Tabloid Senate convenes on Naboo: drama, glamor and warcrimes!

[Jako Kuranabe]

IS THERE SOMETHING DEEPER TO THE SENATE'S SESSION?​

"With a new Senate session comes a new batch of drama, as is custom for any mass gathering of hundreds of maniacs, from the genocidal to the mindless." Jako Kuranabe shuffled some papers on his desk and then looked up into the camera.

"Good evening, Coruscant."

The theme of his talk show played on the screens of millions, and then they were back into the studio with Jako.

"The Senate has convened, and you all know what that means! Time for another news cycle plagued with gossip and speculations regarding the lives of a bunch of rich [REDACTED] who don't care about us!" He grinned comically and then shrugged.

A clip played on the screen of Senator Eumi Redrish (@Tess) of Kuat flanked by reporters.

"Yes, Senator! What do you think about the Chancellor's actions on Denon?" asked one, his voice raised over the general clamor.

“No comment.”

A silence fell over the studio.

"After which, the Senator from Kuat proceeded to justify her lack of comment on the basis that 'the Senate will convene with the Chancellor' and presumably give him a gentle slap on the wrist. And why not share your concerns with your constituents as well, Senator? Are they not allowed to know what you will be saying to the Chancellor while you represent them?"

Senator Jin Vaisra (@Feng Mian) comes on the screen, also surrounded by reporters from various stations.

"Chancellor Ro and I have only ever worked in a professional manner. We have not spoken personally to one another since the last assembly, and you would do well to remember that," he declares, with a little glint in his eye.

"Now, the harem drama is very low-hanging fruit but did anyone see that look on his face? I think Senator Vaisra is not telling us something."

And another clip, of Galek Ordalos (@Altaris), ISC Governor of Indupar.

“Governor, what do you say to our viewers who accuse you of spending so many crowns on fashion, when there are so many refugees going without across—”

“Next question.”

"Now, we all know the ISC is just a haven for warlords, dictators and other despots, but it sure is a slap in the face when that fact is flaunted on galactic holotubes at a Senatorial session. Certainly interesting to see an individual refuse to help those less fortunate while spending credits on lavish clothing then head into the Senate chambers to partake in our governing, but hey! at least we're not under the banner of the Sith, I guess."

The camera cut to showing just Jako. "One thing is certain from this traveling circus setting down in Naboo," he declared. "With Senators like these, who needs enemies?"

A pause. "Good evening, Coruscant."

AD BREAK​

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan kept his mind and body occupied regardless of cost. It was becoming more and more difficult to deny how miserable he was. No matter how much he distracted himself he struggled. He was stretched thin and wavering, throwing himself endlessly into thing after thing. He'd been losing weight, food a struggle to swallow down. Dark circles gathered around golden eyes that often lost their razor focus to look somewhere far away while strumming strings as Morgan sings play only dirges to the lost.

No sunny smiles or melodic laughter danced across kitchen tables. Cooking scents gradually faded from every surface, replaced with plastic-coated 'food' and liquid fire. Without a home he floated listless among the stars. No places of comfort left ashen beneath a barrage of fire. No Ship held dearer than his own and flown by the man who'd done it. There was no joy derived from waking up alone in a bed meant for two. He wanted to make up his mind but he didn't know himself enough to do it.

Emryc had lashed out to force some distance and the Firrerreo had tried immediately to stubbornly close in again instead of the honest anger and space they'd badly needed. Now Firrerre was gone and there was nothing he could do about it. What Emryc had done was unforgivable and sent fury coursing through him. Chaotic emotions befuddled and angered him. Any time the half-Sephi's face appeared anywhere he didn't know if he wanted to hold him, clock him across his perfect jaw, or both at once. Using Crowns was spitefully avoided, which seemed exceptionally petty, but whatever.

Cold from metal flooring bled into the Firrerreo's side and he shivered, laying halfway off his couch. Groggily his lids blinked opened, looking around. Moving seemed too much effort but something had jolted him from his stupor. A beeping alarm went off and his hears weren't processing the sound right away through mental fog. Morgan turned to the holotable in the Voyager's lounge where a blinking light flashed.

Emryc or Galactic Senate related programs remained set to watch. Morgan sluggishly dragged himself to sitting and reached toward the table- hesitating as his heart sank. Dante, bless him, did not. The astromech screeched some supremely irritated and truly vulgar insults in binary, launched itself over, and activated the holo in Morgan's place.

He blinked at the high definition videos that popped up. A tabloid speaking of other political drama going on in the senate chambers appeared, but the livestream with media snippets next to it is what drew his rapt attention.

Emryc Thorne was swarmed by varied camera angles shown in minute windows while being tested for AMS. Waiting for a result nearly sent Morgan into panic, holding his breath from worry. Explosively a sigh of relief left him when tests came up negative. Then he caught sight of the half-Sephi's face. Gaunt, tense with stress and irritation, dark circles gathering around silvers adored even with mottled gold. A hollowness behind them lived where intensely focused frost should be. Morgan thought he'd either lost or gained weight, the signature suit not fitting the way it was meant to.

"Oh, Emryc," he whispered in abject horror, unable to look away. Morgan was pulled in and followed along as Emryc entered the chamber. Golden eyes widened and recognized every movement, focused sharply in a way they hadn't lately. "That doesn't belong there."

He watched the man's face. Saw pointed ears folding back with subtly flaring nostrils, saw where he looked toward the Chancellor and then away, a chandelier shaking, ringing like hail striking tinny rooftops. A glass of water spilled across Emil's lap and related reports about soiling himself popped up soon after.

Morgan saw a flash of slit-pupiled yellows surrounded by sleek fur, greedily cruel claws painting red and binding slender limbs as if they had any right to own them, saw them lay still after an agonizing death they deserved. Saw thawing silvers that painted gold, trying in desperate earnest to prove their hands were different, great mountains that warmly surrounded aureate hills and valleys.

He thought he might understand how Emryc felt when Morgan gave in to jealousy, endless knives of agonizing guilt and anger twisting through his chest. Morgan had done something he despised without intending to. They weren't together at the time but it still made him feel like he'd committed the gravest of sins.

And suddenly nothing else seemed to matter. Emryc wasn't doing 'okay' at all, he must be miserable! Yearning to call and rush to his side, cook meals and soup for a sick soldier boy, all of it crashed down on Morgan at once. The half-Sephi was the type to always avoid his troubles and would never to reach out first if he did miss Morgan.

Morgan leapt to standing and bare feet wildly paced across the floor, breath coming quick and uncontrolled in fury and desperation over a choice. An iron fist found the wall and slammed repeatedly into it, skin tearing away from deeply silvered knuckles, striking until it began to dent and buckle. He'd burned Firrerre and gone away again! Left him behind abandoned a and alone without a home! Icily declared he didn't want what they had anymore!

"Why the FUCK should I care what he feels!?"​

Even as the roar left his lungs Morgan realized the choices he faced. Trapped at a crossroads between something he could do and something he couldn't. Between one home and another. And suddenly, just like that, nothing else seemed to matter

Morgan's body started moving by itself, dashing dizzily down the hall into his room, skidding through the doorway and yanking the cloth off his bedside table. Knocked over lay a cracked figure of his most famous ancestor.

A story told in halting baritones through a book played like a perfect record in his head. The tale of a general who'd turned children to soldiers forced to bind their humanity to rabbits, children, innocent lives, anything attachment at all. Morgan nearly become the newest precious rabbit, another barbed whip to strike across his back. And he didn't want that at all. What he wanted from Emryc was ridiculously simple.

Morgan longed just to spend time with him. To hold Emyc's hand no matter how foolish the gesture and wrap him tightly in slender arms. Encourage him when he faltered, glow with pride at his success, sing him to sleep when he tired, tell him everything was going to be alright when he sank into doubt. Listen and dance to music with paired steps and humming voices, soar out amongst the stars to see what they could see. Eat together and talk across kitchen tables. Do anything or nothing as they pleased.

Knowing only half of Emryc might cherish or show concern over him, seeing that monstrous yellow-gold that now lived in argent skies failed to still his hands or thundering, fluttering heart. That he lagged many steps behind Morgan and needed to find his own way didn't give him pause. No matter how broken and split Morgan ached to gently kiss and comfort every shattered piece he was allowed to see. Emryc could take his time. Morgan would wait.

Because he'd been given a wooden figurine, a small and unremarkable thing. Yet it'd seen Emryc through the torturous struggle of his past and giving it away meant commitment and devotion shown in extraordinary ways ordinary words never had, ways they never could. No helm or gauntlet or petty, pretty things of power matched it. What it represented couldn't be quantified or compared with purely physical things. What Emryc felt for Morgan had always been something just for him.

Where Emryc could be rigid and regimented, Morgan's inherent nature was to learn and change. Where he'd craved the security of commitment the half-Sephi required patience and understanding. It wasn't either person being 'enough' as they were. What they'd had wasn't what they needed.

A feeling that stormed through him was something he chose to nurture and work hard for. Even when it agonized him, even if it hurt over and over again, even when he was angry, he still wanted to be there with him. If he cried sometimes it was worth it. Morgan would rather be with him as much as he could through it all than without and prayed Emryc might feel the same. This silent distance between them was unbearable in ways struggling together wasn't. If Emryc was miserable too then Morgan was loath to let him suffer it alone and wanted help however he'd be allowed.

Even while his guitar gently wept that same old devil was giving him the shove again to take up broken wings and remember how to fly. Every instinct furiously screamed to soar away to find a suffering man. Goldens passed slowly from the figurine with years of song alive in the wood to the Hallikset laying on his bed. Trembling fingers delicately picked up Andraste and lay her with reverence next to the instrument that'd been Morgan's constant companion throughout his life.

Hesitation left him entirely and he took up his datapad to quickly type a new message. Stumbling into the refresher he looked at himself in mirror for the first time in a long while. Goldens looked emptier than ever but still there lived a peculiar spark behind them he couldn't deny even if he wanted to any longer.

Morgan was unfathomably angry with Raze for what he'd done. He grieved every day for his homeworld and its people. The soldier boy could be cruel, terrible, destructive, and cold as much as kind, romantic, loving, and blissfully warm. He was forged to be a weapon and struggled with affection for others. But despite everything, in defiance of every shred of solid logic Morgan summoned up, he still felt exactly the same. It was far too late. Emryc already had him in every single way possible.

Emryc had his mind, his body, his soul. His past, his present, his future. Everything was his since the day he'd given Morgan a small and unremarkable figurine of Andraste.

"Aha, cheri, so it goes..." Morgan softly muttered to the mirror as if pointed ears could hear the words like a river flowed surely to the sea, "I just can't help being in love in with you."

"Lift off!" Morgan loudly growled to Dante and shakily downed a tiny bottle of liquid, not more alcohol but medicine to purge the mixed drugs in his system. He had just enough time to finish texting and hit send before he started heaving, vomiting and violently shivering he endeavored to suffer intermittently during the trip. None of it had ever been easy and probably never would be. All the same, trying was worth every heartache and trouble that went with it.

So he flew. Through melancholy and joy, love and loss, life and death the Nightingale boldly flew. Unrestrained by leaden chains of doubt, uncoloured by painted shades he'd never chosen to wear, unhindered by the weight of what conniving masters and family called 'fate'. Life was too short an experience to be anything less than utterly true to himself.

"Tabloids are lying!!
Can I come visit you? Please?
I'll bring food you like."

Sometimes it was best to win when it didn’t come at the cost of defeat.
​

 

[Emryc Thorne]

He was back on Ship, which was a temporary break from melting into the couch in that apartment. He was back in his own bed, the one that had always been made just for him. The room had the lingering scent of incense, though far more faded than before. He questioned his religion many times over and he let the rituals fall by the wayside. In the end, it lived on in his thoughts and his faith existed wherever he went. It began to shift from faith in the Sith Lords of old to faith in himself, including Raze. At the end of it all, Raze had been there for as long as he could remember. Raze carried him through the difficult times even as he was being molded and created. And now the two entities were more united than ever.

Where did that leave Emryc? Did he still have the capacity for emotions? Were they muted or were they more passionate than ever?

The half Sephi was lying in his bed with his eyes closed. He had returned from the Senate session not too long ago, and he was still in his formal clothes. His ship was his sanctuary and where he felt safest. His ship was where Emryc and Raze both called home. It was full of memories, full of pain, full of knowledge, full of laughter, full of tears. It had many stories and many more to tell.

Emryc’s mind was easing back into a sense of calm after the roiling emotions he felt earlier. That was when a sound erupted on his comms. He usually ignored these nowadays, but this time he absentmindedly grabbed it in case it was a critical ISC message.

He felt a lump in his throat as soon as he saw the message. Emryc stared at it for a long time. He could vividly picture the kitchen in Morgan’s apartment. He could remember two glasses poured for them both. He could smell the rice, the soups and he could hear Morgan’s soft humming. He could see that tender smile and that glint in his eye. Emryc could practically feel the Firrerreo in his arms, the way the much smaller man fit so perfectly in his hold. He could remember the way Morgan got up on his tip toes to kiss him. He could smell the slightest hints of Firrerre spices in the kitchen that he could tolerate. He could remember the slight pain from bumping his head accidentally whenever he forgot about a light fixture in Morgan's apartment.

Emryc didn’t even realize a pained smile had found its way to his face. The half Sephi stared at the message for several more moments. He wanted to write out that he loved the other man. He wanted to write out that he wanted him here right now. He wanted to write that he was sorry and that he wished he could take it all back.

The half Sephi instead went back to all the audioclips Morgan had left him. They included sweet messages early mornings or late at night. They included songs Morgan sang that Emryc replayed to fall asleep to when they were apart. They included confessions of love and adoration. Emryc stared at the ceiling as he listened to each one as he had done so many times since they had been apart. He listened to the clipped accent of the posh prince, and he could vividly picture the face Morgan made as he uttered or sang each word. Emryc’s smile lingered as he gazed up vacantly.

After he ran through the clips, he began to play them again. His gaze remained on the ceiling as they replayed once more. His gaze never shifted as his thumb moved of its own accord this time. After a clip was completed, it was deleted. This little gesture was repeated every single time till it was on the very last clip. It was a song Emryc had come to cherish, the one that lulled him to sleep countless times over. The half Sephi played this one twice.

Emryc’s eyes squeezed shut for a moment as a soft, shuddered breath escaped him. He remained like that for a long moment, feeling that familiar sickness rising within him. The urge to vomit built in the pit of his stomach, and it came from the crushing pain he felt in his chest. It was difficult to breathe, but he knew he couldn’t stop now. He clung to his faith. He clung to Raze. The monster that terrified others had been his strength all along.

With a click, the song was deleted.

The half Sephi opened his eyes and went back to the message he had received from Morgan. Emryc thought about what he had done. He thought about the planet he destroyed. He thought about everything he had snatched from the Firrerreo. He thought about the Drast manor that had stood for centuries that was reduced to ash. He thought about the planet that would never be the same again. It was something Emryc could never take back. It was not something either of them could ever accept. It was not something Morgan could ever forgive. It was something he should never have to forgive. It was a permanent reminder of what a monster Emryc was, the monster he had to accept and embrace. The monster that chose its own terms. That played by its own rules.

Emryc stared at the comms as he began to type, staring at his words after he did so. He was never a roiling sea of emotions when Raze was within him. He reeled himself back from the sickness he felt. He thought about the golden eyes, the fanged smile, the tender touch. And he hit send.

With that, the half Sephi rose from the bed. He loosened and tossed off his tie. He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside. He rifled through his closet to change, his thoughts anchored back by Raze and the mental fortress. Emryc shuffled around for a moment before he headed down to his cargo hold. It was a place he hadn’t visited in many weeks. Emryc switched on the lights, taking in sight of the custom made gym inside his ship. He looked over all the weights and machines he hadn’t touched in so long when they had been part of his everyday routine for as long as he could remember.

With a soft exhale, Emryc stepped into the gym to train for the first time in a long time. His comlink remained back on his bed where he left it with the sent message facing up at the dark ceiling.

I have to let you go, Morgan.
​