momslilassassin: ([neu] Ben should wear blue v-necks)
Ben had been to some stupidly decadent restaurants (being the son of Luke Skywalker had its privileges), but this one blew even those most ridiculous on Coruscant out of the water.

"This is barvy," he muttered to Ender as their waiter led them to their table. "Look at all of the people here. And...other beings...of course."

Ben hadn't been knocked so completely off-stride in years.

[OOC: For the boy and great SP justice.]
momslilassassin: ([plot] Girl!Ben is worried)
Turns out that waking up as a woman when your daughter is expecting you to be a man is not the most exhilirating start to a morning-now-heading-into-afternoon.

"Come on, Val," Ben soothed, rocking the sobbing infant as he paced the room for the thousandth time. "It's me. I still feel the same in the Force, I just...look different."

Perhaps philosophical discussions of gender and sex were not the place to start with a distraut one month old. "Ender?"
momslilassassin: ([neu] i wear jeans!)
After a long, rambling run around the island to see what had changed over the past year, Ben stopped for milkshakes at Chilly Boulder (and was greeted as a long-lost relative) and returned back to the hotel.

"Kreetle? Anything from the clinic yet?"

He only asked Ender about ten times a day if there was any news about Valentine's arrival. It was down from fifteen, and he was Quite Proud of Himself for it.

[OOC: ...and now NSFW...]
momslilassassin: ([pos] hopeful)
It wasn't warm enough to go swimming, and Ender flat-out refused to go with Ben to see the movie with the badass assassin and his friend in the spangly outfit one more time, so Ben had picked up food for a picnic and enough sunblock to cover a bantha and headed out to the beach for a picnic.

It was still too cool to go swimming, but the sound of the waves was soothing.

He laid back on the blanket he'd brought and let out a satisfied sigh. "This is nice."

[OOC: For the boy!]
momslilassassin: (Default)
Ben was catching up on emails from home--news about the Sith, the latest gossip from Jag and Jaina's corner of the galaxy and whatever Allana had gotten herself up to while being unsupervised (there was a lot of "it'd seemed like a good idea!!!" in her correspondence)--and then poking around scientific journals about advancements in reproductive technology.

You know. For no real reason. Cough.

He drank tea and really missed having those yummy red fruits around. He'd need to ask when they came back the next time he went to the market.
momslilassassin: ([neu] Ben should wear blue v-necks all t)
It had taken time for Ben to get over himself regarding Alai's existence on the planet, but they'd managed to settle into a routine and Alai was hardly a permanent fixture in the house and so Ben had gradually relaxed.

He was coming into the house with a bag full of the red fruits he and Ender had loved (the lady running the stall had warned them that the season for them was coming to an end, so Ben had bought all the ones she'd had left) and could already smell coffee brewing.

Saturday mornings were pretty great here, he had to admit. "Andrew?"
momslilassassin: ([neu] ...huh)
Ben was doing pretty well keeping everything together during the day by keeping himself insanely busy with workouts and tinkering and other make-work to keep his mind from dwelling on Anakin and all of the other stuff that his cousin's death had dredged up.

But when he returned home, he ordered comfort food from room service (they were going to run out of chocolate milkshakes and grilled cheese soon) and flipped aimlessly through the channels like he had when he'd been an insomniac in freshman and sophomore years.

Food television or bad science fiction movie? The possibilities were endless.

[OOC: Specifics of why Ben is moping NFB, rest is fair game!]
momslilassassin: ([neg] crying)
Ben had been working on a mouse droid to keep his mind occupied when he felt it: the familiar, stomach clenching vacuum in the Force of someone who should be there not existing any longer.

And even though he'd known it was coming, even though he'd grown up knowing it would happen, even though he'd said his goodbyes, that empty feeling was a shock all over again.

Anakin?

Anakin?!

ANAKIN!


He curled into a ball, rested his head on knees, and wept.

He'd be there for a while.
momslilassassin: (Default)
Ben had been on hold with Portalocity for going on forty minutes now, getting passed from one customer service operator to another, then to a supervisor, then to a new department...

He was really beginning to hate the Macarena, which had already started out as a major contender for the worst hold music ever.

"I have a bad feeling about this," he said to Ender, and not for the first time. "I think they lost our reservations for tomorrow again."
momslilassassin: (Default)
Ben was curled up on the sofa with Ender's rather dry book on anatomy after Ben's research into the subject had brought up suggestions like "Bend Over," "Eating Out," and other titles that had sent Ben into an unhelpful cycle of flail. (Jane had a wicked sense of humor, not that Ben knew that.)

He had a dish of ice cream while he waited for dinner to warm up--his only outward sign of nerves--and kept glancing at the door waiting for Ender to come home.

Just another night, right? If he kept repeating that to himself, maybe he'd believe it.

[OOC: This is going to get waaaaaaay NWS, methinks. For the boy.]
momslilassassin: ([neu] ...huh)
Ben had spent the week since the portal was discovered taking a speeder (they had a different name in Ender's universe, but to his mind, they'd always be speeders) out to it and staring at his comm.

He'd listened to the messages from home and from Fandom a dozen times, and he was working up the courage to finally return his calls.

...which was taking longer than he thought it would.

He finally took a deep breath and dialed the second number in his address book, just after Ender's.

A voice he hadn't heard in two and a half years replied on the first ring: "Skywalker."

Ben swallowed hard around a sudden lump in his throat. It was really, really good to hear that voice again. "Yeah," he murmured, "here too."

There was a long pause.

"BEN?!"

After assuring his father five or six times that he was all right, he got caught up on family news (and galactic politics, which doubled as family news when you were a Skywalker). Slightly more time had passed for Ben than for Luke and Luke seemed a little staggered to discover he had a son who was now twenty. Through some unspoken agreement, Jedi matters weren't brought up at all.

"You sound a little tired," Ben finally offered.

"Well, maybe a bit," Luke admitted.

"Would you like to come out and see where I've ended up?" Ben asked. "I can get you the coordinates, you could take this thing called a 'vacation'. They're pretty astral."

"I'd love that," Luke said quietly. "I've missed you, Ben."

"I've missed you too, Dad," Ben replied. "See you soon."

He disconnected the call and smiled, feeling kilos lighter.

The next message was sent via text to his entire address book, and wasn't nearly as fraught as the last conversation had been:

Hey there. Got all your limbs still?--B.

When you were a Skywalker, that was a valid question, all right?

[OOC: Open, open, open!]
Ender | Tony | Tara | Topher
momslilassassin: ([neu] looking right at you)
They'd waited for the weather to turn more reliably warm and dry before hosting an outdoor dance in the center of the village. The fight over music had been mostly smoothed over by agreeing to vary the selections between what the colonists who'd arrived recently liked and what the natives had become used to after Ben had offered to provide enough droid spoken word albums to last the entire dance to break the impasse.

Because everyone had agreed that droid spoken word albums were the worst.

And now, in the fine tradition of dances everywhere, no one was dancing in the area cleared for that purpose as everyone gathered in nervous groupings around food and drink tables, staring at people across the floor and hoping someone would ask them to dance.

Ben sighed and tugged at the tie around his neck. "Should we draw names from a hat or something?" he asked Ender.
momslilassassin: ([neg] gawking)
As the ship slowed down further getting closer to Shakespeare, Ben began packing up his various bits and pieces and turned his comlink back on. He wasn't sure what would be worse: finding that it never connected again, or that it connected and he learned that his non-Ender family was all dead. He turned it on anyway because he'd rather know than not, and so far it was as frustratingly unconnected as it had been since they left Earth years ago.

He'd had more time to himself as Ender's schedule had filled with various meetings, and he'd used it trying to calm the colonists in his own way: a touch here, a nudge of calm through the Force, a reassurance that the colonists waiting on the planet were just as anxious. The result was he was just as tired as Ender was by the end of the day, worn out from other people's needs.

It was why packing up their room was taking so long--he just didn't have the energy to get very far at the end of the night before curling into bed with a movie. He took another handful of popcorn, glanced at the door, and wondered if it would be too petty to leave small nuts and bolts in the carpet when they left.

Probably, but it was tempting anyway.

[OOC: For the boy.]
momslilassassin: ([neu] caring)
It was Ender's birthday today, and while Ben wasn't going to plan anything horrifying for him like a giant surprise party, he felt that turning 20 was something to take a moment and celebrate.

So there was a tiny cake, and some ice cream, and a Val.

There was also a small stack of carefully vetted movies in case they decided to do that for entertainment--Ben didn't want to repeat the mistake of the last movie night...
momslilassassin: (Default)
Game night had gone without a hitch (well, other than the argument Ben had in his halting French with a colonist trying to skip Park Place in Monopoly) and he and Ender were now heading back to their room after a brief stop for ice cream and drinks in the mess.

"That was fun," he said, bumping his shoulder into Ender's. "Movie night next?"
momslilassassin: ([pos] I'm so smooth)
"Well that turned out all right," Ben said to Ender as they walked back from the first of what Ben hoped to be many Game Nights with the colonists who'd stayed awake for the flight. "Can we play poker for money next time?"

No, Ben.
momslilassassin: ([neg] disintegrating you with my brain)
It was all over, or at least as over as it was going to get for a while. Their Fandom friends and the Jeesh returned to their separate universes after Jaina's wedding. Allana's identity was no longer a secret, Wynn Dorvan was running the galaxy, the Jedi were leaving Coruscant permanently, and Luke, well. The meddroids said that Luke would never fully recover from his attack on Abeloth. Ben tried not to think about that.

Ben was trying not to think at all.

He was clearing out the last of the stuff in his room when a hollow ache started to build inside, and then his vision narrowed and went completely black. He thought for a minute that he might be passing out--he'd certainly done enough of that recently--but there was no dizziness or nausea to suggest that the vision change was the result of a concussion. He braced a hand on the nearest wall and stood waiting for his sight to return.

Instead, stars and nebulae began to appear in the darkness, rushing toward him at extreme velocity, but with no noticeable red-shift and without spreading apart as they drew closer. He began to feel apprehensive and disoriented, as though he were traveling through a galaxy far different from the one his parents had known.

He saw Coruscant mottled by patches of flickering red flame and black banks of drifting smoke, and beyond it there was a legion of dark silhouettes rising from a shadow-cloaked world, fanning out across the galaxy to meet a much smaller force of luminous shapes.

He saw a pair of tiny disembodied eyes floating through the darkness, collecting wisps of drifting gas and specks of loose dust, in its endless patience swaddling itself in the stuff of cold matter.

And Ben saw his cousin Allana, a young girl sitting cross-legged in front of a white throne, playing with her pet nexu while a small circle of Jedi fought a desperate battle at the foot of the dais, holding off an endless onslaught of beings. There were dark silhouettes and bejeweled women and horned aliens, and every so often a gray tentacle, which would appear on the steps to the dais and attempt to slip past unnoticed before a lightsaber descended to send it skittering back into the darkness.

Ben felt a sudden, overwhelming, flash of anger. All of the pain of the last few years--the last month--and nothing had changed. The Jedi would forever fight the darkness, Abeloth would go on feinting and parrying, the Sith would peek back out from whatever rock they'd gone to ground under...it was pointless.

He glanced at the faces around Allana, looking for familiar ones, and to his surprise didn't see his father. Luke fought the darkness as easily as he breathed, and a Jedi Order without Luke Skywalker was one that, while inevitable, still took Ben's breath away. Ender had pointed out many times that the Order needed to refocus, learn to work without a Skywalker, but a vision of that as reality was both painful and a bit of a relief.

His vision gradually returned to the here and now instead of the future, and he was still feeling off-balance and angry. Why did they fight so hard and lose so much when it never changed anything?

He glanced down at his lightsaber and a thought occurred to him. He could change himself...

Let's have a heart-to-heart with Ender! )

Four years of Ben's life have led up to this moment. )

[OOC: Borrowed, then modified, from Troy Denning's Apocalpyse. Preplayed with the fabulous [livejournal.com profile] endsthegame, and concluding our two week spam of your flist!]
momslilassassin: ([neg] owowowow)
As the Rude Awakening sped onward, the fire-rimmed orbs ahead rapidly began to swell and drift apart, leaving the area between them webbed with blazing whorls of accretion gas. Against this brilliant backdrop, Ship also began to swell, growing from a propulsion halo the size of a dust mote to a dark sphere as large as Jaina’s thumb.

A constant stream of fire streaked back and forth between the two vessels, cannon bolts from the Awakening and plasma bulbs from Ship. Both vessels were taking the attacks dead center in the forward shields, making no attempt to evade. With the grasping hand of a black hole reaching from both sides of an ever-narrowing safe corridor, there was no room to maneuver or flee. Flying skill and combat training did not matter: pilots had one choice and one choice only: punch it out head-on.

And in that kind of fight, it was usually the pilot who attacked quickest and hardest who survived. Jaina checked the range and, seeing that the two vessels were closing in even faster than she thought, armed the Rude Awakening’s first missile. Jaina had chosen the Rude Awakening for good reason: it was a Void Jumper assault pinnace. That meant it could get in fast, evade detection, take a beating, and deliver a devastating attack. It was one of the most fearsome tactical combat vessels in the galaxy, designed to go head-to-head with a Mandalorian Bes’uliik and be the craft that emerged from the fireball. Jaina could not imagine any better combat transport to fly head-on against Ship—especially not after she had fitted the entire missile magazine with baradium warheads.

Talk about a rude awakening. Heh.

The targeting computer chimed once, announcing that the two crafts had closed to effective missile range. Jaina did not bother to try for a target-lock—Ship would defeat it anyway, and in this fight a quick attack was everything. She simply launched, then pulled the throttles back so the Awakening would not be inside the lethal radius when the baradium detonated. The blazing white disk of a thrust ring appeared in front of the cockpit then, as the missile streaked away, quickly shrank to a white dot. In the next instant a tiny gray dot appeared in front of the Awakening.

In an eyeblink, it expanded into the gray, oblong lump of one of Ship’s Force-hurled stones. Fighting the urge to dodge—a mistake that might well have carried them across a nearby event horizon—Jaina held the pinnace steady and thumbed the intercom pad on her control yoke.

“Brace for impact back there,” she said. “This one is going to take down our shields.”

This seems like an excellent time to go on a vision quest, doesn't it, Luke? )

Meanwhile, on Coruscant-- )

And on Abeloth's home planet, Ben gets a mouthful of tentacle. Seriously. It's nasty. )

Hooray, we won! What do we do with Vestara? )

[OOC: Troy Denning, THERE IS SO MUCH WRONG WITH YOU. Warnings for torture, violence, and death. Played out with amazing [livejournal.com profile] hoorayimrich, [livejournal.com profile] life_inshadow, and [livejournal.com profile] endsthegame. Done with the spamming for today!]
momslilassassin: ([neu] lightsaber)
It had been three days since the frigate Redstar had dropped Luke, Jaina and the Fandom folks at the entrance to the Maw, and that meant it had been three days since Luke had first been handed the crumpled flimsi he now held in his hands. On the flimsi was the text of a short S-thread message from Corran Horn, which the Redstar’s communications officer had retrieved as soon as the frigate emerged from hyperspace outside the Maw.

SOLOS OUT SAFE WITH AMELIA.
JEDI WARV KILLED IN SITH AMBUSH LED BY VESTARA KHAI.
FALCON CRIPPLED, BUT TARGET HEALTHY FOR NOW.



The message was only three short lines, but it had done more to incapacitate Luke than any of the wounds he had suffered fighting Abeloth. He had trusted Vestara—had even been the one to persuade the other Masters she would be a valuable asset inside the Temple during the battle against the Sith. He could not have been more wrong. His mistake had cost Bazel Warv his life and—assuming he was correctly interpreting Corran’s conspicuous use of the word “target”—nearly gotten Allana killed.

Now, after three days of meditation, he continued to find himself mired in doubt, wondering what else he might be wrong about, and reluctant to trust his own judgment.

And he was running out of time. The Rude Awakening, a sleek little pinnace infiltrator manufactured for the space marines’ elite Void Jumper units, was already approaching the choke point where Sinkhole Station had once hung suspended in a binary black-hole system. Luke could see the accretion whorls of the two black holes with his naked eye, a pair of fire-rimmed disks centered in the forward viewport, and he could feel Ben ahead, on Abeloth’s hidden planet, reaching out to him in the Force, urging him to hurry.

And still Luke didn’t know what to do, whether he was following the will of the Force by following Ben—or defying it.

Ender and Luke have a chat about destiny. )

Luke learns about how Tara's magic works )

And people check in on Ender. )

[OOC: Preplayed with the fantabulous [livejournal.com profile] life_inshadow, [livejournal.com profile] endsthegame and [livejournal.com profile] hoorayimrich.]
momslilassassin: ([neu] lightsaber)
Anyone who was anyone--and a few people who weren't--were packed into the offices of Senator Luewet Wuul. The air had gone stale with the smell of nervous sweat and half-eaten sandwiches, and the ventilation system was struggling to remove the heat of all the bodies packed into the meeting room. The gleaming cylinder of the Galactic Justice Center, visible through the floor-to-ceiling viewport, was now swaying. Since Coruscant’s skytowers were designed to withstand tremors far more violent than what they were seeing, it was probably Not a Good Sign.

The last--and newest--member of the Jedi Council, Master Jaina Solo, promoted by Luke while they'd been fighting for their lives inside the Temple, slid into the last chair placed in a semi-circle at the front of the meeting room. Luke, purple circles beneath his eyes and a face clouded by fear and uncertainty based in no small part on the distinct lack of a redheaded Jedi among their number, was listening intently to a briefing already in progress:

"The Sith who've escaped the Temple are spreading out across Coruscant and launching soft-target terrorist attacks,” Dumper was saying. “Of course, BAMR News is blaming the violence on ‘Jedi spice cartels,’ and they’re urging their viewers to take arms against the Jedi and any ‘corrupt’ security personnel aiding the ‘spice smugglers.’ It's not really working. There have been a few civilian attacks against Jedi, but most of the other news outlets are taking a more balanced approach, attributing the violence to a rogue sect of Force-users.”

“They’re not even using the term Sith?” Kyle Katarn asked.

“There has been some speculation,” Dumper said. “But most of the public doesn’t really understand what Sith are, and those who do are accustomed to thinking of them as loners—either Jedi gone bad, or sinister geniuses hiding in plain sight.”

“So the population isn’t doing anything to help us, either?” Kyp Durron asked. Dumper shook his head. “Not much,” he said. “We’ve been getting a little cooperation through the security forces—primarily reports of suspicious behavior. But most Coruscanti don’t seem to know what to believe. They’re just keeping their heads down and trying to stay clear of any trouble at all.”

“Which is difficult, now that our fight with the Sith has spread beyond the Temple,” Luke said, reaching up to rub at the bridge of his nose. “How bad is the violence getting? Are we starting to contain it at all?”

Luke's plan wasn't working. WHO KNEW? )

[OOC: Adapted from Troy Denning's Apocalypse. Preplayed with the lovely [livejournal.com profile] endsthegame, [livejournal.com profile] life_inshadow, [livejournal.com profile] solo_sword, and [livejournal.com profile] hoorayimrich. Warnings for discussion of gross torture-y stuff. WTF, Troy. WTF.]

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Ben Skywalker

December 2016

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