satellitewar-archived

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this blog is now archived, find me at @satellitewar

[satellitewar-archived]

this blog is now archived, find me at @satellitewar

[satellitewar-archived]

this blog is now archived, find me at @satellitewar

[satellitewar-archived]

this blog is now archived, find me at @satellitewar

[satellitewar-archived]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ I will / have travel(ed) far beyond the path of reason.

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here is my super non controversial hear me out cake because my best friends all live in different states and countries and i can't collaborate with them so i had to do it digitally

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thankfully, @adamanteine is more than amenable to arra's recommendation. a compromise. from the safety of this hidden room, the princess can find safety and command her armies as need be — her main priority, as is expected, is the safety of her people. narbarad is formidable, but nowhere near fortified enough to take hours of a monstrous onslaught. they must act quickly... and soon.

arra keeps her eyes open and stretches out with the force, searching for danger in the immediate area. when she's certain they are safe, she guides shams down the paths designated by the map she found (paper, crisp, ancient and tender in her hands) and to the wall that speaks as a door. a little of shams' magic (not invisible like the force — this is clearly defined by light and heat, a power arra is startled and intrigued by) and the door appears, cracking open. cool marble greets their eyes. arra smiles. "you are as capable as you are beautiful, your grace. i never would have uncovered that without you. let's go in."

as she always does, arra enters new rooms with a keen eye. she checks for danger. she searches for problems, for weaknesses, and finds none. none. nothing will infiltrate a space so hidden. turning to shams, arra nods with satisfaction. "this will make the perfect war room, your highness. let's set up and get communications out to your generals at once. the separatists will not wait around for us to be ready." though she dives into action, arra still addresses shams behind her, wanting to keep her close. "you've been here before," she muses, her voice soft and fond despite the dire circumstances. "good memories in this room, shams? i can see it on your face."

``     that's a compromise i'm willing to make. let's go, then.     `` she nods her head towards arra, letting her protection pass through her like a blessing she could not accept. it was too late for her to be worrying about that now. if she did not act quickly, her people will be the one in danger and they have already paid their dues multiple times. still, she raised her head to look at the top of the roof, imagining a halo of starlight and moonlight was there. it was as if she was doomed to be here, all alone and trying to make sense of how it all began. like the start of a book she had to keep re - reading over and over again to try and understand the past. she couldn’t give up now, no. no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t, not after all this time. not with everything that's at risk. she will accept the repetition of her past a thousand times before she watches an innocent soul get hurt. something was wrong, she could feel it. and the memories spilled out onto the weather worn pages again, incoherent inky letters slowly swirling into something legible.

despite the fact that she was inside, she could feel the heat of sun bearing down upon her with a vengeance she had never known it could possess. she was used to it, but she knows that it kept anyone else beaten and downed, unable to do anything at all as the waves rushed over them again and again. she stands in front of the door that they are supposed to enter as she listens to her speak. it was true: her magic was not only something that could give them passage, but it is the only thing. she remembers it quite clearly. she'd spent hours after hours in this room, hiding away from everyone when she was merely a girl. she had always just wanted to lay there and dream, but even she knew that this was childish. she moves her fingers to channel her magic, white rays transmitting off her hand. in a matter of seconds, the wall that seemed perfectly impassable cracked open and the very room they were discussing appeared in front of them. its essence was marble, beautiful and utterly unreadable. this was a space that did not want anybody breaking through into its soul. she tilts her head at her, then, silently telling her to enter. ``     here it is.     ``

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he watches barbara's eyes dive to a distance din can't follow. she's staring out the viewport as if the stars have all the answers, as if a simple gaze into the distance will solve all her problems. he's patient with her, seeing her do this. din doesn't rush a response from the silence — he realizes she's battling a lot of terrifying feelings at the moment, many surrounding her home planet, her father... that's why the mandalorian says nothing and remains still. she'll answer when she's ready. she'll find her way through the fog when it feels best.

i don't know where she is. well... not the response din was hoping for. @ioracle continues. she likes to move around a lot. relatable. din can sympathize with the behavior. i can try to contact her. that's better. his helmet tilts towards her. "yes. i do." under the weight of all his beskar, din takes a deep breath, stands, and lumbers out of the cockpit. he doesn't say anything more, even when he returns with the transmitter in question and sets it down into barbara's hands. a single nod tells her go on. find her. we made a deal.

from the depths of the razor crest comes a coo, then a whine and a small cry. din releases a second sigh (heavier than the first) and once again leaves the cockput to check on grogu. "i'll be right back," his filtered voice murmurs, clipped syllables indicating his slight annoyance... but it really is only slight. he leaves barbara there at the helm, the ship on autopilot, the transmitter ready to locate the jedi they need.

barbara wishes she knew what was going on inside his head. for the most part she considers herself a good judge of character, a good reader of people - but she can't get a handle on him. the mandalorian seems closed off and cold. the typical bounty hunter type. but then she had seen him with the child. grogu, she thinks he'd called him. even behind all that armour she can sense the change in his demeanour. it's like his entirely body softens. it's sweet, actually. he clearly cares very deeply.

a shaky breath passes from her lips. a sudden shiver passes down her spine. no doubt the adrenaline is fading from her veins, her body catching up with the shock of what she's been through. her mind realising she has no idea what she's going to do next. her home planet long gone, taking her father with it. gaze flickers to the door she knows grogu is behind. if she listens closely she can hear his soft snores, and it's enough to bring a soft smile to her lips. okay . . fine, she's grown rather fond of him, too.

❝ well - it's mutual. ❞ gaze turns to her companion, a slight tilt to her head. another shiver rolls down her back, but this one born of something else. she can't tell for sure, but there's a feeling in the pit of her stomach that beneath the mask there's a locking of gazes. an understanding passing between them. head nods, and it feels like a million unspoken words. i think i get you, now. ❝ it's a deal. ❞ she lets a beat pass before looking away, back to the stars that surround them. pads of her fingers press against the cool glass window, as if reaching for the stars themselves. she really has missed being at the helm of a ship. ❝ i don't know where she is - she likes to move around a lot, but i can try to contact her. do you have a transmitter? ❞

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at least thane doesn't sugarcoat things. his blunt approach is helpful, not hurtful — garrus would rather hear the absolute truth than a watered down version, especially when lives are at stake. "it's a shame they don't make costumes for drell and turians to look more human." garrus plods after thane, eyes trained forward, focus drawn away from the staring crowds. "why doesn't cerberus invest a little time in that technology? might be useful." it's a lighthearted remark intent on making the drell smile. that's the goal, aside from surviving this party — their first mission together as teammates deserves a little friendly bonding time between strangers. "you might have an easier time of that sort of thing than i do. i don't exactly sound very human when i speak. they might pick up on my deception."

away from the party now, garrus watches @praesparo as he approaches a door blocking their way. it's locked. "any luck with that?" garrus asks over thane's shoulder. "i could try, but i'm not sure how well i'd do. it's just a security door." while shepard heads for the vault, he and thane are tasked with disabling the building's security. an important task, of course, and garrus knows he and thane are ready for whatever lingers within. "might be a big crowd in there. be ready."

                    the crew of the normandy were diverse, to say the least. various backgrounds & species united under the presence, promise & command of one woman in particular. there were rare occasions where they weren't lead by her resolve, resolving to situations like this. one turian & one drell attempting to blend into a primarily human party. it was going as well as it could, which wasn't that well. thane thought it best to ensure their escape was secured over all else, which lead him to somehow believe that another had memorised the plans. safe to say, it escaped him. an oversight he won't repeat again. though, he hadn't earned this reputation without being adaptable.

                    ❝ i thought you were tasked with that? my apologies, vakarian. ❞ blunt as usual, yet his tone was lighter than usual. he wasn't arrogant to garrus's way of expressing humour, even if it was as professional as he could make it. they weren't friends, nor were they trusted allies. they were, however, allied under one goal & loyalty to another. that alone made them exceptional comrades together. thane decides to hide his gun for now as they move through busier parts of the complex. the drell nods, grunting with approval. ❝ agreed. the sooner we retreat from prying eyes, the better. we're not blending in as well as shepard & kasumi ought to be.  ❞ a beat, thane swiftly turning in the agreed direction. ❝ come on. ❞

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he's silently relieved when she stands. as politely and discreetly as the mandalorian can, he monitors @the-replay as they rise, hidden eyes locked on her movements in case of a stumble, in case of an extra layer of pain she wasn't anticipating. gloved hands hover near, but give padmé the space they need as the two of them resume their trek to the ship. she claims to have an idea, a good location where they can take grogu, and din, already struggling for answers, is ready to accept that help.

the razor crest isn't far, just as he promised. he lowers the gangway and guides padmé up the ramp, up to where grogu's hovering pram waits. a coo of greeting floats from a tiny mouth and pointy ears, and din, as he passes, gives the child's head a small touch to say hi.

"do you know the coordinates?" din heads for the cockpit, passing padmé on his way there. he opens the door, slides into the smaller space, and drops into his leather seat at the controls. "i'll get us out of here, and then we can..." do what? "... talk." just what he wants.

Their life existences in an interesting continuum, containing both defining chapters and a constant buzzing just below. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She cannot separate the past from the now, nor would she want to: ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎and yet this moment seems to exist on its own. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It's a technique, breathed in with closed eyes, breathed out with a gentle sigh. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎They exist now, they cannot separate themselves from the body, or the ground, or the Mandalorian before her. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The cycle repeats once, repeats twice, and when her eyes open, a hand shoots out.

❛❛ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎I'm not worrying.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❜❜ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Her tone sounds almost mocking, but it's said with a smirk, a sort of kindness. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Some people may say this is just a job, tell her to take it seriously, and just get it done: ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎protect the youngling, and keep her tone in a box where it belongs‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ (there's a flashback, a lesson there, of a young queen with eyes over her shoulder around every turn), ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎but hasn't life been hard enough on him? ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎On her? ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎On all of them?‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ She respects that, she respects the life and the person beneath the helmet, no matter how much it seems to be buried under tradition. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❛❛ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎C'mon lets go. I think I have an idea of where we can go next.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❜❜ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She uses his hand, and pulls herself up with the slightest of flinches, and the slightest of cracks in her knees ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(and it feels almost good, almost right...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ pain feels confirmatory of existence).

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Not your best move, Cassian. ADRIA ARJONA as Bix Caleen in ANDOR, Episodes 1-3

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"oh." well. so much for warning @sanctos about the dangers of smoking. buzzy's face warms, and he scrunches his nose to display the awkwardness he feels. "all right. so... i mean, ignore me and my bad advice then. carry on." if he needs to cough again at the smoke, he'll do so with his face buried in the crook of his arm — smothered down, less of an annoyance in tommy's favor. "shawky's the one who's taken a liking to vic, mostly. shawky's sure he can get the poor guy to come out of his shell a bit more, get him interested in things on the right side of the law. no crime. last time we talked, shawky was saying things about... you know, if he can show vic there's money in archaeology, and money in doing good and you still get the high from risking your life like you would performing criminal acts... then maybe he'll turn over a new leaf and make a good thing out of a bad thing." buzzy gestures towards tommy. "though... admittedly, shawky's a little optimistic. clearly some people like the things they do, good or bad, and stick to them. no judgement, by the way... though i'm a little loss for words at you actually doing fucking coke."

tommy  wants  to  laugh  at  the  force  of  buzzy's  cough———a  bit  dramatic.     he  contains  it  to  merely  a  snicker  ,     shakes  his  head  and  tosses  the  remaining  cigarette  on  the  ground  ,     stomping  it  out.         ❛❛  sorry.  ❜❜           he  snorts  again  ,     keeping  his  eyes  on  the  ground  almost  nervously.           ❛❛  i  ,     uh   .  .  .   i  don't  know  if  anyone  ever  said  ,   but  i  like———i  do  coke.     and  a  shit-ton  of  other  stuff.     so  i'm  not  really  worried  about  a  cigarette.  ❜❜           actually  ,     his  tone  suggests  he  isn't  worried  about  any  of  it.     he  is  ,     though  ,     beneath  it  all.     only  vic  worries  him  more  than  himself.     oh  well.     he  carries  on  walking  ,     immediately  missing  his  cigarette.           ❛❛  harvard  ,     though  ,     huh  ?     shit.     couple  of  smart  guys———the  hell  are  you  doing  hanging  out  with  us  ?     i'm  the  only  one  between  vic  and  i  who  finished  fuckin'  high  school.  ❜❜         here  ,     he  switches  into  a  terrible  british  accent  ,     unskillfully  trying  to  mimic  victor.           ❛❛  fancy  a  bit  o'  crime  ,     do  ya'  ?  ❜❜

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shawky actually starts feeling bad for victor when he hears the man can't swim. "let me check if it gets any deeper. you stay there." no more lighthearted teasing or prickly jokes — he'll soften down to a far more considerate tone for his friend's sake (and for the sake of his survival, too). shawky slowly wades through the water, feet patting the bottom as he tests its depth. "looks like it actually goes up a bit, so it gets a little shallower. just wading. no swimming." shawky returns to where @erebius waits and holds out a hand, offering to help him down. "the sooner we get through this, the sooner we'll get out of here. and i promise, victor, i won't — i'll stop asking you on these misadventures, okay? how about... i'll promise you i won't ever ask you on any more of these trips, and i'll only invite you to come see the sites if we've already toured them, cleared out the dangerous elements, and set up safety precautions. how does that sound? no more wading through water. i'm sorry for... sorry for dragging you down here, but i do like having you around. that's my fault."

victor  clings  to  the  dry  ledge  like  a  cat  on  a  perch  ,    claws  dug  in  ,     eyes  wide.     deflecting with humor can only do so much for him. he  can  smell  the  water  from  here  ,     especially  so  when  shawky  hops  in  ,    disturbs  it.     is  that  the  smell  of  wet  ,     rotting  mummies  ?     jesus.     he  looks  behind  them  ,     longing  to  go  back  rather  than  forward.           ❛❛  is  this  really  the  only  way  ?     like  ,     can't  we  just  backtrack  ,     go  back  the  way  he  came  ?   ❜❜          uncharacteristically  ,    THERE  IS  THE  FAINTEST  TREMBLE  TO  HIS  VOICE———not  one  of  irritation  ,     but  something  else.     for  once  ,     he  sounds  properly  nervous  ,     frightened  even  by  the  situation. 

he  peeks  over  ,     trying  to  judge  the  water  from  there.    shawky  is  a  bit  shorter  than  victor  ,     so  the  water  wouldn't  come  up  quite  as  high.     he  exhales.     it  only  serves  to  make  him  feel  a  little  bit  better.           ❛❛  listen  ,    uh   .  .  .   go  forward  more  ,    does  it  get  any  deeper  ?     like———is  it  just  wading  water  ,     or  will  we  have  to  swim  further  on  ?  ❜❜          every  time  shawky  drags  him  on  an  expedition  ,    HE  THINKS  IT  CAN'T  GET  ANY  WORSE———AND  THEN  IT  DOES.    antsy  ,     he  paces  back  ,     ruffling  up  his  hair.           ❛❛  ‘cause  if  it  gets  any  deeper  ,     i—i'm  goin'  back  ,     like  actually.     i  don't  know  how  to  swim.  ❜❜

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*milo kisses his wife on the cheek*

and just as she's done a million times before, arra smiles, sneaks her hand into milo's grip, and tugs him back before he can wander away. "you missed," she tells him matter-of-factly, gently pulling on his fingers. "you completely missed my lips with that, milo. care to try again? i'll stay still this time." her giggle is as buoyant as it is melodic. "i thought i taught you better than that, professor thatch..."

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"okay, i'm not stuck up." that's the first time shawky's ever been called that, and he blinks behind his glasses in mild shock. "prioritizing the preservation of history is — is right, not stuck-up. i just don't want you or anyone else swinging in here, grabbing precious objects that need to be studied, and then selling them on some black market for a big payday. that's what i hate. that's what i fear. if i've... misjudged you," he goes on, lips quirked to the side, "and that's not what you're all about, i'll be the first to apologize... but from what i've seen so far — just so far — it's what i've inferred." maybe his nerves have him on edge. maybe he's acting a little harsher than normal out of fear. he calms himself down with a few deep breaths, eyes shut, and composes himself back down to earth. now that @praesparo agrees to call him shawky, not seth, there's another level of understanding between them. that's good. "i've dealt with... the worst of the worst," he goes on after a long bit of silence, following nathan down the narrow tunnel. "and it's tainted my experience with people like you. priceless artifacts shattered in front of me... history pushed aside for the sake of monetary victory... i just can't deal with that. i can't allow it. not morally." adjusting his glasses on his nose, he pauses in front of another wall, intricately carved in a language shawky doesn't know. "what have you discovered?" he asks now, switching topics to attempt and bond them in understanding. "anything i would have heard about?"

                    ❝ scientific field. are you hearing yourself right now? ❞ he questions, albeit comprehending fully what the scientist meant. nathan is still rolling his shoulder as he watches seth continue his queue of responses, half endeared & the other half exhausted. nate wasn't completely arrogant, he knew why figures in seth's position were against the likes of thieves like nathan drake. even if nate wouldn't see it in himself, he wasn't like the rest. the armies that have hunted him down & hunt him down even now will always be far worse. the lesser of two evils or the other side to the stolen coin, nathan drake would only ever be a legend at best. never a hero. even if he wanted to, he could never convince the archaeologist that treasure wasn't the priceless part to him. it was a means, but the journey was always the memorable part. the discovery was the priceless memory, every single time. his luck was always used up by then, leaving him almost empty handed afterwards however.

                    ❝ alright, alright, i hear ya. i don't have much patience for stuck up types like yourself, but you're better company than those assholes back there with all the guns.  ❞ a pause, shoulders eventually dropping from the prepared shrug as he looks to the path ahead. ❝ have you thought maybe not all treasures hunters are as hungry as you think?  ❞ nathan asks almost rhetorically, quickly moving on from the subject. but before he could physically move on, seth decided to scold him one more time. nate, on this occasion, couldn't protest & smirked again before nodding. ❝ oh, i believe ya, pal. but shawky it is.  ❞ eventually, finally, they start moving with shawky a few inches in the lead. nate waves off his question, grinning with a quick glance. ❝ nate is fine. please, mr drake was a famous explorer. now let's get a move on, huh?  ❞

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it's strange, navigating conversation with someone she knew before her time with the lurmen. she should relate to anakin, really — they both ended up on maridun in the end, and they both suffered greatly due to their respective crashes. in any other scenario, arra should be connecting with anakin. she should be sympathizing with him, and him, with her; they can relate in this specific way, and should be bonding over such an event, not fighting over it. still, it seems the two jedi stepped away from maridun with different mindsets, with different ways of thinking drilled into their heads. if he'd only spoken to tee watt kaa a little longer. if only he'd accepted the elder's teaching. maybe anakin would understand her position, and her new hostility towards the jedi way.

"they were surprised to see you there," she replies softly, noting how @excalibiur changes his tone. he's opting for humor now, lightheartedness, making a serious attempt at diverting away from their pain in favor of amusement. it's very like him. "one of them wondered if maridun had some kind of magnet for jedi. first me, then you and master secura, and ahsoka... they wondered if more would come." she echoes his small smile with one of her own, though hers does not yet reach her eyes. "and no, i — fortunately, i think they will be without the technology necessary to communicate with me. they want a peaceful life. they're afraid that our crash landing there will draw more attention, but hopefully with us and the separatists gone, they will be left alone." arra tucks her hair behind her ears and leans against anakin's ship, studying its flaws in the hull, its marks, its battle scars. so much like him in a way, marred by time, yet still standing strong. "though i may never hear from them again, i carry their influence now, and i'll speak for them whenever i can. advocate for them, and any other peaceful people desperate to stay out of this war." her eyes dart back to anakin, saddened. "i realize it's... not practical, thinking like this, but it's going to be how i survive it. i don't want to be a soldier here. i want the peacekeeping i was promised as a youngling. surely you must understand me when i say that."

                        he's struck a nerve, that much is clear, evident in her clenched first and the flash of sharpness in her eyes. yet, rather than offering an apology for his harshness, anakin redirects his attention back to the object in hand, cleaning what's already been wiped over. he's only echoing to her what he's already told his own padawan; the hardest lesson he could teach — that wartime was not meant for the jedi, yet here they stood as pillars of conflict, leading the charge without the guiding principles of their lifelong teachings. he's teaching his padawan to be a solider, not a jedi. for kindness will not win them the war.

❝ at least one of us is still trying.   ❞ he remarks under his breath, tossing the hydrospanner into the disorganized heap of other tools — a chaotic mess with more scattered outside the toolbox than inside. ❝ but if it means anything, i know what you mean.   ❞ and he does. her tale is eerily similar to his own, though he may not say so aloud. it wasn't a recurring occurrence for anakin to speak of his past, of how a jedi master, a jedi knight and a queen made an emergency landing on his homeplanet and stumbled upon him, an apparent prophecy wrapped in dusty old rags.

❝ one way or another, we would've found you eventually. everyone's being affected by this war, even the lurmen, whether they want it to or not. ❞ and that much was clear, given how their venture on mygeeto near ended. ❝ and truthfully, i'm surprised any of us survived. i've had some nasty crashes in my life — but that one? ❞ he chuckles softly, dusting his hands off with the same rag before stepping closer to her, ❝ to be honest, i don't remember much of it. guess taking an explosion head on and then leaving ahsoka unsupervised to help pilot a ship will do that to you. ❞

what he does remember, with startling clarity, is waking up on his back to a sea of unfamiliar faces blinking back at him — watching him, studying him — and that initial fear that struck his body until ahsoka's eyes came into view. that's when he saw her, arra tuined, for the first time since her presumed death, and for a fleeting moment, he wondered if he had too had perished. ❝ they were uh, nice? yeah, nice. asked a lot of questions, though. and very opinionated. seems like some of that rubbed off on you. ❞ a playful smirk tugs, and he hopes his tease might soften the edge of his earlier words. ❝ are you still in contact with them? ❞

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rp?

pay me to not forceship with you