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𝑺𝑼 𝑪𝑼𝒀'𝑮𝑨𝑹! This is an independent and selective blog for my oc, Nyla Kyr’am, based in the Star Wars universe. My name is Saige ( she/her & they/them ) and in this house we love the prequels, sequels and beyond! Discord is available for mutuals, and below are some helpful links! 

@hopegained​ said: ❝ do you legitimately have any standards or are you just terrible ? ❞

The dark sider had to laugh at his forwardness. After a while, the cowering and pleading of her victims targets tended to get old. There were only a small number of those in the galaxy willing to stand up to her. Eyes glinted maliciously at the bite of his words.

~

Once Commander had determined he had received an appropriate amount of attention, he flopped his way past Mara before jumping to the floor, toddling off to no doubt cause trouble somewhere. Taking a sip from the cup in her hands, Mara couldn’t help but sigh at the question, eyes narrowed as she lightly smacks Corryn with a nearby pillow. “An hour. So get a move on, I don’t want to be yelled at by the captain for being late. Again.” She pressed a light kiss to her girlfriend’s head before rising from the bed.

Setting the cup on a nearby table, her arms stretched above her head as she yawned. “Honestly, I think you’d sleep all day if I let you. Thankfully, I’m your personal alarm.” It was a tough job but somebody had to do it. Working on pulling her hair back into a braid, she shot a glance in Corryn’s direction. “I think they’re going to send us out again. Overheard some troops talking about a base that needed defending.” She sighed, her expression falling as she finished with the braid, reaching for her walking stick. “Apparently, they’ve lost a lot of troops already.”

She watched him waddle off once he was satisfied, an amused grin on her lips. The porg would probably search the base for more attention, as if he was absolutely STARVED of it. They would most likely find him begging their comrades for scraps in the mess hall ( their kind gestures only enabled the creature ). Corryn was glad she stopped short of another sip when Mara clocked her with the pillow. ❝  Hey, watch it! I know you love caf, but I’m pretty sure you’d grow tired of it if it seeped into the mattress. ❞ She leaned her head into the kiss, cheeks a touch rosy with embarrassment. Getting chewed out in front of her peers was not a fun past time, so getting a move on was important indeed. 

@hopegained | resistance shenanigans | always accepting

@dvrksiider​

It was early in the morning, but Mara being awake was not an uncommon occurrence. Especially when there was an impatient Porg chirping at her heels, eager for a walk or food…it was hard to tell. But he seemed content enough to simply follow Mara around, offering the occasional chirp of encouragement.

Pushing open the door to their room, Commander scurried past Mara to hop onto the bed where Corryn was resting, trilling in an effort to get her attention. “Before he gets too unruly, I brought caf.” Mara replied, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, holding out the drink, high enough that Commander–in all his curiosity–would not spill it. “We have that meeting today, don’t forget.”

Unless her slumber was light, Corryn did not always sense the departure of her better half. The other had always liked getting a head start on the day, whereas Corryn would sleep as long as she was able. In the few minutes before waking, her eyes fluttered occasionally, a sign her mind was occupied with a dream. The vast majority of what she could recall was DARKNESS -- shapes and shadows lingering in the small bits of light, but what they were exactly she couldn’t discern. 

Commander’s persistence started seeping into her vision, and with each little flop and squawk, she regained more and more consciousness. Eventually, Corryn pushed long, brown locks out of her eyes as she sat up in bed. ❝ Mornin,’ ❞ She greeted her girlfriend in a raspy voice and mumbled a ‘thank you’ at the offering of caf.  ❝ And good morning to you, too. ❞ The Porg was soon given all the head scratches he could want. The liquid burned on the way down ( still too hot for anything other than sipping ) but she needed enough in her system before getting out of bed. ❝ Mm. When’s that one again? ❞ She made a face in anticipation of being lightly scolded. 

The attack wasn’t entirely unexpected, but Starkiller wasn’t expecting the direction, a muttered curse falling from her lips as she brought her sabers up to block the attack, but the strength behind the blow brought her to her knees. Grunting, she leveled her glare on Nyla, lips pressed into a thin line. 

She didn’t fight the feeling of rage that washed over her, why would she? She would be a fool to not admit that Nyla was a skilled fighter. But she felt weak. And that was something she couldn’t stand. 

“Hardly.” But she wasn’t in an ideal position. “But you’re distracted. Something is different about you, what could it be, I wonder?” Pushing back against her opponent’s weapon, she fought to get back to her feet.

Nyla kept her downward momentum, fighting against Starkiller’s upward thrust. She felt a surge of adrenaline return to her in those moments, looking down at her opponent. Of course, no damage had been inflicted, but it always made her feel a little bit heady witnessing her opponents squirm beneath her. The feeling was only fleeting, and soon vanished as hesitation settled in. Hesitation was death. Hesitation was FAILURE. 

@dvrksiider​

How many times had they sparred? Although, spar seemed too nice a word. The two toed the line between sparring and fighting every time they crossed blades, either seldom walking away without a new injury of some sort. Starkiller wasn’t so proud that she wouldn’t admit earning a scar or two from their intense training. Taking a swift step back, she twirled her saber, taking the brief moment to catch her breath as she sized up her opponent.

“You’re getting slow, Nyla.” A pause, a smirk that was as much of a challenge as the raised weapon. “Sure you want to keep this game up?”

Anyone with little knowledge of the force users ( which was most of the order ) would think the goal was to kill one another. It didn’t matter the type of duel, be it for the sake of training or a spat spiraled out of hand, both brought an infamous level of INTENSITY with them wherever they tread. Her own rugged breaths were masked by the crackling of her blade as she circled her opponent. Starkiller was right -- a fact which made her seethe. Something was ever so slightly off about her, and Nyla had discovered the change during the last hunt she had lead. Suddenly, she was more prone to hesitation which opened her up to miscalculation. Whatever the cause, it was unacceptable.