#msterplo

                He was quiet for a moment, his commander having been dismissed only moments prior. Small smile passed the man’s face before he shifted, heading towards a familiar form. They had worked once or twice in the past, though he heard the details of the mission they were going on. Something like that may end up being a little more difficult.. though he didn’t see reason to make it stop him from going in. Proper attire was donned for the mission, though he worried further.

                A small smile passed chiseled features, head tilting some towards the other. “I hope we are ready for this mission, my friend.” Wolffe seemed to nod to the general after passing his own a holo map. Locations with clean water supplies in case you need them, sir.. Monnk and I’ll meet you at the checkpoint. He moved with the small hitch in his leg, something Kit had noticed since before the injury that caused him to lose his eye.

                    The turian had been busy making preparations here on menae, a few of the officers that had followed him over from his old job helping him make sure they would be ready for this.. visitor. The Primearch had just hunt up with the male, his fingers twitching nervously when he was approached by the others. What will we do? “We’ll make due, leave the worrying to me.” It isn’t long before he notes the approach of a few beings.

The clones snickered and Peter’s ears grew hot, his embarrassment leaking into the Force. He rolled his shoulders, clearing his throat and trying again;

“Dad?” Shit. “I-I mean...um, Master Plo?” He felt very small with the laughter of the clones echoing in his ears. “Can you come look at this?”

@msterplo :\\ MEME

                One of the many times that the commander was beside the General, shoulders squared.. Often times he came across as rigid. Often times setting himself at a distance from others. Though there should be no reason for him to be at attention for the moment. It’s when he realized that he was doing it that the soldier relaxed his stance. attention moving to the Jedi when he reentered the room. The next words that left the general puzzled the soldier, however, he did not hesitate in what he wanted to say. The response having left the soldier so quickly it startled himself.

                  “I'm aware I am, sir.” One of the few times that the commander’s sense of humor managed to show through, no matter how dry it was. There’s a moment he shifted, setting his hand on his own hip.. almost as though he were waiting on a response from the other. It was often that he joked with the general, though that was only on certain occasions.. It was only when he had the ability to relax that it showed. He knew that the General was more relaxed than most, and seemed to have a sense of humor himself. Respect for the general was high, especially knowing that he did everything in his power to make his troops feel like they weren’t expendable. 

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒 never ceased to amaze her. From the names they granted each other, to the designs that graced their armor, no two alike, they reclaimed their individuality from a Galaxy that saw them only as numbers. Such wit brought a smile to her lips.

“Plo’s...bros?” she read, indulging in a low chuckle. Shaak Ti glanced from the Kel Dor, to the painting of him and his troopers, splashed against the door of a gunship. “I must say, Master Plo, the resemblance is uncanny.”

He could hear his breath coming out in short gasps and feel his chest tighten but he couldn’t seem to do anything about it, except for feel his way nearly blindly towards his master. Collapsing into him, suddenly exhausted.

“I’m sorry Ma-Dad.” It was a tradition they’d started back when the Clone Wars were still raging and the Wolf Pack was still there and Peter knew he had a family and a place in the galaxy. Calling him dad helped now, he may have lost everything but he hadn’t lost his father figure.

“I just-I need a hug I think.”

          cody  is  a  war  machine :  bred  for  it,  trained  for  it,  and  the  call  to  arms  thrums  in  his  blood.  he’s  ruthless  and  efficient  to  dispatch,  a  fact  that  has  never  gone  unnoticed  by  his  superiors,  which  has  made  him  the  battle - weary  marshal  commander  he  is  today.

          he  is,  though,  still  thirteen  years  old.  there’s  nothing  like  a  good  old  fashioned  near - death  experience  to  remind  him  of  that.  the  heartbeat  monitor  that  stands  at  the  head  of  his  medical  bed  beeps  a  steady  reminder  that  he’s  here,  he’s  alive,  but  it  does  nothing  to  quell  the  dark  angry  feelings  inside  his  head  that  he  should  be  lucky  enough  to  live  where  so  many  did  not.

          so  the  hardened  warrior  doesn’t  argue  with  this  general’s  orders     ( and  what  kind  of  a  soldier  would  he  be  to  question  his  superior? ),     sits  almost  meekly  as  he  cradles  the  hot - turning - lukewarm  caf  between  his  two  hands,  pulls  the  blanket  over  his  shoulders  just  a  little  tighter --