#wsteros

a warm-hued and booming explosion kindled the night sky, residual sparks from the fire zephyring through the air. she'd watched the detonation like it'd been a light show, their operation finally coming to a close— an assignment given by the jedi council themselves, a rarity in tasha's life. [the request had not been made to her directly, but rather anakin— an important distinction. a girl could dream, though.] the republic and jedi order had once fought for the planet of ryloth's freedom, a tenure of peace short-lived before the separatists arrived back on the world, this time prepared. they'd chosen to build a new droid assembly factory, making their new mark on the rebuilding planet— something neither the republic nor jedi order could turn a blind eye to. the council had given the assignment to anakin, him choosing his companion under the guise of needing a sentinel to help navigate the startled locals. [later proclaiming a case of agony to her as they descended to the planet, artoo blowing raspberries in the background at the choice of words— romance at its finest.]

he'd succeeded in the mission, though— just him. tasha and artoo had been placed on guard duty, a request made to keep an eye and ear outside the facility for any spare droids who may have meandered in. it'd been anakin who'd killed both battle droids who patrolled the entrance of the building, made his way inside, planted the explosives, and lit up ryloth's sky. when his voice echoes through her comlink, her gaze is flickering back and forth between the inferno-burning building and the orange chromatic night sky. ❝ like the fireworks on republic day! better, too. i asked artoo to record it, he'll show you when we get back to the ship. ❞ with a chirp and elated wiggle of acknowledgment from the astromech, she pats him gently in response, containing the snickers that threatened to leave her lips.

❝ are you able to get back over here, or do you need me to— ❞ her right eye catches a glimpse down at the burn site, two battle droids and a destroyer approaching the scene. artoo nervously coos in response to the sight, enough for tasha to rub the top of his head gently. ❝ uh, scratch that, actually. seems like reinforcements have arrived— two droids and a destroyer so far, not sure about any others. seems like an odd number... ❞ it is an odd number, until she sees a hoard of them approaching the building in the distance. oh shit.

together, they were a jedi hammer that had crushed separatist infestations on scores of worlds. they had been heroes of the galaxy, no fear held within their hearts, the saviors depended upon for peace when in times of turmoil— complementary halves of one warrior, together. together, they had been unstoppable. [they had once been brothers, obi-wan being the closest thing to a father anakin ever had.] but on mustafar, they stand apart— there is no kenobi and skywalker, there is only the betrayal of family and brotherhood. they are enemies on this battlefield, not brothers. for old times' sake, anakin had given his former master a choice— get out of my way or die by my hand. [retire, go someplace far away, peace is finally here with my new empire.] the offer had been swatted away, synonymous with a master swatting its dog across the nose. there may be peace in the galaxy, but there would never be peace amongst them. brothers no more, their lightsabers ignited in sync, a battle to the death rising.

“then you recognize this is a mistake. walk away, obi-wan. this is your final warning.” with a voice deeper than stygian obsidian, a step is taken forward, minimizing the space between them. only the damage they had done to each other remained between them. there is no mercy for them— there is only death that lingers across the horizon.

he'd always been overshadowed by nina. she was the commander shepard— the savior of the universe more times than he could count, carrying the weight of such a burden upon her shoulders. [and not a single did, did john ever hear her complain of such things.] she had been born for the position, he was the substitute. the failsafe in case things went wrong.

Q: HOW MUCH WEIGHT CAN A PERSON CARRY BEFORE THEY CRACK? BEFORE THEY ROT, CRUMBLE, AND DECAY? A: NINA SHEPARD WOULD KNOW.

the normandy had been deemed inoperable and grounded with the departure of their beloved commander shepard. the idea of the failsafe rising the occasion was more challenging for those to understand, primarily the council. [john shepard? the john shepard who has been reported to have numerous sexual relations aboard the normandy? the john shepard who nearly blew up a town because his gun accidentally fired?] there was a bigger threat than the council's and alliance's poster girl being out of commission; the reapers threatened galactic life, taking planets left and right— it was only a matter of time before they succeeded in their mission if action wasn't taken hastily. [even the blinded council bore witness to that.] commander john shepard was born, while commander nina shepard sat in a rehabilitation center with a permanent leave from the alliance. he still wonders if everything has set in yet, or if he's fully numbed it— the weight of the entire galaxy's existence burrowing itself into his heart, forming a driven mission.

it never ceases to amaze walter how incapable some people are of following simple instructions; his niece being one of them. stay out of his affairs— he thought skyler handled the problem, drawing away any suspicion genesis may have had about the illicit activities happening behind their bedroom door. (once again, he had been proven wrong by his doting wife. go figure. luck can only take a person so far.) he's halfway through the front door when the question is asked, his son's brand new dodge challenger parked in the driveway for all to see. for a moment, he contemplates— lips parting as he searches for the words, the simplest explanation as his blood still boils from his argument with skyler from the morning. [i am not in danger, skyler. I AM THE DANGER.] instead, he chooses to slip past the smaller woman with a scoff, directing himself to the kitchen for a glass of water. (what will the excuse be this time? gambling addiction, the carwash, or maybe just the honest truth? lord knows it's worked on hank before.)

with his tall glass filled with water, he takes a drink— eyes finally falling on the blonde. eyes sharper than shattered glass, his choler becomes undeniably transparent. (heisenberg slipping through the fissures of walter white.)

the woodlands are silent, bereft of the noise he had grown so accustomed to during his captivity in the starks' war camp. the fucking starks. jaime had to admit, he had never expected the king in the north (or, the northerners themselves) to make it as far as he had, nor the wins he had managed to conquer within the short period of time. it was admirable from a distance, although war never changes— he knows this from first-hand experience. [you can win many battles and still manage to lose the war.] no matter the amount of power an individual could hold, nothing could trump the love a mother has for her children. (and lady stark had just given him a pathway to fighting on the front line in the war they shared.) once he made it home. if he would, with his companion who dreaded the trek nearly as much as he did.

❝ i could. it would make your life and this journey much easier, correct? ❞ jaime wheels his gaze towards the woman, his eyes akin to wildfire, a jestful smile toying at the edge of his lips.