#velire orinn

[eluvisen]

I got this beautiful commission of Velire from the amazing @commander-sarahs-art 💕

[commander-krios]

Holiday gift by @theoasiswinds for the lovely @eluvisen of Velire 💜

[charomiami]

Velire Orinn

A sketch of thanks for @eluvisen for helping me with Road to Wasteland donation! Her Star Wars OC Valire Orinn, whom I can't wait to doodle in the desert, maybe something a little Tatooine!

[eluvisen]

I was very lucky to be able to commission @stellorc​ to paint Velire!

[eluvisen]

Coming to Terms - Chapter 1

Fandom: Star Wars KOTOR

Characters: Female Revan/Carth Onasi, Female Revan & Bastila Shan

Rating: T

Summary: With the Star Forge destroyed, the crew of the Ebon Hawk are hailed as the saviours of the Republic. As the sudden scrutiny threatens to bring dangerous truths of the mission to light, they must confront the past and the future.

—

The Republic’s losses had been harsh in the battle, but they were still standing. Rank had its perks, and Carth had never been more grateful for it as he weaselled into the Ast Yanthar’s medbay. Deep into second shift, the bay was relatively quiet, and he made his way along the familiar route he’d traced for the past two days. Through the general ward to the array of kolto tanks, third on the left. As he approached, he discovered a slender silhouette in front of Velire’s tank.

Bastila. A jolt of surprise ran through him. He hadn’t seen her since she’d surrendered herself to Master Vandar, and even now she looked like she’d toured all nine hells. The pale blue glow of the tanks stripped any returning colour from her face, emphasising the rings under her eyes. Her right arm was still in a sling, her hair loose around her shoulders.

It was hard to reconcile with either the prim and proper Jedi or the Sith apprentice he’d glimpsed on the Star Forge. But all he could see was the casualty lists he’d been staring at for the past few days—two thousand three hundred personnel and counting. Three dreadnoughts, eighteen cruisers and hundreds of fighters.

Somehow she was so caught up in monitoring Velire that she didn’t notice Carth until he was almost beside her.

Bastila startled. Her eyes, wide and white-ringed, fixed on him as if he were a nexu that had sprung out of the bushes. “Carth! I didn’t…”

“It’s all right. We’re all tired.” It wasn’t all right at all, but she didn’t disagree. After almost eight months of living with Jedi, he knew he shouldn’t have been able to take her by surprise. “I just wanted to check on Lire.”

There was no change from any of the other times he’d visited. Velire floated in the tank, sedated, her willowy limbs half-curled around her. The thin medical jumpsuit she wore barely covered the necessities and certainly didn’t cover any of the damage, while a breather mask obscured most of her face.

The sight never failed to make his bruised heart squeeze. He whispered, “Hey, beautiful.”

[Read on AO3]

[eluvisen]

Tagged by @commander-krios to do this picrew! Velire needed some love so I went with her.

[eluvisen]

Heartfire - Chapter 8

Fandom: Star Wars KOTOR

Characters: Juhani & Female Revan

Rating: M

Summary: There is no emotion—a lie that runs hot in Juhani's blood every day. There is emotion, and as long as her blood sings with it, there will be no peace. And yet when she leaves Dantooine, it is not as a fallen Jedi, but as part of a mission to save the galaxy. 

If only she knew how to deal with a crew of strangers.

—

With teeth bared, Juhani slashed her training saber at Velire’s wrist. Velire darted away in a burst of Force-assisted speed, swinging her off-hand lightsaber to ward off pursuit, and the bout continued in a blur of motion and flashing lightsabers. Both of them hoped to bleed off their nerves as the Ebon Hawk was en route to none other than Korriban.

They had agreed to limit themselves to Ataru, since Velire wished for more practice with the form. Juhani had lost count of their rounds; with a style that required one to always be on the offensive, their bouts were short. Velire’s form was improving, shedding the economy of Makashi for the fluid momentum of Ataru, and Juhani felt a burst of pride when Velire broke through her defence to rain down her own whirlwind assault.

Juhani deflected Velire’s overhead strike with a flick of her blade and somersaulted over Velire, rebounding off the ceiling, and pulled just short of landing a blow on her back.

As Velire yielded the round, Juhani snapped off the lightsaber and stepped back. “Remember that your surroundings can be used to your advantage. Not every fight need be a duel.”

Shoving a lock of hair out of her face, Velire resumed a ready stance. Her face shone with sweat, shoulders heaving with every sharp breath. “Again.”

Juhani lowered her weapon. “I do not believe another round would benefit either of us. It will do you no good to exhaust yourself before we arrive on Korriban.”

She did not know much of the planet, but she did not have to in order to know it was dangerous. The Sith Academy sat atop the bones of the old empires, haunted by tales of strange ghosts that whispered in the ears of all who would listen and drove them mad. Believing that the Sith would have a stranglehold over any and all ruins of ancient power, Velire had volunteered to infiltrate the academy, posing as a fallen Jedi.

“What, are you tired?”

[Read on AO3]

[eluvisen]

Lower City Blues - Chapter 5

Fandom: Star Wars KOTOR

Characters: Carth Onasi/Female Revan (pre-relationship), Mission & Zaalbar

Rating: M

Summary: Carth Onasi is a soldier, used to operating within rules and regulations, serving a higher cause. Velire Orinn is a scoundrel, used to living by her wits, free from authority. In order to find the lost Padawan Bastila Shan, they have to put aside their differences—but as they descend into Taris’s lawless Lower City, it may not be enough.

—

“Still… I’d like to hear your perspective on the attack—”

Velire held up a hand, the back of her neck prickling. The particular scrape of mismatched limbs on all fours, dragging mort-white flesh across muck, made her blood turn to ice.

The first silvery bodies crested the incline, heads swivelling in all directions. Their odd faces consisted of a multitude of eyes and whiskery feelers, so bizarre they were more akin to deep-sea creatures than terrestrial life. A scrap of red fabric still clung to one’s wrist.

One stopped, sniffing the air. Its head swung in their direction. As did another. And another.

A shudder ran through the pack, then they were shrieking and squealing, gouging the mud in their excitement as they charged.

“Inside the pod!” Velire hissed. “Quickly!”

Carth didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled backwards, blasters sighting at the writhing mass of pale bodies. Velire snatched at the hatch as she passed, pulling it shut after her. The hinges creaked ominously, louder than a shriek to her ears—here is your prey, come catch it—and then her vision of the pack was blocked by fifteen centimetres of solid durasteel. A swift turn of the primary wheel engaged the locking bolts, sealing them in a rickety escape pod well past its intended use.

The dark was lush with the rotting smell of death. A missing panel overhead exposed the creaking metal ribs of the pod, allowing knife-thin lances of light to alleviate the darkness. Her eyes strained to make out details in the cramped pod, but she could barely discern anything more than dim grey lines and flat black shapes. If she stretched out her arm, she could brush the curved wall. Her own breaths were too harsh, too loud in the frigid air.

She looked to Carth, then. A thin ray of light slashed across his face, making his eyes glimmer. They both strained to track the squeals and snarls growing ever-closer.

Velire was struck by a sudden, visceral awareness that they had no backup and no backup plan.

The pod shuddered. Knife-sharp sounds of claws shrieked against the hatch. Palms sweating, Velire shifted her vibroblade in her grip. The blade scraped against the wall, and she realised the pod was too cramped for a proper melee. She traded her vibroblade for her blaster, fingers cramping around the grip. Carth was a wall of tension beside her, his own blasters ready as the pod rocked again.

The hatch held firm against the assault, and yet the hairs rose on the back of her neck. A quiet instinct told her to look up.

Clawed white fingers curled around the edge of the exposed siding. A moment, two, then a mort white face peered through the lattice of broken spars. Its antennae twitched, its too-many eyes burning like black stars. Its lipless mouth peeled back in a rictus grimace, exposing rows of needle-sharp teeth.

[Read on AO3]

[eluvisen]

Heartfire - Chapter 14

Fandom: Star Wars KOTOR

Characters: Juhani & Female Revan

Rating: M

—

Canderous did not look at all out of place in the mercenary enclave as he moved between the tables towards an empty booth. Juhani trailed in his wake, feeling entirely too conspicuous. Mission had once again loaned her Velire’s old clothes to avoid attracting attention, and she could only hope that Velire would not mind. She pulled the jacket tighter around herself, feeling her hidden lightsaber press against her ribs; the crystal set inside pulsed in a cool rhythm beside her heart. Right now, she had little else.

Several recruiters noticed them pass, and Juhani suspected they would not be alone at their table for long. Not that she wished to be alone with Canderous for one second longer than necessary. Even now, he lounged with an infuriating ease, as if they had not lost one of their number, as if they were not on the brink of losing two more. He flagged a waiter droid for a drink, a hand sliding into his vest pocket to withdraw a cigarra, that hated tattoo on full display for the enclave to see. Already it had drawn attention from other mercenaries, as well as a speculative look from a Sith recruiter.

But as much as it burned, this task was necessary. The Republic’s aid had a price, and they needed to find a way into the Sith Embassy. If she had been present during Velire’s negotiations with the ambassador, she might have been tempted to dig her claws in and shake him until he came to his senses. Do you not realise what is at stake, you fool?

Irked, Juhani sank into her seat with a crinkle of synthleather. All this political intrigue made her teeth clench.

The mercenary enclave was little more than a glorified cantina. While it still possessed the sleek silver glamour of Manaan, it was unequivocally a place for the rougher edges of society to congregate. A tired-looking Mirialan bartender scanned the room with tight eyes, panic button conspicuously within reach, while a security drone hovered in a corner, watching with its unblinking lens. Republic and Sith recruiters dotted the room, in deep discussion with potential contractors. The sight made her fur stand on end, and it took a few minutes for her to realise why: it called to mind the way Taris’s gangs and even the Civil Authority recruited expendables before an oncoming storm. She could not help but wonder what was simmering beneath Manaan’s pristine surface.

She scanned the room again, and noticed a human man watching them from across the bar.

[Read on AO3]

[eluvisen]

Lower City Blues - Chapter 6

Fandom: Star Wars KOTOR

Characters: Carth Onasi/Female Revan (pre-relationship), Mission & Zaalbar

Rating: M

Summary: Carth Onasi is a soldier, used to operating within rules and regulations, serving a higher cause. Velire Orinn is a scoundrel, used to living by her wits, free from authority. In order to find the lost Padawan Bastila Shan, they have to put aside their differences—but as they descend into Taris’s lawless Lower City, it may not be enough.

—

Mission shifted her weight from foot to foot, and Carth knew that adolescent sheepishness all too well. When she opened her mouth, he braced himself for bad news. “So I, uh, forgot about the pet rancor guarding the back entrance.”

Before Carth could formulate a response, Velire’s voice jumped two octaves. “There’s a what guarding the entrance?!”

“Don’t freak out! It’s dumb as a box of rocks.”

“A box of rocks with big teeth,” Carth cut in. He’d never even seen one before, but there wasn’t a sent in the galaxy who didn’t know what they were like.

Stepping past Mission, he cycled the door partway open, only to be hit in the face with the stink of rotting flesh. The source was immediately obvious: bodies were strewn across the floor in haphazard piles, most sentient, all half-eaten and decaying. Carth caught several flashes of blue and grey apparel among the gnawed bones and ruined combat suits. The room was appropriately big to house a rancor, more like a vault with a ceiling so high the light barely reached it. Not only was the room big, but it was open—there was no cover whatsoever. Past all that open air, past the piles of filth, there was a door embedded in the far wall. 

The rancor itself dominated the space. Even lazing on the ground with its shoulders hunched, it was built like a mountain, with a tough brown hide that could absorb blaster bolts and arms too big for its body that granted it a terrifying reach with its wicked claws. Worse, its face was mostly mouth, trailing ribbons of saliva. Despite the ugly rows of uneven fangs, the truly unsettling part was that its maw was definitely large enough to swallow a humanoid whole. Carth could safely say he’d never wanted to test whether that rumour was true.

With a sinking feeling, he cycled the door closed and turned back to his mismatched little team. “We don’t have the firepower to take that thing down, so I’m open to suggestions.”

Mission eyed the rest of them doubtfully. “Well, sneaking is out if we have to get everyone inside…”

Beside her, Zaalbar made a low noise as he mulled it over. “I have not seen a rancor in battle, but it is too dangerous to assume that its size will make it slow. The beast has considerable reach and will likely attack first with its claws… ”

“We can’t fight a rancor on foot,” Velire said, voice tight. 

“Its hide may repel blaster fire, but that does not make it invulnerable. Its mouth remains a weak spot. Perhaps its only weak spot.”

Sceptical, Carth asked, “So we get dangerously close to its teeth, and then what?”

Possessed by a sudden inspiration, Zaalbar dug through the various pouches on his bandoleer until his paws closed on whatever he was looking for. When he looked up, his teeth flashed in a quick grin. “Grenades planted in the beast’s food may destroy it from within.”

Carth considered. “That… might actually work. As long as it takes the bait.”

Mission said, “I wouldn’t worry about that. Rancors love to eat even more than Big Z does.” As Zaalbar huffed, offended, she raised her hands. “Just facts, bud.”

[Read on AO3]

[eluvisen]

Heartfire - Chapter 9

Fandom: Star Wars KOTOR

Characters: Juhani & Female Revan

Rating: M

Summary: There is no emotion—a lie that runs hot in Juhani's blood every day. There is emotion, and as long as her blood sings with it, there will be no peace. And yet when she leaves Dantooine, it is not as a fallen Jedi, but as part of a mission to save the galaxy. 

If only she knew how to deal with a crew of strangers.

—

Flimsiplast in hand, Juhani called upon all the discipline she possessed to not fidget as she sat with Carth and Canderous inside Korriban’s cantina. She scanned the area for both threats and their supposed contact, trying to ignore the pervasive sense of dread that hung in the air, somehow more pungent than the reek of alcohol. Carth was similarly tense beside her, while Canderous remained as unflappable as ever; both of them were equally watchful as she.

If this was a trap, she would not be able to sense it.

An academy-approved archaeological expedition was hiring guards from the local mercenary pool, and it offered another way into the Valley of the Dark Lords. If it was legitimate.

After two weeks of waiting, Juhani burned to do something. The Ebon Hawk had not attracted any undue attention, and Bastila was safely concealed inside, and she had sworn she would not leave the ship. A part of Juhani disliked leaving her with only Mission and Zaalbar to defend her, but she disliked Velire alone in the academy even more.

Juhani shifted in her seat, feeling confined in Velire’s jacket. Mission had raided Velire’s bunk drawers for the occasion, insisting that Velire would not mind. Juhani certainly hoped that was true; even if the deception was necessary, she was not comfortable taking another’s belongings. She also hoped she would not have to mend any burst seams. The burgundy synthleather was buttery soft, if tight in the shoulders and short at the waist, made for a smaller frame. Still, it was enough to conceal her lightsaber, warm against her ribs, and the feel of its crystal near her heart offered a measure of comfort.

They did not have to wait long. A human man in Sith attire approached with the comfortable amble of an apex predator, and Juhani froze as she recognised the proud set of his shoulders.

“Dak?” she blurted.

“Juhani?” Surprise dawned on his face. “What are you doing here?”

Juhani stared, shocked. She had known he was angry, but to join the Sith?

[Read on AO3]

[eluvisen]

Heartfire - Chapter 1 

Fandom: Star Wars KOTOR

Characters: Juhani & Female Revan

Rating: M

Summary: There is no emotion—a lie that runs hot in Juhani's blood every day. There is emotion, and as long as her blood sings with it, there will be no peace. And yet when she leaves Dantooine, it is not as a fallen Jedi, but as part of a mission to save the galaxy. 

If only she knew how to deal with a crew of strangers.

—

It was only a matter of time, she knew, before someone would hunt her down to avenge Quatra’s death. Impatience wore at her the way a kath hound gnawed at an old bone, wishing to prove her strength, wishing to have it be over with. She could not help but wonder who might be assigned the task of killing her—Erelen was one of the enclave’s best duellists, and surely she had returned from her latest assignment. Jan Tai had faced the Sith in battle a dozen times, and could be recalled to Dantooine for the task. Perhaps Master Vrook himself would claim the grim responsibility of avenging Quatra. Or Belaya would— 

Belaya.

Juhani stopped. Closed her eyes.

Anyone but her.

She could go—go far away, where Belaya would never have to see her again. But as Juhani thought it, something inside her shrivelled. Even if she could leave Dantooine without attracting attention, there was nowhere else left for her.

But the grove—that was hers, and she worked to make it so. She ventured out to collect supplies: berries and roots foraged from the scrub, firewood from windfall left to dry in the sun, water from a clear-flowing stream. As she crouched on the bank, she saw a herd of iriaz upstream stretch their slender necks to drink. Their ears flicked and their eyes darted, alert for predators. A heartbeat later, the breeze changed direction, making the beads in Juhani’s hair clink. The herd fled with nostrils flared.

She hurried back to her grove. In truth, there was no need to hurry, yet the hot blood of her heart urged her on, on, even though there was still no enemy to vanquish. Merely a large herd of piket wandering over the hill, their long, graceful necks towering over the grassline. Overhead, a brith glided on silent wings, unconcerned by the affairs of land-walkers below. Juhani followed in its shadow, racing on swift feet—and at a flash of blue wading through hip-high grass, every instinct within her went still. 

Three Mandalorians stood in her grove, their armoured hides flashing like a taunt. 

Juhani called on the Force to cloak her in silence, and she slid unnoticed through the grass. For all the Mandalorians’ vaunted Force resistance, it was entirely too easy to stalk them through the clearing, silently drawing her lightsaber. She had, of course, heard the rumours of Mandalorian raiders terrorising the plains; while she hated to discover the truth of such rumours, she hated the Mandalorians more.

Her bellow rippled across the grasslands as she ignited her lightsaber. Everything was breathless, the world flashing by in a blur of gold, and she cleaved the first one’s head from his shoulders with a single glorious stroke. His head flew several metres to disappear into the grass, leaving the reek of burnt flesh and overheated alloys as his body fell with a thump.

Juhani grinned. For the first time in her life, she felt strong. Untouchable. Weightless with fury. 

No Mandalorian would ever take a thing from her again.

[Read on AO3]

[eluvisen]

Heartfire - Chapter 6

Fandom: Star Wars KOTOR

Characters: Juhani & Carth Onasi

Rating: M

Summary: There is no emotion—a lie that runs hot in Juhani's blood every day. There is emotion, and as long as her blood sings with it, there will be no peace. And yet when she leaves Dantooine, it is not as a fallen Jedi, but as part of a mission to save the galaxy. 

If only she knew how to deal with a crew of strangers.

—

Juhani was the first to wake in the darkened starboard dormitory, listening to the soft sounds of the other still-slumbering occupants. For several minutes, she was content to close her eyes and count the distant ticks in the power couplings. From the sound of the engines, the Ebon Hawk had since exited hyperspace. Dressing quietly, she left the dormitory, only to hear the stillness broken by a growl from the garage. Zaalbar, she discovered, dismantling a spare blaster rifle with more force than necessary. The servodriver snapped in his grip, and he barked in frustration.

All instincts on alert, Juhani peered into the garage. Zaalbar threw down the broken tool in disgust, hard enough that the servodriver bounced once, twice, three times, and fell off the edge of the workbench. He growled and dug through the drawers with jerky movements before giving up and wrenching the power cell out of the blaster with his paws.

She wavered on the threshold. “Are… are you well, Zaalbar?”

“I am not.” He hesitated, then added, “I fear we will find no welcome on Kashyyyk.”

Admittedly, that was surprising—but then, she thought, why would he have lived on Taris, of all worlds, if he could have simply stayed on his homeworld? Juhani wondered how best to approach this, considering several possible responses. She knew little of Kashyyyk beyond its great forests and did not want to be insensitive. At last, she settled on, “I understand having… complicated feelings for one’s homeworld. Should you wish to share what troubles you, I would be willing to listen.”

At once, Zaalbar shook his head. “I cannot speak of it. Forgive me.”

[Read on AO3]

[eluvisen]

Heartfire - Chapter 7

Fandom: Star Wars KOTOR

Characters: Juhani & Zaalbar

Rating: M

Summary: There is no emotion—a lie that runs hot in Juhani's blood every day. There is emotion, and as long as her blood sings with it, there will be no peace. And yet when she leaves Dantooine, it is not as a fallen Jedi, but as part of a mission to save the galaxy. 

If only she knew how to deal with a crew of strangers.

—

Juhani dug her claws into the branch she crouched on for balance. She had no desire to return to the Shadowlands, and certainly not in such an abrupt manner. The cool, coarse texture of wroshyr bark against the pads of her fingers also helped to ground her. She knew, objectively, that they needed to wait for the rest of the Wookiee forces to take their positions, but her pulse still pumped hot and hard in her ears, the verdant smells of the forest burning cold in her lungs. Through the Force, she could feel the life of the Wookiees flaring around her like fierce, furious beacons. Past the whisper of wroshyr branches, the distant sounds of Czerka personnel scratched across her skin; the guard commander’s voice climbed to a shout as he berated some subordinates for rough handling of a new acquisition.

Acquisition. 

Her blood boiled at the word, claws scoring fresh lines through the bark. Too much of a coward to admit it was slavery. But she knew what she could do to cowards— 

“Keep your claws sheathed,” Zaalbar murmured beside her. “We have lost too much to Czerka. We cannot lose ourselves as well.”

Her fingers ached where the points of her claws dug into the wroshyr branch. Reluctantly, she relaxed her grip. “You are right, of course.”

In the privacy of her own mind, Juhani could admit that she did not understand the Wookiee taboo against using claws as weapons. Her own people had no such hesitation. Indeed, it was often a point of pride among Cathar’s warriors to mark a hated foe. But just because it was not her way did not mean it was wrong, and she could respect Kashyyyk’s customs.

Zaalbar watched her for a long moment. Whatever he saw must have satisfied him, as he turned his attention to one of his scouts, who made a series of light trills that were echoed by other voices through the wroshyr—the other units, all confirming their positions.

Not long after, Juhani’s comlink chimed. Velire murmured, “We’re in position.”

The air was suddenly thick with anticipation. She felt the gently swaying branch beneath her feet, the warm grip of her lightsaber in her hand, the Force singing in her blood. Beside her, Zaalbar readied his bowcaster, issuing quiet orders to his warriors.

And then, a distant bellow.

In the space between one heartbeat and the next, Juhani leapt from the wroshyr, an exhilarating rush of clawing air and scratching leaves, lightsaber hissing to life.

[Read on AO3]

[eluvisen]

Heartfire - Chapter 2

Fandom: Star Wars KOTOR

Characters: Juhani & Female Revan

Rating: M

Summary: There is no emotion—a lie that runs hot in Juhani's blood every day. There is emotion, and as long as her blood sings with it, there will be no peace. And yet when she leaves Dantooine, it is not as a fallen Jedi, but as part of a mission to save the galaxy. 

If only she knew how to deal with a crew of strangers.

—

A familiar presence appeared at the edge of Juhani’s senses, and she opened her eyes to see Belaya enter the courtyard. Juhani could not decipher the look in her gaze as she halted before the garden bed.

Juhani’s heart thrummed in her chest, afraid of her censure. She swallowed. “Belaya.”

Belaya studied her for several terrible moments. An eternity later, she said, “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Juhani froze. It was true—even now, she could not raise her eyes to Belaya’s face, her pulse flighty with fear. She could not bear to see the reproval surely stamped across her features. But neither could she bear the thought that if she could strike down Quatra, her dear Master, what could she do to Belaya? 

She said, “I am sorry. I do not—” trust myself around you. “I mean, I am… shaken still.”

Belaya climbed into the garden bed to sit beside her, hands on her knees. Her countenance remained unchanged since they had last seen each other: her golden brown mane was secured in its customary braid, her fair skin warmed by a spring tan. She appeared sombre in profile, but instead of closing her eyes to meditate, she turned to Juhani. Her expression was—very soft. “After all these weeks, I thought you’d never come back. Why didn’t you?”

[Read on AO3]

[eluvisen]

Heartfire - Chapter 4

Fandom: Star Wars KOTOR

Characters: Juhani & Bastila Shan, Juhani & Zaalbar

Rating: M

Summary: There is no emotion—a lie that runs hot in Juhani's blood every day. There is emotion, and as long as her blood sings with it, there will be no peace. And yet when she leaves Dantooine, it is not as a fallen Jedi, but as part of a mission to save the galaxy. 

If only she knew how to deal with a crew of strangers.

—

The moment Juhani disembarked the Ebon Hawk, she knew Tatooine would be a miserable experience. Leaving the protection of the climate-controlled ship was like walking into a wall; the impossible, gritty heat made her skin itch and her nose burn. The planet’s entire surface was one vast desert, unfit for most life forms, with very little water and too much sand. Remote and unappealing, it was the sort of planet that attracted the seedier side of civilisation. Worse, the outpost was maintained by none other than Czerka, the industrial arm of the Sith Empire.

The crew gathered at the base of the ramp, and Juhani privately lamented that they could not conduct their briefing in the main hold. Padawan Bastila and Commander Onasi had just returned from making arrangements with the spaceport authority, the scarves around their necks already damp with sweat. Juhani wasted no time wrapping her own shawl around her head to ward off the worst of the sun and sand.

Bastila commanded attention with her effortless poise, hands folded across her stomach. “According to the docking officer, Czerka controls who may leave the colony. We’ll need to acquire a hunting licence before we can search the Dune Sea.”

“I suggest we split into two groups,” Velire said. “One to handle the datawork with Czerka, another to get a feel for the colony.”

For the briefest moment, Bastila’s expression tightened. Her gaze flicked in Velire’s direction, who appeared entirely unrepentant, and Juhani could not help but note the silent exchange that passed between the two humans. It was a common occurrence for bondmates to share a certain resonance, communicating through their shared connection, but she had never witnessed a moment so tense with unspoken meanings. How had a bond formed between two sentients who could hardly stand each other?

[Read on AO3]