to bask in the power of being royalty, Rathas was definitely an exception. “Now, since you can see that I am in perfectly good health, you may leave.”

“Your grace, even if you insist, these Mandalorians are outsiders. I could not, in good conscience, abandon you to wander deeper into the gardens with this man,” Rathas continued.

“My father trusts them. I put my faith in his hands… unless you are questioning the judgement of your king?”

The threat missed the target and Rathas curled his lip indignantly, rising to the challenge of her words.

“I do believe the princess asked, rather kindly, that you leave,” Paz spoke now, his voice rumbling like thunder, vacant of the mellow warmth he’d spoken to her earlier with. He brushed his sidearm, a much more real threat than being told off by a whiny princess.

Rathas knew when he was beat, not willing to bet that the Mandalorian wouldn’t shoot him where he stood. Forcing a smile on his thin mouth, he bowed stiffly. “I wish you well, your grace, and that no ill befalls you.”

She snorted as he turned and ducked away, not content until his stupid head was utterly out of sight. “Thank you,” she turned back to Paz, dropping her arms and the defensive posture. “I… don’t like him very much-” the memories washed over her like a deafening wave, the fear she’d felt pinned against the tree outside the castle grounds. Frollicking like she usually did, she hadn’t realized she was being followed until Rathas caught up with her. He was bigger than her and in spite of his spindly, spider limbs, he was stronger too. Rubbing her arms self consciously, she tried not to think about it anymore. “You see his nose? The way it was kinked like this-” she brushed her own, small upturned nose which was dotted with a tiny constellation of freckles. “-I broke his nose a few weeks ago. Gave him a real good hook-” she swung her arm up to indicate just how she did it, feeling her heart swell with a tiny jolt of adrenaline as she’d fought back against her assailant, remembering how the blood had gushed out like a river and ruined yet another of her shimmersilk gowns. Despite losing an expensive dress, she had reveled in the fact that she’d actually managed to break his nose.

The Mandalorian tilted his helmet curiously, gazing down at her intently. “Sounds like he deserved it.”

“He did ,” she agreed, a dark menacing grate to the edge of the girl’s voice. “So-” she drew a deep breath, chasing away the torrent of swirling emotions. Instead, she plastered a smile to her face, big and dopey as her ears wagged slightly. “There’s still a little more of the gardens you haven’t seen. Then maybe I can bring you to the spires! They have the most magnificent views of the forests.”

----

“I was beginning to think that you’d never call upon me, Jetii ,” Hux Vizsla leered at the man across from him, so different from how he remembered him. The last time they had met, his fate had been written in the stars and the word they spoke was death. His own brother had made the mistake of crossing the Order amidst the Clone Wars and Hux believed he was going to die with many other Mandalorians, wishing to see the face of his son once more, wishing that he wouldn’t be leaving Paz without a buir . Yet, Ardryll Krisdi stood in front of him not as a Jedi, but as a king. He suspected there had been more to this man a few years back, but after glimpsing the girl - probably less than a handful of years younger than his own son - he comprehended why Ardryll had been willing to help him in the first place: he had not been loyal to the Galactic Republic. Hiding a secret life away in the groves of Anaxes, he need only fake his death before laying down his lightsaber and returning amongst his people. Hux found the irony in this, considering that a Mandalorian had once done the same thing thousands of years ago.

“Come now,” Ardryll spoke in the same, perfectly manicured and intelligent tone. His eloquent accent reminded Hux duly that this was a cultured man, not only due to the station of his birth, but his time spent in Coruscant amongst the now fallen Order. “We both know that term no longer applies to me. I forsook that path the moment I laid eyes on my late wife and then had Faylen.”

The lust for a family. Hux could not blame Ardryll, as family was central to Mandalorian life. How the Jedi could turn their backs on all attachment… he did not know. What he did know was how unnatural he thought it was and that it was no surprise that one of their own had gone manic. It had happened before. History seemed to repeat itself often with the Jedi. One would think they would learn that turning their back on love resulted in nothing but a ticking time bomb to see which would detonate first. Hux hadn’t really believed the transmission he had received, thinking that Ardryll would keep himself away from anything that so much as smelled like the Republic.

“Why am I here?” Hux asked tartly. This was a business transaction, not a run-ashore. The king wanted something and that was the only reason he had bothered the Mandalorian.

“Please, let us go somewhere a little more private,” Ardryll requested, lifting a palm and gesturing toward a thicket of rose bushes in full bloom. Even if Hux was irritated with being there, he could not deny that the planet was beautiful, especially the forests that the selphi-subrace occupied. Whilst a small fragment of the mountainous world, the Anaxians had found a way to peacefully coexist with their woad. An ability that Mandalorians had not learned, after desecrating their home in sake of mining for beskar. There was a sublime loveliness in Genmaris, the lack of steel walls, and the warmth openness from the halls to the outdoors. Lead out to a gazebo coated in a cloak of ivy, Ardryll sat down on a wrought iron chair and let out a low sigh. “I’ve not called you here to waste your time.”

“That has yet to be seen,” Hux retorted, taking the other seat and gazing out amongst the gardens. On the far side, he could see the glint of his ad’s armor, stooping slightly over the princess who was smiling larger than the man would have thought possible. “Your kid is interesting. She got any of your talent?”

“Hm?” the king glanced up, having been deep in thought before he shook his head, long pointed ears swaying. “No, she does not have a connection to the Force. Thank the Maker for that.”

Beneath his helmet, Hux frowned slightly, wondering why anyone would not wish for their child to be gifted in that manner. He also had not known the Anaxian to be distracted. He was a highly trained Jedi Knight, honed and capable of defeating Mandalorians. “What is… going on here?”

“Your son seems to like her,” Ardryll muttered quietly, turning his luminous eyes to pin Hux right where he sat. They were molten, like gold melted in the Foundry.

Hux glanced back out, watching as the teen let the girl hang onto him, her excited gibbering palpable even from the spot they roosted in, keeping a hawk’s eye on the pair. “Why? You offering to marry her off?” he joked lamely, but was slightly taken aback by the soft sigh that parted the king’s lips. “No kriffing way-”

“Not marriage,” the Anaxian finally said. “But Mandalorians take Foundlings, do they not?”

“We do, but-” his words died on the back of his throat, observing the clasp of the Jedi’s hands and the slouch in his shoulders. “The Empire.” Separatists ripped apart most of the Mandalore Sector and had also ravaged parts of Anaxes. The was a brief respite, followed by the wake of Imperial clone troopers continuing to wash over the Core Planets, slowly marching their way out across the galaxy, taking planet by planet or destroying those who refused to comply. “You’re a Jetii , a king . You’re telling me there’s no better option than being Mandalorian?”

“Anaxians are too identifiable. From our dark skin, pointed ears, to the fact that Faylen has many goddess tears… There will be no doubt who she is. I sense a darkness on the horizon and I know I have one more battle with my lightsaber, but-” he pursed his lips, closing his bright eyes and slinking back into his seat. “There will be no mercy for her. Even if she has no promise to be a Jedi, she is my daughter. I know what is coming and he shall not spare her. He did not spare any of the younglings-” the king’s voice cracked and a single fat salty drop ran down his cheek. “Please. I know your Tribe keeps their helmets on aside from those that are family. Our debt. Pay it in this manner. Take her and train her.”

Hux remained eerily quiet, glancing back out toward where the two trotted along, Faylen tugging Paz in the direction of the castle now. “She is older and small-” his voice finally sizzled out of the vocoder, weak and ill. The idea of the little girl being killed twisted like a knife in his belly. “There’s really no one?” Hux knew the answer to this, as the king had just explained that the child was too identifiable. Between her golden markings, her eyes, to the dark tan of her skin; Anaxians were unmistakable, especially the princess. Even the selphi were different, in spite of the pointed ear similarities.

“Faylen is strong. She broke the nose of a boy twice her size just a few weeks ago. And she always finds a way to sneak out of the castle, despite all the guards and droids being assigned to keep an eye on her,” Ardryll informed him, finally opening his eyes to implore the Mandalorian - to save the last little shred of his family. “I cannot take her elsewhere. Because of what I am, I will be hunted ruthlessly. I do not wish that for her. I must stand my ground here as the king, support my people in our final hours, make one last effort for the sake of Genmaris.”

Even if they had been enemies at one point, Hux’s chest burned with respect for the king’s refusal to abandon his people to hide his daughter. Still, he pitied the Jedi, who had chosen the path of love to slowly lose it piece by piece. “Broke a boy’s nose?” he snorted, eyes trailing the girl as she disappeared behind a set of shrubs with his ad.

“Anaxians are quicker than humans. Not stronger by any means, but we are lighter on our feet, as you are keenly aware,” Ardryll reminded him, thrusting the Vizsla back into a fit of memories, the hazy glow of the yellow saber in the Jedi’s hands. Whirling it like a dervish, creating an arc of light reminiscent of the sun, striking him back against the frame of the gunship - cornering him like a rat. Even if he had beskar, the Jedi had known to strike where the armor did not meet. Hux should have died.

“How much time do you think you have?” Hux inquired, looking to the trees that would soon be barren and charred, the tall manicured grass that would be trodden to nothing but slick dirt, and the gardens which would wilt under the barrage of blasterfire. All this beauty would be gone, replaced with nothing but desolace and strife, blood and bone, and death. These were not things that Hux was unfamiliar with, but he did not think that Anaxes deserved it. The planet was quiet and peaceful. They had done nothing more than remain loyal to the Republic and that was enough for the Empire to drop the guillotine over their heads. No mercy for those who would not convert.

“A few days at most,” tilting his head, the king’s dark hair glinted like obsidian against his circlet. “You’ll take her?”

Hux grumbled, wondering what the hell he was going to do with a princess. Foundlings were not usually acquired this way, but the fact that Anaxes faced its demise and the girl would not be spared, he couldn’t turn his back on the child in good conscience. She was older. Foundlings came in all shapes and ages, from infants to teenagers. Hux would have preferred her to be a handful of years younger, as it would be easier to train her when she was still highly impressionable. “I owe a debt,” was all Hux betrayed, thinking back to Ardryll’s praise of his daughter. He did not think the Anaxian would lie just to impress him. The girl might have some training, but she had also been raised as royalty, which meant she’d probably never had a hard day in her life. “The Way… it will be difficult for her.”

“Faylen is a resilient child. She will do well amongst your people. She needs only the chance.”

Hux resigned to drinking in the gardens, admiring it and committing it to memory because he knew that once they left, none of it would remain. The king let him wander on his own, pausing by a lattice of strange violet flowers that hung like bells, long golden stigmas hanging out like a dog lolling its tongue. Taking it between his fingers, he turned over the petals and thought of Sivo and how the hue of the flower was similar to her beskar. What would Sivo have done? She wanted a daughter so badly to train. To teach how to be good at both shooting and cooking. To raise a large clan. Our clan was supposed to be large too.

Aware that no one would miss them when the planet was burning in a few days time, Hux picked several of the bell flowers and took them into the castle. A few people eyed him, as if he’d done something against the rules - picking flowers from the king’s garden - but they could all go sod off. Acquiring directions from a servant, he was escorted to a chamber that they had been afforded for the night. The room was as large as his home back on Concordia, making him huff an irritated sigh. He’d been to more exuberant places, decadence dripping off the walls to the point where it felt gaudy. Even if Genmaris wasn’t that overdone, it was still slightly overwhelming.

Paz arrived shortly thereafter, glancing at the pile of flowers on the table, tilting his helmet in slight confusion. Dismissing them, he plunked down into one of the plush lounge chairs and slid his helmet off. Fussing with the mess of blonde helmet curls, he pinned his icy eyes at his father.

“How was the tour?” Hux inquired, pulling his own helmet off as he laid back on the bed and glared at the ceiling. Bed felt nice.

“Don’t think I’ve ever had a tour like that,” his ad chuckled. “I assume that most royalty is not as… enthused .”

“Seemed like a copikla adiik ,” Hux speculated, rubbing his eyes as he considered the situation even more. A bucket would have to go right on her head, but then again those ears would be a problem. Maybe some sort of headband to pin them down so they wouldn’t get chafed?

“She carries a knife on her,” Paz laughed, still smiling at the thought of the princess. “Even named it - Pig-Sticker.”

Hux chuckled at this, wondering where the princess had gotten such a braw disposition from. He assumed it was because Ardryll hadn’t reigned her in.

“Why are we here? I know you have a debt to settle. The king is the Jetii that helped you escape on Mandalore, was he not?”

Hux sat up and nodded at Paz. “ We are taking the girl with us, ” he switched to Mando’a, uncertain if they were being listened to. Ardryll had mentioned that others might have ears around the castle. The teen’s eyes hardened and he gave a questioning look rather than ask openly. “ The planet will fall to the Empire soon. Her father is Jedi. They will kill her. She is to become your sister. ”

This could go one of two ways with his ad, but he was glad to see it go in the better. Paz set his jaw and gave a stern, comprehending nod. He did not question, he did not disagree. Instead, he turned back toward the hearth he sat near, watching the flames lick hungrily at the wood, crackling softly. “Kaysh mandokarla. ”

Hux hummed at these words, pleased to hear it, almost as if they settled some of his doubts. Mandokarla; the right stuff. His own son was declaring that the girl had the right stuff to be Mandalorian, a blend of aggression, tenacity, loyalty, and lust for life. Truly, this was all that Hux could hope for the kid, aware that her journey in joining the Tribe would not be easy. She would be behind other children her age, many of which would have a few years of combat training and Mando’a on her. Still, if she had the heart, that was one less thing to worry about.

A soft knock on the door roused them, both immediately reaching for their helmets and replacing them. No one was allowed to see their faces - only buir, ad, and riduur could look amongst each other freely. Paz pushed himself to his feet and answered the door, a hand tentatively brushing his blaster by his side as he cracked it open. His shoulders relaxed immediately and through the small slit, Hux saw that it was Faylen with a tray full of food.

“Papa told me that you couldn’t have dinner with us because of your Creed,” she started, drawing in as deep of a breath as her tiny frame would allow. “So I brought food for the both of you, since you must be hungry.”

Paz opened the door more so that he could take the tray from her. “Thank you, your grace…” but his ad was confused by the gesture. “Couldn’t you have sent a servant?”

The child spluttered, clearly trying to come up with a rebuttal, but instead began turning a shade of pink. “Y-you’re our guests. I thought-” Hux couldn’t help but laugh. “Good night!” she squeaked, darting away before she could embarrass herself any further.

No sooner than the door had shut, Hux roared with deep laughter. Paz turned around, still puzzled by what was going on, standing awkwardly with the tray in his gloved hands. “What?” the teen asked finally, needing the joke explained to him.

“What did you do on that walk?” Hux inquired through his guffaws.

“I didn’t do anything!” Paz’s voice was slightly panicked, as if his buir were insinuating that he had laid a hand on the princess.

“It’s probably nothing, just harmless curiosity,” Hux waved off, still chortling quietly. Paz grumbled, still not completely understanding, as he set the food down on the table. He’d comprehend one day once he had more experience with people. Most folks stayed as far away from Mandalorians as they could manage. The fact that the girl had appeared, doing a servant’s job, eying Paz with the biggest, golden irises… Hux knew the child liked him or else she wouldn’t have been so thoughtful. Good. It was better that she didn’t fear Mandalorians if she was to become one.

---

Skirting through the hallways, she ducked back into her room, heart pounding in her ears as loud as thunder as she flung the door shut behind her. Pressing her back against it, her ears burned as if they were on fire. Why? The moment the blue Mandalorian had opened the door, she had been so excited, remembering their afternoon together. Not that anything much had happened other than her showing him around the castle, but it had been fun. For once, she hadn’t been treated like a little doll or patronized, and Faylen was eager to get another chance to talk to Paz - even if it were as fleeting as dropping off dinner for him and his father. Although, the moment he’d asked why she hadn’t sent a servant made her freeze. It was… rather strange that the princess would come deliver the guest’s dinner?

Idiot. He’s going to think you’re stupid now, Faylen rationalized, pouting as she pulled her circlet off and began untangling the pins from her wavy hair. Tossing them haphazardly on the vanity, she threw open the balcony doors and leaned up against the bannister, just as she had in the morning. A soft sigh parted her lips, the breeze winding fingers through her loose tendrils, which comforted her scalp. Night has cascaded over the grounds, her hands reaching up toward the stars. Once, papa had told her that when someone died, they became a star and burned brightly for longer than they’d lived. Now, Faylen knew this was not true, but she liked to pretend the one, biggest star just above her balcony was her mother.

Rather than go to sleep immediately, Faylen pulled out a stack of books and set a kettle on the fire. Tucking into bed with her favorite novel, she blew the twisting steam over the top and enjoyed the soft floral flavor of the beverage. Her tummy warmed and she flipped a page, resigning herself to her evening routine. This tale was about Jedi and how one had fallen in love with someone outside the Order. Time melted away, her tea long since drained as she plucked through the pages of the romance, nearly pushing her nose into the book as she squealed quietly at the first kiss. Deciding she’d gotten to a point where she could finally put the bookmark in, Faylen flopped down in her bed and put a pillow over her face.

She was a 13 year old girl, but she had often been taught by private tutors. There were other children around the castle, to include Rathas, but she’d never really felt close to any of them. No, they were rather petulant and obsessed with things like the latest fashion or gossip. None wanted to talk about things that Faylen liked - such as running amok in the woods. They told her that was dangerous and one day she’d get maimed or die. She didn’t think that would happen, but took their goading as more of a reason to trot off. Her evenings were devoted mostly to ignoring her teachers and taking a moment to enjoy leisurely books - humming quietly about the romances, envying the freedom of the characters in the book. While she doubted she would marry Rathas, she also knew that it probably wouldn’t be a decision she was allowed to make. Thus, she went through novels in the library like fodder, filling her tiny heart to the brim with the idea that maybe she might get to experience it and not a predetermined marriage.

No sooner than her light went out, did the wispy curtains by her balcony shuddered and an explosion rocked the entire castle. Faylen sat up immediately, her eyes going wide and her ears pointing down. Adjusting to the darkness of the room, she could make out the finer details as she knew them, controlling her breathing after it hitched, leaning over toward her nightstand to reach for the blaster concealed beneath the drawer. Papa always told her to have a weapon stashed nearby in case someone came for her. The noise was chased rapidly with gunshots, ringing in her sensitive ears, her feet sliding over the comforter as she cradled the weapon to her chest.

Hide.

But her legs weren’t quite working. She had Pig-Sticker by the side of her bed, trembling as she checked the cartridge on the blaster and cocked it, posting her wrists on the edge of the mattress and pointing the muzzle toward the door. What was going on? Screaming. So much screaming. But they didn’t last long, followed with a terrible silence as each cry was severed swiftly. Her door rattled on the hinges, her finger moving from the side of the pistol to graze the trigger. Swallowing hard, the anguished cries faded and were only replaced with the tense beating of her heart, thrumming steadily like a war drum. The hinges snapped and the door flung open. She squeezed the trigger before seeing the dull glint of beskar.

A groan followed the shot, which pinged off a helmet - a blue helmet .

Faylen’s gums flapped, but no words came out as Paz Vizsla stood in the doorway with a rifle strapped across his chest. Dazed, but uninjured from the shot, he staggered forward and glanced toward where the shot had come from. Oh kriff, he was going to kill her. She scrambled under the bed, screeching like a feral animal when a gloved hand locked on around her bare ankle. Slashing awkwardly with Pig-Sticker she heard him curse.

“Dank farrik! Stop it! I’m trying to help you!”

Pulled out from underneath the bed, the Mandalorian crouched beside her, motioning for her to be quiet. Faylen’s eyes burned, but she chewed her lip, disoriented and confused as her ears sagged beside her.

“Get up. We need to go,” he ordered, grabbing her hand and wrenching her to her feet. Faylen staggered, in nothing more than her sleep dress, holding onto her blaster and knife with paling knuckles. A quiet sob shook her shoulders as she sat the lights flashing through the thin shade of her balcony curtains. “ Princess!”

Despite the insistence in his voice, Faylen was paralyzed with fear and horror. Rather than try to get her to recover, the Mandalorian hissed a sigh and grabbed her. Picking her up like a child, he adjusted the strap of his rifle, settling it over the both of them before running for the door. Faylen leered over his shoulder, quaking like a leaf barely hanging onto a tree during a storm, as they left behind her room and belongings. Absolute mayhem consumed the castle, the Mandalorian speaking into a comlink in a language she didn’t understand. They were running through the halls that she had been raised in, the pale elas stone smattered with crimson. The vines sagged, no longer reaching out to passerbyers as they curled into themselves and withered slightly from being exposed to blaster smoke.

A shot echoed loudly nearby, Faylen crying out and pressing her face into the Mandalorian’s neck as her ears ached. “I need to-” they ducked around a corner, obscured briefly by the shadows. “-put you down. Wait here, vod’ika. ”

Faylen was set back on her bare feet, her toes stinging from the cold of the stone as she floundered slightly, reaching desperately for the Mandalorian as he stepped out from behind cover. A thin sheet of sweat coated her skin, hairs standing on end as she quivered in the shadows, eyes stretched wide as she saw white armored soldiers prowling through the corridors. They moved in swift regiment, prowling forward in a fine formation and right in their direction. Paz lifted his rifle and shot first, using the element of surprise before the soldiers began shouting in a foreign language. He returned vicious words with them in the same tongue before taking two more down. He sidestepped, diverting attention from her, but she noticed that he was walking straight toward a spire hallway, which would be locked seeing that it had her father’s study in it. Whimpering, she considered what might happen as the snow white enemies made ground toward the Mandalorian. He’d be backed into a corner.

They passed her hiding spot and she stepped out slightly, wondering what she should do. Paz said that he was helping her and she’d never seen those soldiers before. If she let them kill the Mandalorian, what hope did she have after? Swallowing hard, her fingers tightened around the hilt of Pig-Sticker. The knife was still a vibro-blade and the armor of the soldiers appeared to be similar in design to what Paz had been wearing… which meant that the throat would be exposed. Rolling her heels against the frigid marble, she followed them quietly, using her knowledge of the castle to hide behind statues and walls. There were three left now and Paz was at the door, little cover remaining as he realized now that the path was a dead end.

Faylen had managed to sneak up just a few scant meters behind the troopers, hand shaking as she bunched the muscles in her legs up. Right at this moment, she was wishing she’d practiced a lot more with her combat. Bowling forward, she leapt onto a chair and used the height to fling herself to the nearest soldiers. The collision with the back of the clone’s armor drove the wind right from her lungs and her head spun, legs coiling around his hips before she reeled, nearly flopping right off. Screaming, she plunged the dagger into the exposed, black throat as the soldier flailed in surprise. Her fingers began damp and sticky, the vocoder sputtering as the soldier choked on his own blood. The distraction she had caused was enough for the other two to round on her, the body of the soldier she’d clamped onto falling to the ground on top of her. Stunned beneath the body of the man, she watched as the rifles trained on her and wondered if she was going to die. Her life flashed before her eyes and she hoped more than anything in that last moment - that the Mandalorian could escape with her diversion.

But the flash of red was not levied in her, but pierced their white armor, smoting it with blackened fingers before they crashed to the floor: dead. Still beneath the corpse of the soldier, she wriggled helplessly until a shadow fell over her. Shoving the body off, Paz tore her to her feet, her white chemise soaked entirely from collar to torso with thick, viscous warmth. Her fingers were still tight around the humming vibro-blade.

“Looks like Pig-Sticker works, vod’ika ,” he murmured, pressing a hand into the small of her back. “Do you know the way to the starship hangars?”

She wagged her head, her neck aching at her overdramatization. When she glanced down at her hand, she saw the dark liquid coating it. In the dim light of evening, the blood was discreet, indistinguishable aside from the unique heat and ply as she smoothed it in her fingers with macabre interest. Paz ushered her forward, stirring her from her fixation as she drew in a sharp breath, not realizing that she had been holding it. Her knuckles ached from how tight she was holding the blade, but her body kicked into autopilot.

Survive. Survive. Survive.

The word echoed in her head, into an empty void as she thought of nothing else. Not the screams, smell of blaster smoke, the metallic tang of blood heavy on the back of her throat, or the haze of battle. Her bare feet splattered into pools of liquid, which she did not need to look at twice to know what it was. Darting through the halls, she barely registered the fact that she had a gloved palm in her hand, weaving them dexterously throughout the halls, nooks, and crannies that she’d used to evade the guards dozens of times to get out of the castle and into the wilderness.

Genmaris’ last stand was by the starship port of the palace, her eyes swiftly adjusting to the lights that were posted outside the blast doors, flanked by a pair of platinum clad Anaxian knights. Stiffing at the sight of the princess, coated in blood and wild eyed, they parted ways to allow her entrance. There was little respite, the folks that had managed to flee onto the flight deck quailing and weeping behind storage crates. Her brows snared, cocking her head as she saw Merith breathing shallowly against a wall, cradling her abdomen as her grey smock was stained a hue darker, her tan skin pallid, ears sagging as she clung desperately to the last ounces of life.

“Faylen!” her father’s voice snared her eyes away from her handmaiden and she saw him striding across the shed floor to meet her in his strong arms. “Heavens is any of this yours?”

She broke down, tears spilling out of her eyes again as he checked the wounds. “N-no. I don’t think so,” she stammered. “P-pa-pa what’s going on?”

“We have a brief moment. I’ve set the charges, but once they go off, we have all of minutes to flee,” Hux Vizsla approached, a rifle strapped across his chest as he entreated her father.

Ardryll stiffened and a low, deep breath parted his lips as he gave a comprehending nod. “Faylen-” he picked her up, setting her back on her feet. “I love you very much. So very much. Now, I need you to be a good girl and listen very carefully. The Vizslas are taking you away from here. A Sith is coming.”

Sith. Her eyes stretched even further, which she hadn’t thought possible at this point. Her lips trembled and her ears hung low. Papa had told her about Sith, the terrible and evil Force-wielders who fought Jedi. “When will I see you again? Where will we meet?”

For the first time in her life, her papa did not answer her. He bent down, brushing his nose to her brow before kissing it. “I love you, Faylen.” Stepping away from her, Faylen turned and watched in horror as he pulled a silver cylinder off of his belt. His clothes… in her shock she had not realized he was wearing strange brown robes. He still had his circlet on, but the tan and brown robes were unlike anything her father had ever adorned. Switching the cylinder on, a golden blade sliced up and hummed with the whispers of thunder indicating lightning was on the horizon. “Vizsla, I will buy you as much time as possible. They will be distracted by a Jedi.”

“ Papa! ”

She lunged for him, but collided with a durasteel chest. Pig-Sticker clattered to the ground from her hand and arms wrapped around her so tight that she thought she was being strangled. Far. They were getting further from him, moving swiftly and into the hull of a ship as she saw the white armor of the clone soldiers breach the hangar entrance. Hux pressed a button on his vambrace, the ground trembling and the walls shuddering as multiple bombs around Genmaris Castle exploded.

“NO! LET ME GO! NO!” she shrieked, the dock to the ship listing upward as Hux flung himself into the cockpit. Flailing against the blue Mandalorian, she fought in vain mostly, so tiny and small compared to the tall teenager.

“ Vod’ika! You’re going to hurt yourself-”

And of course, she did. She sent a fist flying into the helmet, lips pinching together as she held the breath that billeted up from her lung. Grinding out a furious howl, she cradled her knuckles that were slip and aching, the pain lancing up to her elbow.

“Shh, calm down.”

That was absolutely the last thing she wanted to hear, having watched her home burning around her, slick with the blood of her people, and her father charging off with a lightsaber in his hands. He knew he wasn’t going to survive the Sith. He was a distraction . The original question she had asked: why were the Mandalorians here? - was now answered. Papa had called them to take her away to safety. Her hand hurt just as much as her heart, but she was in such despair that she barely noticed the hand patting the back of her head or running a soothing hand along her back. Despite having just punched him, she sagged against Paz and continued to release tears like a water fountain - to the point where she was hiccuping as the ship lurched beneath them.

She didn’t know how much time had passed, other than the fact she had calmed down to only small sniffles, her entire face wet with salty tears.

“Can I see?” Paz asked gently, trying to turn up her hand.

Her body was still stiff, but she relaxed slightly to let him pull up the fist that she’d punched him with.

“Hm, going to need some bacta. If not for my bucket, you might’ve broken my nose too, vod’ika ,” Paz decided matter-of-factly.

Faylen coughed slightly, her nose all leaky, thus foiling her effort to scoff at his joke.

“Do you think you can sit here? I’ll go get you a blanket-”

She shook her head, latching onto him like a tick, refusing to let go. What if he died too? What if he turned around and left? That would be one less person to be around, one less person who she trusted enough to attach to.

He sighed quietly, pushing static through his modulator as he sat back down, muttering reassuringly in the foreign language he’d spoken earlier. Faylen’s eyes leered into the silver durasteel wall for a long while until her lashes fluttered and she closed them.

When she opened them again, the ship was listing through hyperspace, the terror of Genmaris a dull throb in her heart and the back of her head. Part of her expected to be put to bed, but was surprised to find herself still nestled against the Mandalorian who had also dozed off against the hull of the ship. Now that she wasn't soaked with tears and boogers, she could see and smell a little better. Her chemise was crusty, browned where the blood had soaked in, and chafing slightly at her skin.

Sitting nearby, on top of a storage container, was Hux Vizsla - the dark green Mandalorian that had taken her from the demise of her home. Faylen had traveled a few times before, but always in comfortable luxury. The places she had been to were Naboo and Coruscant. Otherwise, she'd not been off Anaxes. He had a helmet in his hands, not his own, but one that was painted a dark, plum purple.

"You're awake, ad'ika, " he stated simple, his voice rumbling through his modulator as the impassive T-shaped visor leveled at her. There was nothing menacing about him, nor the other Vizsla that she was sitting on. From the moment she had met the both of them, she had felt rather comfortable around their masked faces and they'd not given her a reason to change her mind on the matter. Others would be filled with dread, fearful of what expression the Mandalorians might be hiding just beneath the beskar, but Faylen knew they were human and mortal. No droid would have comforted her like they did, nor would the droid have had a reason to feel enough pity to take her away. "Come here."

The demand was gentle, kind almost. Her legs quivered, but she did manage to push up eventually, disdainful over the state of her clothing and her skin. Her feet were raw and dried blood crusted like a cracked desert landscape with each footfall. Even if she was unharmed, the child had been through hell and her soiled dress and filthy skin was a testament to that.

"What's going to happen?" she asked quietly, approaching him so that she could glance down at the helmet he was holding. The visor was shaped slightly different, the wings like petals, leaning up in a Y-shape rather than T. The visor was dark and tinted with metallic midnight blue.

" Gai bal manda, " he muttered, finally looking up from the helm again. "You will become a part of our family."

While the words were soothing, the idea behind them made her heart seize in her chest. Our family. The implication that there was nothing left on Abaxes and would never be. All hope that her father might've survived dashed like a starship exploding in a dogfight. There were few tears left in the girl, but she managed to let out a strangled and guttral whine, like a loth-cat whose tail had been stepped on. Hux put the helmet beside him and picked her up, propping her on his knee just as her papa would do. Running a gloved hand between her shoulder blades, he continued until her whimpering had quieted.

"What that means," he glanced at her, waiting until she drew a few shuddering breaths. "Is you'll start anew. You will join our Tribe and be raised as a Mandalorian; as my ad'ika and vod to Paz. I hear that you're good with blades - look at you - a verd'ika . Your buir was very proud of you. This is what he wanted, for you to be safe."

"Why did they attack us? Why would anyone do that? Genmaris is peaceful, we never-" her eyes burned, but no tears came out, only a cracked noise from the back of her throat as she leaned into the comforting touch of the armored warrior. What he was saying didn't quite register in her head, thoughts jumbled up and out of order, his praise buzzing like bees, the satisfaction of being told she had done well not reaching her brain.

"Because they do not care who they hurt or kill. The Empire is taking the galaxy and will step over anyone who so much as lifts a chin stubbornly in their direction. All they want is power. To them, we are insects," he answered honestly, the words registering as she nodded slowly. Even if it was a callous way of putting it, she needed to hear it phrased like this - to be told that she'd done no wrong and they were just bad people.

"Will they come for me? Or for your Tribe?"

"If we stir trouble, perhaps," he acknowledged grimly. "But they shall not know where you are or where the covert is. They will be too busy worrying about bigger fish than sniffing out you, verd'ika -" he picked up the helmet and showed it to her. "Because once you put this on, you will no longer be a princess. You will be Mando'ade ."

"What would I even be the princess of?" she forced a chuckle, failing miserably and hiccuping.

Hux offered a gentle laugh, the first bit of true warmth she felt, coursing all the way to her numb toes. The girl leaned into his shoulder, setting her head against the frigid green beskar, shivering slightly. "When you don this helm there are rules. You cannot take it off in front of any living thing - except for your buir, ad, and future riduur.. . Paz is your vod , so he would be an exception as well. You may call other Mandalorians vod , but they are not the same as him. You will be a Vizsla from now on. Do you understand, verd'ika?"

“Wha-what does all that mean?"

Hux translated the Mando'a to her and comprehension dawned on her face. Only immediate family could see her face going forward, which would only be Hux and Paz. He explained the Resol'nare, which was a code of Six Actions that the Mandalorians lived by: education and armor, self-defense, the tribe, their language, and their leader. Well, now that would also apply to her and she had to hold them to the highest regard and strive for perfection. The soft daydreams she'd had, wondering what Mandalorian life was like only to find herself unwillingly thrust into their civilization. Despite how jarring it was, Faylen felt slightly hopeful, glad that she wouldn't be alone and left to fend for herself. While her heart still hurt, at least she had something to look forward to.

"Is this to be my helmet?" she pointed down at the dark beskar, which he had a tight grip on.

"Yes, but before you don it, why don't you get cleaned up. It'll be too big for you and we need to find a way to make certain your ears don't get beat up inside the bucket," Hux set her back down on her feet, pulling out a set of black clothes which had been folded neatly. "They will probably be too big, but it's better than that-" he gestured to her blood stained smock. "Fresher is right around the corner."

Loading up the clothes in her arms, she went into the fresher and glanced in the mirror. Staring back was a ghost of a child, her tanned skin pale and clammy, goddess makings so translucent that they were barely visible beneath the crumbling flakes of blood. Parts of her hair were mattered with more of the dried liquid, creating a womp rat's nest on the side of her head where she'd slept against Paz's shoulder. Her eyes were puffy and red, still damp and irritated looking. A new way of nausea and despair hit her as she looked at herself, the last few pent up tears leaking out as her chin trembled. Starting the shower, she peeled off the disgusting nightgown and sat on the floor, clutching her knees and rocking quietly as the gentle rain of the water plastered her hair around her in a soaking wet curtain. Finally, she stood up and grabbed the soap, resigning herself to lazy scrubbing as it felt weird to not have help; Merith had almost always been there to assist with her back. Now Merith was dead... probably.

After getting out of the shower, she dried off and put on the new clothes, which appeared to be similar to the clothing that the Mandalorians wore beneath their armor. The pants were much too long, wide around the hips, and the shirt bulky, falling down to her knees. Faylen managed to roll the hem of the pants and shirt sleeves, securing the belt around her midsection to keep the two in place. Balling up her ruined shift, she left the fresher behind and found the Vizslas sitting by a low table, helmets turning in her direction.

" Verd'ika -" Hux motioned her over, holding up a makeshift bandana that appeared to be made of a ripped shirt sleeve rolled up and stretchy, so that it could fit over her head. He adjusted it, pushing her hair out of her face. The soft fabric pinned her long ears against the side of her head, smothering them in a tight embrace. "You will need a new name. Faylen is too unique," he informed her, continuing to adjust the headband until it covered most of her scalp and comfortably tucked her ears away.

"Something Mandalorian?" Faylen suggested quietly as she was handed an elastic band. Without needing to be told, began plaiting her long, thick hair, tying off the end.

"Do you have any ideas? You should pick your own name," Hux said, turning over her helmet to add a little extra padding along the inside. "Is there anything... a word or feeling that means a lot to you?"

There were many things on Anaxes that meant a lot to Faylen. From the forests and glades, to the evening sky dotted with stars. Closing her eyes, she let out a soft hum trying to decide which meant the most. A name too similar to her lost home would be a painful reminder each time it was spoken, a dull throb in her heart as she thought about her Papa and the life she could have had if the Empire had not stolen that from her. "Is there a word for song?" A new life, a new song - just like the birds outside her balcony that she'd listen for in the morning.

" Laar ?"

Faylen shook her head, not liking the sound of that. "Or bird?" She was flying away from home to find a new place, migrating like the paradise birds that would go to the mountains in the summer and return to Genmaris during the autumn. Only, Faylen would probably never return.

" Senaar ."

" Senaar ," she repeated quietly, closing her eyes and imagining the verdant plumage chased by sunset oranges and ambers. "Senaar," she decided more resolutely. Faylen was a bird now. Not a paradise bird. If she had stayed on Anaxes she could have been one, gilded and pretty. Now she was more like a bird of prey. She was going to be Mandalorian after all. "Sena for short?"

" Sen'ika ," Paz rumbled, slightly amused. "Little bird."

"Little," she snorted, finally finding the heart to smile faintly.

"Tiny," Hux agreed, turning toward her and offering the helmet. "It is time."

"Time?"

" Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad, Senaar Vizsla," he bent down, touching his helmet to her forehead. A wave of emotion consumed her, choking her up as if dark, churning water were drowning her. Despite the fact that all it was was cold metal on her brow and words she did not understand, she knew her new name when he spoke it. The tightness of his fingers on her shoulder, the promising tone of voice - the promise that she'd never be alone despite all that she had lost. Papa had made certain she was in good hands, hands that would never let her go, despite their differences. Soon, those differences would be scattered amongst the ocean - lost to the tides of change as the gaps were bridged and she became just another visor amongst many.

" Ni kyr'tayl gai vod, Senaar Vizsla," Paz spoke next, drawing her attention from Hux and over to the young man who was to become her brother. "Call my ori'vod , it means big brother."

" Ori'vod ," she repeated. There had been times where she'd dreamed of having a sibling, older or younger. A small, but characteristically dopey smile plastered itself to her face as she realized what she had gained in the shadow of her loss. "Then... you were calling me little sister before? Vod'ika ? Because little bird is Sen'ika ."

"She's a natural," Paz crooned to their father.

"Smart kid. At least you have some brain cells. Might have to make up for your aliit every so often," Hux joked, tapping her head with his helmet again. "Now, let's see how this fits and we can make some adjustments."

Lifting the helmet up, Faylen - no... Sena - placed it on her head. The wrappings on her head did well to keep her ears from flopping around. She hissed slightly, the tips still getting pinched near the crown where there was little to no padding. Despite it, she blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the inside. A hydraulic hiss was followed by a click, the vocoder whizzing with her heavy breathing. She could not smell anything other than the beskar, which had a slightly acidic and cool aroma. Her view from the visor was distorted, illuminated as she saw the entire room through a filter. The lights weren't as keen, but the edges of the ship, the corners chasing away shadows in the same method her eyes could naturally adjust.

"How does it feel?" Hux inquired, making her jolt slightly as the visor shifted with a pulsing analytical wave, shifting to the sound of his voice, informing her that he was 70% questioning, 20% concerned, 10% unreadable.

"It can-" she was startled again, her voice coming out modulated and rather airy like a little whizzing fairy, high pitched and obnoxious.

"Ah, hold on, that's not a good setting. Sova always had a deep voice," he grumbled, reaching up to fiddle with a sensor on the side of the helmet. "Try again?"

"It can read emotions in the voice?" The modulator was closer to her own voice now, but there was still a mechanical ring to it, making her sound much colder than typical. Interesting. Was the purpose to obscure their true voice to keep it from being analyzed by enemies? Or perhaps the purpose was to seem scarier and less mortal.

"Yes, among other things. How does it feel?"

"It needs more padding around-" she lifted her hand and patted the spots where the tips of her ears were pinned. "-there and there. Pinching."

"Off it goes-" he reached for it, but gave her a meaningful tilt of his helmet. "Remember what I told you. No one other than the two of us can see your face, Sena. Anyone who tries to do this-"

"Stick em!"

Hux chortled, her helmet reading that he was mostly amused before he disengaged the seal and pulled it off. "You're going to do well, verd'ika ."

--- translations

Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad - I know your name as my child

Ni kyr'tayl gai sibling - I know your name as my sibling

Aliit - family/clan

Verd'ika - little soldier

Gai bal manda - adoption ceremony

Ad'ika - little one, daughter, son

Buir - parent

Jetii - Jedi

Vod - sibling

Ad - son/daughter

Riduur - spouse

Copikla adiik - cute child/kid

Vod'ika - little sibling

#big brother paz vizsla #paz vizsla & oc character #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #oc mandalorian #growing up mandalorian

5 notes · View notes