#miot

🌿✨ Here’s the new version of one of my OCs: Miot 💫 Out of the four, she’s the youngest —but also one of the most powerful 🌱💚

Her power is connected to all of nature, from manipulation to pure creation itself 🌸🍃 Even though she has an elegant and slightly sexy appearance, her personality is innocent and adorable, which makes the other OCs protect her with care 🥺💖

Fandom: SWTOR

Pairing: Theron Shan/Smuggler

Rating:  T (just at the end)

Time: Just after conquering the first Star Fortress (Between Chapters 9 and 10 of KotFE)

A/N:  Miot, the Sullustan pilot, gets his time in the sun.  Since Nien Nunb, I’ve always liked Sullustans, including Miel Muwn in the vanilla Smug storyline.  I also like giving characters more backstory than what we see onscreen, so Miot gets a life here -- what was he before the war?

**

Watching Miot savor his planet’s most famous product before it was taxed into oblivion was worth the unplanned visited to Eva’s ship, Theron decided. “It’s been a few years,” the Sullustan sighed into his glass.  He spent nearly as much time smelling it as he did sipping it.  

Eva was playing bartender, and she stooped to investigate her cavernous holdings. “If you want a bottle for yourself –”

“No, no,”  Miot declined.  “Maybe when all six star fortresses are gone.  But for now, just one drink for one very good night.”   Miot’s lips pursed underneath his facial ridge before taking another sip.  

“Sounds like a plan,” Eva answered as she rose back to her feet. She too had her Sullustan gin and tonic, while Theron had a delicious Corellian brandy – not unlike the bottle Jace had given him years before, also pre-Eternal Fleet.  It was a step up from his usual whiskey, something a little special. Bowdaar had no shame and demanded a glass of Crème d’Infame.  It was, by no small measure, the poshest, snobbiest, tastiest thing on the ship --- and if the Wookiee wanted it, he got it.    

Eva glided with ease out the galley’s door.  “Let’s light up the medbay like a Life Day tree really quick, Bowie.  Then we can enjoy the rest of the night.”  Bowdaar followed her out, the pair of them sauntering like they owned the place.

Well, they did.  

Theron listened diligently for her footfalls, then the beeps and clicks that he recalled as belonging to the Thief’s medbay.  Once he heard everything turn on and the medbay door swish close, he redirected his attention back to his brandy.  He let the warm, deep amber fluid warm him, from his chest to his extremities and back again.  “Credit for your thoughts.”

“She’s everything yet nothing I expected from the Voidhound.  Her reputation precedes her.  She’s the Death That Walks – that’s what the Gormak call her on Voss.”  Miot looked down toward the bottom of his still mostly fully glass.  “She is that.  Efficient, deadly, quiet – I can imagine her moving through the grassy hills of Voss, leaving bodies in her wake that seemed awake one moment and forever asleep the next.”

Theron’s mind revisited the minutes after he’d emerged from his prison on Rishi, the harsh afternoon light and ever-present humidity piercing his dirty, bloodied clothing, his head throbbing.  He realized that the entire camp was dead. Minus the odd sniper, he was safe.  In her anger, she’d killed most of the Revanites on Rishi.  For him. To save him.  Later, he realized she had done it for love of him.

“Her motivations are the surprise, aren’t they?”  Theron partially stated this, partially asked this.

Miot agreed, “Yes.  And she is much younger and more human – or humane – than I expected.  I forget that she was lost for five years.  I never considered she was barely more than a child when she became that creature.”  Miot shook his head.  “Most of my planet’s young ones are in university or beginning an apprenticeship. Yours too.”

“I was in SIS, personally.”  

Miot frowned.  “Not all of us were crafted for fighting, Theron.  I used to be a concert musician. Navigation, piloting, composing, performing – they’re all glorified and specialized maths.”  Miot shook his head. “You a spy, she the goddess of the underworld.  I do not wish to ask about how both of you got there before the age of 23.  You should have been children.”  

Theron never dwelled on the passage of years, nor how he spent them. Except for one particular waste. “Don’t cry for me, Miot.  I always thought I’d fight for the future, from the time I was old enough to remember.   Whether that took the form of being a Jedi or a Republic spy, I wanted something better for all the kids that came after me.”  Theron took a careful swallow of the brandy.  “Now I’m here in a rebel alliance, and the motivation is the same.”

“And her?” Miot took a deep, generous mouthful of his gin and tonic.

“Stuff happens.  She makes the best of it and drags everyone else along for the adventure.”  Theron knew her cosmology was so much more than that, but that was something Miot could ask for himself.  “Eva didn’t ask to be made into the Outlander – but she understands the importance of running a con and being an icon.”

Miot was silent, but only for a few moments.  “I wonder what life would have been like without the Eternal Fleet. If Vitiate was simply the Sith emperor, and nothing more.”

Theron quaffed all of his brandy.  “You and me both.”  Thoughts of weekends at his place on Coruscant, dating like normal people, doing domestic, that radical idea of not worrying over her – the dreams he had shelved – ran briefly through his mind. 

The medbay door hissed open.  “Oh, Theron!” Eva sang out.  “You want to check the readouts?”

Theron left his empty glass on the counter and walked toward her voice. He heard Miot trailing behind him, taking in the lounge as they crossed the center of the ship.  Of course, as anticipated, everything read out well on the Wookiee.  “Still in good shape, Bowdaar.”  The computer then spat its displeasure at Eva.  “Nerves – we knew that.  Fatigue – we knew that.  Muscle aches and pains – nothing too bad?”

Eva made a face.  “I’ve never been a fan of fitness regimens.  Me being a little sore after squirming around air ducts and punching a droid in the processor isn’t to be unexpected.  I’m fine.” She clinked glasses with Bowdaar and they toasted each other, finishing the dregs of their drinks.  

“Mission success, then.  Good work.” Theron pulled out his datapad and finalized a brief after-action report.  “Captain, you want to finalize tomorrow’s schedule?  We left a few things since we weren’t sure when we’d be back.”

Eva nodded.  “I think I have something I can defrost in here and we can work over a late dinner.”

Bowdaar nudged Miot.  “Oh no. Meetings are boring.  I’m starving.  You want to hit up the mess?”

Miot finished his gin and tonic and set the glass down next to Eva’s. “Sure.  I heard you are a pilot yourself, Bowdaar.”  

Bowie crowed happily.  “She taught me everything she knows – have you heard the story of how she took out an entire Revanite fleet by herself and nearly blew up this ship to do it?”  

Miot replied that no, he hadn’t, and Theron heard their conversation peter out as they left the ship and made their way across the catwalk.  Theron observed, dryly, “Wookiees are good wingmen.”

“Told you.”  Eva grabbed her glass and Miot’s in one hand and Bowie’s empty wine glass with the other and walked them back to the galley, Theron close behind her.  “Want another?”

“Yeah.  But do you want dinner and dessert in that order?”  As Eva was pouring his drink for him, Theron sidled up behind her to wrap his arms around her waist.  

“Are you actually not prioritizing work?”   Eva pushed the stopper into the brandy bottle and turned to face him.  

Theron leaned into her slightly, pressing her against the galley counter. “I can probably figure the schedule out on my own, but I’d like your input, if you’re still interested in giving it. And I think you should be comfortable before heading back to work after an already busy evening.”  

Eva hummed with some amusement.  “I think tonight wasn’t too bad in terms of contact and exertion on my part.  I think you were more stressed than I was.”

He nodded, a slightly teasing grin on his face.  “I was.  Been awhile since I walked you through an op.”

“You didn’t seem too rusty,” she reassured him, her palms coming to rest on his chest and sliding up toward his shoulders.

“Watching your telemetry... it was one thing when it was just intel collection and you stealthed through the whole thing.  Combat - watching your vitals, knowing how many of them were coming....”  His arms were around her, and he didn’t care that she felt a slight shudder on his part.  “Even with Bowdaar around, I’m pretty sure my heart rate was higher than yours during some of your more daring activities.”

“You keep me safe, just like you did when I was running ops for you against the Revanites.”  Then she grinned -- that awful, wonderful, mischievous, devilish grin... “So, think your body can handle any more cardio?”

MIOT

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A legacy built on precision and trust