Theron wasn’t sure he had ever seen Bey’wan Aygo look as out of sorts as he did when he and Kryn led the small group into the main room of the Alliance. The man’s eyes flickered from Satele, looking as poised as ever, even in the old robes and worn appearance, to Jace, his former commander, dressed in civilian clothing for what must have appeared to be the first time in forever, to the Force Ghost of Darth Marr, his long-time adversary, and Theron has the sneaking suspicion that Aygo wasn’t sure who exactly he should address first, nor how, given the current state of the galaxy.
Luckily, Jace seemed to recognize the situation and stepped forward with a handshake and a smile before changing the topic to the plans for attacking the Star Fortresses.
It was inevitable, Theron suspected, for the place to erupt into heated debate only a few minutes later, especially considering the philosophical differences and history between everyone involved. A sudden wave of sympathy for Lana’s constant patience washed over him; he couldn’t imagine having to put up with something on this scale for several days, let alone for months.
“A gentler hand would be more conducive to winning the trust of the Zakuulian people and the Core Worlds,” Satele interjected over Marr and Jace’s earnest plotting, a frown tugging at her features.
In a strange show of inter-faction unity and in what was probably the first time in recent history, both Jace and Darth Marr turned to stare at her with matching disbelief. She crossed her arms across her chest, looking from one to the other. “Yes?”
“You know, Shan,” Marr drawled with considerably less tact than Theron remembered from when he was still alive, “this is why you lost, right?”
Unsurprisingly, both his parents bristled immediately. “False offerings of peace are hardly acceptable war tactics, Marr,” she retorted.
“I don’t mean that, though I have to admit that I am honestly impressed you fell for that.” He waved a hand airily. “But how else do you think you lost Phaeda?”
Jace’s expression turned thoughtful, though Satele’s didn’t change from outraged. “I remember you being more circumspect, Darth Marr.”
“And I remember being alive. A pity neither of them lasted.”
Gsnk’s art style is rly nice. And even though it relies heavily on misunderstandings and manga stereotypes as the source of humour (which i’m usually not fond of) im willing to give it a chance… i guess.
The holidays are once again coming up! This blog has been active for a while and I am surprised by how many people actually follow it. Thank you all for sticking with my flaky self. I know I’m not here a lot but I am glad for the frequent visitors that like my posts and who comment or reblog. Love you all!!! <3
On that note, I don’t think I will be able to write a lot. I can barely write my current fics and I am swamped with work. So, I hope everyone has a safe holiday and be merry or happy~ <3
But can you imagine Stiles trudging home. Getting in the car he owns and having a suitcase because he has to go back to uni after the Winter break which he decided to actually go back home and not stay like the previous years.
The one to welcome him with a big smile and open arms is Peter.
His father isn’t around much because he drowned himself in work and drinks at night. Peter had tried to help him out of his funk for Stiles’ sake but the sheriff was hopeless.
But he welcomes Stiles home and it confuses the other but he smiles to him and relaxes before Peter decides to inform him of the things that his father had been doing. So then Stiles agrees to spend Christmas over at Peter’s place because why not? Not like anyone else really cared he came back home. He felt ecstatic when Peter smiled to him and welcomed him. Stiles felt at home with him.
I love a paint-splattered-rachel-elizabeth-dare and I love an awkwardly-blushing-percy-jackson and I love a slightly-jealous-annabeth-chase and I love a completely-horns-out-grover-underwood and I love a ridiculously-short-lovestruck-juniper and I love all of you and myself and PJO.