#iconaclysm

THE COUNCIL REFUSED TO LISTEN ... that's of little surprise to shepard. he's no fan of politicking, never been, and he hardly enjoys spending his time entertaining men like ambassador donnel udina. their different of volatile and angry don't clash. ( shepard's is too dirty, too often mired in blood and in mess that men like udina don't mind so long as it facilitates their work, from far-off as possible; udina, clean and sophisticated and un-shepard-like as he carries himself, has learnt to bite in other, endlessly irritating ways — muzzled by layers and layers of bureaucratic red tape as he is. ) back in the embassy, shepard couldn't yet imagine a person more grating than udina ... but that had changed, very swiftly.

it's the same everywhere, be it lowly street gangs or army or the upper echelons of intergalactic politics: men — and asari in the case of the council — of power looking after their own. the peace of anyone else, even the entire galaxy, be damned.

alenko gave him solid enough advice when they were still on the normandy. follow standard operational procedure; salute anything you can't eat or kill ... but theory is one thing, and application another entirely. no amount of coaching would have dampened the rage that swells in the wake of the council's dismissal.

the measured look on captain anderson's face, angled intentionally in shepard's direction as he and udina take their leave, says ' don't take it personal, kid. ' anderson certainly didn't, even under udina's verbal battering and even as the captain was forced out of the investigation. but shepard isn't anderson — a task that requires far too much self-restraint than shepard has in his arsenal — and anderson doesn't have the anguish of the prothean dead crawling beneath his skin. hissing in his ears, buzzing like static, their warning simmering in his blood and churning an odd unease in his stomach. he couldn't make much of it until he had stepped into the tower and turned his eyes up towards the council and their most prized agent.

( the voices have been crying for blood, shepard thought then. blood that has to be spilt, and soon, to clot the fracturing dam ... before the destruction he glimpsed spills through and sweeps across the galaxy. )

the holographic interference did a poor job in veiling the smugness in saren's words and the hostility that set his jaw. unfortunately for anderson, the matter was already personal from the moment human's eyes met spectre's.

( saren arterius' would do. the next time they meet. )

... but shepard's getting ahead of himself. unearthing evidence is their first step.

williams and alenko have gone on ahead; he spots them near the entrance to the tower, lingering together by the fountain and no doubt striking up invigorating conversation about the scenery. that's fine. shepard needs a minute to gather his thoughts, anyway — and to press away the buzzing of memories distinctly not his own. he pinches the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes tight and running through names in his head. harkin. garrus vakarian. barla von, shadow broker.

" — if you've got something to say, say it. " ... the ache growing in his temples and the thought of where to go next and who to interrogate don't distract him enough that he can't hear the footsteps approaching behind him, quiet and steady.

↳ @iconaclysm ⇀ 💬

                 OUTSIDE   THE   EMPEROR,   Vader   has   never   encountered   a   power   to   rival   his   own   until   discovering   that   to   sever   himself   from   his   master   he   must   submit   to   one   he’s   fought   just   as   fervently   against;   patience.   His   disdain   for   it   comes   from   how   little   it   often   yields—its   appetite   as   perpetual   as   the   dark   side’s   &   hardly   as   rewarding.   Revan,   intentionally   or   no,   made   him   suffer   both   &   the   oppressive   force   of   failure   doubled   when   Vader   worked   in   parallel   with   them.               Acute   pain   beats   just   beneath   the   variegated   orbit   of   his   eyes.   The   one,   giant   sun   sits   as   an   arc   on   the   horizon,   but   it   will   never   set   on   this   planet.   It   observes   him   with   malice,   &   it   knows   he   will   never   enjoy   its   absence   &   the   balm   of   a   night’s   chill   on   his   suit’s   overheated   systems.   He   flicks   one   of   the   blocky   switches   on   the   function   box   that   regulates   his   suit’s   temperature   to   redirect   chilled   air   to   his   helm   at   the   cost   of   his   heated   abdomen.   It   didn’t   matter   how   long   the   days   stretched   into   years   of   tinkering   &   adjusting   the   parameters   of   his   suit,   there   was   nothing   that   could   appease   it—to   stop   the   gnawing   rawness   of   its   feedback   sensors   &   poor   fit   with   his   flesh   that   abraded   it   &   ended   up   exhausting   him   after   every   battle.   There   were   convoluted   machinations   that   were   powered   by   knowledge   yet   again   beyond   him.                

                 ❝   you’re   wasting   energy.   you   know   i’m   right.   ❞        a   phrase   that   abruptly   provoked   many   of   The   Jedi’s   memories   &   conflated   them   with   Vader’s—memories   of   being   barricaded   from   grasping   that   which   was   beyond   his   reach.    

              With   the   halfway   ghost   of   a   being—who   does   not   suffer   the   prickling   planet’s   pressure—in   his   ear’s   tepid   &   faulty   implant   about   fruitless   ventures   to   planets   abandoned   even   in   the   ghost’s   time,   &   the   stark   vacancy   of   the   archive,   Vader   considered   changing   his   mission   to   find   a   way   to   bind   the   relic   to   a   body   just   to   free   them   of   it.   The   leather   of   his   glove   strains   &   creaks   as   his   durasteel   fist   balls   up   &   releases   a   violent   force   push   against   a   nearby   console   whose   databanks   were   empty.               Visual   readout   analyses   on   his   HUD   shut   down,   he   would   prefer   to   use   his   own   eyes   to   survey   the   remains   of   a   war   so   ancient   it   could   only   hardly   be   recalled   by   Revan,   who   likely   heard   it   in   passing   between   whatever   crusades   they   waged.   Vader   would   find   some   mention   of   Sith   alchemy. 

questions for the mun.

HOW. i literally just sat down and said "this is the vibe." i was very inspired by the conviction arc in b.erserk. the first step of development was really moodboards and thinking about why a character would be like that. i think the "why" question was most important in my development of an oc for me. gotta have a strong vibe, but it's gotta have meaning.

STEPS. vibe came first. name came second. i love the name selah, and it stuck out to me while listening to a psalms audiobook (trying to read the entire b.ible bc yk... religious studies for my MA this fall) her mannerisms came next, sort of imagining her physically. but that also helped flesh out the personality, bc, again, you gotta answer the "why" question. fc came waaay later, and i actually changed it a few times in the early days of the blog. still wish e.mma c.anning's hair was a little lighter. selah's hair is brown!!!

⚌ Who inspires you?

in the rpc world? @wornkindness! i admire katie's dedication to amelia and the amount of love she has not only for her own character but also for the world that she's created is wonderful! if you aren't following her, you need to. not only does she have beautiful aesthetics, but amelia is so loveable and i always hang on every post or random piece of info katie shares with me.

outside of rp, i am inspired by the greats. writers who were rejected and turned down for their ideas, but eventually found that one person who said yes. they have inspired me and made me want to continue my dream of writing a book of my own.

⛵ What genres do you like writing the most?

despite being a scifi lover, i never feel confident in my scifi writing, but i keep trying and keep learning more about what makes for good scifi writing. that said, i really enjoy writing high fantasy or horror fiction.

THE FIRST thing obi - wan notices is the distinct feeling that this person doesn't belong . that there's something DIFFERENT about them , something that separates them from the rest of tatooine . it puts obi - wan on edge . an oddity in a place like this could draw eyes . eyes could draw the empire .

     Initiating defensive protocols.

     New objective: Drain the fun out of it.

if we are to limit ourselves purely to context provided by the games, it would be irrefutable to say that samus’ homesickness is deeply intertwined with her upbringing by the chozo, & the melancholy of a completed mission is the general catalyst for her desire to embrace any reminder of their warmth, partake in however much comfort it provides :  

with the phazon crisis brought to a close, another chapter of galactic history bookended by the arrival of samus aran & the intervention of the galactic federation,  mourning fallen allies corrupted by the very power that allowed her to succeed, she returns to the planet of elysia, another world of many graced by chozodian engineering, & merely sits & stares as the sun falls over skytown .  like all of samus’ characterisation in the prime trilogy, it is simple, effective & infinitely meaningful .  the events which transpire in wake of her adventures always carry a deeper consideration within her that we never get to see, & she, like anyone who would survive similar horrors, needs time & privacy to work through the events unfolded .  solace in the knowledge that peace once again reigns through the galaxy, her chozodian duty fulfilled, grief for those who couldn’t survive to see it, for what she was forced to do to fulfil her purpose .

the ever poignant cosmic balance, trading a few lives for a billions others .

samus’ conception of a home can only ever be fashioned in the image of the chozo, nothing that precedes or succeeds her upbringing on zebes can rival the days spent dashing past the fields of crateria, exploring the ancient temples of chozodia, under the watchful eyes & tutelage of old bird & gray voice .  even though always training to be a warrior, a student lost in teaching, seeking bloodthirsty vengeance against the pirates who robbed her of her human family, it would be the closest thing she would get to a childhood, & alongside the early days of her time in the galactic federation, form the self-perceived positive aspects of her early life .

i’ve considered for a while now how to best rewrite K-2L in samus’ backstory, maintaining the orphaning while removing ridley’s involvement, & i think an unnecessary but fitting change would be to refashion K-2L from a human colony on an unnamed planet to a colony ship floating through space during the moment of attack .  does seem more fitting for space pirates to commandeer a spaceship, i feel, & beyond samus’ very early youth, the cold & sterile environment of a colony ship would provide ample explanation for her childish mind retaining little of her human upbringing .  it was a transitional environment, a liminal space, always waiting on the promise of arrival somewhere else, though K-2L would never finish its journey .  samus remembers little before the fire that engulfed the ship, the attacking pirates, the screams of the colonists, her mother hiding her away & the dreadful wait as the sounds cease & her rescue from it by the chozo .  it’s a memory always wanting to burn its way out of her mind, only leaving scars .  something she distracted herself from while on her path to becoming a chozodian warrior, & nothing resembling home .