#rass starts the chain. it's his fault

[eorzeashan]

Shae and Eight are a funny pair to me bc I absolutely think Shae stomped up to the Alliance and went give me all your best warriors and every head turned to Eight in the middle of eating a sandwich who then proceeds to make this face bc he was so close to having a long break from work

Also, since Echani are historically Mandalorian rivals, I feel as if the move to take on an Echani as an ally in the middle of a Mandalorian civil war looks very controversial as if Shae is willing to use help from anyone even if it's shameful because she's so desperate to win/have overwhelming strength on her side, even if it means selling out to old enemies. Shae however, is rather contemporary, so she doesn't care about how it looks traditionally--he's one of the most skilled of their ilk, incredibly effective against other Mandos, and from the Alliance and that's all that matters to her.

Eight on the other hand, does feel a bit out of place, but he gets to make his ancestors proud and slaughter a bunch of bucketheads, so he's more than willing to finally fight an enemy that wants to die like warriors. He's not doing it out of his own interest though--Lana definitely sent him to keep an eye on those "predators" and possibly assassinate either Mandalore if needed, but that's not a high priority on his list and he deferred to Shae mostly since she made it clear she just wanted a good hunting dog to accompany her. And that's what he does best: kill who he's asked to, and protect.

Even more dog motif! Funnily enough, Vizla is the name of a bloodhound breed. So they're both just barking at each other, wolfdog and bloodhound. This is why Eight hates talking though. Every time he speaks up, someone goes "I'm not listening".

As charged as it feels to have her as his temporary leader, they work well together, especially since Eight prefers a no-nonsense make-myself-clear person of authority to just use him without frills attached. The posturing and social game of the usual Sith back home was more than a headache, and her directness makes it easier for him to not have to make decisions where they're not asked for or needed. Unlike Lana, who makes so much effort to try to appeal to him that it annoys him that she'd pretend to be his friend instead of getting to the point. Which isn't her fault for wanting to be close to her right hand, but to him it feels very mixed-- that she can't decide whether to treat him like a person or a weapon.

On a tangential note, I really like the idea of Eight interacting with Mandos a bit more than I did my first run; I feel as if the shared history between them and his own people makes for mutual curiosity and his odd appearance really uh, shone in the midst of all the armor.

In other words, I think Shae's mando camp all started petting him en masse.

[shynmighty]

23 carrying the other one in their arms for your choice!

So... This one started out as a different prompt but turned into this a bit by accident! And given my choice... I will almost always choose Aeseca/Rass. 😅

Anyway, this is for these prompts, and I hope you all enjoy it!!!

23: Carrying the Other One in their Arms Pairing: Aeseca Silverblade/Rass Ordo

              “I liked these boots.”

              With effort, Aeseca yanked her foot out of the thick muck, very nearly causing one well-liked boot to fly off. Hutta, she was quickly learning, was not for the faint of heart.

              And while they were slowed down in this swamp, their target was getting away with valuable intelligence on the Hidden Chain. Aeseca took a deep breath to maintain her equilibrium, and immediately wished she hadn’t when she was met with the stench drifting in the fetid air.

              At her side, her companion was having less trouble with the terrain. His difficulty seemed to lie in keeping his expression neutral. He was not entirely successful; a laugh was almost certainly trapped behind the tight line of his lips.

              “It’s not funny, Rass,” Aeseca said. The statement was punctuated by the sound of her other foot squelching into the deep, brown sludge, this time making it nearly to her knee.

              “I didn’t say anything,” Rass replied, managing to mask the defensiveness in his tone, but not the crooked smile on his face.

              Aeseca frowned, turning away from Rass to try and strategize her next steps through the quagmire. He was already difficult enough to look at without the added embarrassment of her predicament.

It wasn’t his fault, but it felt like it was. Ever since they met, she had been at war with herself over her feelings toward him, and that felt like a very long time now. Blaming him was much easier than accepting the fact that she may not be a model Jedi after all.

Even now, however, she found herself trying to look at him from the corner of her eye. Her heart somersaulted with even the briefest glance at his handsome features.

              “Stupidly handsome,” Aeseca muttered before she could catch herself.

              “What?” Luckily, it seemed Rass had not heard.

              “This mud!” Aeseca said, perhaps a little louder than necessary, “This mud is stupid!”

              With the final syllable, Aeseca yanked her other foot too forcefully. It came free of her boot altogether, and she only managed not to topple over at the very last second. This left her balancing awkwardly on one leg, arms spread as she dipped gracelessly from side to side trying to stay upright.

              “Need some help?” Rass was losing the battle with his laughter. His crooked smile transformed into a full grin.

              Aeseca ignored him, closing her eyes and picturing the peaceful training grounds of her youth, where she had learned certain techniques to balance herself, both physically and within the Force. She briefly considered levitating a tree branch closer to smack him, then decided that would be childish. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself on her leg. After a moment, she opened her eyes again and regarded Rass.

              “I have conditions,” she said.

              “This I have to hear,” Rass repositioned himself so that he was facing her.

              “No laughing, teasing, or otherwise ridiculing me over this for the rest of your natural life.”

              “You have my word.”

              “What, really?” Aeseca cocked an eyebrow up at him, nearly losing her balance again. “You’re not going to give me a hard time?”

              Rass shook his head solemnly, although the perpetual twinkle in his eye was still maddeningly present. “I’m not a monster, Aeseca. Can I please help you out before you fall in the mud?”

              Aeseca nodded, hoping she at least looked more dignified than she felt. What she did not expect was Rass’ arm gently but firmly wrapping around her waist, pulling her upright so his other arm could reach behind her knees. Her own arms quickly found their way around his neck as he lifted her.

              Her breath hitched as he cradled her gently to his chest and started to walk to a mossy outcropping at the edge of the swamp, not too far away. His face, although looking in the direction he was moving, was closer than Aeseca had ever gotten for any prolonged period. The stubble lining his jaw was slightly more pronounced. His brown eyes were somehow even brighter up close. He smelled faintly like beskar and something she could not quite place but reminded her of the sunlit grass on Tython. The strength of his arms around her seemed to be the only tether she felt to reality.

              “I’m sorry, Rass,” she said, hoping to cut the tension, “our target probably got away by now.”

              “The day is young, we’ll find him,” Rass replied, sparing a small smile down at her that would have weakened her knees if she’d been standing upright.

              “That’s remarkably optimistic of you,” Aeseca told him.

               “Mandalorian, remember? This isn’t my first manhunt,” Rass laughed, “I bet I even have time to go back for those boots you like so much.”

              “My…” Aeseca trailed off, lifting one ankle, and realizing that her second boot had been left behind when Rass picked her up. “Oh.”

              Rass refrained from testing the boundaries of his promise any further. They reached the outcropping and with surprising gentleness, Rass set Aeseca down. She bit her lip, hoping it would dull the disappointment of him withdrawing while simultaneously wishing he would come closer again.

              “Be right back,” he said. Then he turned and strode back into the swamp. A moment later, he victoriously held up Aeseca’s boots, one in each hand. At least, Aeseca hoped they were her boots. They were so caked with mud it was difficult to tell anymore.

              “Thanks,” she said as he returned, handing her the boots somewhat sheepishly.

              “Not a problem,” he replied, “for what it’s worth, I think they look great like that.”

              Aeseca laughed, glancing from her ruined boots back up to Rass, who was already watching her with his usual smirk. She could not deny one pesky truth: Being secretly in love with him was getting more difficult by the day.