#let the nautolan be feral | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kiwikipedia · 2 years

Text

Pup

Fandom(s): Star Wars

Rating: K

Summary: Plo Koon’s not the only one to just spontaneously adopt it seems, Post War AU

Based loosely off of this post but then i just. didn’t? so maybe its not based on it at all lmaoo??

It was a running joke among the Masters that they could all trace their foundling lineage back to High Councilor Plo Koon.

Either through the Kel Dor Jedi himself, or through one of his Padawans— because lord knew that they all ended up with his habits when it came to just having that radar of abandoned children, force sensitive or not.

And then the joke only seemed to increase in those who knew once the War ended and the Order left Coruscant with the Clones.

The joke among the GAR was the last names. There were well over a million Clones who bore the last name ‘Koon’ now, including the 104th Battalion and the 127th Gunship Wing. If they didn’t have the last name ‘Koon’ then they might have ‘Swan’ or ‘Tano’ (because when Ahsoka decided she had found a new brother, she never let them go). There were those who donned the crest that Knight— no, Master Lissarkh and her Company wore while they sabotaged Separatist forces behind the lines, because Lissarkh had no surname to give her ‘hatchlings’ but she had a crest which was basically the same thing.

But still, Plo Koon was infamous for his habit of knowing and adopting children— and now Clones.

The Council had learned a long time ago to simply let it happen— the Older Jedi (though how many were really older than him?) fretted over the old code, but learned to drop the topic because he just ignored them instead.

So it came to no surprise when Wolffe showed up late to a Council meeting with a small child in his arms.

(Though the Council Meetings were less of the Council now days and more the Council Masters, The Commander and the Alpha Vode, and anyone who was off planet as a form of checking in.)

The good Commander had been off planet on a relief mission with part of the Wolffepack.

“A child, you have, Commander?” Master Yoda mused and the blue holographic figure nodded.

“Yes, sir,” he grunted as the child, a Nautolan— go figure— child with large round eyes, wriggled a bit, staring at them all. “She— he? Master Fisto, help— was being trafficked, sir. The boys and I took the liberty of dealing with the entire ring on the planet as part of our mission.”

There was a barely hidden note of glee in his tone at the accomplishment. “Bitey here just hasn’t happened to let go of me. I think another one of ‘em has been pulling on Wildfire’s hair for a good ten minutes.”

Kit snorted out a laugh, but looked ecstatic. “We’ll see when you get back,” he told him before he tilted his head. “Were they all Nautolans, Commander?”

“No, sir,” he reported. “There were two Zabraks—” Eeth and Agen’s own holographic forms both sat up at that. “Three Mikkians, and a handful of humans. Various ages.” he paused before a proud look crossed his face. “Some of them were vode, sirs. They’ve been protecting the others to the best of their ability too— They want to come home. They’re ready to come back home.”

“And we will give them home here, my son,” Plo rumbled, pride in his voice and Mace leaned back in his seat. “They will have a home here, with us.”

“Better vode than a thought dead brother of a Sith Lord,” he said dryly and Plo gave him a look.

“Feral is quite a charming young man, I’ll have you know. He gets along very nicely with his siblings,” the Kel Dor defended. “Just the other day he, Ahsoka, and Lissarkh were teaching some of the vode to hunt in the forests around the Temple.”

Shaak Ti barely hid a giggle behind her hand as Mace sighed, but smiled slightly. “I’m sure. We’ll need all the help we can get when it comes to hunting, if you and your children keep bringing back more every time you step a single foot so much as off planet.”

“So we’re good to bring Bitey and the others back?” Wolffe ventured, “Because, er, the ‘Pack isn’t the only group to have kids with ‘em right now.”

All eyes turned to Captain Jag where he was sitting. The pilot raised a brow. “Not me, sirs, though that would’ve been fun. The 127th didn’t find any kids this time in the Astroid Belt,” He tilted his head, smirking, looking to his right. “Banks?”

“Not me either,” the Sergeant grunted, arms crossed from where he stood, Hologram flickering as Master Swan shrugged.

“Though some kids did try and sneak on board, we got them back to their parents,” she added.

“I haven’t been off Planet because someone wont let me, so it isn’t me,” Plo mused, giving Mace and Yoda a look, though his amusement could be felt through the Force. “And Lissarkh and Ahsoka are still on planet… I can’t possibly think of anyone in my Lineage— foundling or master— who could’ve done—”

“It’s me,” Voolvif cut in, ears flicking in amusement. “Pup’s sleeping right now, but I went back to where my Master found me and found ‘im in the area.”

“A 104th child then! Not through the lineage but through the Battalion!” Plo chuckled and Voolvif flashed a toothy grin.

“Congratulations on becoming a father, Master Monn,” Mace sighed and shook his head before giving Plo Koon a look. “Even when you’re not off world you still manage to acquire every orphaned child and lost vode.”

The Kel Dor sniffed, fingers laced together as he leaned back. “Some Jedi have a habit of attracting trouble,” he said simply. “I just happen to be able to find those who need a family. And it’s a skill that I gladly pass down in my Lineage and family.”

“No more Sith Lords.”

“Now I can’t promise that, Master Windu. That would be no fun.”

though i did change some stuff?? like it just happened. Bultar and Voolvif on the new Council because I love them. Though its less of a council and more “the Council + everyone whose off world”

37 notes · View notes

blackkatmagic · 3 years

Note

Rarepair Queen strikes again! I never would have thought about Ponds/Feral in a million years, but it's such a Good Ship.

They would be so good together, kind badasses, the both of them, and it comes with a potential for Feral & Mace interaction, which is awesome.

Is this one the fics you started as a badass!Feral spite fic? Can we ask about those?

xD I think most of my Feral fics are badass Feral spite fics at this point, honestly, but. From that last batch I started when I was particularly salty:

1. Trauma/Feral - Feral manages to get away from the Nightsisters when they come to capture him before Savage's transformation, and he stows away on a ship and gets off of Dathomir. When he hears about Savage becoming Dooku's apprentice, he builds himself a lightsaber, hides his face, and goes to stop/save his brother. He maybe possibly picks up a Nautolan padawan on the way, and said padawan's wholly overprotective clone commander.

2. Padme/Rex/Feral - When Padme, Rex, and Rex's squad crash land on Dathomir, they're captured by the Nightsisters almost immediately. Mother Talzin has them kept in the Nightbrother village, and Feral ends up as Rex and Padme's guard. He knows immediately that he's going to help them escape, but he doesn't expect Padme to ask him and Savage to come with them.

3. Jaster/Feral - After almost 20 years as a prisoner of the Sith Lord, Jaster has no hope of getting free - right up until the moment a Nightbrother assassin breaks into the lab he's being held in, kills the guards, and starts searching through the files. Not about to let this perfect opportunity slip past him, Jaster offers to help Feral find what he needs to know in return for escort out of the lab, but escaping the building is only the first step. There's more than one Sith after him, and one of them just happens to be Feral's younger brother.

4. Dooku/Feral - Dooku is on his first long-term mission with his new padawan, and is about ready to tear his hair out trying to keep Qui-Gon out of any permanent trouble. An assassination attempt is the very last thing he needs, but this assassin tells strange stories about time travel and Dooku falling to the Dark Side and a galaxy at war, and Dooku can't help but believe him. (It maybe helps that Qui-Gon has decided that Feral is the Best Thing Ever, and Dooku has never been good at saying no to his padawans.)

5. Alpha/Feral - When he's dispatched to help Kenobi and Skywalker rescue a gaggle of kidnapped senators, Alpha expects a boring mission, a lot of headaches, and a lot of annoyance. Watching Skywalker pick a fight and promptly get his ass kicked is a blessing beyond what he knew to hope for, and Alpha immediately scoops up the Sith kidnapper and calls dibs.

#wip list #kat answers

72 notes · View notes

kamakrazeewarboyz · 3 years

Text

Time for some clone ocs!!

First up we have the republic commando Phantom Sqaud

Leading man is Corpse, who’s also the demolitions expert and loves making things go boom. He’s also rly good at crafting his own improvised explosive devices out of whatever material is available, and even though he’s the lead man 9/10 he prefers to stand back and take out enemies at a distance instead of close quarters bc of an incident that earned him both his scar and his namesake (he got shot point blank in the head by a droid, and his squad thought he was dead until they got him back on the transport ship and he gasped awake). He’s the coarse, grumpy one of the squad but deep down he loves his brothers and would both sell them to Satan for one corn chip and also fight the sun with his bare hands to keep them safe

Shriek is the resident know it all- he loves learning and picking up on new things so he’s always listening to holotapes and sometimes reading books when he can + wastes time during quiet moments scouring the holonet for info on whatever new subject has caught his interest. He’s basically like a human encyclopedia, so if any of the others need a question answered or a translator, they know they can turn to him. He was blinded during a mission and given two cybernetic eyes, and he can see pretty okay with them but there’s something a bit ‘off’ about cybernetic vision vs natural vision so he relies more on his sense of sound and has honed in pretty acute hearing bc of it

Bone-Shaker, or as he squadmates like to call him, Bones, is the team muscle. He’s got a thing for taking out droids with his bare hands or his vibroblade in up close combat, but when he’s got to take them out from a distance he LOVES being the one with the biggest blaster whooping and hollering while he shoots them down. He can be kinda crude and intimidating at first but he’s actually a super big softy with a giant soft spot for his brothers, and he’s SUPER touchy feely. No one in Phantom Squad is ever touch starved bc they know at the end of a long day Bones is gonna pull them all into a giant cuddle pile and not let them go

Wraith is basically like the team infiltrator and stealth guy, and he doubles as the team sniper when it’s needed. He’s rly light on his feet and super good at sneak into places and around people undetected, so he’s usually the go to recon or stealth retrieval guy. He’s soft spoken and doesn’t actually talk a lot unless he feels like he rly needs to do he’ll usually use hand gestures or gentle touches to get his brothers attention, but he’s also got a great sense of humor and cracks up a lot at Bones’ jokes or Shriek’s deadpan puns, esp when they’re (lovingly) picking on Corpse

And now the Shadow Company boys! I’ve given them their own battalion to fit into and their own Jedi general who has yet to be drawn, but they’re situated inside of the 323rd battalion under Jedi knight Daven Uuthus, a female Nautolan

Puncture is pretty much the company tattoo artist, he was always rly into art and doodling when he was younger and once he was deployed all the different systems shadow company was sent to opened him up to a whole new world of art and ways to create it. He got rly interested in tattooing specifically when he saw other clones starting to get them to individualize themselves, and even more so once he started to notice all sorts of different tattooing techniques across the galaxy. He learned a lot of tips and tricks from locals on different planets he visited and tried them out himself when he could find willing brothers, and eventually grew so good at his craft he made a name for himself as the go to guy if you want a badass tattoo

Clapback is the human embodiment of sass. Like he’s SO. SASSY. He will hit you with zingers so fast you’ll be roasted like a chunk of meat before you even realize what’s happening. He and his batchmate Hammerhead have an ongoing brotherly rivalry (all out of love of course but that doesn’t stop them from being savage) which is how Clapback got his name, bc everytime Hammerhead would come up with something to throw at him he’d throw it right back and twice as ruthless. He’s a good source of levity along with Hammerhead during hard times, but he’s also super caring and always there to help and comfort a brother or friend in need

Hammerhead is the slightly less feral but still equally chaotic one out of him and Clapback. He gets put into Shadow Company w/ Clapback after the first battle of Geonosis (which neither one of them took part in but were deployed rly soon after) and promoted to sergeant before the war ends, and while he’s got a goofy side he can also be very serious and in the moment when the time calls for it, and rly good to have at your back in the middle of a fight. He’s also great at tactical improvision

Triple- or Trip- is the “”long suffering”” third batchmate to Hammerhead and Clapback. He gets roped with the ‘responsible sibling’ role all the time even though he’s just as good at spreading chaos as the others, but he’s usually more level headed and better at controlling his impulses (and his mouth) than the other two. He becomes a special ops trooper, but Shadow Company works with spec ops troopers often, so he still gets to see his close brothers maybe more than he’d like (which is a JOKE bc this dummy is so soft for them it’s like a neon sign above his head, he just likes to pretend he doesn’t care)

And last but not least Lollipop!! He’s the Ultimate Babie of the company, and also one of the newer troopers, coming in a little over halfway through the war so he’s v shiny. He got his name from the time he and a few other troopers stumbled upon abandoned farmland and a couple of eopies took major interest in him and wouldn’t leave him alone, ‘licking him like a lollipop’ as one of the other troopers said which ended up sticking, though he mostly goes by Lolly. He’s easily the biggest softy in the company and he’s also crazy good at map reading and geography so once he’s in he’s looked to a lot as their backup guide to make sure they’re getting to where they’re going alright

#Star Wars #Star Wars oc #clone trooper OC #clone ocs #I have two more boys and the Jedi but I need to redo the others face designs and actually draw my Jedi generals #but here they are!!! my babies whom I love!!!#feel free to ask me anything abt them I love talking abt them!#commando wraith #commando shriek #commando corpse #commando bone-shaker #trooper puncture #trooper clapback #trooper hammerhead #trooper triple #trooper lollipop

62 notes · View notes

hannagoldworthy · 3 years

Text

AWOL 30

(A cookout leads to a retelling of Mirialan creation myth, which is a fairly StarWarsian hybrid taking inspiration from Hawaiian, Greek, and Tolkienien mythology. I enjoyed writing it...though, it probably seems familiar in context with the rest of this story.)

(Also, two idiots finally have a conversation, which proceeds differently than expected.)

The problem with sand was that, no matter what color it had, it was coarse, and rough, and irritating, and it got everywhere. And that meant everyone took a turn in the shower, even when the warm water started to run out.

According to her habit, Barriss went last, rinsing her clothes of the grit while she was there. While she let them drip-dry, she angled her neck so that she could see the back of it in the mirror.

The Pendant’s chain had completed; there wasn’t even one diamond-link missing.

A decision needed to be made.

***

For whatever reason, the Nautolan boy seemed to have taken particular liking to Savage. Maybe it was because Zatt could play with technology as much as he liked around Savage without feeling judged for it. Maybe it was because he could run up with some new specimen of sea-life and show it to Savage, and the Zabrak would be genuinely interested in it.

Either way, Savage wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it. He had indistinct memories of killing another Jedi of this same species, so murky it was like watching someone else do it; letting this kid hang out with him felt like…well, an insult. He was a monster; he was built from the ground up to hurt children like this. And yet Zatt didn’t seem to recognize that, and kept chattering on to Savage about his strange little games on his datapad and his studies and his life.

“Do you suppose we could do a clam bake or something?” the little ball of green energy was saying today, holding a live crab that he’d somehow bewitched to stay still and content in his hands. “We could do it at night, in that crevice we found near the top of the island. There’d be plenty of ventilation, and the rocks would hide the fire.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Feral replied; until he could properly walk, his brother was not leaving his sight, so he often replied to Zatt where Savage could not. “I’ve never eaten anything from the sea before.”

“…I’d recommend you not eat the shellfish, though,” Barriss replied, swooping in from behind Zatt to scoop the little crustacean out of his hands. “They are sacred to Ulmozz, Mirial’s god of the seas. It would offend him if you harmed one of his messengers when he has let loose many bountiful fish instead.” She set the little crab on the ground, and it sedately moved back toward the shoreline. “But yes, a cookout does sound nice. It’s the vernal equinox in this hemisphere; it would only be proper to celebrate.”

That settled it. The rest of the afternoon, the strongest swimmers and those who could withstand seawater spent their time fishing, while the Professor and Byph gathered and dried driftwood. When night fell, the odd little group settled around the campfire, cooking, eating, and laughing.

“So, the vernal equinox is a holiday for Mirialans,” Savage said at one point, smiling at Barriss. “What do you celebrate?”

The children all stared at Barriss at once, sensing the onset of a story; cubs were the same no matter where they came from. For her part, Barriss politely finished chewing her mouthful of fish before beginning.

“It is, to make a long story short, the wedding feast of Lady Palurin and Lord Ulmozz, our chief deities.”

“Tell us the long story,” Ganodi urged eagerly.

“Yeah…it’s not like we’ve got anything else to do,” Petro said.

Behind his shoulder, Savage heard Maul shift into a watchful position, as Barriss chuckled.

“Well, all right, if I must. Once, a very long time ago, Mirial was a young planet…so young it had only fire and ice, and nothing in between. No people, no animals, no plants…all that dwelt here were two very young gods.

“Palurin dwelt in the middle of the world. Hers was the realm of heat and flame, and she danced madly around the equator, never thinking of leaving that place where she had been born.

“Ulmozz, on the other hand, was born wandering. His were the realms of cold and frost, and he divided his time between the poles to prevent them from melting too much.

“For years…centuries…eons, they lived in the same land, but never met, nor did they suspect the other was at work. Until, one fateful day, they collided, when Palurin was twirling too fast to watch where she was going and Ulmozz was too focused on getting to the northern wastes on time to mind his surroundings.” In what was probably a traditional way of telling this story, Barriss struck a palm with her fist and made a crashing sound; the younglings giggled.

Ganodi, the romantic of the group, sighed dreamily. “Did they fall in love at first sight?”

“Well…Palurin did, for Ulmozz is quite handsome, even with his reclusive ways and the icicles in his eyebrows. Ulmozz took one look at her blazing hair, her giant form, and her sharp teeth, and ran for the hills, thinking he had espied a monster.”

“Aw…that’s mean!” Ganodi cried. “I’d never think Gungi was a monster!”

Gungi made a short little whine that Savage, in his admittedly inexpert opinion, thought might translate to say: “Hey!”

“…Maybe if his fur was on fire, you would,” Zatt muttered teasingly.

The Wookiee made the noise again.

“You’re interrupting the story,” Jinx said, ruffling Gungi’s headfur. “Did Palurin retreat from the world to nurse her wounded feelings?”

Barriss grinned. “Oh no. She wasn’t about to let him slip away like that. She gave chase, for five hundred years. And for five hundred years, Ulmozz eluded her. In his hurry, he did not think to keep the icecaps from melting, and left puddles of water in his wake. Palurin would step in them as she ran, and that awakened the many creatures of the sea and rivers.

“For a time, Palurin thought she would trap Ulmozz, and reared up mountain ranges to try and halt his progress. They would be too high to be drowned by the growing waters on the planet, and Ulmozz ran up them quite easily; Palurin commanded plant life to grow in order to tickle his feet and convince him to stop, but he only made them grow taller so that he might better hide from her.

“Then, she thought to woo him, and awoke the rangiferini, with their gentle eyes and soft fur. She sent them into the woods where Ulmozz was hiding, and they began to eat all of the plants. Fearing that he would eventually be exposed, he awakened the gulo, with their sharp teeth and fierce territorial rage, and set them to eat the rangiferini.”

“That’s mean,” Katooni said this time, indignant.

Barriss shrugged. “Actually, Palurin absolutely loves the gulo. She keeps them as pets and sics them on people who disobey her. But that’s another story altogether…

“Eventually, both Palurin and Ulmozz tired of running. They stood not far from each other, on an island very much like this one, Ulmozz in the shallows of the sea, and Palurin on the hills.

“‘Oh ye who are fleet of foot and cunning of mind,’ Palurin said, ‘I wish no harm on you. Please remain with me, and work together with me in this world that belongs to both of us.’

“And Ulmozz replied –”

“‘In your dreams, crazy lady!’” Ahsoka said, much to the enjoyment of the younglings. “‘You’ve been trying to eat me!’”

The Mirialan laughed. “Actually, that’s not too far off…and it’s much cleaner than many legends, so I’ll let it stand. Palurin said: ‘I ask you for only one thing, then, before you go…dance with me, just once. If you do so, I promise I will leave you alone, and never trouble you again.’”

“To which he dutifully responded, ‘and I have a bridge to sell you,’” Jinx snarked, starting another round of giggles.

Barriss shook her head. “Again…yes, basically, and in not so many words; Ulmozz likes to keep things simple. However, he had watched Palurin in all their years of chase. Not once had she tried to actually hurt him, and though she was wild, she was honest. And so, against his better judgment, he relented. They danced, and the land and sea began to circle under their footsteps; when the dance was over, Palurin bowed, turned, and walked away content.

“And then it was Ulmozz’s turn to chase after her. He had found that she was not so fearsome when she laughed, and the wildness of her dance belied a grace and beauty that was uniquely hers. So, he asked if they could continue to meet as they once had, in their treks around the world on separate paths. She agreed, and eventually they became so accustomed to each other’s company that they married on the anniversary of their first dance, even though they could only see each other at certain points of the year. And that, eventually, led to the birth of Mirialans, their children.”

“Aw,” Savage said despite himself, even as the girls sighed dreamily. “Your world was created out of a love story. That’s…nice,” and a refreshing take from Dathomir’s creation myth, where the Winged Goddess and the Fanged Gods were simaltaneously siblings, rivals, and lovers, and their drama destroyed everything in their path.

Jinx seemed to be of the same mindset. “Very nice,” he noted thoughtfully. “My planet’s creation myth ended with the goddess of light and goodness and the god of darkness and evil setting the axis off-kilter in a fight, leaving one pole in eternal night and the other in eternal day. It took ages and a Jedi prophecy of the hero Fil’oni the Pragmatic to set things right.”

Ahsoka frowned. “But neither Palurin nor Ulmozz is evil, or strictly good…how does that affect Mirial’s stance on Light and Dark, in your version of the Force?”

Barriss’s gaze almost flickered over Savage’s shoulder, before she seemed to think better of it. “They are neither of them evil, but they do tend to be over-protective of each other and of their creations,” she said. “And they are both arbiters of life and death. So traditional Mirialan Force practitioners tend to practice strict neutrality, for to offend one spouse is to awaken the wrath of the other. It leads to a painfully nuanced outlook on moral choices, I’ve found.”

A fraught silence fell, broken only when Professor Huyang pretended to clear his throat. “Well, an interesting story it certainly is, and one I intend to remember, in case other generations wish to hear it. It’s been so long since we’ve had a proper examination of Mirialan philosophy…”

***

The night sky was particularly clear in this part of the world, without the light pollution of Mirial’s transient cities of rangiferini herders or the smoke of the Trade Federation’s foundries to obscure it. When the rest had fallen asleep, Maul found a large, flat rock and lay on top of it to look out at the stars.

As a boy, this had been a leisure activity, when his traitorous hearts yearned for freedom and beauty outside of the walls of the Mustaphar facility where he had been brought up. Now, it had more of an analytical bent – those moving stars in a certain quadrant were not comets, or meteorites, but a fleet of starships taking refuge in the closest stars of the next sector. There was a fight brewing for Mirial – Maul had had a feeling that that would happen. But, it likely would not reach them here, this being an outpost for winter travelers and nothing more, at least according to what Gravid had said. Still, it paid to be cautious, and he was keeping an eye on the proceedings as much as he possibly could.

“Mind if I join you?”

Jolted out of his musings, Maul stared incredulously at Barriss’s face where it had appeared by his side. His throat suddenly stoppered with an emotion he dared not evaluate, he sat up and shifted slightly to allow her some room.

Barriss nervously sat beside him, hugging her knees to her chest in order to avoid their touching. “I wanted to apologize for running,” she said at length, not turning to meet his eyes.

Maul moved his hands; for some reason, he was too tired to shrug with his shoulders. “Fear triggers a fight or flight response. You flew. It was a natural reaction.”

“I was a coward…am a coward, and you know it. I didn’t want to think about certain things, and so I ran away from them.”

He closed his eyes, swallowing down the pain that he felt, knowing she didn’t want to think about touching him. “Like I said, it was natural.”

“Yes, but it hurt you.”

“And?”

“And…I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You are bound by oath not to physically harm me.”

“That was how it started, yes, but…” He heard her jaw work as she tried to put the rest of her thought into words, then decided against it, opting for a different tack. “You said, once, that you wanted to persuade me to make the same decision purposefully that I had in error. Why was that?”

Maul peered at her through the corner of his eye. “I told you; marriage is a mutually beneficial contract in our case, but only if you’re a willing participant. There’s no use in having a partner who is not there by choice.”

“And that’s precisely the same reason I want to dissolve the contract; you are not here by your own free choice.”

A thrill of panic quickened his hearts. “I was not informed of what was happening at the time, but I am quite satisfied with the arrangement…”

Barriss shook her head, smiling mirthlessly. “Maul, when Ventress’s claim on Savage was active, she ordered him to kill Feral, and he very nearly did so. What if I have that same power over you? How many decisions have you made which were not yours, but mine?”

“I have been the instrument of another’s will my entire life,” he snarled, turning to look her in the eye. “To do what you say, rather than what my Master or my Mother says, would be a joy in comparison.”

“And how long would that joy last?” she asked, steadily maintaining eye contact. “How long would it take for you to start resenting me, as you do your Master?”

“You would never take such advantage as he has…”

“You don’t know that.”

“You doubt your own motivations?”

“Yes I do,” she said firmly. “I can’t afford to trust myself. Every decision I make could be life or death…and I’ve made fairly poor decisions, very recently.”

His vision began to cloud; he could still produce proper tears, though the heat generated by his fear was causing them to evaporate from his very eyes. “So do it then, and get it over with,” he growled miserably, deflecting his gaze in acceptance. “You coward.”

Rather than meet the insult with anger, Barriss instead opted to take his hand and gently hold it in both of hers. “I, Barriss Offee, renounce my claim on you, Lord Maul of the Sith. You are no longer my patient or my mate. You are your own man, free to do as you will.”

“And what I will…is this.”

Before she could argue, before he could think twice, Maul pulled Barriss in to him, crushing his lips to hers with a reckless fervor. He wanted her to dream of this moment, as he had been tormented by the memory of her thoughtless caress; one ill turn deserved another.

He pulled away, another acerbic remark on the tip of his tongue…only to find his lips captured again by hers. “Impossible man,” she muttered, as the force of her kiss began pushing him backwards. “Menace.”

“Flattery gets you nowhere, Doctor.”

His shoulder-blades connected with the rock beneath him as she renewed her assault; he thought it would bruise by the morning, but the thought barely registered under the sensation of her deepening the kiss. Breathlessly he tightened his grip on her; she wasn’t going anywhere, not this time, but even so he needed to be as close to her as possible.

“Stay,” he trilled as soon as he found an open moment, his chest rumbling against his will with a heavy, throaty purr.

She pulled away slightly at that, her eyes wide; she did not need to be as clever as she was to guess at his intended meaning. “…I haven’t,” she whispered. “Ever. It would have been an attachment.”

He swallowed painfully past his vibrating throat. “Nor have I…too much of a distraction.” He cupped her face with one hand, staring deeply into her big, blue eyes. “Barriss…please?”

She searched his face for any hint of retraction, or fear, or coercion, but Maul knew she found none of that…only the indescribable feeling which seemed to expand his chest every time he beheld her. Then she practically dove into his embrace, and the two of them said nothing more for a long while.

35 notes · View notes

fallenrepublick · 4 years

Note

If these are still open... can I request a part 2 of our Feral family? Possibly with Maul and his reaction to seeing this other brother of his and also that he actually has a family of his own? We get to see more interaction between Savage and Feral's children as the boys just adore their uncle? While, of course, Feral is making them a nice home meal to let his pregnant wife relax with their coming daughter. I love this family and they shall live on!!

This ended up long as fUck but it was cute, so whatever

Here is the first part.

Warnings: A screwy timeline

“Did I not tell him to stay with the ship…”

Having thoroughly scoped out the land and finding it annoyingly peaceful, Maul had returned to where he had landed with Savage hours later only to find the ship… empty. It was unlike him to wander around anywhere without reason, but even more unlikely that the over two meters tall Zabrak had been captured, especially not by people like these. The only reasonable conclusion, Maul decided, was that something had caught his brother’s eye and he had chosen to follow it.

He turned in the direction of the nearby village, the faces of the houses and buildings obstructed by thick forest life and plants taller than any natural greenery Maul had ever been in the presence of. He trekked forward, unsteady footing slowing down his pace, and pushed through the vines and leaves that blocked his path. Mumbling to himself as he walked, he dearly hoped, for Savage’s sake, that whatever he had followed was worth it.

The forest ended at the edge of the village, loud lively, many residents having taken to the streets enthralled in conversation and tasks, some children running to fro as they played. It hadn’t seemed like Savage had been through there, but then again, one could never be too sure.

As he began walking amongst the people, his vision glazed over the people largely too interested in their own business to notice a stranger traveling within their midst. Faces of various colors blurred together in a haze of surreal memories. He understood, at least a little, the appeal of this planet, the rainbow of appearances that spanned not only through the population but also the environment kept everything interesting, preventing its natives from falling into the dangers of monotony.

The noise of the bustling town didn’t interest him, but one single voice stood out from the others. Though it wasn’t one he knew, there was a strange familiarity to it, as if it was one he was supposed to.

To his right stood a lone house, modest in size, but no less pretty, with multiple figures moving in the front, backlit by the lowering sun. The voice had come from there, light and cheerful, the primary trait an airiness that he hadn’t heard in a long time. Upon venturing closer, hesitance slowing his pace, he could more clearly see the family in question and the source of his curiosity.

Savage stood with the family, arms crossed in deep consideration. Beside him was yet another Zabrak, similar in color, but lighter, soft brown tattoos framing his face less intrusive than his own. He was smaller, younger, more innocent than Maul or Savage, but he held himself assuredly, as if the cruelty of reality hadn’t quite hit him yet. Or maybe it had and he had just chosen to ignore it.

Three children, varying in height, were beginning to be herded together, directed towards the house as the smaller Zabrak continued his conversation.

“-but to this day I still don’t know where the ship came from. But you know how we were, always ready to fight outsiders when the goings got tough!” His laugh was just as cheerful, ringing in everyone’s ears like bells from a clocktower in the mornings. As he spoke, he lightly elbowed Savage, who himself was smiling at his companion, more pleased than Maul had ever seen him.

Though the conversation halted when Maul approached, Savage’s smile fading as he remembered what he had even come for, and Feral’s eyes widening in surprise at the new visitor.

“Is this-” Feral began, gesturing towards Maul, who’s annoyance had faded into simple confusion when he had fully processed the scene in front of him. Savage simply nodded in response, and it wasn’t long that Feral was hurrying over to Maul, a grin plastered on his face.

“We haven’t formally met, yet!” His hand was outstretched, eager to make contact. “I’m Feral. I’m not sure how much you know about me, but I’m your brother!”

Maul took the hand, albeit reluctantly, and nodded. “I’ve heard… only a small amount. Though I was under the impression you were-”

“Dead?” Feral shot Savage a glance. “I might’ve been, if I didn’t have help along the way… Oh well, both of you should come in! I cook around here most of the time, so we can catch up while I feed the monsters.”

Savage smiled at the thought, watching as Feral led them back to the house. Maul however, remained wary, uncertain of how his brother had come to build such a comfortable life while he still struggled to get more than three hours of sleep each night.

“You look so concerned…” Savage mentioned as Maul came up beside him, brow furrowed. “I’ve known him our whole lives. Nothing bad will happen.”

Maul shook his head. “It’s not that. I just don’t understand it. How can he come from a planet like ours and still be able to maintain such… domesticity?”

“Feral was always more tame than the rest of us. I wouldn’t call it weakness, just… an aversion to the violence he was born into.” He stopped a moment, sighing as he watched his nephews race to get into the house first. “I always worried for him, hoping he wouldn’t be targeted as defective if he didn’t adapt to the harshness. He found a way, though.”

Maul said nothing, mind still contemplating the strangeness of it all. He had never considered the possibility of anything other than the power he was raised to believe in, yet here was one of his own kin, living out a life free from that constant struggle. It didn’t sit right.

Still, both followed their brother inside, the children wrestling in the living room and a female Togruta laying on the plush couch. The colors on the interior were light and natural, soft on the eyes and fitting for the natural aura of the village.

Already, Feral had prepared drinks for the company, setting cups on the wooden table outside the kitchen. His brothers sat, Savage visibly more comfortable than Maul was.

The oldest child had seemed to take a liking to Savage, lingering around him as often as possible. He couldn’t have been older than ten, head-tails still very short, encircled by budding horns that were placed more like Savage’s than Feral’s. His skin was a lighter brown, as were the stripes on his head-tails, and he carried himself with more authority than his siblings, prepared to remind him of his elder status at any moment.

“You know,” he said to Savage, leaning forward on the table’s edge, restlessly kicking up his legs. “I’m gonna be like you when I get older. I’m the biggest and the strongest of my brothers, and I’m going to make sure it stays that way!”

“It’s ah… not an easy task…” Savage replied, not wanting to admit that he effectively cheated. Maul snickered. “You’ll have to train for years if you want that to happen.”

“I don’t care!” He leapt up, arms crossing and chest puffing out. “I look kinda like you anyways, so I’m already halfway there!” Well, that’s good, at least he was aware of it.

Feral piped up as he filled a pot with water. “Terren, you’re still not done with school. Please wait until you can long divide before you do that.”

Maul felt something on his leg. It was the youngest, about two, tapping on the metal casing. Rounder and softer in features than his older brother, he was a deep green, like his mother, but the horns that just barely poked out from the area around his head tails bore a strange, uncomfortable resemblance to Maul’s when he was that age. Remarkably curious, he was easy to please as long as he got the answers he sought. And at that moment, he was seeking answers about the being in front of him that he was certain was a droid.

“Fake?” His nails tapped again, harder. Maul didn’t like children in any situation, but what he liked even less was that he found this one mildly charming. He moved his foot back, just to see what would happen, fully expecting the child to cry. But no, he simply scooched himself back with it, gaining an even closer look. “Fake.” He nodded, having determined his hypothesis correct, and placed both hands directly on top of Maul’s foot in confidence.

He really wanted to pick this kid up.

Against his better judgement and personality, he reached down and lifted the child up to eye-level, not sure what he was looking for, yet searching nonetheless. Upon seeing his uncle’s face for the first time, as he was much too small to have noticed it before, the child’s expression hardened into intense concentration. This being was certainly not a droid, and it was unfortunate that now he’d have to go back to the drawing board to discover the truth once more.

“Oh that’s Uta…” Feral said, noticing his brother holding up the young child like a small sack of potatoes. “He’s… a handful.” He laughed as he said it, the sounds of cooking food blending with his smooth voice.

Uta was still frowning, having earned his spot standing on Maul’s lap, and very clearly trying to reason out why he had been tricked before. “Real.” He pointed at Savage. “Real?” He turned to look up at Maul, whose expression was difficult to read. “Fake?”

“It’s about half and half…” Maul offered, hoping to relieve the child of what might’ve been the most stressful situation of his mini life.

“Half-av?” He considered a moment, letting the newly learned word sizzle in his mind a second. Feral tried to choke down his laugh. Uta finally nodded. “Half-av.” The answer was acceptable.

And in came the middle child, mother in tow, who was still discussing an old legend about Nautolans as he entered the room. Stalky and narrow, he was the researcher of the family. He looked most like Feral, with kind eyes turned down at the edges, his mild yellow colors dimmer than his siblings and a slight air of nervousness surrounding him like a cloud, but that didn’t stop him from opening up to his family in ways few would understand or expect. Madin was nodding thoughtfully as she listened to him, pulling out a chair so that she could also sit with everyone else.

“I, for one, don’t understand the Anselmi’s goals in the long run.” He leaned against the table’s edge closest to the kitchen as he finished his explanation. “Oh hey, I’m Forta.” He gave Maul a small two-fingered salute as his introduction.

“Out of the way, out of the way,” Feral chuckled as he waved his kids away with one arm and set down a large serving platter with another. Forta scurried over to Savage’s side, where he marveled at the sturdiness of his uncle’s armor. He began going on about various materials found throughout the galaxy, and was gushing about Beskar, while Terren tried to convince him that no one wanted to hear his boring facts.

Sitting down beside his wife, Feral rubbed Madin’s back while the three boys hurried to their seats across from them.

“You know…” he began slowly, considering the environment. “I didn’t think this sort of thing was possible, getting off of Dathomir… having something more than what we were told was allowed.” He glanced over at Savage, who met his eyes and looked down. “But I get to have all of this… and I’m so glad that you two get to be a part of that now, too. So… I guess what I’m trying to say is… Thank you. For everything.”

#feral #savage opress #maul #darth maul

69 notes · View notes

itcannotbrain · 4 years

Photo

(( First of all, look at this amazing, gaudy Nautolan I made. I love him. :D ))

Many Acolytes would have loved for a Sith Lord or, even better, a Darth to notice them. That was one of the better ways to add to the chances that one might survive the Sith Academy.

Pikxei, however, was typically happy to not have them notice him or, at least, not notice him in a way that would make them do anything but sneer some comment about aliens or colours. Neither particularly bothered him; he could hardly change the fact that he wasn't human or Sith and many things that were either venomous, poisonous, dangerous, or a combination of any of those things were brightly coloured.

Unfortunately, there always was the risk that it would attract attention and the luck that had kept it from attracting attention beyond the superficial seemed to have just run out.

"Look at you!" Standing much more quickly than one might have expected from someone looking Bi'ev's age and standing rather a lot shorter than one might have expected for one of the Sith Purebloods, Bi'ev managed to do both, leaving his tuk'ata to raise its head lazily then lower it again, seemingly dozing off once more as its Master moved away. The Overseer that the much shorter Pureblood had been speaking with appeared to be momentarily shocked that their conversation had been so jarringly cut off by Bi'ev standing from his previous position of using the Qorit as a sort of reclining, living chair on the Academy floor.

"What are y--no, no, wrong question, wrong question, you're clearly Nautolan. A very colourful one at that..." Bi'ev trailed off, staring in a way that Pikxei couldn't easily determine, doubly so since it didn’t appear that Bi’ev was looking at him so much as sort of through him; if the small man with the large, hideous Sith beast was missing a few screws it was likely he was still well enough in terms of skill to be just fine with a few screws missing.

If it was an act, it was a good one, enough to make him vaguely nervous.

Pikxei had a passing thought that perhaps this Darth might be on some kind of spice but he wasn't acting anything but a bit--scatterbrained, and that might have been nothing more than personality.

Pikxei stood, patiently waiting for Bi'ev to catch up with--Bi'ev, evidently.

"Name!" The metallic claws on the Pureblood's gloves made a sound that put Pikxei's teeth on edge as fingers snapped when Bi'ev...sort of remembered what he'd been trying to ask. Without a word, the snapping gesture fluidly moved into a sharp clawed shoving away of the Academy Overseer who had tried to re-insert himself into the conversation, though whether that attempt had been made for Bi'ev's benefit or Pikxei's, Pikxei wasn't certain.

"Yours, I mean. You were standing there long enough to have overheard mine before whichever Overseer's," the Overseer who was, of course, still standing well within earshot, "concerns I was pretending to take seriously."

The Nautolan blinked slowly, "Pikxei, my Lord."

"Pixie? Not what I would have expected, but--"

"No, my Lord," internally, he cringed at having just interrupted a Darth to repeat his name a little more slowly, "Pik-zae."

"It still sounds like Pixie, only with a z somewhere in it. You look like one--I--no, not really, you're a great deal larger, but you do look like the sort of person who would be called Pixie with all the angles and colours."

Whatever that was supposed to mean. Bi'ev's vague gestures to Pikxei in general didn't exactly give him any clues as to what in the hell he meant by that.

So, he just stood there.

And Bi'ev just stood there. Long enough, in fact, that Pikxei wondered if he'd somehow fallen asleep standing upright.

"Hey," Bi'ev lazily beckoned for the Overseer to step closer and join them, "anyone got their eye on this one?"

"Yes, my Lord, Lord H--"

Bi'ev cut him off, "I didn't really care, I was just asking as a formality. Go ahead and tell Lord Hhhh--whatever it is you were going to say that it's mine now and if that's a problem Lord Hhhh can feel free to scream at the walls of their house about it because my calendar is packed and I don't read mail from people who want to argue about which Acolyte belongs to who."

"Alternately," Bi’ev continued as he fished what looked to be a cookie out of a small bad and shoved it into his mouth, “Lord Hhhh can try and catch me at work but I'm just going to make them go and talk to Kosha about it because already dislike Kosha and now dislike Lord Hhhh on principle."

"Darth Aculeatus, you know full well that's not how it works..." The Overseer, rather than sounding angry or even annoyed, simply sounded very, very tired.

"Right, maybe, but if I go and start killing people like Lord Hhhh then I have to take on responsibility for everything of theirs and I don't want everything of theirs despite not knowing what all it is they've got, I just want the Pixie apprentice. Look at him! Why would you ever claim something like that then just let it wander around where any other Sith could just take it?"

"The alien is an Acolyte, my Lord."

"Overseer, do you ever get tired of being wrong every time you say words?" Bi'ev canted his head to one side, cheerful as he'd sounded the entire time.

Qorit, however, slowly and deliberately opened one eye to keep it on the Overseer. The old Tuk'ata never really cared to get up and move if he didn't have to but, if he had to, it wasn't bound to end terribly well for whatever caused him to be required to get up and move. This time, however, it was only Bi'ev that had given the indication and the beast walked past the Overseer, interrupting his attempts to circle back and not be incorrect by knocking him over.

"That's Qorit," Bi'ev carefully grabbed Pikxei's forearm and started just--walking toward one of the shuttle landing areas, "Probably should be guarding a tomb somewhere but there's not really anyone buried in it that I can say I particularly care for and there's nothing worth looting in there so why not let looters waste their time?"

The beast made some sort of sound that Pikxei couldn't determine; it sounded like it was a few words that were both an acknowledgement, and possibly a dry joke. He'd only ever seen the feral ones on Korriban, not one that had been kept and tended to or that didn't immediately lunge at the nearest living thing.

What he noticed, however, was that they'd passed the area where private ships would typically leave a shuttle and were at the one place the--public one between Korriban and Dromund Kaas ran. He must have made some kind of face about it because it elicited a response.

"Do you know how much fuel it takes to run even the smallest thing I've got that holds me, him," he patted Qorit's spiny head, "and at least one other relatively normal sized humanoid type creature? And how many credits that runs?"

Pikxei shook his head, "I--no, my Lord, I don't."

"More than I'm willing to pay for what amounts to commuting; plus, nobody will talk to you on the public nightmare ship if you've got either a lightsaber, a tuk'ata, or both. You can do anything you want, and they'll just pretend they don't see and won't try to strike up conversation at all--not that I do particularly much but sit there and read, but you know." Bi'ev shrugged.

"It's cheaper, and I don't have to drive! Or hire someone to do it for me.

There was probably a response to that that was correct. Somehow. Pikxei, however, had no idea what that might be and thought it best to sort of nod and follow the small old Sith and his comically large by comparison horror dog onto the shuttle to Dromund Kaas.

#swtor #Bi'ev used to be a Very Serious Sithy Sith #then something like 7 years of RP happened #and he just went the route of you're all insane and I can't deal with any of you people sober #and used the entire fact that he specifically works in the genetic engineering of plants #to crank up the 'how stoned will this make you?' factor of more than one thing up to #it'll make people wonder if a really old previously hair trigger tempered sith somehow #switched to jedi and didn't tell anyone #He's been consistently high as a kite for almost five years now #sith

10 notes · View notes

flashthescalesian-art · 4 years

Text

Xanathe Tess facts

My second padawan gal needs some development, so here’s some stuff about her. (I need to give her a reference, but until then, I’ll describe her here)

-Nautolan/Pantoran hybrid, but takes after her Pantoran side more in appearance with the blue skin and pastel pink hair, as well as some light green tattoos on her cheeks and chin (the tattoos don’t really have a finalized design yet). Her Nautolan features are her dark eyes, mottled skin, and her gills, which are located on either side of her head, above and behind her ears.

-her gills aren’t fully functional, so she can only stay underwater for 4-5 hours, she can’t live underwater.

-despite having the dark Nautolan eyes, her night vision really isn’t all that good

-due to being half Pantoran, she can swim in freezing cold water and be completely fine. This girl does not get cold.

-goes by just Xana usually.

-15-19 years old, depending on what point in the war we’re talking about. (She’s 15 at the start of the war)

-uses a single turquoise lightsaber

-She doesn’t remember her parents, but she was told her dad was the Pantoran, and her mom was the Nautolan.

-She has a naturally bubbly personality, but she tones it down around people who she isn’t too sure about yet. She’s outgoing and makes friends pretty easily. Absolute sweetheart and will do anything for her friends.

-loves snuggles

-she and her master Nyla Ta’em work with the Coruscant Guard because the Council decided the Guard should have Jedi help them with civilian affairs like protests and riots since a lot of civilians aren’t nice to the clones and only treat them worse if they stand up for themselves. Nyla and Xana help keep things from escalating, and protect the clones when things do get out of control.

-due to working with the Coruscant Guard, Xana befriends Thorn, Thire, and Fox, although it takes Fox longer to warm up to her. Once he warms up to her, it becomes common to find Xana taking a nap with Fox or helping him with his headaches.

-Xana befriends Thorn first, and the two of them goof off together. Thorn encourages Xana to be an absolutely feral child, much to Fox’s dismay.

-Xanathe and Thorn is my new BROTP, okay???

-she sees the entire Guard as her brothers.

-don’t let this kid have more than one cup of caf, or she turns into a feral little crackhead who will fight literally anything if it hurts her clone bros.

-befriends Kitsune, and by extension Ahsoka since Kitsune is friends with Ahsoka

#Xanathe Tess #my OC: Xanathe Tess #Jedi OC #Jedi #jedi padawan #star wars oc #star wars #the clone wars #Flash’s OC facts

10 notes · View notes

sithsdoinshit · 5 years

Note

If each of them could bring one person back, who would it be, and why? (Though I think I already know the answer for at least one of them)

welp here comes the sadness train

vader: padme seems like the obvious choice, but he’d probably be torn between her and his mother. both meant the world to him.

sidious: darth plagueis, so he can kill him again

maul: assuming savage is already alive in this verse, he would bring back a certain nautolan that he once knew..

savage: again, let’s assume feral is alive here. it’d be a tough choice, since he’s lost so many, but there is probably another nightbrother out there he was close to.

asajj: she has lost so many throughout her life, but if she had to choose.. probably a nightsister. mother talzin, probably. people from her recent past that know her as she is now, and not who she once was.

dooku: if his old padawan wasn’t so dedicated to the light side, he’d bring him back. but why bring qui-gon back when dooku might inevitably face him in battle?... no. he couldn’t do that.

kylo: han, purely for his mother. kylo would be scared shitless, wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye, but... that doesn’t matter. he has to bring his father back for leia.

nihilus: he has lost so much...so many people that he can’t even remember. he considers using it on himself, to bring back who he once was, but he’s not sure if he even wants that to happen anymore. perhaps he will give the wish to someone else.

grievous: though grievous immediately thinks of her, he’s terrified of what ronderu would think of him as he is now. being rejected by her would be worse than death. maybe... he should stick with gor.

inquisitor: no matter how much he came to despise the jedi order, he still cared deeply for the friends he made there. the former temple guard would quietly revive his closest friend to live out their life, keeping his distance from them.

lana: honestly? she’d try and see if she could keep this opportunity for the future. there’s just too many deceased friends of hers to choose one. and who’s to say they won’t die again?

#cw death #hi i'm ronnie and i'm very sad #sith #darth vader #darth sidious #darth maul #savage opress #asajj ventress #dooku #kylo #darth nihilus #general grievous #grand inquisitor #lana beniko #anon #ask

54 notes · View notes

doorsclosingslowly · 7 years

Text

Thank You But Your Princess Is In Another Castle

On the six-hundred-and-forty-fourth day, Savage Opress steals a Sith apprentice.

(Or: The one in which Talzin sends Savage out thirteen standard years earlier, and he meanders around the galaxy in a very slow spaceship.)

3.5k | AO3

The first day, Savage forgets before it is even over.

There’s a bed in a cordoned-off section of his shuttle’s cargo hold, and he crashes face-down onto it, heavy and almost gone with magic. His bones still throb and crackle. He fears they might wear through his skin, as if it wasn’t weathered and thick but soft as a palm-bird's wings, almost melting on the tongue. Feral used to like… No. Do not think of him, something hooked deep in his skull orders. He deserved everything he got.

Savage shakes.

(Seconds or hours before, he stumbled into the cockpit of the old Sheathipede-class transport shuttle the Sisters provided him with, and turned on the autopilot, drained of everything but this last act of obedience. In his blindness, he programmed it wrongly: The ship will take him to Glee Anselm, not Mustafar, but it is still a few days until he will rage over this mistake.)

Something drips from his front horn onto the musty bedsheet. Blood.

He has either torn a hole in the ship’s doorway, or it in him.

(“He is ready, Sisters,” the Mother said, and the ground fell away from his feet. She stroked his arm, almost steadying. “He will find my lost son.”)

He dreams that there is blood crusted under his fingernails. It grows, clots pulsing and twisting like a living thing—like the way his brother’s neck doesn’t, now—it grows until the tissue ruptures, and the nails burst off the stumps of his fingers. It burns. It flows and it rises, and when Savage tastes it, he knows it is his. There is no blood, he thinks. There was no fight. He was weak.

When he wakes two days later, his fingernails are chewed down to the bed.

He doesn't know why.

There was never any blood.

On the twenty-ninth day, the Sheathipede’s hyperdrive dies. Savage is in the orbit of the ice-world of Elbara Nine when it happens, and he's just had to report to Mother Talzin that he failed, for the second time, to reach his brother. He is too proud to ask for help now.

Two days he drifts through space, attempting to make the repairs himself and failing, and then a grouchy duros hails him from her beat-up shuttle. She offers her services as a mechanic at an extortionary rate; Savage threatens her and takes her ship. But violence doesn't propel him closer to his brother: Her spaceship, it turns out, is not hyperspace-capable at all.

After the aborted getaway, he slinks back to her. She tows the shuttle back onto the frozen surface, and for the next four months, Savage trades muscle for parts and food and company.

The engine is never as fast as it used to be, afterwards.

(Two months into their new life, Savage will finally dare to unshackle his brother. He’ll consider it a hasty decision, afterwards: Immediately, Maul will pin Savage's terrified body against the wall with the mental power Sisters command. For a second, he’ll crush his windpipe.

He’ll ignore Savage’s pleas and saunter into the cockpit.

One look at the read-outs, and he'll come back, and hiss at Savage in mortal offense.

Maul will commandeer the ship. He'll set it down on a deserted moon, and spend a week in the guts of the Sheathipede. After a while, he’ll start muttering to himself, about screwdrivers and wasting technology on incapable apprentices, and he’ll get absolutely covered in engine grease.

Savage will laugh, quietly and startled, hiding it behind his hands. He will leave food on the steps. From a safe distance, he'll watch the food disappear, and the walls of the ship grow bright and gleaming, and then he'll sneak back into the ship’s belly for fear his brother will speed off alone, so fast that Savage will never have a chance to catch up again.)

Savage runs through Cloud City. There’s only one thing in his mind: The amulet glows. He’s landed, and the amulet still glows. On the way to the Pair o’ Dice casino from Mother Talzin’s crystal, he crashes into a hooded black-robed traveller. There’s something long and hard hidden at the man’s hip, he notices when he frantically picks himself up again, but there’s no time for wondering. Without a glance back, he speeds around the corner and runs and runs.

His brother is here.

The square in front of the casino is busy, and Savage is violently elbowing his way through the crowd towards a side door—no thoughts given to what his brother will think of him, he only knows he needs to be there—when a shout makes him stop.

“Chuba! Yeah, you. Wouldn’t go in there just now!” It’s a twi’lek, smoking outside the door he’s aiming for. She’s clad in a heavy anorak over a baggy suit, and there are bottlenecks sticking out of every pocket. She pulls one out and drinks.

“Bar brawl?” Savage asks, to distract her. Not even this drunk will keep him from his brother.

Unfortunately, she takes it as an invitation. “I wish, dude,” she says. “Could sneak in then and snatch the tip jar, no problem. ‘ve done it before. Don’t tell Rahrrrk, okay, big guy? He’s been wonderin’…” She sighs, and then she takes another swig from her bottle. Ms SOCVUMO, bartender. #1 best Bespin drinks!!!, the nameplate on her shirt proclaims.

“No, someone’s been murdered. Head clean cut off, wasn’t pretty. No blood though, which is good ‘cause I’m not scrubbing that shit off again. Real shame as well, big tipper. Mafia guy, I think. Black Sun? Not Syndicate because I kriffing hate them, and he was decent. Real well travelled too, and respectful.” She stares unabashedly at the patterns on Savage’s face and continues, “We both know how rare that is, don’t we. Was one of us, as well, not a human, so… Real shame.”

A dead traveller? It can’t be him. (If he is dead, he was weak!)

Savage has already lost one brother.

“And now the cops are in my bar and going through my cabinets. I’m lucky if they don’t find the vintage kibshae. Black holes, the lot of ‘em. Already kissed the accarrgm goodbye. Fuckin’ sleemo pigs, eh? May spice salt their every kriffing orifice…”

She keeps talking, but Savage has tuned her out. He fumbles for the amulet in his pocket. The glow is bright, and then it stutters and dims, but it doesn’t burn out.

Savage is too relieved to care that his brother’s flown off.

Again.

“… trying to run a business here, if I let every single…” Ms Socvumo trails off. “Sod it, who cares. Night’s already ruined, might as well have fun. Let’s turn this buzz into something worth forgetting. You in, stranger?”

(The next morning, he’ll wince at the screech when he scores the one-hundred-and-ninety-eighth notch into the ship’s hull. He’s never noticed that sound before.

Distantly, there is also the paranoia that last night he talked about more feelings than he is supposed to have.)

In the rare moments when he isn’t resentful of his brother for keeping him from his home for an entire year—it doesn’t occur to him to wonder whether the Mother's crystal might be faulty—he is impressed at the breadth of the galaxy his brother has covered.

He entertains himself with guessing the business his brother does. Auditor at the IBC. Bodyguard. Delivery service, albeit in a much faster ship. His brother is rich, Savage decides. Happy, not in the way he and Feral (weakling) are… were, together in their hut or when the hunt had been good, or out playing ball in the morning sun. His brother is happy in the way Savage has seen on his travels. He’s lounging next to the shadow cast by a beach umbrella, pulling a face as he tries black mulch mold and doesn’t like it. His friends are ringing with laughter. No, better: He is in a jungle, sparring with a young nautolan and grinning in exhilaration.

His brother is successful, and strong, and when Savage catches up with him, he will welcome him. A traitorous thought bubbles up and is quickly burst: He will take Savage’s hand, and say, “Come with me,” and they will go.

They will be free.

It does not cross Savage’s mind that he could, in fact, walk away himself at any time. He is a social creature: If there is any chance at all of being with his brother, he will take it.

(They’ll be on the run for months before Maul finally declares that he’ll teach Savage how to kill someone bare-handedly.

“I already know how to fight,” Savage will protest.

Maul will smirk at him. He’ll kick Savage in the head, and use Savage’s disorientation to pull his legs out from under him with dizzying precision. Then he’ll sit on his brother for half an hour, pressing his elbows in Savage’s solar plexus and enjoying the pleas for mercy. “I’m a Sith,” is all he’ll say when Savage complains how unfair it is, and that it didn’t show him how to do those moves one bit.)

When Savage finally meets his brother in the flesh, he has many thoughts, and one that matters.

It is the six-hundred-and-forty-fourth day of his journey, and Savage doesn’t sneak onto Coruscant. He doesn’t need to. Savage needs to eat, and a year ago, when it had become obvious his mission wouldn’t soon end with him back on Dathomir, triumphant—when he had commed the Mother often enough on arrival to yet another strange planet and had to report that the amulet had grown dark, again… when he had grown resigned to his exile, that’s when he had established himself as a one-man hauling crew. It’s a competitive business, and the Sheathipede’s hyperdrive is too old and slow to take urgent missions, and the money is dire, but at least there’s always someone who needs something shipped to Dorvalla, no questions asked, or to Coruscant again and again, or to the Tharin sector or Mustafar or wherever else Mother Talzin’s crystal ball sends him this month.

Today, he has delivered two tons of frozen Mygeeto beetle eggs to a delicatessen in the business district.

Now, he uses the downtime before negotiating the inevitable next haul to fulfil his real purpose, scoping out the building the Mother has told him about. He wastes less than a millisecond glancing half-heartedly at the amulet—it glows brightly, not that Savage notices—and then he sets off to The Works.

The weapons manufacturing facility the Mother has sent him to is ancient, and with a quick blow to the door lock, he lets himself in.

He doesn’t spend much time casing out the rooms or paying attention, truthfully. He just walks in, and out: There are millions of them—he might even have to stay for another week, to complete the search—and what is he going to see but yet another empty room? (More than a year of searching, of always being too late, of dropping out of hyperspace and finding the amulet’s glow dim—an eternity of lonely exile will do that to you.)

He doesn’t think much, not in the way he believes thoughts should happen. Not in grand plans, in philosophies. It is the purview of the Sisters. Not in thoughts of home, of hugs and dinner (“I know you don’t like it blue, Savage, but I’m cooking today and I don’t care!”), not often anymore.

He thinks in pain, and in exclamations of Brother and Mercy and I thought this doorway was higher, and just today and forever he also thinks, He’s short.

(This is the one that he’ll remember. He’ll treasure it, wrap it up in rags and bury it deep in the cavity next to his hearts, and later, when someone will ask Savage, “How did you meet?”, it’ll be this thought that claws its way to the surface again.

And Savage will say, “He beat me half to death and I couldn’t retaliate because he looked twelve,” and he’ll laugh.)

It doesn’t matter that it isn’t the first thought.

It doesn’t matter that it isn’t the literal truth, that he actually fights back—that his first thought is Help! when a cowled shadow drops onto him from a nook in the ceiling that Savage has overlooked.

Surprise at the weight on his back is quickly followed by various expressions of pain. He only sees skinny patterned forearms before there are dark finger pads millimeters from his eyes, and he has to force them shut. They grope around, seeking to tear off nostrils and quickly retreating from Savage’s snapping teeth. He tastes salt and copper. Though he isn’t blinded, with his eyes closed he might as well be, and it still hurts. His attacker forces their claws into weak spots Savage hadn’t even known he had.

The creature on his back is hissing, and suddenly Savage can’t breathe. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to fail this mission, he thinks, and then: I didn’t even notice when they slipped the garrotte over my head.

He can’t break it. He has no leverage. He can’t even reach the attacker, who’s still hanging onto his back. His back, which is close to—

He smashes his head against the wall. The attacker yowls, skull caught between the stone and the sharpness of Savage’s horns, and Savage does it again. The crunch is satisfying. Maybe he’ll impale an eye. Maybe he’ll pierce the skull. He will not be stopped. This is for you, brother, Savage thinks. I will save you.

After the third strike, the garrotte clatters to the floor.

The attacker follows.

Breathing heavily, Savage turns around and looks at them, down on the ground. They’re short. Clad in pools of black robe, face swallowed by a massive cowl, and even with Savage’s night vision, he can only barely guess that the creature isn’t ball-shaped, in spite of the way the cloth has spilled out around them. The robes smell acridly of sweat and ozone and something else, Savage notices when he bends down to ascertain whether his attacker is still alive. It’s not prudent, the creature could be playing dead, but still—he should know.

Savage will have to run, and fast, if they’re dead. He is not to attract attention.

He will have to kill them if they aren’t.

Savage grabs the attacker with trembling hands, and roughly pulls them up. The robes billow, and their breathing grows louder: A whining sound. They don’t reach his chin.

(The Mother’s hoarse voice, and unsteady feet. He looks down at Her—shouldn’t he look straight ahead? The ground has left him. A brother—a test of loyalty. A prisoner. Nothing more. It is important. Good. This is the way it has always been. The way it is. This is his future.

“Kill him,” the Mother says.

The brother is no more.)

Savage fumbles on his belt for the blessed rope the Mother gave him. His hands vibrate so much that he almost drops it. He doesn’t. Soon, he’s bound the cowled creature’s arms tightly to their body. He will have to leave the rope there. He isn’t meant to lose it—the Mother clips it to his belt and says, “When you bring Maul to me, there might be certain… complications,” and Savage understands, and he doesn’t. Why would his brother fight? Doesn’t he want to come home?

When he looks up to check whether the creature is secured, that’s when he notices the hood has slipped. The attacker’s face is patterned in red and black. It couldn’t be—Savage should fetch the amulet, he should, and—all other thoughts are razed from his mind. None of them matter.

This is my brother.

He’s short.

(It will always be Savage’s truth: My brother is tiny, I couldn’t fight him. Anything else would hurt too much.)

He clears the cabin-bed of the pants and the ready-meal packs and the blankets that he’s been hoarding, and puts his still-unconscious brother down. Letting go is harder than carrying him for kilometers through Coruscant’s bustling industrial district. He didn’t even break a sweat, then.

(In what feels like another lifetime, Feral had wandered off into the forest with some of his friends. He sprained his ankle running after a veeka-bird, and so his friends went and called for Savage. Feral was alive and happy on his shoulders when Savage carried him back to the village, and so very heavy. He nearly put his back out.)

This new brother weighs nothing.

So instead of settling on the floor and waiting for Maul to wake up, or making any kind of plan for what he’ll do once that happens, Savage busies himself rooting through the meal containers he’s amassed. The rancor meat one that he packed back on Dathomir—the one that he’s been saving for special occasions—is off, already. Savage throws it into the trash without a second glance. Soon, he’ll have the real thing again.

He’s in the process of inspecting his brother to determine whether he’s more of a burra fish or a poultry person when he realizes the eyes are open.

“Brother,” he says.

Maul glares at him.

“You are the brother I’ve been searching for,” Savage repeats. “Brother, I have found you. I’ll bring you back home to Dathomir. Mother Talzin is waiting for you.”

It might be the ropes, Savage realizes belatedly. And the fight. It’s probably unreasonable to expect his brother to be happy when he’s tied up. He must take them off, the Mother’s cryptic warnings be damned.

He kneels down to untie them. He lifts his right hand.

Faster than Savage’s eyes can process, Maul throws his torso forward and bites the index finger off.

“No! Wait, brother,” Savage gasps, scrambling backwards and cradling the injured stump against his chest. Why didn’t the Mother tell him what to say? His back hits the cabin wall. “Do you remember who you are, where you came from?”

Maul chews on the digit, and spews it at Savage’s feet. “I am apprentice to the most powerful being in the galaxy,” he hisses.

“Sorry,” Savage says.

(He doesn’t mean it yet, not in that way. He’s just apologizing for derailing his brother’s clearly awesome life.

It’ll take time for the suspicions to take root, but half a year later, Savage will stop sleeping through the night. He’ll set the computer to beep every hour, just loud enough to wake him and not Maul, and he’ll tip-toe to his brother’s blanket pile. There will be no screams. There are never any screams. Sometimes, though, there'll be eyes moving frantically in their sockets, and then Savage will whisper, “It’s a good thing we didn’t find your Master. Someone wouldn’t have walked away breathing from that fight,” and dump a cup of ice-cold water onto his brother’s head.)

“Unhand me now,” Savage’s brother snarls.

“I’m sorry, brother. The Mother wants to talk to you,” Savage repeats. Surely he’ll understand? He is a nightbrother, it is bred in his bones. She calls, and they obey.

Maul doesn’t dignify him with a response. He just grins, baring his teeth. (They don’t look so good: If they were home, Savage would scold him for having been at the soft food too often, and only give him bones to crack and chew from now on.)

Savage returns a tentative smile.

Nothing happens at first, but after a minute of just sitting there, Maul starts glowering. Then, the rope he’s been hogtied with begins to emit a faint green light, and Savage remembers: His brother is strong in the force. This is Mother Talzin’s force-suppressant blessed rope.

Maul will stay where he is, and he’ll have more time to convince him yet.

After a few minutes of basking in the company of his seething brother, the console starts beeping. It’s a new message from the Mother, who is surely expecting another report of Savage’s failures. He imagines surprising Her, conjures up Her proud face when he reports that he has found Maul, and then discards the thought. It’s never been him She was interested in. Once She sees Maul, She will never look at him again. He thinks he should feel wistful. He is relieved.

Savage keeps looking at his brother’s sullen face, and then he remembers the other one, and the feel of warm orange skin under his hands. The feel of the neck. It happened once, it could happen again. Savage remembers wide disbelieving eyes begging him, “Savage, you know me. I am your kin. Do not do this. No! Brother! Brother, please!” He doesn’t feel angry anymore.

There is crusted blood under his fingernails that isn’t there.

He glances at the navcomputer for a second, and then he looks away and sets the coordinates blindly. He turns on the hyperdrive. Next, he puts his fist through the comm system. It dies with a shower of sparks and the beeps stop, and he knows he’s made the right decision.

Savage has already lost one brother.

This one, he’ll never give back.

(Much later, they’ll run into Brother Viscus. Savage will stare down at him, at this man he used to be at eye-level with, Before.

And he will realize: It’s not Maul's height that's weird.)

#savage opress #darth maul #aka the tenses disaster fic #thanks again everyone who helped me out when i forgot how tenses work!#dimtraces makes things #star wars

3 notes · View notes