bakerstreet | Make it count

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[meme] shipping

Make it count

Make It Count Meme
absence makes the heart grow fonder

You just can't get enough of this person, whether it be love, lust, or both. You'd do anything to get to spend more time with them; a little bit is never enough! But the moments you can be together are few and far between. One of you is always on the road, there's duties to be beholden to, your relationship is so forbidden that chances of being caught are too high to justify much risk. Even if you, on the off chance, live together, it seems like you're always just missing each other. More likely, though, you live a considerable distance apart. Or maybe, you know, one of you could be the captain of a ship of the undead, only allowed to come to shore every ten years!

...no? Not really?

At any rate, you two are having one of your rare get togethers, and you're making up for lost time. Perhaps you need some life-affirming, to know that they're still there and still waiting for you. On the other hand, you might just want to go all day for no reason at all. There doesn't need to be an explanation. Neither of you have to justify yourselves to anyone, you just have to soak each other up. Hopefully, nothing's changed between you, though you might have to spend time relearning the curves of their body - but actually, that's nothing you'd ever forget. You have their whole form memorized, and all their weak spots, too, so you can think about them when you're alone.

Now, you're making every second count and forgetting the whole world outside exists.

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[ooc: If you're open to cross-canon, I have a generic former SHIELD agent AU Hawke? Or we could jamjar them?]

[ I'm up for former SHIELD agent Hawke! That could be a lot of fun. Feel free to start. ]

( calling all Vs )

[m/f, f/f]

[It had been a long time since Leo had seen Natasha. He couldn't leave South City, not when there was such a tense truce with North City to keep the peace of. He needed to be there to keep the balance. When the mysterious woman with the red hair had come into his life and gone as quickly as she did, Leo wouldn't say it broke his heart. That would imply he had a heart to break and monsters didn't possess those. But it did leave an impression on the Sunai monster for a long time afterward, something neither his siblings or his parents could understand as he withdrew even further from humanity than he had before.

He hadn't thought he would ever see her again. Then one night, as he came out of an apartment building, having fed on a soul which left the victim a dead shell with their eyes burned out of their skull, he saw her again. Just standing there under a dim streetlight as if she'd never left to begin with.]

So what are you doing here?

[He didn't sound precisely happy to see her, more wary than anything else.]

[Sometimes it's easier.

There's a war on, sure, and Sirius has a lot of responsibilities that revolve directly around being the immensely valuable heir of the most noble and ancient house of Black, but he learned a long time ago that if he minded his toes and gave just enough that certain...indiscretions would get temporarily overlooked while he 'got it out of his system' or whatever else his shrew of a mother was telling herself these days whenever Marlene walked into a room and Sirius went a little moon eyed for her pretty much immediately. Discretion is the key to success, et cetera, et cetera, except--

Except people like Sirius and Marlene were about as discrete as a stampede of Hippogriffs, and it's still easier sometimes to get away, to come to her, to worship every single inch of her like it's the first time he's been lucky enough to get to have her all over again. It's easier sometimes when life or fate or luck or some god or another is on their side to give them days together, weeks together like this is some kind of normal life.

And, he supposes, turnabout is fair play or some shit like that, except it isn't at all, not even a little bit, it's been almost a full gods-be-damned fucking month since he's seen her and if he's honest he feels a little, a lot, like he's about to go out of his damn mind if they don't get a break soon.

When they do of course it would be, well, 'desperate' might be an understatement but he is. Desperate and eager, coming to call at her door late enough it's probably deserving of an apology. Which he gives, or tries to, except she's right there in front of him, lovely and amazing and striking him stupid by sheer dint of being Marlene McKinnon, so he kisses her instead, drinking her in like she's that first sip of water after a lifetime lost in a desert, and hopes it says enough.]

Merlin's tit, I missed you. You're beautiful, you're perfect, I'm sorry, please tell me you'll let me in--

[ By now, they should be better about this. This isn't school, after all. This isn't Slytherin House and furtive fucks in closets and abandoned classrooms after Quidditch practice. They're adults. Sirius is the heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Marlene is heiress to much lesser fortune, but she's the eldest daughter of the best regarded purveyor of rare books in the wizarding world. And...

There's a war on.

There's a war on, and she knows that they're on the same side of it, but have to pretend there's no side to it at all. Sirius especially, but her too - so much information flows through the shop she runs below her flat.

That all means nothing right now, and while sometimes she teases him, and sometimes she tells him he can't come in, right now Marlene fists her hands in Sirius' dark sweater and yanks. The door swings shut behind them, and she's on him again. She barely even takes the time for breath and words. ]

Babe, you're in. You usually are.

[ She missed him too. ]

( #canon amirite )

[Post-book ending— cool with either pre/during Rebels' canon timeline, including venturing into uncharted future territory.]

[There are pockets of illegal activity all over the Empire. Routes, hideouts, smuggling compartments, bribery — Eli Vanto had seen every trick throughout his Naval career.

Which had gone down in a huge, fiery wreck, along with his personal life, when he discovered the true depths of Thrawn's deception. The lies were necessary; logically, Eli understood perfectly well the need for them and why he'd been kept in the dark. Logic, however, could not soothe bruised feelings, and the existence of the Death Star had been the final nail in the proverbial coffin.

Nightswan chose the Ascendancy, and when Eli was presented with a choice — he'd deflected. Not to the safety of the Chiss' homeworld and the Unknown Regions, but to the increasing hot spots of rebellion springing against the Empire.

That is how Eli ended up as part of what one day be formally known as the Rebel Alliance. In truth, Eli has never shifted loyalties, the choice of serving the Navy had to do with Thrawn, and now, regardless of circumstance, his loyalty belongs to Thrawn.

This path Eli is currently walking is due to one harrowing realisation: when the Empire goes down (and it will, it has to) who is going to save Thrawn? The only way Eli would agree to go to the Ascendancy required Thrawn to come along too.

Trapped in this peculiar situation their messages and meetings are rare and usually tense, but Eli will always be relieved to hear of Thrawn's victories — even if that means his 'side' is losing.]

[Colonel Yularen already knew, of course. After Nightswan's retreat from the Creekpath Mining Facility, and the sweeping victory that the Grand Admiral had then managed to secure in the name of the Empire, there wasn't so much as a whisper from the ISB agent about Thrawn's brief disappearance.

Just as he will say nothing once today's meeting is done.]

You were not followed?

[The Chiss asks, his Sy Bisti heavily accented— a trait shared amongst his people when compared to the creatures dwelling on Lysatre. There is no recognizable figure lurking nearby, but his voice seems almost to emanate from the maintenance corridor at Vanto's back.

Just because this station is a safehaven for anyone with credits, does not mean that it promises safety.]

[Ah.

Eli feels warmth creep up his neck — surprise and contentment, embarrassment at not having noticed Thrawn's presence before.

He turns, his smile is brief but no less genuine. He curls his fingers slightly to indicate that they are alone before replying in Sy Bisti. All precautions had been taken, that was why these meetings were increasingly difficult as the Empire fragmented further.]

I was not.

[Eli's own Sy Bisti has a different accent from Thrawn, something low pitch and melodic as if the intention for words to run into each other in song.

The maintenance corridor is private enough, Eli slips into the offered privacy — just enough of it to lift one hand at hip level and grasp Thrawn's shirt. There is too much being said in that one gesture: from worry to longing, and varying shades of affection between.

Back to Basic:]

I was worried you wouldn't show. Been hearing all sorts of news about the Lothal system.

All of it true.

[He continues to speak in Sy Bisti, rather than shifting: it is an unusual precaution, given the nature of their meetings and all of Eli’s assurances— but considering the way the tide has turned as of late, away from the Empire’s favor, it’s understandable at least.

He leans in closer for all their difference in height, his red eyes scanning their surroundings. Less the formal, glacial Admiral, and more a reflection of the predator the Empire had unexpectedly crossed paths with on that remote, unnamed world.]

There are others that now wage war with the Empire.

[Others such as Saw Gerrera. Others that only mimic his so-called heroism.]

Terrorists.

[There were factions so extreme that they gave the rebels a reputation that was worse than that of the Empire. Despair bred, those recruited under Saw Guerrera were a growing part of this conflict.]

Shall I congratulate you on your victories there?

[Were they victories?

Eli looked more disturbed at the confirmation of the rumours. He knew Thrawn to be ruthless against his enemies, and yet Eli thought Thrawn's moral compass would have resisted tactical choices.

He'd been keeping up with things and largely dismissed any reports that painted Thrawn in ways that Eli could not recognise. It was not unusual given Thrawn's reputation that there were plenty of exaggerated accounts.]

And you?

[Eli's question regarding due congratulations has Thrawn's frown tightening, the Chiss exhaling thinly through his nose. His eyeline drops momentarily, with barely an inch left between them to spare.]

Governor Pryce and the Emperor are satisfied, it seems. [The rest— either in vague discussion or in truth— is too valuable to discuss. The greatest problem that comes from investing in an agent on the other side of a war, is running the risk of knowing too much. Locations, strategies, motivations and opportunities: without tangible proof, unintentionally acting on such unofficially acquired information could either be crippling...

Or damning.]

You know where I stand.

[His fingers twist the fabric: anger, disgust. Not aimed at Thrawn but those he mentioned.]

I do.

[Eli lifts his head slightly, crossing that last inch without hesitation; forehead to forehead, and swallowing his concerns, Eli is saying everything that can't be said out loud.

Whether that is due to the way they are or to their location and timing, is debatable. However, it must be conveyed because there is a war raging and death is never too far.]

We can still leave. It is not like the Ascendancy will step in to save the Empire.

[There is no frigid stoicism to be found in Thrawn as Eli presses in; his posture relaxes by cautious degrees from where they stand, masked by shadow, and muffled by the steady rattling of life support systems as they feeely circulate air throughout the station. His voice is a low, reverberating hum, so quiet as to be barely audible as those crimson eyes slip shut.]

The Ascendancy will not step in to save the Empire.

[On that, at least, they agree.]

Nor will they step in to retrieve me.

[It is a statement of fact, nothing more. He does not lament the truth: that he was chosen for this, that he agreed nearly seven years ago to surrender his life to whatever outcome it brought him— and for a time, their paths were not so splintered as they are now. Another slow inhale, and Thrawn at last decides to use Basic, perhaps for then unmistakable impact it might carry.]

We cannot continue to meet like this.

[The softness of the moment, in sharp contrast with their surroundings, blinds Eli's common sense. A singular, naive thought that things would turn out well for them fills him with hope.

Until Thrawn's switches to Basic, and clenching his jaw Eli tries not to envision that scenario. Thrawn, adrift in space, surrounded by those who would use or destroy him; no one deserved that life nor the inevitable end once they outlived their usefulness.

Eli does not open his eyes, he does not recoil. Such a retreat would waste whatever precious time they do have.

The pressure of their single point of contact increases briefly:]

No, probably not but I won't leave you.

[Thrawn's gloved fingers slide up, catching Eli on the outside of either arm in a grip that's entirely stabilizing. A brace against whatever temptation might be welling up inside the Chimaera's former officer.]

This war is not the end of all things, Eli Vanto. Greater forces will always be in play, greater battles that hinge on our actions, and what ripples are cast outward from their momentum.

[He cannot abandon his mission. He cannot abandon the Empire: its survival ensures stability over chaos, its power ensures the survival of his people— of the galaxy itself when all that is dark and terrible slithers out from the gaps between stars.

The Republic failed. Stagnant and withered, rot setting into bone, and it will return like a disease if it isn't culled at the root.]

If I have not been persuasive enough before this point, allow me to be now: go to the Ascendancy, rejoin with Cygni and embrace the knowledge that awaits you— or return to Lysatre, and give your people the knowledge you now possess.

They would be better for it.

[Eli's hands are ungloved. His fingers brush Thrawn's neck until they were settled at his nape. Thrawn's skin is cool and familiar; painful after being deprived of this simple sign of intimacy for so long.

Gestures like this speak no secrets: Eli's attachment cannot be swayed.]

So, that part of the legends is true then. The Chiss will succeed or die before failing their goals.

[Eli won't deny that he's being selfish. Too many years at Thrawn's side, he understands the wider repercussions awaiting others; how everything is connected; what is required of Thrawn and what Thrawn required of him.

However, to Eli Thrawn's brilliance is irreplaceable, and, right now, unrestrained. Leaving his tactical genius adrift to follow only logic without compassion is dangerous.]

Maybe, but the galaxy would not be better for it if something were to happen to you.

[What Eli is not saying but knows to be true, a truth far more important to him than the fall of Empires and Rebellions, than the Force and Senate, and the evil that slept in the cracks between stars: Thrawn needed him.]

I taught you well enough.

[Thrawn's crimson eyes slide open again, not withdrawing entirely when he tips his head away— only enough so that the slight press of Eli's grip is stronger for it.]

The galaxy would not suffer as much as you think. [Always so quick to discount himself, it is unsurprising that the one factor Vanto truly fails to acknowledge is whatever trust Thrawn has already embedded within him: memories and experiences, understanding, a keenness that so many of his species will never manage to grasp.

No, this is not about the galaxy's loss. This is about something else.]

And so I must ask: what is it that truly terrifies you?

[Why are you here, Eli Vanto?]

Edited 2018-02-13 11:16 (UTC)

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