Jedi Council Forums - “Driftwood” [’fic fragments by TMcE & JDH3 - 3 new posts and 1 ISSR classic for Thanksgiving!!]

Locked Topic | Read Only Topic | Previous Active Topic | Next Active Topic

Pages: 1 | 2 | 3 - ~~Previous~~ | Next | Reload

Author	Topic: “Driftwood” [’fic fragments by TMcE & JDH3 - 3 new posts and 1 ISSR classic for Thanksgiving!!]
Thrawn McEwok Title: TFN EU Staff Registered: May '00	Date Posted: 10/31/05 10:03am Subject: “Driftwood” [’fic fragments by TMcE & JDH3 - 3 new posts and 1 ISSR classic for Thanksgiving!!] - Date Edited: 3/1/06 1:31pm (10 edits total) Edited By: Thrawn McEwok
	[Okay; a new thread for me to post fragments of ’fic of one sort or another that I have sitting around the place… an assemblage of things that haven’t worked out as whole stories, and maybe a few teasers for things I still have plans for – but, for now at least, hung together in a different, rather looser, sort of pattern. Feedback is, as always, appreciated, and the usual disclaimers apply: George owns the Star Warriors, the GFFA and probably most of the Void; this is just a not-for-profit critical and artistic response to the STAR WARS saga; just because I write a ’ship doesn’t mean I ’ship it; and we’re all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the sea of stars….] EDIT: as of 25th November, I’ve decided to open this thread up to guest submissions – largely because the estimable JDH3 has lots of fragments on his hard-drive, too. I guess you could call it a challenge with no rules, except that the one-shot/fragment in question should be already written, but hasn’t been posted for whatever reason. If you have something that you think might fit, PM me!! Contents “Strange Bedfellows” [Post-NJO, technically non-AU; Marakin ] (31st October, page 1) “The Personal Level” - [Luke/Callista, Mara – ‘Darksaber’ AU] (31st October, page 1) “A Jeedai is for Life, not just for Life Day” - [NJO AU, Jaina Solo/Nom Anor] (31st October, page 1) “Girl on a Swoop Bike” [Tatooine AU] (25th November, page 1) “For Grandfather” by JDH3 [Post-NJO AU] (25th November, page 1) “Forced Perspective” [YV, post-NJO] (25th November, page 1) “This Minute Now” [REPOST!! Jaina, Lowie not-quite-ISSR] (25th November, page 1) -----signature----- A/T = OTP :===8[#]8===: Kyp/Jaina fans: stand up and be counted!
	Locked Topic \| Active Topic Notification \| Private Message \| Post History
Thrawn McEwok Title: TFN EU Staff Registered: May '00	Date Posted: 10/31/05 10:05am Subject: RE: “Driftwood” [Random ’fic fragments by TMcE]
	Strange Bedfellows War makes strange bedfellows, Anakin Solo mused, as his wife shifted up alongside him in the bed, her hand stroking his chest, bright hair tumbling and bouncing on his shoulder like a sunrise spilling across the surface of the sea. It was a long time since he had seen a real sunrise, or a real ocean, but that was still what her hair reminded him of, a lustrous dance across the spectrum from blood-red to bright gilt bronze, with flecks of silver now to add to the illusion. He could, he decided, ignore the fact that the silver meant she was starting to go grey. But he couldn’t ignore her hand, drifting downwards across his stomach on a path a that was lazy and playful but very definitely premeditated – gently brushing the curls above his belly-button, then disappearing beneath the rumpled sheet that guarded his modesty. “That tickles!” he laughed. “He-ey!” “I know,” she murmured, nibbling the side of his neck for emphasis. Then she paused, and lifted her head to look at him, propping herself up on the elbow of her artificial arm. “What are you going to do about it?” Anakin pursed his lips, looking at her armoured elbow and flexing the fingers of his right hand in reply. They had both lost parts of themselves in the long years of war – and more than that, much more. But, he reflected, they still had each other, and their children. “Anakin?” “Mm-hmm?” “I asked you a question – and when I ask, I expect an answer.” “Oh?” he said, frowning up at her. “Um, sorry.” There were laughter lines crooked round the corners of her smile now, and more at the edges of her dark green eyes – but she still looked as beautiful and deadly as the day he’d first realised he was in love with her. “What did you ask again?” he blinked. “I’m sorry – you distracted me. Um….” “I asked what you were going to do about it,” she said. “And as a General to a Commander, I expect an answer.” “You keep refusing me promotions!” he protested. She started to laugh, then paused, and scowled at him. “You were supposed to kiss me,” she sighed, her hand sliding forward again onto his chest. “Sorry,” he swallowed, seeing the hurt in her, wanting to help. “I ruined the mood, didn’t I?” “Yes,” she answered, heaving off him – cross and serious. Perhaps she’s right to keep me where I can’t do much harm, he thought, sighing as she rolled out of bed, and began to put on her uniform. She started briskly enough, but then slowed, and began to take her time about it – taunting and torturing him, allowing him to savour the sight of tight, tailored black fabric sliding over her dusky skin. Long, lean legs; arms that still seemed surprisingly muscular after twenty years of marriage; and a torso still trim and taut after two sons and a daughter. She caught his thoughts in the Force, and lifted her head, smirking back at him. “That’s right,” she nodded. “I’m putting on my uniform, and going on duty.” “Love,” he sighed. “Come back to bed.” “Why?” she countered, wrapping her belt around her waist and clipping on her ligtsaber. “Unlike you, Anakin, I have a sense of responsibility. That’s why I’m a Jedi Master, and you’re still just a knight after all these years. That’s why I have a command to hold together here, and you… what do you do, again?” Commander Anakin Solo, executive officer of Eclipse Wing in Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s Household Phalanx, wached his wife march out of the room, then sighed and lay back on the bed, defeated. She’s right, he thought, frowning – no, grimacing. Twenty years they’d been stuck here at in the Maw. Twenty years of scouting and skirmishes, watching the Yuuzhan Vong take down everyone that stood against them; twenty years in which the Household Phalanx’s secret reserve of pilots and ships had gone from being a last line of defence to being the only surviving infidel group with any sort of interstellar organization or sustainable tech-base – a few hundred Chiss and humans in a handful of hidden fortresses in the darkest corners of the Galaxy. Perhaps Thawn knew all along, he mused. Perhaps the Grand Admiral had forseen that the Yuuzhan Vong would never be beaten, and sent his Phalanx into hiding to ensure that something would survive to preserve the memory of the Chiss, the Empire, and the Jedi Knights. The Yuuzhan Vong would never be beaten, Anakin repeated to himself, whispering the words. Not now. Any chance to beat them had been lost with the Third/Fifth Fleet at Bothawui, fifteen years ago. The officers of the Household Phalanx kept watch, of course, and did what little they could – precious little. But they knew that they would never win. Not now. They either had their dedication to duty, their loyalty to the pattern and discipline of military life, or like him, they had nothing at all. At forty-two, Anakin Solo had shocks of grey hair at his temples, and he was still just a Commander. He had a solemn-eyed eldest son who was already a colonel with his own squadron, a daughter and younger son who spoke better Chiss than Basic, and barely thought of themselves as human any more. He had a wife who was passionate, strong and phenomenally organized, but she couldn’t overlook his weaknesses all the time. The arguments were getting more frequent, and more bitter, again. But, he already knew that his wife – his Tenna – would forgive him, this time and every other time. If only because there was no-one else. Once, she had been Ereneda Tenel Ka Chume Djo Jai – a Jedi Knight, a proud daughter of Dathomir, and sovereign queen of the sixty-three worlds of the Hapes Star Cluster. Now, she was just Lieutenat-General Tenna Solo, and all she had was a rusting space-station in the black heart of the Maw, with the seventeen surviving Clawcraft of Eclipse Wing, their pilots and groundcrew, and the children. And him. Because she needs me as much as I need her. But if you were who you were meant to be, you wouldn’t need her. It wasn’t the first time he’d had this conversation with himself – with his conscience. War makes for strange bedfellows, he thought again, and sighed. -----signature----- A/T = OTP :===8[#]8===: Kyp/Jaina fans: stand up and be counted!
	Locked Topic \| Active Topic Notification \| Private Message \| Post History
Thrawn McEwok Title: TFN EU Staff Registered: May '00	Date Posted: 10/31/05 10:08am Subject: RE: “Driftwood” [Random ’fic fragments by TMcE] - Date Edited: 10/31/05 3:51pm (2 edits total) Edited By: Thrawn McEwok
	The Personal Level Luke and Callista strolled along the concourse, almost dancing in the diamond-bright sunshine of a Coruscant spring morning. The Oraznio Esplanade was situated at the southern edge of the Senate Plaza, an open-air terrace set beneath a massive, age-scarred frieze that was meant to depict the birth of the Old Republic. It wasn’t yet ten o’clock, but it was already starting to get lively, with street-artists hustling the first tourists of the day, students and bureaucrats grabbing breakfast at the pastry-stalls. “You’re worried,” Callista said, looking at him. “Just a feeling,” he shrugged. “This thing with Leia and the Hutts has moved too fast. I feel I should be going, but….” “The government doesn’t trust you?” she asked, with a smile. “Peril of being the guardian of moral integrity in the Galaxy. I remember Qui-Gon Jinn and Micah Giett….” She smiled fondly. “Luke, you have to remember, they’re not going to understand you – they’re probably a little scared. Especially after Kyp.” “And after Operation Shadow Hand,” he conceded. “Kyp isn’t the only one.” “I know,” she nodded. “But they understand Leia better, because she’s one of them.” “It’s Jedi business.” “What isn’t?” Callista asked. “With Mon Mothma gone….” “You liked her, didn’t you?” “I knew of her,” she nodded. “Admired her… oh.” “What is it?” “My stomach,” she said, skewing her jaw and biting her lip. “Must have been those jellied bluns.” “Are you…” “Just – let me go and freshen up, Luke….” “Are you…?” “Yes. Love you though.” “You too. You’d…?” “Yes. I have to go.” *** From her vantage-point in one of the shadowed service-doors that led to the covered speeder-bays under the Plaza, Mara Jade watched as Skywalker and his woman parted company. She tried to suppress her smile. They looked good together – Ming bare-armed and long-legged in a sleeveless waistcoat and a sarong skirt, Skywalker in a sky-blue tabard over one of his usual black one-pieces. If she wanted, she thought, she could have killed them both, there and then. If the Empire ordered her to, she supposed she would have to. Skywalker seemed to be dreaming as she disappeared, meandering along the walkway with Artoo Deetoo following a few steps behind. “Hey,” she said, stepping out in front of him. He blinked, and smiled, his eyes going bright. As genuine – as idiotic – as ever. “Mara,” he said. “What are you doing here?” “I’m getting breakfast,” she answered, slipping her arm under his and leading him away. Artoo booped something, and turned to trundle after them. “You’re buying.” “Mara. We need to talk.” “That’s why we’re having breakfast together, Skywalker,” she clicked, pausing at the pastry-stall she’d selected in advance, picking food for both of them while Luke fumbled in his credit-catch for change. “Double-quick for me, no frills. And a hot chocolate for my husband.” “I’ll have a standard caf, actually,” Luke corrected, glaring at her. “Blue milk.” “Whatever.” She rolled her eyes “Husband?” he asked, as she steered him towards a table – shining chrome and transparent plast, round-topped, with matching seats. “Was that really necessary?” “We make a good couple,” she countered. “Good cover. Sit down. Now listen.” But Luke was leaning forward even before she’d slid properly into her seat. “Did you kill that Moff?” he asked. She paused, looked thoughtfully at nothing in particular for a moment, and leaned back in her chair. “Which one?” she shrugged. “I’ve killed a lot of Moffs.” “Braks,” Luke said. “You know what I’m talking about.” “Braks was a Planetary Governor, Skywalker,” she said, allowing herself a faint ghost of amusement. “The Moff you’re thinking of was Vozn. Take that as a yes, on both counts. And Admiral Savager.” She broke a corner off her pastry, and popped it in her mouth. “Now you’re playing games with me, Mara,” he said. “Savager is in New Republic custody. He has been for years” “His corpse is,” she shrugged, chewing. Her eyes didn’t blink. “I killed him about quarter past nine.” “Mara!” he said, palms flat on the table, his jaw working in outrage. “It’s what I do, Luke,” she sighed. “I’m an Imperial assassin. Don’t you understand that?” “No,” he conceded, looking hurt. “Guess not.” She took a sip of her caf. “You and Callista seem really happy together.” “We are,” he said, scowling slightly at the juxtaposition. “We really are.” A smile played on his lips. “She’s tough enough that you won’t hurt her, too.” “Why would I want to,” she sighed. “Seriously, I’m happy for you. One of us deserves that sort of happiness, Skywalker.” “You were the one who walked out on me,” he said. She rolled her eyes. “I wonder why.” An awkward pause. “Mara…?” “Yes, Skywalker?” “I….” “I know. Be happy. You two – you’re great. I’m just a little commitment-shy for you. You deserve someone like her, and it looks like you make her happy, too.” She glanced away to her right. A group of shuttle-sized men in too-sharp suits were heading their way from the direction of the Palace – New Republic special forces. The one in the lead she really didn’t like the look of – level blue eyes that glittered with cold passion, blond stubble on his scalp. Bigger than the rest of his team, as well – but from the way he moved, more agile with it. She frowned, looked at him more closely “I need to go,” she said. “Mara,” Luke asked. “Wait.” “That’s not a good idea,” she said, nodding to where the SpecForce men were closing in, tensing to rise. But there was something in Skywalker’s eyes that held her there. “What hold could the Empire have on you?” he asked. For a moment, he looked alarmingly like his sister – and, somehow, genuinely lost. She blinked, and rocked back in her chair. Breathed out. “Always the innocent, Skywalker,” she said, her eyes flashing, a smile dancing on her face. “I should have figured that you wouldn’t get it. I should have figured….” With a laugh, she pushed up out of the seat, and scooped up her jacket and satchel. Then she paused, and ducked close for a goodbye kiss, grabbing his head and shoulders in a quick embrace. “One last thing,” she said, hissing in his ear. “You might want to look at what’s building on the Ison Corridor, Skywalker. Give Kyp a trip home. ” “Mara…?” he asked, reaching after her, but she was already on her way away, slipping quickly into the growing crowd of tourists. As she’d known he would, he simply slumped a little when she went – sat down where she left him, his haze-blue eyes following her as she disappeared. Half-way down the concourse, she paused, and looked back through the crowd; but he had already gone. Her smile tweaked, like a glacier cracking its way forward, and she set off back to the Fire. Another job done. -----signature----- A/T = OTP :===8[#]8===: Kyp/Jaina fans: stand up and be counted!
	Locked Topic \| Active Topic Notification \| Private Message \| Post History
Thrawn McEwok Title: TFN EU Staff Registered: May '00	Date Posted: 10/31/05 10:12am Subject: RE: “Driftwood” [Random ’fic fragments by TMcE]
	A Jeedai is for Life, not just for Life Day Nom Anor peered into the dark, smelly belly of the storage-sac, rummaging around among old snagniths and discarded nokku pods. Finally, his fingers closed around a baulk of dirty infidel fabric, as stiff and dark as dried blood. He grinned in triumph as he hauled out his prize. Kicking the sac back underneath his divan with one heel, he bundled the fabric up in his hands, and looked across his shal at at the slave, curled asleep on the floor in the far corner. She looked peaceful, her face hidden behind her long hair, her chest rising and falling with a quiet, steady rhythm. Full of life, like simmering water. Her slave-bolt had taken well – the coral seed grafted to her to her sternum after her capture had sprouted into a solid knob of pale pumice, as long as a finger-joint and twice as thick around, rimmed by a crust of scabs and scar-tissue where it pushed out through her skin. But the visible bolt was just a transciever for the neural web laced through her body, a symbiote grown through the very fibre of her being, which turned her into a physical adjunct of the great gravitic network which bound the Yuuzhan Vong together – every warship and worldship, every settlement and scout, every servant-creature, and every slave. And now her. Reaching for the keyed or-villip on the nearest leaf of his deskplant, Nom Anor stroked the control with one calloused finger, grinning in anticipation. The slave literally leapt in pain, waking up with a helpless yelp as a surge of agony spiked her body. Nom Anor laughed aloud to see her move like that, physically bounced up off the floor by the surprise. She caught herself on her hands and feet, and turned to look at him, hurt in her eyes – the smouldering smoke left by the lightning-bolt shock. But she voiced no objection to being woken, and she rose slowly to her feet, first to a crouch, and then, without fully pausing, up to stand. He looked her up and down, and as he looked, her eyes had dropped – to the rumpled thing he was holding between his hands, and the incongruous pair of leather boots, leaning against each other on the floor beside him. “Surprise,” he said, hefting the bundle, and pitching it across the room to her. “Catch.” The bundle fell short, and she made no attempt to catch it. Instead, she just stood still, and quirked an ironic eyebrow at him, as though to say that such a pathetic throw didn’t warrant any effort in reply. “Pick it up,” he said, nodding to the bundle. He watched in silence as she obeyed, crouching on the floor to pick it up. Even after two months of torture and interrogation, there was still something elegant in the way she she moved, a restraint and a dignity. Or perhaps the pain and humiliation had just made her more careful, more self-conscious. He watched as she lifted the bundle, following her fingers and palms with his gaze as she gripped the fabric and untangled it, then looking at her face – shadowed between the curtains of her long hair – to gauge her reaction as she realised what she was holding. It was a battered and battle-damaged one-piece jumpsuit. The Major’s insignia and the Rogue Squadron patch had been cut away, but it was still recognizable as the flight-suit of a New Republic combat pilot. It had been hers, once. After a moment, she lifted her head, and looked at him. And he looked back at her. Her face was still unmistakeably that of an infidel, but pain had drawn her skin taut over sharp cheekbones and a tight-clenched jaw. There was a distinct asymmetry to her mouth and chin, and the way he had broken her nose made her at least interesting to Yuuzhan Vong eyes. The dark eyes which met his own gaze were unreadable, alien. “Your cloaker,” he said, still speaking Yuuzhan Vong. “Get dressed.” “Thank you,” she answered, her voice a quiet whisper – the first words she had spoken since he had roused her. The first words she had needed to speak. Like him, she spoke Yuuzhan Vong. She looked away, as though embarrassed, then turned her back to him, and began to slip back into the wreckage that had once been her uniform. With her back turned, he found himself looking at the way the hem of her tee-shirt rose and fell against the waistband of her boxers as she stepped into the legs of the jumpsuit, offering teasing glimpses of the base of her spine. The cuffs of her shorts were cut high enough to show hints of the curve of her buttocks underneath. She shuffled the waist of the jumpsuit up over her hips, and stood upright again. For a moment, he wondered exactly how to read her reaction to the unexpected gift, but he let the question go. It was more interesting, more satisfying, to watch her pull her arms into the rumpled sleeves of the jumpsuit, watching her hands wriggle out the cuffs; then watching her crook her arms back in from the eblows, gathering her hair up and out from under the collar. Nom Anor had long suspected that the thoughts people thought they were thinking were all just aspects of more complex, less easily definable things. An individual’s emotional reaction reflected how they thought they should feel, just as their physical response was how they thought they should act. Shame, embarrassment, and gratitude were all just echoes of something bigger. Perhaps a more pertinent question was why he had returned her old uniform to her in the first place. In the klekket that the Jeedai slave had been his responsibility, he had enjoyed the battle of wits, the dance between his ability to hurt her and her ability to defy him. He had taken pleasure in being able to use her as a strop to sharpen his command of Basic, and also in introducing her to the Yuuzhan Vong language, and the rudiments of the True Way – the subtle semantics of pain. He had enjoyed watching as the Shapers ran their experiments on her, laughing as she sweated and snarled inside the vivarium, smiling as she howled with helpless pain during the vivisection sessions. He had enjoyed the moments he had prised truths out of her under interrogation, and also the times that she had defied him, with lies and long silences, and humour as black and bitter as bad caf. He liked the fact that she hadn’t broken, merely become sharper. She turned to face him, he looked at her again, and he decided that yes, she did look interesting, not unpleasant now he had broken her nose out of true, and she had acquired a few more honest scars. For a moment, a smile appeared on her face, at once tentative and teasing. For a moment, his twisted lips cracked into an answering grin. Then they slid their smiles back in their sheathes, and got on with what they were doing, not wanting to look deeply at the implications of those bartered smiles, traded between prisoner and interrogator. He pitched her boots over to her, she pulled them on; and he watched her a little longer. He liked Major Jaina Solo, he realised. Nom Anor chuckled dryly, and shook his head. There was no Major Jaina Solo any more – slaves had neither domain nor rank. She was no longer a warrior, nor a Jeedai, nor a citizen of the New Republic. She was just Jaina. A slave. Jaina. He ran his tonge around the shape of her name, almost spoke it aloud. A name for a slave. Jaina. But to most infidels, addressing someone by their given name alone was a gesture of familiar affection, a sign that you acknowledged them as a unique individual. And perhaps, when he spoke to her, he allowed her to hear a hint of that in his voice – a slight suggestion that he understood where she had come from. Assuming she even noticed. Nom Anor shook his head. He had long ago stopped trying to analyze what she really thought of him, and it wasn’t like him to care, either. Jaina was an infidel slave, and he was a Yuuzhan Vong, an Executor of the Intendant caste. He was in charge of her, like he might be in charge of a ship or a facility or a new weapon-system; and that was the basis of their relationship. Their relationship was combative, hostile, barbed and twisted. But, he conceded, it was a sort of friendship. Barbed and twisted was the Yuuzhan Vong way. The True Way, even. Did infidel intelligence officers built up the same relationship of mutual respect with the prisoners they were assigned to interrogate? Or was he just fooling himself – or, worse, letting a dangerous and deadly Jeedai captive fool him? Just how desperate and determined was Major Jaina Solo, Jedi Knight and Rogue Squadron pilot? “Finished,” she said, tugging up the fastener on her flights as far she could. The protruding coral stub on her chest forced her to keep it low, revealing cleavage and a stretch of sweaty vest – but she didn’t seem to care. She just reached back to gather her too-long hair into a tail, knotting it through itself in her one outward concession to the Yuuzhan Vong way of doing things. She looked at him, then, slowly and casually, moved her hands to opposite shoulders, and bowed her head. “Thank you, Nom Anor,” she said again. She made a mockery of it, but he enjoyed that. She had, after all, been taught the language by him. The hard way. “Come on, then,” he said, pushing up off the divan, and clicking his fingers. “Heel, girl,” he said, in Basic. She laughed – that was the same in any language; and she shook her head ruefully as she hurried to catch him up – a gesture that both infidels and Yuuzhan Vong seemed to share, although he wasn’t sure how long it had been current in either side’s body-language. But her smile was gone in the time it took them to step out through the portal. The Yuuzhan Vong still called the surface facility on Myrkr by its old infidel name of Hyllyard City – Hiiliiar’tar. But it was little more than a big clearing in the jungle; a few Yuuzhan Vong buildings and landing berms, planted in scattered clumps on the flat, springy surface of the drap dhor which had buried the rubble of the old spaceport on the day they took the system. Nom Anor turned right, away from the main compound with its barracks and officers’ shals, towards the damutek and the landing field. “Where are we going,” Jaina asked, unusually subdued. “More interrogation?” She sounded almost hopeful, he thought. As though she could sense what was coming, but was holding on to the chance that there was some alternative. “No,” he said, without looking at her. “You are being reassigned, back to Baanu Rass.” “Oh,” she said, and in the corner of his eye, he caught a slight slackening in her shoulders, like defeat. She bowed her head. “I thought….” “You have been… most helpful,” he said, reaching across and brushing the nape of her neck, seeing the way she shivered – fear, guilt, desire, loathing; whatever those things meant. He grinned at her. “The Warmaster has decided that you have reached the end of your usefulness as a damutek specimin or an intelligence resource.” “The cycle of nature?” she asked, glancing quickly in his direction, but not making eye contact. “Something like that,” he nodded. “So why don’t you just kill me?” she challenged, her gaze flashing like lightning in the darkness beneath her brows – suggesting that he couldn’t, wouldn’t, shouldn’t. “We only execute cowards,” he shrugged. “I argued that you deserved better.” When she didn’t answer, he went on. “You are aware that we have voxyn aboard the Baanu Rass.” “And you train them with live prey,” she shrugged. “So, that’s it. Thanks a lot.” “I’m sure you’ll do fine,” he told her. The shuttle was coming in above the treetops, a black shape against the blue sky. A typical yorik-trema – a faintly flattened lump of rock, fairly basic. As it came close, Nom Anor could see the familiar blunt bow, the bright colours of the dovin basal drive devices and point-defence weapons that nested in the crater-like hollows of its pitted surface. “I’ve blown up a lot of those,” Jaina remarked, beside him. They fell silent again, and stayed silent as the trema glided in across the treeline and dropped down in front of them. A cadre of warriors stepped out, hulking brutes led by a sharp-edged female subaltern in the red armour of a veteran, who marched long-legged across the mossy ground to Nom Anor, and offered him a short, sharp salute. “This is the animal I am to transport?” she asked, her voice a loud bark. Nom Anor found her as offensive as he normally found her type, but today, he was feeling indulgent. “Treat her well,” he said, shoving Jaina forwards. “We will treat her as she deserves,” the warrior spat in answer, grabbing Jaina and wrestling her away. Half-way back to the shuttle, she wriggled free, and turned to look back at him. “You care, you know,” she said, and grinned. “You’re a wonderful human being.” He laughed at that, then caught himself. Strangely, the same smile stayed on his face. “Hurt her,” he ordered. “With pleasure,” the subaltern grinned, and backhanded her spiked bracer into Jaina’s mouth. They rucked her into the shuttle, then hauled her to her feet inside the hatch, but only so that a sideswipe from the largest warrior could knock her to the deck. They should have been given strict orders to ensure that she was unharmed, but they were warriors – they would probably have felt dishonoured if they didn’t break a few ribs and fingers when they had a genuine Jeedai in their grasp, even if he hadn’t given them permission. Warriors were, in Nom Anor’s considered opinion, idiots. He found himself oddly relieved by knowing that Jaina had learnt to take falls in the two months since she’d been enslaved – odd, because relief wasn’t the emotion he had expected. Satisfaction, maybe, or practical recognition of a survival technique. Instead, a strange calm seemed to settle in his mind as the hatch-plates of the shuttle sealed shut. Nom Anor watched for a while as the yorik-trema disappeared up into the pure blue sky, then turned, and headed back to the damutek. -----signature----- A/T = OTP :===8[#]8===: Kyp/Jaina fans: stand up and be counted!
	Locked Topic \| Active Topic Notification \| Private Message \| Post History
Maggy Registered: Oct '04	Date Posted: 10/31/05 12:37pm Subject: RE: “Driftwood” [Random ’fic fragments by TMcE]
	yeah you are really busy [review here] ~ Mags ~ -----signature----- The Revenant - http://boards.theforce.net/a/b10477/28313064 - co authored with Jedi Ant "Maggy rawks " - YodaKenbi Proud Recipient of the Golden Elegos™
	Locked Topic \| Active Topic Notification \| Private Message \| Post History
YodaKenobi Title: TFN EU Staff Registered: May '03	Date Posted: 10/31/05 2:02pm Subject: RE: “Driftwood” [Random ’fic fragments by TMcE]
	“You keep refusing me promotions!” he protested. But if you were who you were meant to be, you wouldn’t need her. There is so much to read into that line, I think it alone makes this little post brilliant for the ambiguity. Anyway, I really loved this one. The Marakin teasing was funny, but I was pretty sure it was TK from the behavior so I actually caught one of your tricks this time Was very melancholy, which I sort of like, and beyond that I loved the concept. That all that's left are a few Chiss and human hiding in Thrawn's old phalanx bases after the Yuuzhan Vong invasion. Brilliant! Would have loved to read a full-length fic of this, to be honest, but it definitely works this way, especially with all the ambiguity. Great fic once again, Mr. Ewok -----signature----- lol The Lands of the Dead: http://boards.theforce.net/beyond_the_saga/b10477/28522077/p1 Blood Trail: http://boards.theforce.net/beyond_the_saga/b10477/28636429/p1 "They weren't very bright, even for Imperials."— Emala
	Locked Topic \| Active Topic Notification \| Private Message \| Post History
oldjedinurse Registered: Oct '03	Date Posted: 10/31/05 2:41pm Subject: RE: “Driftwood” [Random ’fic fragments by TMcE]
	Very interesting trilogy of fragments, McEwok. I like the first for its very AU environment, and particularly found your take on Anakin intriguing. I don't believe I've seen him presented in such a light before - lacking ambition, rather resigned to fate...although Tenna remains true to her canon character (I think). The Luke-Callista-Mara triangle - LOVE that Mara persisted in her role of assassin, and yet she had been with Luke, for a time? The mind wanders to many things here. And Jaina as Nom Anor's pet? That was great. Probably my favorite. (Well, okay, maybe I don't really have a favorite!) The picture of Jaina as defiant voxyn bait is frightening. I had a vision of her family forced to watch her "training" - does that make me sick? Nevermind. That was a rhetorical question. At any rate, I'm rambling. Great little viggies! Enjoyed them very much. oldj -----signature----- Confidence is the feeling you have before you understand the situation.
	Locked Topic \| Active Topic Notification \| Private Message \| Post History
YodaKenobi Title: TFN EU Staff Registered: May '03	Date Posted: 10/31/05 3:13pm Subject: RE: “Driftwood” [Random ’fic fragments by TMcE]
	Now the second post... If she wanted, she thought, she could have killed them both, there and then. This is why I love Mara “His corpse is,” she shrugged, chewing. Her eyes didn’t blink. “I killed him about quarter past nine.” Very enjoyable, Thrawn Mara was perfect in this. I'm pretty sure she poisoned Callista a little so she could have a moment alone with Luke An interesting AU and a lot of fun to read -----signature----- lol The Lands of the Dead: http://boards.theforce.net/beyond_the_saga/b10477/28522077/p1 Blood Trail: http://boards.theforce.net/beyond_the_saga/b10477/28636429/p1 "They weren't very bright, even for Imperials."— Emala
	Locked Topic \| Active Topic Notification \| Private Message \| Post History
HandmaidenOfNameless Registered: Oct '05	Date Posted: 10/31/05 5:58pm Subject: RE: “Driftwood” [Random ’fic fragments by TMcE]
	TMcE - you are my hero. Every one of those vignettes was totally believable, and wonderful to read. I meant to review earlier and didn't I especially liked the third one. I'll put this on topic notification when I log back in. -----signature----- I become totally obsolete on December 27, 2005. (Actually, if you're into spoilers, I already am.)
	Locked Topic \| Active Topic Notification \| Private Message \| Post History
Tahi Registered: Jun '02	Date Posted: 11/1/05 3:36am Subject: RE: “Driftwood” [Random ’fic fragments by TMcE]
	The Anakin-TK one was an unusual take on Anakin, but it certainly worked in the context. Evil TK taunting the poor guy like that - heh heh. I loved the Mara one - especially Mara herself. Her smile tweaked, like a glacier cracking its way forward, and she set off back to the Fire Marvellous and drool-worthy. Giggled at her reference to the growing number of corpses she's producing. Great black humour. I sense a slight theme of sado-masochism coming through in these - should I be worried???? The Nom Anor one disturbed me a bit to be honest - very well-written and plausible, which is probably WHY I find it disturbing. After all, Nom Anor is one characer who defies any connection to good or evil, he seems to exist in a plane of his own - both amoral and a-Yuuzhan Vong. Certainly twisted, and with a curious mixture of narcissism and paranoia. Jaina, too, showed signs of a self-destructive streak, which you developed here, and extrapolated. Again - unnerving, but written in a way that gives it credence. Great idea to have a home for snippets like this. I enjoy these little tastes of possibilities. -----signature----- "To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven." Ecclesiastes 3:1 Master to THE_PIED_PIPER
	Locked Topic \| Active Topic Notification \| Private Message \| Post History
Thrawn McEwok Title: TFN EU Staff Registered: May '00	Date Posted: 11/1/05 5:09am Subject: RE: “Driftwood” [Random ’fic fragments by TMcE] - Date Edited: 11/1/05 6:01am (2 edits total) Edited By: Thrawn McEwok
	Mags: [Reply to reply here!! ] YK: There is so much to read into that line, I think it alone makes this little post brilliant for the ambiguity. Shush! Anyway, I really loved this one. The Marakin teasing was funny, but I was pretty sure it was TK from the behavior so I actually caught one of your tricks this time </defeated villain>It was the arm, wasn't it? Was very melancholy, which I sort of like, and beyond that I loved the concept. That all that's left are a few Chiss and human hiding in Thrawn's old phalanx bases after the Yuuzhan Vong invasion. Brilliant! Would have loved to read a full-length fic of this, to be honest, but it definitely works this way, especially with all the ambiguity. Thanks! A longer 'fic would have to have more variety, and I think (in retrospect) that the short format works better to express the situation... after all, it's all they have left - the "fragment" idiom works quite well for the "fragment" of humanity... This is why I love Mara " " Heh. Yep. Very enjoyable, Thrawn Mara was perfect in this. I'm pretty sure she poisoned Callista a little so she could have a moment alone with Luke An interesting AU and a lot of fun to read You're probably right on Callista's queasiness, unless my unconscious is playing tricks on me again... oldj: I like the first for its very AU environment, and particularly found your take on Anakin intriguing. I don't believe I've seen him presented in such a light before - lacking ambition, rather resigned to fate...although Tenna remains true to her canon character (I think). I did what I could! I'm not sure I can put what I'm thinking with Anakin into words, but I think part of it is that he doesn't operate at his best when enmeshed with systems he can't tinker with (the NJO story arc, marriage to Tenna, a Chiss starfighter squadron )... and that ties into what he does in SbS, as well... To my reading, TK seems someone who could still go several ways in canon (she's only had two real scenes since SbS, after all), but she's good at playing roles (ever since the YJK!) and at acting within the confines of a formal structure - which is what makes Tennakin fun, but probably why in canon, she's 'shipped up with Jasa, whose self-imprisonment in a cage of Jedi doctrine mirrors her role as Queen in a metaphysical way... The Luke-Callista-Mara triangle - LOVE that Mara persisted in her role of assassin, and yet she had been with Luke, for a time? The mind wanders to many things here. This one, in a modified form, may yet become a finished 'fic - it's now set in the Children of the Jedi timeframe rather than Darksaber, and this two-scene sequence has evolved into something that opens with the line: Luke and Winter hiked up to the top of the Great Temple together, leaving the clearing and the low outbuildings of the Jedi Academy far behind – up past the lush treetop canopy of the jungle, towards a sky that sparkled with the diamond-bright sunshine of a spring morning on Yavin 4. So you can see it's kinda... different! And Jaina as Nom Anor's pet? That was great. Probably my favorite. (Well, okay, maybe I don't really have a favorite!) The picture of Jaina as defiant voxyn bait is frightening. I had a vision of her family forced to watch her "training" - does that make me sick? No, it means that the 'fic worked! Nevermind. That was a rhetorical question. Thank you for reading, thank you for the reviews; nothing to see here - move along... Handmaiden: TMcE - you are my hero. Every one of those vignettes was totally believable, and wonderful to read. I meant to review earlier and didn't I especially liked the third one. I'll put this on topic notification when I log back in. Thanks!! Tahi: The Anakin-TK one was an unusual take on Anakin, but it certainly worked in the context. Evil TK taunting the poor guy like that - heh heh. "Like that"? You like that!? Reflecting about this last night after reading the earlier reviews, before I saw yours, it struck me that this Anakin had gone in a very different direction than your portrayal... I think it's still the same character, but the context, the way he percieves the world and what he prioritizes, has changed... and that's why he's trapped where he is... Also, maybe, a bit like Luke underneath, only with more Chiss-style analysis of what his actions and attitudes mean...? I loved the Mara one - especially Mara herself. Thanks. She's fun to write in that AU... Marvellous and drool-worthy. Giggled at her reference to the growing number of corpses she's producing. Great black humour. Yub yub!! has image of Mara leading Ewok commando team I sense a slight theme of sado-masochism coming through in these - should I be worried???? Ah... what's for you to worry about... unless you enjoy it!? The Nom Anor one disturbed me a bit to be honest - very well-written and plausible, which is probably WHY I find it disturbing. After all, Nom Anor is one characer who defies any connection to good or evil, he seems to exist in a plane of his own - both amoral and a-Yuuzhan Vong. Certainly twisted, and with a curious mixture of narcissism and paranoia. I find writing YV interesting, as I'm sure you know by now - and Nom Anor doubly so because he's a YV who's bilingual in Basic, both literally and metaphorically which is where I think he gets his attitude from... Jaina, too, showed signs of a self-destructive streak, which you developed here, and extrapolated. Again - unnerving, but written in a way that gives it credence. Thanks, I think? Great idea to have a home for snippets like this. I enjoy these little tastes of possibilities. Thanks! And, you like the taste...?! The next ones should hopefully be less variations on the theme of sado-masochistic relationships - though ultimately, isn't that what the Empire vs. Rebellion conflict is on a macro scale? Mon Mothma/Palpatine?! clears throat Anyway... I have a bit of A/T fluff I may try to get into shape, and a fragment of a rather... different... AU... - The Imperial Ewok -----signature----- A/T = OTP :===8[#]8===: Kyp/Jaina fans: stand up and be counted!
	Locked Topic \| Active Topic Notification \| Private Message \| Post History
Jags_Scoundrel Registered: Nov '03	Date Posted: 11/1/05 8:57am Subject: RE: “Driftwood” [Random ’fic fragments by TMcE]
	What a cool idea! Wish I had more time to comment, but my lunch hour is just about done. Just know that I loved them, and I'm looking forward to more! I have a bit of A/T fluff I may try to get into shape and a fragment of a rather... different... AU... If you think it's different . . . I'm frightened, but yet intrigued.
	Locked Topic \| Active Topic Notification \| Private Message \| Post History
Maggy Registered: Oct '04	Date Posted: 11/1/05 2:16pm Subject: RE: “Driftwood” [Random ’fic fragments by TMcE]
	I am too lazy to edit the previous post Strange Bedfellows “You keep refusing me promotions!” he protested. lol but wrong answer It was in a way sweet, two people who have nothing left expect themselves, depending on each other. well done, I like the description of Tenna The Personal Level As genuine – as idiotic – as ever. lol Another job done. oh? I’m not quite sure what to do with that thinks a bit more A Jeedai is for Life, not just for Life Day that was really interesting in a weird and twisted way. An Ewok way, even. the interactions between Nom Anor and Jaina ... in a way sweet, like lovers not Master and slave well done ~ Mags ~ -----signature----- The Revenant - http://boards.theforce.net/a/b10477/28313064 - co authored with Jedi Ant "Maggy rawks " - YodaKenbi Proud Recipient of the Golden Elegos™
	Locked Topic \| Active Topic Notification \| Private Message \| Post History
Thrawn McEwok Title: TFN EU Staff Registered: May '00	Date Posted: 11/2/05 4:45am Subject: RE: “Driftwood” [Random ’fic fragments by TMcE]
	Scoundrel: What a cool idea! Wish I had more time to comment, but my lunch hour is just about done. That's okay - thank for letting me know! Just know that I loved them, and I'm looking forward to more! Thank you! Thank you! " " If you think it's different . . . I'm frightened, but yet intrigued. Maybe my sense of "different" corresponds to other people's "normal"? Maggy: I am too lazy to edit the previous post It was in a way sweet, two people who have nothing left expect themselves, depending on each other. well done, I like the description of Tenna Thank you. Anakin's just not sure he's a terribly solid crutch, though... I’m not quite sure what to do with that thinks a bit more No? Why? that was really interesting in a weird and twisted way. An Ewok way, even. Haiku!! - The Impeiral Ewok -----signature----- A/T = OTP :===8[#]8===: Kyp/Jaina fans: stand up and be counted!
	Locked Topic \| Active Topic Notification \| Private Message \| Post History
TheCrazyRodian Registered: Mar '04	Date Posted: 11/2/05 5:39am Subject: RE: â€œDriftwoodâ€ [Random â€™fic fragments by TMcE]
	Woah. Cool. I'd say more but I ought to go to class. -----signature----- My body wears a green scent, as on the verge Between green laughter and green sorrow I have walked all day Until my legs have gone lame, and still the spring seems spirited away. --Yi Sanghwa
	Locked Topic \| Active Topic Notification \| Private Message \| Post History
Trepidation Registered: Aug '05	Date Posted: 11/2/05 11:19am Subject: RE: “Driftwood” [Random ’fic fragments by TMcE]
	Thrawn McEwok posted: “Treat her well,” he said, shoving Jaina forwards. My favorite line from your three wonderful offerings. Nom's hypocrisy in a nutshell. Spit-taking good reads, TMcE. More...by all means...MORE!!!!!! Cheers, Trep -----signature----- "I've met people who figure me for a spoiled Jedi brat." --Jaina Solo "Nooooooooooo !!!!!" snort---Trepidation
	Locked Topic \| Active Topic Notification \| Private Message \| Post History

Pages: 1 | 2 | 3 - ~~Previous~~ | Next | Reload