#mvchinery

“Yeah. Guess so,”  Zeb mutters between heavy breaths. He shoots a glare over his shoulder, blocking the scrap they’d pulled together to repair the comms array.  “Kriffing vultures. Takes a real scumbag to try and make a buck off a galaxy-wide emergency. Makes me sick. Karabast!  There’s people who just want to hear their damn families are alive.”  Zeb flinches when they hear themself.  “I, uh. I’m sure your kid’s okay.”

“i don’t think i can understate how glad i am to see you again, depa,” padmé expressed warmly, her hand resting on the jedi master’s arm for a brief moment to give it a fond squeeze. so many things felt as though they were falling apart all around her, but she could not pass up this moment of gratitude. “you have been sorely missed.”

“at hapes consortium, the twi’lek that i was around, general hera syndulla...” kanan paused, uncharacteristically nervous for a moment, like a child caught. but he could not lie. “i love them.”

for a man who had lived through some of the more wild encounters and trouble that lando had gotten himself into, he had never gone through terrible emotional turmoil on most of it. the empire and cloud city was an exception, but now it seemed like there was another. another one that directly tied into han. funny, how that worked. he can swallow it, bury it down, but he couldn’t quite muster up the same beaming facade that so many saw. “how’re they doing?” the question was grim, despite his attempt to make it not. “how are you doing?”

“general– senator,” practiced sheepishness punctuated the correction, fee’s gaze just a little wild as she looked the woman over, as though she was consumed with worry for her. it wouldn’t exactly have been inconvenient if organa had died here and now, but that was venturing into very dangerous, very messy territory. “oh, thank the goddess that you’re alive. are you hurt?”

despite the fact that kanan had no sense of the attackers in the ballroom, that had not diminished his desire to help, to fight back, no matter how dangerous it might have been for him. there was still plenty he could feel: the panic of people around him, the pain and suffering from others, the drive of those who were better equipped to fight back. his master being one of them is no surprise. suddenly, there was a fresh searing of agony as a whip slashed across his upper back, cutting through clothes and slicing skin directly. 

it was no surprise that when chaos broke out, the hapans settled for turning on the guests just as eagerly as the invaders. the armory was well guarded. but iden wasn’t someone who precisely needed a weapon. she was flat on her back, thighs locked around the neck of one of the guards who was scrambling in an attempt to control before he became unconscious. it would have been easier if there was less room to debate the morals of killing verse incapacitating. “i’m getting real sick of this shit.”