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dragonlady7via http://ift.tt/29G1DQH:
Posting fic excerpts always makes me feel better about stuff. Especially since I’m supposed to be updating the chapter tomorrow and I’m like. Ninety percent there. Maybe. I haven’t counted. Aurgh.
So here’s something unfinished that may never get finished, but gave me important backstory and is the reason Kun and Arana are such important characters in the main saga.
Rotating into a new gig was always rough. Iolo was pleased to see Kare Kun’s familiar face through the visor of her flight helmet. “Hey,” he said, and she pulled her helmet off and frowned at him before her face lit up in recognition.
“Arana,” she said, throwing out her arms, and he stepped in to embrace her. “Hey! I thought you were gonna get taller.”
“I guess I didn’t,” he said. “Wow, I– yeah, I haven’t seen you since fifth year. Wow! You changed your hair.”
“I did,” she said. “Like, five years ago.” She laughed. Her hair was short and yellow now, and he hadn’t really found her attractive back then but he did now. She was cute as anything. Seven or eight years was a lot, in a human lifespan. “You look the same,” she said.
He shrugged and grinned. “Why change something if it works,” he said. She nodded slowly, looking a little bit unnerved, and he took pity on her and added, “Remember I’m Keshian, we age differently.”
“Oh yeah,” she said.
“I’m just hitting my sexual peak though,” he said. “So I’m even more insufferable than I used to be.”
“Oh boy,” Kare said. “I generally don’t fuck people with dicks anymore, so I’m not gonna be much help.”
“I’ll keep my disappointment under control,” Iolo said. “I just figured I’d warn you.”
Kare opened her mouth to say something, but her eyes went to a spot over Iolo’s shoulder, and she raised her eyebrows instead. Iolo turned to look, and there was another flight-suited pilot striding toward them, holding a datapad and looking harried.
His name tape said “Muran” on it, and Iolo watched him curiously. When he was in earshot he waved the datapad a little. “Rapier Squadron, yeah?” he said to them.
Kare nodded. Iolo shrugged. “I haven’t seen my assignment details yet,” he said.
“Dameron?” Muran asked, gesturing at Iolo. Iolo blinked.
“What about him?” he asked. “Oh, is he here too?”
“Poe Dameron?” Kare asked. “That’d be sweet! I don’t know!”
“Oh,” Muran said, and he was close enough to see Iolo’s nametape. “Oh, I thought you– you look like his picture. Yes, he’s supposed to be here too.”
Iolo laughed, delighted. “We don’t really look that alike, we’re not even the same species,” he said, “but we were roommates back at the Academy and people got us confused then too. Noses, our noses are different.” And my freaky xeno eyes, he thought but did not say; Kun would laugh but Muran probably wouldn’t yet. He’d have to work up to that one.
“Ah,” Muran said, and Iolo turned to see what he was looking at. It was an X-Wing, a slightly-battered T85 with aftermarket wingtip conversion kits, coming in on an unusually steep approach to the airfield behind them. “I’d heard Dameron was a hotshot. I bet that’s him.”
“Looks about right,” Kun said, but Iolo frowned. Dameron had never been a reckless pilot. He liked to push his birds but he also liked to keep them immaculate. This didn’t look like Dameron’s style.
The X-Wing touched down going much too fast, then suddenly and dramatically shed momentum. “Whoever that is,” Iolo said, “they’ve been deploying from a carrier for a while, because there’s no need to land like that on a terrestrial airfield where you have a mile and a half to stop the damn craft.”
The craft stalled out abruptly, and skidded to a landing that looked haphazard but wound up in a precise alignment with the next craft over. Iolo had instinctively already braced himself to run and put out the inevitable fire. He realized Kun had grabbed his arm, reacting the same way.
The hatch popped and a flight-suited figure swung out, dropped to the ground, staggered a step, and then saw them.
“Poe fucking Dameron,” Iolo yelled, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”
Poe yanked his helmet off. “Is that Iolo Arana?” he yelled back.
“Fuckin A,” Iolo hollered.
“I see we’re sticklers for formal address,” Muran said to Kare.
“You know these Academy types,” she said, and Iolo laughed at her and took off running. He met Poe about halfway, and ran into him hard enough to knock him over, just to be an ass. Poe squawked indignantly, and they tumbled over like a couple of kids, winding up in a tangle on the ground.
“You fucker,” Poe said, voice strained because Iolo had managed to elbow him square in the gut. “Ow, fuck.”
“How the hell are you,” Iolo said, taking advantage of Poe’s momentary incapacitation to sit astride his hips. “Muran here thought I was you, so I guess we’re still twinsies. Should be fun.”
“Force,” Poe wheezed, “I missed the shit out of you, Arana.”
“I knew it,” Iolo said, and bent and gave Poe a smacking kiss on the cheek. “I knew you missed me. I knew you were secretly in love with me the whole time. Guess who else is here?”
Poe stared up at him, and it struck Iolo then that Poe actually looked fucking terrible, circles under his eyes and his cheeks a little bit hollow and his skin all ashy and sort of waxy like he hadn’t been eating or sleeping much or ever being planetside. “I don’t know,” Poe said, “I haven’t seen the rosters yet.”
Kare caught up then, coming up next to Iolo and peering down over his shoulder. “Poe Dameron,” she said. “You look like lukewarm shit.”
“I have this fuckin’ Keshian beefsteak squashing my kidneys,” Poe groused, shoving Iolo, who rolled gracefully off and pulled him to his feet.
“No,” Iolo said, “you really do look like ass, Dameron. What the fuck happened to you?”
Poe looked solemnly back and between the two of them, and then caught sight of Muran, and stretched his expression into a goofy leer. “I’ll tell you later maybe,” he said, “if there’s any fuckin’ booze in this place.” He reached over and punched Kare in the arm. “How the hell have you been? You don’t look like shit, Kun, which just proves there’s no justice in this world.”
“My ice-cold heart preserves my looks,” she said.
*
“Tell me what you’ve been up to,” Poe said before the door even shut behind him.
“Oh man,” Iolo said. “No, you don’t want to hear it.”
“Believe me,” Poe said, sitting down on the edge of the bunk, “I do.”
Iolo handed him the bottle and Poe cracked the lid off. “I just spent half a cycle back on Keshia,” he said, “because I hit my sexual maturity and my dad’s asshole wife flipped out about grandkids.”
“That sounds awesome,” Poe said.
“It wasn’t,” Iolo said. “It turns out I don’t really like Keshians.”
“Oh no,” Poe said, laughing.
“Also,” Kare said, coming out of the fresher compartment, “you’re gay as hell.”
“I kind of am,” Iolo conceded. “I kind of expected I’d develop an appetite for that sort of thing once I hit full maturity but it did not happen.”
“I turned out super gay too,” Kare said. “I think I slept with like two more dudes after you, Dameron, but since then I just can’t muster any enthusiasm for dick.”
“I have never understood that,” Poe said, finally pulling the bottle away from his mouth. He’d just taken an enormous hit from it, and Iolo laughed at him: clearly, Dameron was trying to get fucked-up. “I don’t, like, look at people and say, there is a vagina I want to fuck, there is a dick attached to that person and I want it in my face, whatever. I don’t understand having that as the primary selecting factor.”
“It’s not,” Iolo said. “It’s just, it’s in the top ten.”
Poe kicked back, reclining across the bed. “Nice smile,” he said, ticking it off on his fingers, “good hair, compatible sense of humor, dick.”
“Kinda,” Iolo said.
“I usually start with tits,” Kare said. “Nice tits, reasonable face, good hands–”
“I can’t imagine what you saw in me, then,” Poe said.
“I saw that I was really fuckin’ drunk,” Kare said, “and also that you had a reputation for giving good head, and you lived up to it. Did I actually touch your dick?”
“I honestly don’t remember,” Poe said. “All I remember is your tits, which were pretty great if I recall correctly, not to objectify you or anything, just– you know, congratulations on those.”
“I remember that you spent like an hour going down on me,” Kare said. “It was awesome.”
Poe laughed. “It’s probably just as well that I don’t really clearly remember it,” he said.
Iolo took a swig from the bottle and then remembered something. “Hey,” he said. “You were married, weren’t you?”
“Me?” Kare looked scandalized.
“No,” Iolo said, and handed her the bottle. “Poe.”
“Dameron, married?” Kare looked skeptical.
“I was,” Poe said. “It ended badly.”
Iolo sat up to look at him. “I’m sorry,” he said after a long moment.
“Yeah,” Poe said, and held his hand out for the bottle.
“I guess that’s the story we’re here for,” Kun said solemnly, surrendering the bottle.
“I don’t really want to–” Poe said, and gave up. He had to sit up slightly to drink.
“Easy there, buddy,” Iolo said.
“I’m going to cry and vomit,” Poe said. “That’s just– what’s going to happen. Get ready.”
“I’m ready,” Iolo said, resigned. Poe took another swig. Iolo gently pried the bottle out of his hand. “Tell us.”
Posting fic excerpts always makes me feel better about stuff. Especially since I’m supposed to be updating the chapter tomorrow and I’m like. Ninety percent there. Maybe. I haven’t counted. Aurgh.
So here’s something unfinished that may never get finished, but gave me important backstory and is the reason Kun and Arana are such important characters in the main saga.
Rotating into a new gig was always rough. Iolo was pleased to see Kare Kun’s familiar face through the visor of her flight helmet. “Hey,” he said, and she pulled her helmet off and frowned at him before her face lit up in recognition.
“Arana,” she said, throwing out her arms, and he stepped in to embrace her. “Hey! I thought you were gonna get taller.”
“I guess I didn’t,” he said. “Wow, I– yeah, I haven’t seen you since fifth year. Wow! You changed your hair.”
“I did,” she said. “Like, five years ago.” She laughed. Her hair was short and yellow now, and he hadn’t really found her attractive back then but he did now. She was cute as anything. Seven or eight years was a lot, in a human lifespan. “You look the same,” she said.
He shrugged and grinned. “Why change something if it works,” he said. She nodded slowly, looking a little bit unnerved, and he took pity on her and added, “Remember I’m Keshian, we age differently.”
“Oh yeah,” she said.
“I’m just hitting my sexual peak though,” he said. “So I’m even more insufferable than I used to be.”
“Oh boy,” Kare said. “I generally don’t fuck people with dicks anymore, so I’m not gonna be much help.”
“I’ll keep my disappointment under control,” Iolo said. “I just figured I’d warn you.”
Kare opened her mouth to say something, but her eyes went to a spot over Iolo’s shoulder, and she raised her eyebrows instead. Iolo turned to look, and there was another flight-suited pilot striding toward them, holding a datapad and looking harried.
His name tape said “Muran” on it, and Iolo watched him curiously. When he was in earshot he waved the datapad a little. “Rapier Squadron, yeah?” he said to them.
Kare nodded. Iolo shrugged. “I haven’t seen my assignment details yet,” he said.
“Dameron?” Muran asked, gesturing at Iolo. Iolo blinked.
“What about him?” he asked. “Oh, is he here too?”
“Poe Dameron?” Kare asked. “That’d be sweet! I don’t know!”
“Oh,” Muran said, and he was close enough to see Iolo’s nametape. “Oh, I thought you– you look like his picture. Yes, he’s supposed to be here too.”
Iolo laughed, delighted. “We don’t really look that alike, we’re not even the same species,” he said, “but we were roommates back at the Academy and people got us confused then too. Noses, our noses are different.” And my freaky xeno eyes, he thought but did not say; Kun would laugh but Muran probably wouldn’t yet. He’d have to work up to that one.
“Ah,” Muran said, and Iolo turned to see what he was looking at. It was an X-Wing, a slightly-battered T85 with aftermarket wingtip conversion kits, coming in on an unusually steep approach to the airfield behind them. “I’d heard Dameron was a hotshot. I bet that’s him.”
“Looks about right,” Kun said, but Iolo frowned. Dameron had never been a reckless pilot. He liked to push his birds but he also liked to keep them immaculate. This didn’t look like Dameron’s style.
The X-Wing touched down going much too fast, then suddenly and dramatically shed momentum. “Whoever that is,” Iolo said, “they’ve been deploying from a carrier for a while, because there’s no need to land like that on a terrestrial airfield where you have a mile and a half to stop the damn craft.”
The craft stalled out abruptly, and skidded to a landing that looked haphazard but wound up in a precise alignment with the next craft over. Iolo had instinctively already braced himself to run and put out the inevitable fire. He realized Kun had grabbed his arm, reacting the same way.
The hatch popped and a flight-suited figure swung out, dropped to the ground, staggered a step, and then saw them.
“Poe fucking Dameron,” Iolo yelled, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”
Poe yanked his helmet off. “Is that Iolo Arana?” he yelled back.
“Fuckin A,” Iolo hollered.
“I see we’re sticklers for formal address,” Muran said to Kare.
“You know these Academy types,” she said, and Iolo laughed at her and took off running. He met Poe about halfway, and ran into him hard enough to knock him over, just to be an ass. Poe squawked indignantly, and they tumbled over like a couple of kids, winding up in a tangle on the ground.
“You fucker,” Poe said, voice strained because Iolo had managed to elbow him square in the gut. “Ow, fuck.”
“How the hell are you,” Iolo said, taking advantage of Poe’s momentary incapacitation to sit astride his hips. “Muran here thought I was you, so I guess we’re still twinsies. Should be fun.”
“Force,” Poe wheezed, “I missed the shit out of you, Arana.”
“I knew it,” Iolo said, and bent and gave Poe a smacking kiss on the cheek. “I knew you missed me. I knew you were secretly in love with me the whole time. Guess who else is here?”
Poe stared up at him, and it struck Iolo then that Poe actually looked fucking terrible, circles under his eyes and his cheeks a little bit hollow and his skin all ashy and sort of waxy like he hadn’t been eating or sleeping much or ever being planetside. “I don’t know,” Poe said, “I haven’t seen the rosters yet.”
Kare caught up then, coming up next to Iolo and peering down over his shoulder. “Poe Dameron,” she said. “You look like lukewarm shit.”
“I have this fuckin’ Keshian beefsteak squashing my kidneys,” Poe groused, shoving Iolo, who rolled gracefully off and pulled him to his feet.
“No,” Iolo said, “you really do look like ass, Dameron. What the fuck happened to you?”
Poe looked solemnly back and between the two of them, and then caught sight of Muran, and stretched his expression into a goofy leer. “I’ll tell you later maybe,” he said, “if there’s any fuckin’ booze in this place.” He reached over and punched Kare in the arm. “How the hell have you been? You don’t look like shit, Kun, which just proves there’s no justice in this world.”
“My ice-cold heart preserves my looks,” she said.
*
“Tell me what you’ve been up to,” Poe said before the door even shut behind him.
“Oh man,” Iolo said. “No, you don’t want to hear it.”
“Believe me,” Poe said, sitting down on the edge of the bunk, “I do.”
Iolo handed him the bottle and Poe cracked the lid off. “I just spent half a cycle back on Keshia,” he said, “because I hit my sexual maturity and my dad’s asshole wife flipped out about grandkids.”
“That sounds awesome,” Poe said.
“It wasn’t,” Iolo said. “It turns out I don’t really like Keshians.”
“Oh no,” Poe said, laughing.
“Also,” Kare said, coming out of the fresher compartment, “you’re gay as hell.”
“I kind of am,” Iolo conceded. “I kind of expected I’d develop an appetite for that sort of thing once I hit full maturity but it did not happen.”
“I turned out super gay too,” Kare said. “I think I slept with like two more dudes after you, Dameron, but since then I just can’t muster any enthusiasm for dick.”
“I have never understood that,” Poe said, finally pulling the bottle away from his mouth. He’d just taken an enormous hit from it, and Iolo laughed at him: clearly, Dameron was trying to get fucked-up. “I don’t, like, look at people and say, there is a vagina I want to fuck, there is a dick attached to that person and I want it in my face, whatever. I don’t understand having that as the primary selecting factor.”
“It’s not,” Iolo said. “It’s just, it’s in the top ten.”
Poe kicked back, reclining across the bed. “Nice smile,” he said, ticking it off on his fingers, “good hair, compatible sense of humor, dick.”
“Kinda,” Iolo said.
“I usually start with tits,” Kare said. “Nice tits, reasonable face, good hands–”
“I can’t imagine what you saw in me, then,” Poe said.
“I saw that I was really fuckin’ drunk,” Kare said, “and also that you had a reputation for giving good head, and you lived up to it. Did I actually touch your dick?”
“I honestly don’t remember,” Poe said. “All I remember is your tits, which were pretty great if I recall correctly, not to objectify you or anything, just– you know, congratulations on those.”
“I remember that you spent like an hour going down on me,” Kare said. “It was awesome.”
Poe laughed. “It’s probably just as well that I don’t really clearly remember it,” he said.
Iolo took a swig from the bottle and then remembered something. “Hey,” he said. “You were married, weren’t you?”
“Me?” Kare looked scandalized.
“No,” Iolo said, and handed her the bottle. “Poe.”
“Dameron, married?” Kare looked skeptical.
“I was,” Poe said. “It ended badly.”
Iolo sat up to look at him. “I’m sorry,” he said after a long moment.
“Yeah,” Poe said, and held his hand out for the bottle.
“I guess that’s the story we’re here for,” Kun said solemnly, surrendering the bottle.
“I don’t really want to–” Poe said, and gave up. He had to sit up slightly to drink.
“Easy there, buddy,” Iolo said.
“I’m going to cry and vomit,” Poe said. “That’s just– what’s going to happen. Get ready.”
“I’m ready,” Iolo said, resigned. Poe took another swig. Iolo gently pried the bottle out of his hand. “Tell us.”
