like tempered steel.

  ————    she didn’t need any knowledge on the  FORCE  to know how much her daughter was dreading all the encounters,  politics arrangements and plain etiquette   ——   nor she could blame jaina at all,  for having dread the exact same situation in her age.   perhaps having lived in the castle for all her life did make it more usual or even casual,  still,  leia was always the one for the  ACTION  rather than sitting around,  professing empty promises and laws.

                   yet,  there she was,  looking at the spitting image of  SOLO  and putting on the same attitude from her aunt rouge,  having to ignore every part of her who wanted to spare her child from this chained life   (one who made the queen sunder herself from the only thing that made her happy,  after all she had been through).     ❝  perhaps we should take a break for tonight,  jaina.   but there’s no discussion,  you are being  PRESENTED  next month, whether you like it or not. ❞

                               becoming a princess seemed like an altogether RIGOROUS process ------ a work in progress despite the birthright she’s been told she possesses. in the first few weeks she had wanted desperately to go home to corellia, to the things familiar to her. to the hustle of the city, the sound of the rains. she missed the little workshop her father had constructed for her, filled with spare parts & half-formed droids. it felt so strange to her that she would be RIPPED from her dreams of corellian navy or the allure of the jedi way to this ... cool & rigid diplomacy. she had to remind herself, perhaps more than once a day, that alderaan was her HOME too --------- now it would be for the rest of her life.

                             patiently, the young woman awaited the telltale rock of the cabin that signalled a safe landing, her hand gripping the stable bar next to the exit door. SAFE ----- the simple concept had quickly become complicated. in the past eighteen hours, it was as if her whole world had been turned upside down, made her surroundings as unfamiliar as a STRANGER. she’d awoken that morning ( with the dawn, as per usual ) in her small quarters at the praxeum in their typical pristine display blissfully ignorant. it was not until she stepped outside of her secure location that she knew what occurred in the night while she was sleeping. the academy IN RUINS, bodies of her fellows still clutching their weapons, embers still smoldering around her bare feet...

                             the flames of which had still been smoking in her mind as she loaded the shuttle with the scarce belongings she had. contact with luke had been brief, he was in a neighboring system & would be there shortly ---- she conversed in one-word sentences & refused an escort. her throat was RAW from calling out for her friends, for HER BROTHER, burning with every corpse she uncovered. the cries echoed unanswered from empty halls.

                            the shuttle door opens & she is half-surprised by the little crowd on the landing pad. but jaina, a jedi just shy of knighthood, finds her placid expression effortless. it’s certainly a welcome change from the tears that streaked through the ashes on her face only hours ago. her carob-colored eyes searched the platform blandly, standing there in her robes motionless. until her gaze landed on an UNEXPECTED but much needed face. normally, she would have anticipated her mother’s small form to wrest her way to the front, but her father’s timing could not have been better.

                             legs that had felt like heavy STONE moments ago move to carry her quickly towards him. she stretches up on tiptoe & flings her arms around his shoulders. she could not remember the last time she had embraced anyone, let alone her own father, though she could hardly even remember a time when she needed to MORE. her fingers clutch at his jacket, almost losing the strength in her lower extremities to keep her from COLLAPSING. tears brimming in her eyes & it was as though they still burning from the smoke. her voice sounds hoarse to her own ears, full of FEAR & a hopelessness she’d never known ----

she’s quick to retort  &  it doesn’t surprise him . 

      ‘ i know it’s not my fault , but … look , those people had NO IDEA what was coming for them . what if we aren’t given warning ? what if we don’t have the TIME to send them to yavin ? ’ every since his journey to deliver the map , a form of weariness has found its home in poe , most prevalent in his eyes . suddenly his voice drops , thinking over the choice of his words . ‘ do you know the … FULL EXTENT of his powers ? he … he SENSED a blaster shot  &  stopped it mid-air . his abilities have grown further than we would have expected . ’ 

@legacia

      ‘ i think you  &  the kids should go back to yavin . ’ he’s already suggesting this a day after he’s returned . ‘ ANYWHERE’S safer than here right now . when i went to jakku , kylo wiped out an ENTIRE VILLAGE because of me . what if he found the base , huh ? ’ the screams of women  &  children still ring in his ears . if he had been more CAREFUL … ‘ if we just tell leia  &  han where you went , it means you guys are SAFE . PLEASE , jaina . ’

okay, so here’s the deal.

i really miss writing. like, really really do. i miss the interactions and the relationships with people. i miss building worlds ( & demolishing them ). i’m under a lot of pressure at work ( most of it i’ve put on myself but whatever ) & life continues to be a non-stop roller coaster, but i want to come back here. my creativity at times can be quite fragile, but i’m working on it. so ------------

i’m gonna try. i’m not going to be as active as i once was, but i’ll make a solid attempt. unfortunately, this doesn’t work without partners to write with. so if you’re interested in a laidback tempo, want to plot ( hell, even plot a ship if you roll like that ) and build/continue something with me, let me know!! skype, IM, askbox, pick your flavor.

if not --------- this is your open invite to unfollow me, no hard feelings. 

                                   informational overload -------- that’s only possible description that the girl can conjure for her mother’s newest lesson. before her, a hologram glows with the names, stations & systems of various diplomats & regents of the new republic. somehow ( though she deems the task wholly IMPOSSIBLE ), she is required to commit each name & face to memory. as though t’dek of the ruusan system is going to take any notice whatsoever if she doesn’t address him personally. quite frankly, she prefers the idea of HIDING in plain sight while the queen takes the forefront in any & all political endeavors. 

pops head in

you are not your follower count.

popularity contests serve nothing but the ego. i can’t say for sure but i don’t think any of us came to roleplay just so that we could have 4k followers and more drafts and memes and messages than we can shake a stick at. when you’re freaking out, looking at that little number, ask yourself two questions: does this affect my writing? should it?

we’re all disillusioned by the “friendly fandom” idea. the reality is that there are selfish and cruel people wherever you turn and sometimes it’s hard to escape them. it’s these kind of people that make it especially hard to be a part of a community. you know them, the ones who send hate anons, who are viciously jealous partners, who are prided on their celebrity and tend to ‘vague’ posts when they’re challenged. it’s disheartening as a writer when you want to fit in and people like this pop up.

being “quality” is a fallacy. you’re not quality because you have a high follower count. you’re not quality because of your amazing graphics, or your beautiful formatting. you’re quality because you enjoy your writing and you enjoy the writing of others and when you partner up with someone you create something incredible.

writing is an unbelievably communicable experience. roleplaying takes that to the next level and allows other people to interact with your writing, causing actions and reactions to happen that are truly inspired. it’s a great feeling to have that moment of pure muse and you just want to share it with everyone around you. and you should be able to, freely. 

your muse is your expression. don’t let anyone or anything stop you from being able to express. do whatever you want because it is a part of you! think a lot less about the popularity side, because in the end whether you write with 2 or 200 partners, the creation is still yours. it can be beautiful no matter what. 

remember this old school way of showing people your new blog?