Oh, the queen of peace / always does her best to please / is it any use? / somebody's gotta lose / like a long scream / out there , always echoing / oh , what is it worth ? / all that's left is hurt
ind . sel . star wars oc crafted by mills . est 1/2017 . theme credit to iniziare
his head hangs stiff , stuck in a kind of PURGATORY between her lips and the ground . hell , he wants nothing more than to pull her back in , to run his hands along her sides and taste her mouth until he sees kriffing stars . temptation has never really stood as any kind of MORAL BARRIER in the smuggler’s life . desires come easily and way too frequently to refuse , born of base emotions like vengeance , greed , and lust — so when he sees something he wants , he goes afterit . consequences be damned in the heat of the moment , something for his future self to sort out ( more often than not aided by the old RELIABLE asset of alcohol ) . he charges , he takes , and whatever happens , happens . but with her , he’s always maintained a surprising degree of RESTRAINT . he flirts , sure , gives her all kinds of hell with remarks and pointed looks , an occasional touch to her wrist , a hand on her spine . every so now and then he’d pressed the barrier FURTHER , almost kissed , almost said something , almost gave in completely . but his lack of self control has , without fail , corrupted every aspect of his life until now . he doesn’t want it to ruin the parts of her he loves the most , the parts of her she has that he’s missing — so painstaking want is replaced by a fierce desire to PROTECT her . even from himself , and at first sign of resistance , he swallows hard and lets her go , drops his hands from her waist and eases his head back to the floor .
❝ right . ‘course not . ❞ he smiles , even if it’s FORCED and half miserable , quietly damning the jedi drivel that’s likely stopping her from giving into baser needs . he loses a bit of grip on his control , lets his hand follow hers to tuck a lose strand of hair behind her ear before realizing it’d been a touch too soft , a touch that had revealed TOO MUCH . he resettles it to the curve of her thigh — safer ground — patting it hastily before he loses this battle completely . ❝ up you go then . galaxy’s not gonna save itself while we’re here lounging around on the floor . ❞
There was WAR in each other’s heads, a gut feeling told all as well as the way she KNEW she had to compose herself — to pull from the very magnetization that they’d offered each other. Vibrant green hues trace and followed the lines of his face – every curve, every sharp edge warding her off. Such roses adorned THORNS, guarding, protecting themselves — even if from each other. Being said, her gaze was soft, obtaining the beauty that was the way the thorns had cleared, their defenses had raised so quickly as they had recklessly lowered. Desire still PULLED & PULLEDat her, wanting to let the former strangers of their lips meet once again — to find HOME within his touch. This was BAD, this was FORBIDDEN —— how could she? Teeth pulled her lip, restraining herself from falling deeper into the LUST she was once so terrific at concealing, ignoring, PUSHING from. She felt her stomach turn from the way the thought of crashing her lips into his again, melting into his hold — STOP. STOP. STOP. Her head turned, and the very strands of hair she’d pushed from her face had fallen back into place. Once parallel figures soon became just as PERPENDICULAR. “ —————————- Sorry.” She felt she needed to, needed to apologize for falling for the very tone of his voice, how his fingertips felt like a electricity to stimulate an exhilaration —- for her losing that control she was once so proud over. CONTROL MEANT SAFETY. Safety meant she wouldn’t lose him. Safety meant it wouldn’t be her fault. “I don’t.. I don’t know what I was thinking.” She WASN’T. She FELT. And he felt RIGHT. The petite form raised to settle back, sitting on her feet, as if she’d fallen back to being the same reckless and thoughtless child she once was. A final taste of the residue he left, her tongue slid over her lip, as if trying to make certain it was REAL. “ – To be fair.. I don’t – uh – think we’re going to be saving the galaxy anytime soon if you go down that EASILY.” Went her stammering attempt to just keep moving – DON’T LOSE HIM.
— This blog is selective. I have the right to be picky with who I interact with or not.
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CODEX.
She would be brave. She would be heroic. She would make her own destiny.
CODEX.
NAME: TIDREEN KILLSPREE
AGE: 22
HEIGHT: 5'5"
HOME PLANET: Alderaan
ABILITIES: Jedi, Force Sensitivity
BORN TO A RATHER STRUGGLING FAMILY, Tidreen wasn’t the only child. Her family was a rather kind folk, raising two girls, one five years older than the other. While Tidreen was still young, the Empire had gotten some hold on the worse for wear families, ripping away the eldest sister, taking her for their own to raise to become the perfect assassin they wanted, and the younger was left behind with a broken family.
NOT LONG LATER, the parents realized what would happen when Tidreen’s sensitivity to the Force was exposed, how she would soon belong to the Jedi Order, an order in which she would accept wholeheartedly. She was pragmatic, easy to please, compassionate, and dedicated to the greater good, as well as the inner desire to fill the hole that the Empire had ripped from her. She doesn’t remember the name of her sister, Hiveen, and perhaps it’s better that way.
THERE IS A SCAR in the shape of claws across her face, a close encounter with wildlife when she was seventeen. Her eyes are green, her hair is red, and she always makes the right choice. She takes a keen interest in the history of everything, as if it’s going to answer every question she has about the universe. She is ambitious, and adores adventure, no matter how deadly it could be.
ONCE MS. KILLSPREE had finally picked up a trail on her sister, she took it with little to no hesitation, an action that spiked the trail that the organization had started on her. Once close enough in their trap, Tidreen’s neck was embedded unwillingly with the very tracking device that allowed slight control and manipulation over. After a year, during a training of her padawan, Tidreen was attacked and abducted for weeks. During this absence, the redhead was put through the very same training and submission as her sister, only much worse. They weren’t making an assassin, they were making a weapon, out of her.
THROUGH THESE TRIALS, a friend slid through, seemingly helping her break from the hell and cage – however, the friend took such advantage of Tidreen, forcing her through a shock collar and threats of hurting her family and padawan to do her dark bidding. Tidreen slaughtered through gangs, hoping for freedom and keeping protection among her loved ones. It wasn’t until her friend had commanded she use her newfound ability against innocents that Tid was found and saved. The shock collar was broken off of her neck, and the implant had simply become a part of her, launching an increased protection and excelled self repair on Tidreen.
AMONG THESE ABILITIES, her increased strength in the Force exposed such a power that is something relatable to a resuable bomb, something that pains and drains the Jedi into unconsciousness. Along with her offensive abilities, the Jedi is a highly skilled dual weilding warrior, an acrobatic dancer in combat, trained in blaster use through her time in militarial forces.
VERSES
THE OLD REPUBLIC
( v. of her illumination ) : She is the rays in which illuminate the lives around her. With a monster raging inside her, she became a MARTYR for the Force, for the goodness she believed wholeheartedly in. Jedi ways raised her into a position of leadership, to guide those who she believed in. The Old Republic had granted themselves a JEDI who would fight for the greater good, even if it is to cost her her LIFE. (main.)
( v. i am more than what he does ) : sub. Outlander verse. Follows Jedi Knight storyline.
( v. she trails stardust in her wake ) : sub. The iconic Jedi hero Revan, hidden behind a mask, powerful beyond any sort of recognition. In a past of military success and Force vigor, among it all, in the betrayal against the Jedi, she was not her own head. For the Emperor controlled her mind, using her a puppet to gain a control on the galaxy. She watches, trapped in her own mind, helpless to stop any of the deeds, the slaughtering, the alliances. Among being bombarded with the Jedi Fleet, the Emperor, knowing his failure, escapes her mind, leaving the suffering Tidreen to pay for crimes she did not commit. Her memory was wiped, and she starts over, trying to find just who she is or was. A true living Legend.
( v. something is electric in your blood ) : sub. Jedi Exile verse. As a padawan, Tidreen Killspree, at the ripe age of 19 had been implanted with the power of utter and complete destruction. Among the Mandalorian wars, the young padawan thirsted for the true action of war rather than the discussion and lack of action the Jedi refused to take. She disobeyed, running into the war not truly understanding that power inside of her, being tricked through idolization and simply the right words by Revan to construct as much damage in order to win. On Malachor V, in the heat of the true fight came to being. Frustrated by the casualties, curious as to this power Revan had said she had, she gave very little warning while running into the battle. Shot after shot, she’d scattered into the clusters of enemies, focusing on the destruction ——— unknowing just how STRONG this power was. Expecting only a dent to be made, she’d continued, unable to stop until all of the life on the planet and seemingly disintegrated. By the time Revan’s forces arrived, all that was left were ashes and HER. Unlike many of her Jedi partners, she’d stepped before the Jedi Council once again, trying to explain just what happened, justifying her reasons. And for her wound in the force, they’d severed her connection to her power ——– however, the beast was unsatisfied, and clung to the power that it had kept. Taking up a life handling a blaster and neverending blame for her actions, she’d allowed herself to be exiled, but never truly gave up hope for the Empire’s reign to end. ( atton exclusive with hedeserted. )
GALACTIC REPUBLIC
( v. with liberty comes its price ) : A loyal servant of the Galactic Republic, a fiery spirit would be such a waste to not put to use her combat skillset or her diplomatic rationality. A wondrous teacher raised many younglings once, her own torture ensued in such a bright mind. Alderaanian born beauty used light to guide those she cared for, and she commanded, fought, powered BRAVELY. (prequels.)
THE REBELLION
( v. through the darkness we shall prevail ) : Through such a fight, the Rebellion acquired a fighter, one who stayed in archives as a child, studying the ways of the old, learning of the religions that conquered. Having such training in military tactics, she fights.
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THE RESISTANCE
( v. the path of chaos to the hopes of harmony ) : Within ranks, an Alderaanian descendant fought through such pain and loss to only end up within the arms of resistance. Order reigns, war rages, and hope is rare — and yet, she continues.
.
MODERN
( v. the galaxies know no night when she smiles ) : Raised from a middle class family, the sun arose through determination and the very dream to politically make her way to helping those in a way only WORDS may. With services dedicated to diplomacy, a body is toned with gymnastic training, a soul is combed and decorated with such a compassion.
ASSASSINS
( v. within those shadows she glows ) : An American Assassin, combed with reason and graced with such SWIFTNESS, under her hood would be the warrior for the very right thing, Goodness flowed in her veins, while the sun pulsed in her chest. ( time eras will adapt accordingly. )
.
OVERWATCH
( v. oh how they shudder at your touch ) : An American sweetheart, raised in a family who raised their respect in their sole surviving daughter, she arose in ranks, fighting for the better good of the people while war raged. Adept in firing all weapons necessary, MAJOR ranked Killspree led an example of optimism, goodness, fairness, and cooperativeness. As high as Icarus rose, she’d fallen, captured in the front lines against will — AND EVERYTHING CHANGED. Tortured, changed, an implant embedded into her brainstem that made her just as dangerous, just as terrible as THEY were —- the Ominics. Unpolished, unfinished, and smarter, after months of the hell they made, to make her like them, make her BETTER — she had run. Broken chains rested in her wake, a shocking tingle in her spine awakening her to the dangers the world offered. Then, hope had found her, frightened, scared, shaking in a newborn awareness that made her faster, stronger, UNSTOPPABLE. Her mind was a deadly machine, and with a blink of an eye, she saw the world as they did. Tiptoing around the line that made her human, Killspree fought, defended, cooperated with the heroes — armed with dual laser swords & shock filled bracers, she was a deadly force all on her own. Once shut down, oh, no — she was too dangerous. She knew too much. A political microphone, she fought for a voice, stayed under heavy watch. Where she would be safe. They would all be safe.
FALLOUT
( v. blessed be the atomic angel ) : A native to the Capitol Wasteland, her story is something of legends. Breaking from her family once of the stable age, her tale begins as a rising rank in the Brotherhood of Steele, seeking to protect the wastelands in the finest way possible. Dug deep into the history of the world before the war, blinded by her desire to go as much good through punishing the evil and taming the wildlife, she was well on her way towards becoming a Paladin. A bright shining star, she dimmed while her signal was lost, her armor stripped, and was presumed dead. Within the mysterious halls of the institute, Tidreen was altered, tested, distorted, and trained, trained to be a bond of human and synth benefits. With upgraded technology embedded in her skin, she absorbs the nuclear radiation in the air, as plentiful and beneficial it is to breathe, to recharge. She runs on it, bathes in it, survives on the distorted world she sought to protect. As she breathes it in, it emits from her, as an aura. She cannot have a home, go back to any family nor friends, stay in any city or settlement too long, in fear of depleting any human civilization rebuilding. She wanders, escaping from coast to coast, hiding in plain sight. They speak of a NUCLEAR ANGEL, a WASTELAND GODDESS, the EVE of the ATOM BOMB. A treat on the eyes, to the mind, a curse in search of any sort of rest.
