@fcrvidus​ sent a [meme]: 

“Tell me what happened to you. Let me help.”

   Pidge wasn’t a fighter. She knew enough to get by and she could handle herself when needed, but she didn’t relish combat. She favored guerrilla tactics, ambushing when possible and dancing in and out of enemy reach when she had to face them head on. She balanced well with other paladins, playing the part of pesky irritant, distracting the enemy long enough for her friends to get in harder hits than she could manage on her own. Even her bayard honed in on her flighty tactics.

   So when the paladins were separated and she was on her own, not even Rover by her side, she was having a hard time. Something was jamming their comms and she hadn’t had a moment of peace to bunker down and set to work rifling through the coding to fix it. She knew the others needed her for that. Hunk was probably trying-- if he wasn’t in the same situation as Pidge was.

   This planet was swarming with sentries, creepy Galra machines that Pidge really wanted to take back to the castle and crack into. The thought of all that new tech to play with thrilled her, not to mention it would also be a great opportunity to find out if and how to disable whole squads of the robo soldiers at once. And that was a trump card she could have really used right about now. 

   The odds were stacked against her from the start: five on one. If things had been different maybe she would have been able to take them out sneakily one by one, but she’d turned a corner and come face to face with the sentries. After some effort, two fell to her bayard. But close quarters fighting was nowhere near her specialty. As quickly as she’d gained it, she was losing the upper hand. A shot from behind hit her in the back, right below the protection of the armor-- pain. Another hit her in the chest, thankfully not breaching the thicker armor there, but the force knocked her off balance to the ground.

   She had to run. She knew she had to get away somehow. Her surroundings offered no good cover. Dammit. The most she could do was put space between herself and the sentries. She rolled onto her stomach, both hands clutching her bayard tight above her head. A flash from her bayard and the weapon shot outward, dragging her forward through the legs of a sentry once it had found an anchor point. 

   Something was burning through her system; her helmet’s HUD lit with a medical alert. The sentries’ weapons were alerted to subdue this planet’s lifeforms, which were much hardier than humans. And she was a small human. One shot and she felt like she’d been pummeled; it was hard to breathe and her muscles were seizing. Pushing herself to her feet, she scrambled around a corner, flimsy cover that would do no good once the sentries just walked over and--

   Explosions? That noise was unmistakable. Those were the small detonations of sentries being destroyed. Pidge chanced a glance back around the corner. 

   “Keith.” She’d never been so happy to see the stoic paladin. At least neither of them was alone anymore. A good thing too because Pidge’s legs couldn’t hold her weight; she dropped to her knees, hugging herself. Her back burned--

   Keith wasn’t asking questions when he neared her. She was grateful; she didn’t need a coddling touch. 

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    She hated to admit it, but he was right. The red paladin would be her only way out of the quickly collapsing base, and if she wanted to survive then she’d need to trust him. Her mother had trusted Voltron, and Elara knew that their intentions were good. The bitter feelings were hard to overcome, and it no doubt made her loyalties seem skewed. She certainly had some personal biases to overcome. But that crisis would have to wait for another day; when she wasn’t in danger of being tossed into the cold abyss of space.

   With a pained hiss, Elara let him haul her arm over his shoulder so she could lean against him. With one arm wound around his armor, the other pressed against the injury at her side. “I’m going to trust you. Don’t–” She grit her teeth as another tremor shook beneath their feet, and she had to fight to keep her footing, “–don’t kill me, yeah? I’m not an Empire soldier.”

@fcrvidus SENT  :   ❛ i love how i can just look at you and be happy . ❜ 「 ✦ 」 ── ჻ ❥     𝐓𝐎  𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄  𝐖𝐄  𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 STARTERS

「 ✦ 」 ── ჻ TALK ABOUT AN ARROW RIGHT TO THE HEART. ‘cause shiro sure as hell feels each of keith’s words. scarlet burns on his face. ❝ even when i’m like this ?? ❞ he asks with a shy, flustered laugh. the man can engage in hand-to-hand combat like no one else. he can pilot a variety of ships with his eyes closed. but-- he’s been having a little difficulty trying to untangle this mess of blankets.

        after a few more seconds, shiro separates out the blankets.  ❝ finally !! ❞ with a warm smile, shiro drapes the soft fabric over keith && himself. a soft sigh of content escapes as he curls up against the young man. ❝ to be fair-- that’s how i feel when i look at you. ❞ he steals a kiss, then nuzzles against his partner’s cheek. his lips trace the edge of keith’s scar. ❝ or even when i think about you. ❞ it explains why shiro will randomly smile to himself throughout the day.

         shiro pulls keith into his lap, && keeps him in a warm embrace. they’re holding true to their tradition of movie marathons. along with their shared enthusiasm for halloween. even before october hits, they’re already watching horror films. ❝ i’ll try not to laugh too much this time, ❞ shiro says as the first movie starts playing. one hand holds onto keith’s, fingers intertwined. the other plays with his soft, dark hair. ❝ but i can’t make any promises. ❞ he’s grateful that keith doesn’t mind shiro cracking up over horror films. shiro doesn’t know exactly why, but it just happens. everything in these movies are so damned amusing to him. 

     Of all the things that he’d expected to find in Oriande, rejection was a possibility that he hadn’t been prepared for. In the birthplace of Altean magic, Lotor had hoped to find, along with the knowledge of his mother’s people, something that had been scarce during the centuries of life that he’d lived, a luxury that not even his own father had been willing to extend to him.

     The white lion’s rejection, however, had been rather obvious. It might not have come with the biting comments that he was used to, with the disgusted looks that he’d been raised to expect, but its decision had been final in a way that no other’s had ever been. In this case, Lotor hadn’t the opportunity to prove the ancient being wrong, and would never be able to do so again, as he might have with those who normally disapproved of him.

     After all, what other opportunity would the half-blooded emperor to prove himself to a long-dead culture? It was a sting unlike any other, and one that he would not be able to simply shrug off.

     It was this carefully masked frustration and disappointment that led him to the training deck. As far as the emperor knew, the paladins had all retired to their separate quarters, a fact which came as something of a relief to him. It meant that he would have the deck to himself, without having to worry about prying eyes catching sight of his loss of composure, should it happen.

     Besides, if there was a confidence in himself that wouldn’t be shaken, it was his certainty with a blade.

     The sound of clanging metal, of clattering on the other side of the door, caused Lotor to pause, however, white brows furrowing with surprise. Were the rest of the castle’s occupants not resting? He might have worried about an intruder, were it not for the location of the disturbance - after all, why would a stowaway be in the training deck?

     Even so, years of experience had his hand to his blade before Lotor moved to enter the room, the door to the training deck hissing as he drew near. He expected to see the white armor of a paladin, or perhaps an unrecognizable figure otherwise - it turned out to be neither, however, much to his surprise. There may have been no paladin’s armor, but he knew the figure who stood in darker garb, though the two of them had never spoken.

     Though perhaps that needed to change, given that the emperor owed Keith his life.

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 Ki sighed, shaking his head, “No...no, no don’t go. I’m sorry.” He tossed Keith a startlingly sheepish smile as a hand lifted to run through his hair. “I’d be wary too, seeing a big ‘ole Empire commander lounging about on a peaceful planet.” He hated to admit that he’d acted too harshly, but Kiat’re still wasn’t used to a universe that wasn’t overrun with other galra. To be seen out and about as he was would arouse suspicion in anybody. Especially from a former paladin of Voltron.

 “Well, Keith, the name’s Commander Kia’tre--er, Ki. You can call me Ki.” His sheepish smile turned to something a bit more charming, fangs flashing warmly. Looking Keith over, he was surprised no one had previously guessed his galran heritage, before it was truly revealed. While his human traits seemed to be dominant, his galran features were unmistakable. “You know, can’t say if I’m envious or not that you didn’t grow up galra.” He heaved a shrug, and gave his tail a soft flick as he thought over Keith’s comment about most galra going home.

   The new galran home planet didn’t feel like home, that was for sure. “Guess I should explain why I’m here, before I seem even more suspicious.” Long ears pressed back as Ki sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets, large shoulders seemingly deflating. “I’m just a commander, Keith. A well-accomplished, commander, sure. But just a commander with a tact for keeping a good crew. Not much use for me if there’s no war to fight.”

   Once more his gaze traveled to his shorter visitor and he snorted out a bitter laugh, “The Blade, at least, has found a use for themselves. I had the choice to sit behind a desk for the rest of my life. Maybe retire early with the rest of my generous paycheck and try to make friends among all the jaded commanders and soldiers.” Things were supposed to be happy. Peaceful. Instead, most of the Empire had been left without a worthwhile job, and with a feeling of bitter longing for what had once been.

The paladin’s apparent anxiety did catch the flare’s attention, looking up from the star charts they had been studying they offered Keith a friendly grin. “Oh! My buddy Nuyt says I’m a ‘flare.’ But I don’t really know what that means if I’m sincere,” They explained, fluttering their wings a bit before turning all the way around to be more proper.

Send me a flower and I’ll write a starter or a drabble based on the flower sent!

@fcrvidus​

     "My apologies for calling you here so late into the night, but I have a matter of vital importance that I need to discuss with you.” Aside from Lotor’s voice, only the hum of the Warship could be heard - a dull, constant sound that the Emperor never noticed anymore, unless he was specifically listening for it.

     And in this instance, it was far from Lotor’s mind as he gestured for Keith to take a seat at the long table. With only the two of them here, in a room made to seat dozens of Generals and Lieutenants, the chamber felt so very empty, but that was exactly as the Emperor wished it to be. This conversation would be for his and Keith’s ears alone, so long as his fellow halfbreed was as trustworthy as the Emperor hoped.

     How long had it been since he’d put any faith in another?