SWTOR ficlet: Monster (Khem Val)

This was a little reflection on the relationship (mostly canonical) between the Sith Inquisitor and Khem Val over the first three chapters of SWTOR.

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Monster. Blakk calls him so, in fascinated horror. I call him so as well, but it’s… different, in a way. It’s hard to explain, this bond of ours, this strange relationship.

I would not call Khem Val a friend. No, he is no friend of mine. But he is a comrade, and in a way I do trust him. I trust him to honor the bond that holds us, and he has never lied to me, even if I do not at all care for the truths he presents. There is a small comfort in that, having no doubt of where I stand with him.

He resents our binding - of course he does. Slave, he says, and in a way he is. It burns me deeply to say so, but at the same time it was and indeed is necessary. He does not like me. I don’t care if he likes me; he respects me, if grudgingly, and that is what matters in the end.

He never hesitates to remind me that I fall short of the glory of his last master; powerful though I am, I am no Tulak Hord. I do not seek to be so any more than I seek to be a mirror of my ancestor. I would be happy to leave the dead to their rest or torment, and make alliances only because I must.

It seems that is my lot, to make alliances of convenience to survive this path I am forced to walk. Some I will happily cut ties with in the end. Some have become too entwined with me to ever truly be gone.

I had once been certain of where the Dashade stood. He resents the binding. I resent the binding. And yet, knowing he is there, that I can trust his words and his strange brand of honor… there is a reassurance there.

He is still blunt, critical and harsh. Yet there is something different in his tone. Something more to his words, that I need time to unravel.

I cannot help but feel that perhaps things are changing. I should be wary, given how happily he would kill me.

And yet…

I am no longer so certain that is his wish. We shall see.

SWTOR prompt fill (ft Corso Riggs/f!Smuggler Captain)

PROMPT: Looking at her was like looking for stars in the night sky; the longer you looked, the more you saw.

I absolutely ship Corso with my lady smuggler, and this made me think of something he might say.

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You know, on the surface, she seemed pretty simple. Not like stupid simple or shallow or anything like that, just… she’d breezed into Ord Mantell like it was nothing even though she was diving into a war zone. There was a bounce in her step, a smirk on her lips, and when Skavak screwed us over she was just mad about her ship.

Of course, after a while I realized she was Corellian, and flying was in her blood; that ship was so much more to the captain - it was home, it was independence, it was freedom. She’d paid the whole thing off, done the custom work by hand or overseen the jobs too big for just one little lady. Over time, I picked up more about her - there were a lot of things Sahare talked about real easy, and it was impressive. She was younger than me, you know, but she’d done so much more. For a while, I was pretty convinced all she could possibly see looking at me was just this farmboy playing mercenary. Good kid, smart enough and good with a blaster but she was leagues above me when it came to just living.

Some of that she didn’t talk about, but I picked things up slowly from watching her. I watched her a lot, actually, especially in the beginning. Not like a stalker or nothin’ but just because it hit me after a while that I had absolutely no clue what I’d really committed myself to. The things we went through together, things she barely bat a lash at, threw me for a loop more often than not.

So yeah, I watched her. To learn from her, and later to learn about her. The crazy assasin droid that travelled with her - us, since I came along - was actually more of a help than I’d realized. He was casually cruel and bloodthirsty, bitingly sarcastic and it took a long time before I could look into those green optics and not feel like he was calculating my death. I’m still not too sure he doesn’t some times, but I’m pretty sure if he does, it’s just something he does because it’s written straight into his code. It’s been a while, and I’m still alive, so that says somethin’ right?

I still watch her, though she lets on that she notices these days. Asks me what I see, sometimes, and sometimes I tell her whatever new bit I’ve figured out. Sometimes I just remind her how amazing she is. And she is. Amazing, I mean. I watch her do all sorts of mundane things, and even just those… it’s amazing, but the longer I watch her, the more I find I didn’t know yet. That I want to know. She burns with the light of the stars and the depth of space, and I want to explore it all.

Heh, she’d laugh if I told her that, though.

SWTOR prompt fill: Don't Bleed on My Floor

Tiny snippet between two of my SWTOR Legacy characters, Seran-vin (mercenary) and Lathi (Imperial Agent) - Zabraki brothers who try not to bring work home, for obvious reasons. But sometimes things happen.

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“… don’t bleed on my floor.”

“I feel so very loved,” Seran muttered, walking in anyway because like hell was he going outside. If he was bloodied enough to drip on his brother’s floor, he had other priorities, as Lathi damn well knew.

“You should. I didn’t kick you out, after all,” he pointed out, glancing back. “You look horrible. What happened?”

“Had a difference of opinion with some pigs.”

Lathi turned his chair, looking him over properly. “And is that Ugnaughts, Gamorreans or something generically insulting?”

“‘less you plan t’ avenge me, it doesn’t matter.” Seran made his way stiffly to the ‘fresher, ruined clothes left in a wet pile.

They ended up burned in the incinerator in short order, as Lathi was rather disgusted with the mess, but he let Seran sleep off a few kolto shots while Mako came to get him.

Neither of them discussed the incident after, or how Lathi suddenly had a new set of contacts and codes from inside the Cartel not too long after a bounty was cashed to Seran’s credit.