amondraca

[amondraca]

— SIMPLE MISUNDERSTANDING      ( Amon/Mohandai | Najiba, Outer Rim Territories | 3960 BBY ) 

@mohandai​

Everything had escalated very quickly. 

Though it was near several, Najiba itself wasn’t strictly speaking an Empire planet, so it had seemed the best option when Amon began running out of fuel ahead of schedule. A small pit stop had turned into a longer one when mechanical troubles were discovered in his ship, and a few days stay meant trouble when he could feel every criminal’s eyes catch credit signs at the sight of his modified lightsaber. 

Amon knew he didn’t strike a very imposing figure. He was little discouragement to anyone looking to make some quick credits. 

Which may have been the root of further trouble, as it turned out. For he wasn’t the only one bearing a distinctive weapon when eager bounty hunters came looking. The innocent that got caught in the crossfire was much more intimidating than Amon himself, a much more believable Jedi of legend. 

“I believe there’s been a misunderstanding,” Amon said, attempting (unsuccessfully) to position himself between the ruffians and the man they’d decided to antagonize, “If we could all calm down and speak, I’m sure everything would be cleared up quickly.” Though he tried to raise his voice, they didn’t much appear to be listening to him. 

They were gaining an audience, the rest of the restaurant patrons turning to see what the commotion is. 

“If we could just move this outside--” Amon was cut off by an elbow to the gut, as the scuffle began in earnest. 

[amondraca]

Prompt 01: Questionnaire

( content warning for: death mention )

01. Tell us about your character’s name. Was it given to them or chosen? Does it hold any special meaning? If your character has aliases or nicknames, how did they get them and what do they mean?

listen. listen, amon’s parents were theater geeks. that’s all there is to it-- I MEAN they were geeks in like every conceivable way, but still. yes, they named amon after the titular character from the grand romance of amon daak. amon had to piece it together after he grew up, because he only vaguely remembered that he’d been named for a character from a romance play, so he looked it up one day 

he doesn’t have any aliases because if he’s staying off the radar he just... doesn’t give his name out... he’s not that subtle 

and he has a few nicknames that i’ll have to get back to you on cause i don’t know them yet... 

02. What is your character’s relationship to their homeworld? Do they hold fond memories of it, or do they hate it? Are they still here, and if not, do they miss it?

the fond memories are mixed thoroughly with the horrid, at this point-- he’ll always have a fondness for heat and sand just because nostalgia, but a childhood friend of his made sure that even if amon went back to tatooine he wouldn’t truly be going home. 

it’s a bittersweet thing, because he wants to love it for all of the joy it once held, but everything is stained with blood now 

03. Describe your character’s relationship with those who raised them. Was it positive? Negative? Neutral? What sorts of ideologies were they raised with, and do they still stand by them now?

though usually hostile to outsiders, the sand people of tatooine viewed amon as one of their own, and raised him accordingly. he still doesn’t know the details of the relationship between his birth parents and the tribe that took him in, but he got the impression that it was one of the very, very few positive ones that they ever held with humans. 

amon himself loved the people he was raised by very much-- though he often felt that they didn’t quite understand him, and he had some trouble adapting to a few of their traditions. he was taken from them before becoming an official adult, and before he would have been expected to fight for them. 

throughout his childhood, he had confusing visions of the deaths of the sand people that raised him, which wouldn’t come true until many years after he left. none of them remain alive today. 

after leaving them, he was largely raised by jedi master krynda draay, and several of the other older seers she’d gathered as part of the covenant. their care was always far more focused on his abilities than his identity, however, and once it was discovered that his visions grew in clarity and relevance after he’d been through a period of isolation, he spent most of his teens (and very early twenties) having limited contact with the outside world. 

he hasn’t heard from krynda or many of the other covenant members since the massacre on taris, and does his best not to think of them. 

04. What is your character’s relationship with the Force? Is your character Force-sensitive? Whether or not they are, do they believe in it? Do they lean more towards the dark or the light or are they somewhere in between?

there is almost no part of amon’s experience of the world that isn’t colored by his relationship with the force, and his force sensitivity

being half-miraluka, his eyes never developed quite right and he only has partial (and very blurry) vision through physical methods, however he also naturally developed the force sight that’s the hallmark of his mother’s species, and that’s mostly how he navigates through the world. 

outside of his natural force sight, he also has force visions of events out of different times, usually forward but also rarely from the past-- this is his main skill, as it’s the one that was trained most thoroughly. now that he’s trying to focus on other things, however, he’s also picked up some minor skills in things like revitalizing friends, providing short term force shields, very slight force empathy, and summoning light 

for him, the force was never a matter of belief, only of finding the right words for what he was already so familiar with

that being said, he wasn’t introduced to the concepts of light and dark until his teens, and he still isn’t sure whether he agrees with the binary. as he’s lived his life, he’s seen a thousand different expressions of the force, and there are so many different varieties of light, dark, in between, and outside, that in his own private opinions he doesn’t find the proposed dichotomy a useful way of looking at things. 

he does lean very naturally towards the light, however. he has since before he was trained, and he probably always will-- even in moments of great grief and pain, he finds the most comfort and solace in breathing, centering himself, taking time to let himself process and address the feelings and events, and moving on after he’s able to find gratitude within himself again 

05. What three word would you use to describe your character? What three words would your character use to describe themself? What three words would someone close to them use?

me: soft, affectionate, idiot 

amon: just a man 

mohandai: small, incessant and in my business when he has no right to be.

nox: optimistic, naïve, a Fool

he’s baby: best friend forever 

06. Describe your character’s aesthetic. Do they tend towards fashion or function? Do they like to accessorize? How does this extend into their own personal spaces, such as their home or their workspace?

though it’s been years since he left the sand people, amon still has some difficulty getting himself to wear anything that displays any flesh. good thing for him the jedi like layers almost as much as the sand people do

he tends towards browns, tans, and creams, pretty stereotypical for a jedi, and he’s usually wearing at Least three layers at any given time-- additionally he likes to wear goggles and masks, both to obscure his eyes (they have occasionally disturbed people with their odd appearance) and just because it’s more comfortable-- ALSO i mean, to try and be under the radar now that jedi are being hunted. not that it helps much 

it could definitely be said that the jedi/sandy aesthetic expands into any space he occupies, as well-- he tends towards neutral colors in most things, but very much likes to gather things like rocks and plants (and books) so that any space he inhabits for more than a few days ends up feeling more natural (and dusty) 

07. What are your character’s vices? Guilty pleasures? Bad habits? Weak spots?

if he has an appointment he has to set multiple alarms, because tho he’s fine at getting somewhere on time when he knows what time it is, his force abilities frequently kind of uproot him from his sense of time, so w/out reminders he never knows what time it is

also like.................... he’s a firm believer in second chances, and third chances, and 28th chances-- u can play him as many times as you want, he’s unlikely to ever really put his foot down (tho the slight force empathy does help him Somewhat in sensing intentions, he still ignores it when he shouldn’t, thank god he has friends)

08. Tell us about your character’s relationship with food. What are their favorites? Do they enjoy cooking? Are they adventurous? Will they eat absolutely anything or are they hard to please?

listen................. he was raised on hubba gourds and Not Much Else. variety is a gift, plentiful food is a miracle, he will eat almost anything and enjoy it.... most of his favorite foods are Juicy Plants (think watermelon, cucumber, etc just..... star wars) 

but he does not cook, because he cannot keep track of time to save his life and he Will burn just about anything he puts on heat 

he makes a mean salad tho

he’s not strictly a vegetarian but when left to his own devices he tends naturally in that direction partially because he still thinks of meat as for Special Occasions Only 

09. How does your character feel about engaging in relationships—romantic and / or sexual—with others? What is their history like? Do they fall in love easily? Are they constantly in and out of relationships?

he will be the first to encourage it in others and the last to see it coming for himself

genuinely, he’s the most oblivious in the world-- not that he has anything against it, he loves the concept of love, and he’s not opposed to sex as long as everyone involved is fully consenting (and capable of it) but he has Zero experience in the area. any flirting can and will go right over his head, so good luck 

bonus: on the rare occasions it doesn’t go right over his head he is very easily flustered 

also he’s gay

10. What is your character’s pain tolerance like? Can they hold their own in a fight, despite injury? If someone hurts them with the aim of gaining information, how much can they take before they cave?

it’s kind of-- he’s not got the highest pain tolerance in the world, he likes to avoid it when he can, but a combination of his childhood on tatooine meaning he’s extremely used to being uncomfortable, and the fact that he can dissociate at the drop of a hat like nobody’s business, means that it’s still not a very good way to get information out of him 

11. What is your character’s weapon of choice? Are they more skilled as a melee fighter or do they have more skill with ranged weapons? What’s their fighting style like? What sort of training do they have behind them?

his first training was with a gaffi stick, so when it came time to choose his lightsaber he got as close as he could to something that would use the same fighting style, and landed on a green-bladed lightsaber pike

that being said, fighting was always a last resort for him, and he never quite took to it-- he’s much better at using the force to defend himself if necessary, and defusing situations if he can 

as for current weapons-- his lightsaber was actually destroyed in the last couple of years, so he salvaged the kyber crystal and kept it out of sentimentality, but is now travelling largely weaponless 

also he has Zero skill with ranged weapons he has no experience and terrible aim 

12. Does your character have any words or catchphrases that they say frequently? Tell us about how they picked them up.

not so much specific catchphrases (although he does frequently end up saying things like “i believe in you” and “there’s always a choice”), but he does have kind of a particular way of speaking, in that in almost all situations his voice is very measured/even in tone and his words very well considered 

13. Tell us about a negative experience your character has had with either the Jedi or the Sith, and how this has affected their standing. Whether currently aligned or unaligned with either faction, if forced to choose, how would they side?

where to start............... 

i mean a sith killed the tribe that raised him, but also he loves her and believes she can make better decisions in the future 

and the jedi-- at least, the small sect of jedi he was part of initially-- isolated him for years and then killed a number of innocent kids

but also they disbanded and he’s seen many jedi perform acts of good

so overall he doesn’t generally like to judge based on order but rather on individual 

and still, if forced to choose, he’d go jedi every time 

14. How would your character react to seeing a relative or friend on the opposing side of a battle or mission?

we already have a whole thread dedicated to this 

all he did was throw optimism and love at her i don’t know what else you were expecting 

even without someone he loves on the other side he’ll try to stop most fights like........

15. Describe a memory that your character finds embarrassing.

when he first joined the covenant and they tried to replace his clothes with ones that weren’t covered in blood and dust and he threw a Whole fit, yelled, cried, tried to run away 

he still cringes every time he thinks about it 

16. What goals does your character hold for themself and what steps have they taken towards achieving them? How far are they willing to go to reach them? What is their be-all and end-all?

galactic peace :)

joking (kind of), but really at the moment the goal is just survival, and to preserve as much life and goodness as he can along the way. eventually he’d like to help the order get back on its feet, and get his travelling companion somewhere safe to land, but for now all of his goals are short term and wrapped up in helping people as much as possible 

he’s willing to do just about anything to help someone as long as it doesn’t hurt someone else (other than himself) in the process 

17. What is the one thing your character would change about their life if they were given the chance? What other lives could they have lived as a result?

oh, no, no, amon doesn’t play those games 

he spent a whole decade immersed in examining the entire galaxy and tapestry of history through the gaze of other possibilities and alternate endings, so no

he refuses to think about things like that with regards to his own life 

where he is is where he is, and that’s all there is to it 

18. Living in such a high-conflict time, how does your character feel about doing what they must to survive? Will they hurt or kill others—either directly or indirectly—to protect themself and / or those close to them? If so, do they regret it when all is said and done?

he will Not. do such a thing. to protect himself. if really pressed, he might do it to protect someone else, but he’s more likely to throw up a shield of some kind than actively fight. 

amon is a pacifist to his bones 

he has too many regrets already 

19. What is the biggest problem your character is currently dealing with?

jedi purge..... stuck on random backwater planets..... why........ he’s supposed to be low key but he Sucks at it, so they’re forced to relocate every other week or risk being hunted down 

20. Give us 3+ headcanons of any length or subject matter.

1. eyes - since one half of his genetics evolved out of them, but one half of his genetics still largely relies on them, amon ended up with something in the middle, eyes that didn’t form quite right. he keeps them covered frequently, because the flashes of hazy physical sight can confuse his force sight, but also because sometimes people find them disturbing to look at-- his pupils and irises are largely misshapen due to poor development, creating an odd ‘fractured’ look when combined with his minor cataracts 

2. droid - to pick up where his force sight leaves off (mainly with reading things on digital displays), amon has a small droid named bang that has accompanied him since he left the covenant. bang’s been through several rounds of repairs and upgrades, and at one point amon even had an engineer add a small terrarium to him so that he could keep some plants with him as they traveled. in build, bang is similar to a cam droid, and likes to hover around making pleased beeping noises when his services aren’t required. he is capable of social interaction when engaged, however, and know basic as well as a few other common galactic languages 

3. bag of friendship - part of the reason for amon’s isolation in the covenant is that his visions can very easily be influenced/directed by touching objects of significance. it’s not quite psychometry, as the visions don’t happen immediately and aren’t necessarily tied directly to the object, but it’s more like if amon has come into contact with anything that the force feels like telling him about, then he’ll get a related vision when he next sufficiently clears his mind. like how you’re more likely to dream about something if it was already on your mind. as a way of making use of this, amon keeps a small bag of trinkets on him at all times, each one holding significance to one of his friends, and he reminds himself of them every night before sleeping so that if the force has anything to say about what any of his friends are up to it will be sure to let him know 

bonus. Give us a list of any length telling us why our “fave is problematic.”

could have directly prevented the deaths of four padawans and didn’t 

could have prevented far more destruction and death throughout the galaxy but also didn’t 

burns food

has way too many random rocks in his bag 

creates a mess wherever he lands 

will believe in you and your inherent goodness even (especially) when you don’t want him to 

smile too precious 

got his droid altered to have a really deep radio announcer style voice when speaking non-droid languages, cause he thinks it’s hilarious 

would rather let a villain go in the hopes that they’ll turn their lives around than kill them to prevent further suffering at their hands 

[amondraca]

lordnoxolo‌:

— WHITE RABBIT〔telos /// 3954BBY /// noxolo && amon 〕

His words, his tone, his expression, his entire being — they were so familiar to her that every word made her mentally recoil like a whiplash, brutal in its gentleness, painful in its playfulness. He hadn’t changed. Nothing had changed about him, he was still the same as he had been when he’d died to her. An inexplicable sprout from her seed of grief, aside the tree of hate that had grown great and ancient within her, emerged in her. It was bright. Soft. It threatened to curl into him and laugh and hug and jump.

Instead, a growl was torn from her depths, and Noxolo stomped on the sprout before it could blossom into anything more — she pulled away from him at the same time as she pushed him further into the rafters she’d shoved him into initially. “I am a Lord of the Sith Empire,” she hissed, her tone almost offended, bordering yet not crossing into petulance. “The girl you knew is dead. Because I murdered her and bathed in her blood.”

Finish it. It urged inside her, and in her mind, she saw herself reach for her shoto and slide it cleanly into the soft area beneath his chin, emerging from the top of his head. There’d be no blood. She wondered if there’d be pain. For once, that wouldn’t be her intention, and that of itself was the strangest sensation. Finish it.

“Go.” Her voice was lower, less sharp, the edges rounded, more urging than a command, an order. Please. Noxolo didn’t say it, hadn’t said the word since her childhood on Tatooine, and her tongue might break on the syllable if she tried. “Stop looking up danger, fool,” she insisted, and though the word was the same as before, it was spoken with a similar hint of fondness as it was in bygone days. “The next Sith will tear your eyes from your head and your tongue from your mouth.”

With a few steps back, Noxolo turned her back on him and started walking towards the exit of the warehouse, but not before she shot him a hint of a smile as she turned.

“I have seen some of the things you’ve done,” Amon admitted, hand to his throat, breath dragging its way back into his lungs, “But it is never too late to make different decisions. The child may be buried, as it is in all of us, but she has her roots in you still. I can feel them, and I know you can too.” It was difficult to ignore the memories, Sand People bleeding out into the dunes, looking down at his hands-- no, hers, the rage had been hers, the blood on her hands, and yet he could remember how it had felt, slick between his fingers.

Dreams of Nox had always been more vivid than others.

And hers weren’t the only bloodied hands, the memories of the deaths that he had failed to stop were just as vivid as the ones that she had committed.

“Say what you will, but even a Sith can choose to value life. You’re proof enough,” He leaned against the rafters still, breath returning to him, “But I suppose I shouldn’t push my luck. Thank you for the mercy you’ve shown today, Nox, I pray that when next we meet it’s under less tense circumstances.” The last few words were pitched up, almost shouted, carrying on the air after Sith’s retreating form.

For the first time since he was a child, Amon didn’t know how he was going to die, and he wasn’t sure what to do with that. It would have made the most sense to be relieved, and he was. He was relieved. He repeated it to himself, to be sure. And yet, uncertainty had always been a far more terrifying prospect than an established doom.

It took several minutes for him to adjust once more to the darkness and silence, but he did. And he would return to his travelling companion and his life in due time, feeling out his newly altered life course.

And hoping that it would cross at least once more with the whirlwind of his dearest friend’s.

— END

[amondraca]

lordnoxolo‌:

— WHITE RABBIT〔telos /// 3954BBY /// noxolo && amon 〕

Noxolo was trained in lies. Trained to lie, and thus trained to detect them in others as well. And she searched. Her eyes searched his face as her essence searched beyond him, through him, and she grew more angry still. Not because there were lies, but because there weren’t. For the first time in her life, her weapon, her determination, her entire world view faltered and shook. No, this wasn’t possible. Delving back into memories of the past, she could see him, gentle body upon the ground, in a pool of his own blood.

Was there blood?

Her pike lowered but an inch as a frown curled into the ridge of her brow, wrinkling the dark tattoos against red skin, tattoos that hadn’t been there when she’d still known him. Tattoos that had come later — after. Noxolo’s eyes trailed down slowly, down his body but not seeing, far away, inward, to the seed of grief that had burst into an all-consuming tree of hate and bitter resentfulness. The tree from which she plucked her nourishing fruits from every day, to fuel her, to keep her going, towards revenge, towards something that could quell this storm inside her, towards the end of it all.

Eyes that had softened with doubt but for a few seconds snapped up again with the same determination, the hellcat in her at the helm once more. Noxolo lifted the pike evenly once more, her head tilting back slightly in a proudful, arrogant manner as she regarded him. She’d come so far. She’d gone too far. Though Amon Draca’s protector shifted and coiled deep, deep inside her depths still, it was darker, twisted, fractured like his eyes were.

“You’re a fool, Amon,” she spat, eyes narrowing to slits. Her memory tugged her back to sands and heat before the bloodshed, of two young children. I had a dream we were fighting, a boy’s voice echoed in her head. A girl’s cheeky smile in response as she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her forehead against his, Silly. Then a chill. Besides, if we fought, you wouldn’t beat me.

Noxolo took in a sharp breath as her eyes closed and she was thrust back to herself. In a quick, smooth motion, both pikes were sheathed again and she stormed forward, a dark storm incarnate. Her hand reached out to his throat and grasped tight once it found purchase, pushing the Jedi back against the lines of warehouse scaffolding; they were close now, closer than they’d ever been in decades, and Noxolo felt her Force bind with his once again as though reconnecting with a lost part of herself.

“Leave,” she hissed in his ear, “don’t even let me see your face again.” Her head pulled back, yet their faces still near enough for their noses to almost touch. She glowered at him. “The next time I see you, Amon Draca, I will kill you where you stand.”

Amon could barely remember the day he’d left Tatooine-- hazes of conflict and loss clouded the memories severely. Later on he’d been told that the Sith, who’d arrived around the same time as the Seer that took him in, had made their departure into a fight. Had left amon bleeding in the Jedi’s arms, and absconded with Nox. He never knew how much of it was true, having grown out of blindly trusting the others in the Covenant. He’s long supposed that he never will, unless the Force sees fit to grant him a vision of the past, which it so rarely does.

As Nox stepped back, Amon carefully raised himself onto his elbows. As if magnetized, the further away she drew the further he leaned forward, almost unconsciously getting back to his feet.

He couldn’t help but smile when she called him a fool. It wasn’t the first time.

“Perhaps,” He said softly, “But my foolishness has brought me back to you, so I can’t say I truly regret it.” His body was yielding when she stepped forward once more, no fight in him as she pushed him against the rafters and tightened her grip. All of it was too familiar, the closeness, the way the Force twined around them both. It threatened to unroot him in time.

“Today was to be my last, you know,” Her grip made it difficult to speak, but he continued in hushed tones, “A death I’ve been seeing since we were children, though the details didn’t clarify until recently.” Slowly, gently, he rested a hand on hers and gave her a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you for keeping my visions from coming true,” He said, “I would have hated for this to be the last time we saw each other. Nevertheless, if what you truly wish is for me to leave… I can do that.”

His smile grew just the tiniest bit teasing.

“But you’ll have to let me go, first.”

[amondraca]

lordnoxolo‌:

— WHITE RABBIT〔telos /// 3954BBY /// noxolo && amon 〕

Despite herself, she let the Jedi remove his facial covers, poised yet, pikes humming low in her hands. One knee was pressed against his chest, a hand clutching both pike and fabric by his throat. One twitch, a wrong — or right — movement would have crimson bubbling forth, choking, gurgling, the final spasms of death…

But instead of any of that, something else spilled from his mouth: her name. Noxolo was a ghost, even in the Empire, and few knew the Sith Lord by name, fewer still by face. So for this Jedi to identify her so immediately came as a shock, two cold, calm beating hearts, even with the adrenaline roaring within her veins, picked up against her will, and something flashed in her eyes.

Do you remember me? The words echoed in her ears, bouncing through the inside of her skull like a ringing, cavernous, trailing off as she looked into his eyes. Fractured. Pale. Disturbing not for the horror or oddity of them, but the familiarity that they tore from her.

Time slowed, her breathing loud to her own ears as the world around her fell silent. Dream-like. Unreal. Unreal. Unreal. “No,” Noxolo whispered, and her voice sounded far away, as though uttered from leagues away. “No!”

The world rushed back in with such speed and viciousness that it shattered the dream and the serenity that had enveloped her; a serenity she realised had been him as it enveloped her completely. She pushed away from him and got to her feet in the same motion, stepping back, a stumbling that was still as graceful as it would ever be.

One of her pikes extended between them, one end pointed to his chest as it hummed. One shift of her hand and the humming turned louder, deadlier. “How did you do this, Jedi?” She snarled out the word as though it was an insult, nose scrunched up in an angry scowl. “Your mind tricks won’t work on me. You cannot sway me, bug.”

Not much was visible to Amon through his physical eyes, the environment as blurry and indistinct as ever, but through the Force Nox looked the same. Vastly changed, of course, grown and marinated in violence, but beneath it all… Unmistakeable. The same child that Amon had once been inseparable from, in lighter days among the harsh sun and burning sands. 

As she backed away, Amon’s gaze grew soft and fond. The brittle edge of worry was still to be found, but his gut told him he was out of the most immediate danger. Already, his vision had been averted.

Now came the arduous task of navigating his way to a happier ending.

“It is no trick,” Amon raised his hands ever so slowly in a gesture of peace, or surrender, “Look within yourself. Your will is strong and you know your own mind, you would be able to tell if I was doing anything to you.” Almost against his will, a small smile quirked at the corners of his mouth.

“Besides, if I was capable of such powerful illusions would I not simply make myself disappear?” He asked, eyes searching hers, “It’s been a long time, old friend. I’ve missed you these many years… I was devastated when the Sith took you from me, but the Jedi made sure that I had the tools to cope with the loss. I’m sorry I did not find you sooner. Or the other way around, as the case may be.”

Even with her weapon pointed at his chest, and the knowledge of the things she had done, and the tension in the air, it was impossible not to find her presence a comfort. Amon allowed himself a soft smile, hoping that she might return it.

[amondraca]

lordnoxolo‌:

— WHITE RABBIT〔telos /// 3954BBY /// noxolo && amon 〕

@amondraca

Darkness her friend, it cloaked her like a second skin, obscuring her movements to even the most discerning of eyes. The Force twisted and rolled around her, shifting with every twitch of her muscles, snaking off her like tendrils until it reached the natural darkness of her surroundings and knit together with it seamlessly. She was but a shadow.

Clad in black to accompany the dark around her, Noxolo’s every shift was graceful and deliberate like that of a panther — down to the curling of her spine as she twisted around corners, the silence accompanying feet upon a hard surface. She kept the higher ground on her prey, sinopia eyes burning like two coals in the surrounding black, gleaming like embers, shifting from a bright dandelion to a dark mordant with every inch of light they caught and cast away again.

Noxolo suspected the Jedi below had an idea that he was being stalked, the Force within her reaching out to his, twisting around his essence like it did around her body. Stifling, ripping, clawing, as it always did. A taste of what was to come, a hint of the predator poised for the kill. Crouched with her hands between her feet, Noxolo’s entire body shifted quickly, minute movements in preparation of the strike, pupils widening and Force assaulting — a tsunami.

If he hadn’t been aware of his doom before, surely he was now.

With calculated silence, Noxolo pushed off with her legs. Mid-air, the darkness of the Force that had been writhing around her released its grip on her, and the first time eyes would perceive her was with pikes out, diving into her prey as though he was an ocean. Her body collided with his and twisted towards the floor, rolling, rolling, until Noxolo slammed him back against the ground conclusively.

One sharp movement would open his throat to the world, but in the seconds before that final moment, Noxolo relished the catch, sharp teeth visible in a wicked grin. “Gotcha.”

It had been years since the visions had hounded him like this-- years since they had been so clear, despite his averted gaze. Amon couldn’t track when it had begun, but over the last couple of weeks it had become incessant. The same vision every night. The same vision he’d been having since he was a child. Death-- his. Through different eyes, sometimes, in some dreams he watched from afar and in some he was up close and personal, watching the life drain out of himself.

In some of the dreams he could feel the rage of the attacker, when she discovered what she’d done.

The night before he had seen it all with a clarity like no other, and his gut told him that this was the dawn of his final day. Perhaps not truly-- there had been a flicker in the Force as he dreamed, a tell tale sign that a well known future might not be the most likely one anymore. Time remained malleable as ever. He could stop this, if he could figure out how.

Amon had left his travelling companion behind at their makeshift base, possessed with the feeling that this was something he had to face alone. If he was to die, he didn’t want to add one more body to the count. Like a fool, he made his solitary path to the space he had seen in his dreams. Past experience had taught him, on many occasions, that the best way to avert a terrible future was with subtle shifts. If you knew an outcome well, you could change it minutely. If you tried to avoid it altogether, change things so that it might never happen, who could foresee the consequences?

If Amon ran too hard from his death, either he or someone else would simply find it in another time and place; and he cared too much about all parties involved to risk those unknowns.

The Force seized around his chest when she found him. His lifelong companion turned vicious under her control, and he had seen her do this before-- this and worse, to too many innocents. Tonight might be a chance for redemption (though Amon could never let himself believe it would be the final one-- there was always a choice).

Afraid despite himself, Amon struggled to remove his face mask and goggles before the final attack-- but it was too late. His head cracked against the concrete floor beneath them, echoing throughout the momentarily abandoned facility, Telos Restoration workers having all gone home for the night.

“Wait,” No time for witty one-liners, no time to be grateful that his hood had protected his skull in the fall, “Nox, Noxolo--” She weighed heavy on his chest, and he couldn’t truly believe that he was seeing her again.

“Do you remember me?” He freed an arm and shoved his goggles out of the way, hoping that his distinctive eyes would catch her memory, then pulled down his mask, “From our childhood on Tatooine?”

[amondraca]

Embrace me; embrace me: in my eyes worlds are made and unmade;

Aimé Césaire, tr. by Clayton Eshleman, from The Selected Poems; “The Beloved,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[amondraca]