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This is the place to post stories you have written about your character's timeskip; what happened to them in the five years between the fall of the Gav Daragon and the rise of the Empress Teta.

TOPIC: [Timeskip] Family

[Timeskip] Family 9 months 3 weeks ago #17162

  • Eskkaar
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Hey folks! Just a quick FYI, these are going to a bunch of one shot type insights into moments Esk has shared with people he considers his close friends and family during the timeskip. Therefore they’ll probably end up jumping around in the timeline as inspiration strikes but I’ll try and post a rough guide to when in the timeline each oneshot takes place.

Time: +1 Year, 11 Months after Zakuul invasion.
Coruscant, Coruscanti Military Hospital

“Eskkaar - I wish Mom gave you a middle name - Ragnarson!”

Still confined to bedrest outside of his physical therapy the tired Sergeant looks up from the datapad resting against his angled thighs that just so happens to be playing the quarter finals of the Galactic Republic’s annual Premier Division Grav-ball tournament. The Courscanti Ogres had been in the middle of an offensive play as the familiar voice rattled around the inside of his skull, dragging his attention towards its source. With a face eerily similar to that of his mother in one of her legendary scoldings, fire practically dancing behind her eyes as she storms towards him. She ignores the rest of the ward, their stares and even one serviceman who attempts to call her out, leveling that same gaze at him and stopping his outburst at “Hey! You can’t jus….”

“Shavit.” The battle hardened marine mumbles underneath his breath, pushing himself upright against his pillows, preparing for the incoming salvo.

The demon eyed cadet, sporting her full uniform, comes to a stop at the foot of his bed. Resting her hands on the bottom guard rail as she leans her weight against it. Her knuckles turning white as she tries to use it as a stand in for her brother’s neck while she attempts to wring the life from it. She levels that familiar gaze on him, almost transporting him back to his childhood and his mother shouting at him for dragging mud through her kitchen for the thousandth time. Her voice remains at the same controlled volume, despite the emotion in her tone.

“Just when exactly were you going to tell me, or any of us that you were injured Esk? I literally live a couple of klicks away for stars sake!”

Eskkaar can’t help the grin that forms at the corner of his mouth briefly before he shuts it down as the intensity of his sister’s glare increases for a moment. Quickly powering down his datapad grants him a few seconds reprieve in which he can take a deep breath and pull his features into a smile.

“Hey Ria, I’ve actually only been here a few….”

“Nine days. Two hundred and sixteen hours. That’s how long you’ve been here Esk so don’t try and pull that Bol dung on me.” Ria snaps out at him, cutting off his attempt at lying with brutal efficiency.

A beat passes, his mouth visibly hanging open at being caught in his lie until he manages to close it. Suitably chastised he drops his gaze for a moment before a question arises in the forefront of his mind.

“How did you know I was in here then?”

“I’m dating the nurse that changed your damn dressing this morning, she mentioned your name. Put that together with that scar on your face and it was kind of obvious.” Ria waves off his question with a dismissive gesture. “That is hardly the damn point Esk, what the hell happened?”

A sigh escapes his lips as he slouches further against his pillows, rubbing his hands briefly over his face, dragging them down over his cheeks before his gaze meets his sisters again. He shifts his legs, patting a spot on the bed in invitation. Raising an eyebrow for a moment as his sister refuses to move, tilting his head towards it.

“Come on, Ria. Give me a break. I’m sorry. Now will you please take a seat.”

The cadet manages to pull in a deep breath, flexing her hands around the guard rail a final time before she eases around the bed and hops up to take the offered seat. Reaching out and grabbing her brothers hand, bringing it to rest in her lap where she maintains her hold with a brief glare leveled at Esk’s no verbal protest.

“What happened?” she asks simply, her voice much softer now that her anger has somewhat dissipated.

“I got stabbed by some vibro-knife wielding idiot. Don’t panic, it was all fixed with corrective surgery. They’ve just got me in here for physio.” He replies in a measured and controlled tone, slipping easily into the familiar role of the older brother, providing extra reassurance as he gently squeezes her hand.

Ria’s torso shakes with a small sigh, relieved to hear of the relatively minor extent of his injuries. Her hand automatically returning the squeeze to her hand, grinning slightly with a slight tilt to her head as she asks the next question on her mind. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell what you were doing to end up getting stabbed?”

The marine looks to the ceiling, giving a rueful shake of his head as he does so. “Classified, Ria. You know all of the stuff I’ve been doing with Intel is.” Dropping his gaze to the datapad in his lap he powers it up once more and after a moment of hurried taps he turns it around and hands it out to his sister.

“Transfer orders? 25th Forward Reconnaissance Group, RSS Justice. How’d you swing this when you’re not even fit for duty?” He finger drags along the screen as she reads through it several times while awaiting a reply.

“Lets just say I have a couple of friends who put in a good word. They’re down a few marines and I’ve already got the recce tab.”

Ria places the datapad back on the bed in between the two siblings, pushing it slightly further towards her brother. “Considering how much you’ve been whingeing about your secondment to Intel, I’m guessing this is a good thing.”

A sincere nod from the sergeant precedes his reply. “Yeah, it is. It’s not like I wasn’t doing good work, I was. But it’s not my service branch, I’d rather return to being an actual Marine.”

Her eyes light up in a moment of mirth, a chuckle escaping her lips. “Yeah, well you ground pounders are stubborn like that.”

Eskkaar practically growls at her in reply, raising an extended finger and poking it against her forehead. “Enough, squirt. Ease up on the names until you’ve passed your cadet training.”

“Yes, Sir!” She straightens in her sitting position, throwing the most casual of salutes towards her brother, accompanied by the smirk on her face.

An exasperated tone enters his voice as he replies following a hefty eye roll. “At ease, cadet.” He shakes his head at his sister’s antics before leveling her with a gaze. “Now, you best tell me about this nurse.”
Last Edit: 9 months 3 weeks ago by Eskkaar.
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[Timeskip] Family 9 months 3 weeks ago #17165

  • Eskkaar
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Time: +2 Years after Zakuul invasion.

Coruscant was as busy as ever he thought while stepping out of the taxi-speeder, digging in a pocket and handing over the correct fare to the jammering Rodian as a Zabrak barged past him claiming the vehicle for himself. Throwing the new passenger of the vehicle a look that had scarred newly minted Marines to their core, Esk makes a point of leaning into the rude man’s space as he picks up his bag that he had yet to retrieve.

Leaving the speeder station he begins to meander his way through the constant flow of sentients towards his destination, constantly checking street names against the directions he’d been given. After quarter of an hour dodging every possible type of denizen of Coruscant he makes it into a quieter part of the sector, the holo sign poking out from the corner of a building matching the address burned into his mind.

After some doubling back when he’d finally realised he’d missed the correct street he makes it to the correct door, the simple numbering beside it confirming his location. Pulling his jacket straight and hitching his bag further on his back he reaches up and hits the doorbell. A couple of muffled shouts reaches his ears, but the words remain unintelligible, being quickly drowned out by the pounding of at least two sets of feet as they rush towards the door.

Operating on some base instinct he manages to take half a step back before the door slides open before him. As he fails to meet anybody’s eyes he lowers his gaze, settling it on the two identical copies of each other blocking the doorway, only distinguishable by their different coloured dresses, one a sky blue, the other a sunset orange. Both of the girls, their green skin free of the tattoos usually associated with their culture look up at him expectantly. He can’t help but think they both are giving him a critical eye, as if trying to make a judgement on him before he’s even spoken.

“Umm...hi.” Esk ventures.

“Hello.” The unnamed twin on the right replies.

“Is your…”

“Are you the idiot that got stabbed?” The left hand twin interrupts, her voice incredibly childlike despite her question.

“Y-yeah...I guess that’s me.”

The pair look at each other briefly as if communicating an entire essay’s worth of information with a simple look. After a moment they turn back, smiling now that they seem happy with his identity. They each step forward and grab one of his hands, pulling him inside the modest sized family apartment.

“Daddy said you’d be here soon.”

“He did, daddy and mummy are in the kitchen.”

Just as he’s thinking up a response a loud holler echoes down the hallway, the voice familiar as it originates presumably from the kitchen. “Esk! That you?”

“Aye, its me Ben. Though I’m currently being held captive by your marines in training.” Eskkaar smirks down at the two girls, eliciting giggles from the pair of them as they squeeze his hands tighter in response.

“Now Sergeant Ragnarson, I’ll have none of that under my roof. One Marine is enough in this family.” A commanding but at the same time gentle voices filters down the hallway followed by another set of footsteps. If asked he could only really describe the tone as motherly.

“Yes Ma’am. But please, call me Esk.” He smiles at the Mirialan women walking towards him, a smile on her face and kindness in her eyes as she takes in the way her daughters are still holding ‘prisoner’ the marine. Below each eye she has a small geometric pattern tattooed on her green skin, while her black hair is held back by a eminently practical ponytail.

He turns his attention to the twins, crouching down so he’s eye level with them before he speaks. “Do you think I can be released, I have a present for your mummy. And, you never know, there might be a little something in my bag for two good girls.”

As if by a prearranged movement both twins drop his hand in an instant, moving quickly to stand either side of their mother. Almost humble looks on their faces as they get close to bouncing on the balls of their feet with the excitement at even the possibility of a present. An impressive show of restraint for a pair of five year olds.

Standing and sliding the bag from his back in the same move he quickly unzips it, dipping his hand inside to retrieve the bottle he’d purchased on his way over. Stepping further into the house he holds out the bottle to the elder of the three Mirialans facing him. “I may have had a little advice on which type you prefer.”

Taking the bottle from his hands she quickly turns it around until she can clearly read the label, smiling as she recognises the familiar picture that adorns her favourite bottle of wine. “Thank you, Esk. And please, call me Nola.”

The Sergeant nods briefly before he crouches down again, setting the bag before him on the floor as he delves in once more. Seconds later he removes two very much identical and expertly wrapped packages of what is clearly an assortment of sweets. He smiles to each child as he holds them out, quickly withdrawing them as they both reach out, identical pouts on their faces as they are denied. “Now, I don’t think your mummy wants you eating these before dinner. But, if you promise not to eat any until after I think I can give them to you. Okay?”

Again a pair of almost synchronized reactions, this time ecstatic and emphatic nods of acceptance interrupted by a chorus of “Okay.” and “I promise.”

He smiles as each girl takes one of the now completely offered packages, dashing off further into the house as he stands facing Nola, a smirk on his face.

“You know they’re going to eat at least one candy each, right.?” Nola has both of her eyebrows raised as she points out the obvious.

Continuing to smile he shrugs lightly. “Yeah, but I needed to get into their good books. Sweets are a surefire way to do that.”

She manages to roll her eyes good naturedly while she turns and heads back towards the kitchen, motioning for Esk to follow. “Come on Marine, lets get you seated and fed before you start bribing my husband and not just my kids with gifts.”
Last Edit: 9 months 3 weeks ago by Eskkaar.
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[Timeskip] Family 8 months 3 days ago #17214

  • Eskkaar
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Time: +2 Years, +1 Month after Zakuul invasion.
Coruscant, Republic Navy Barracks.

For what felt like the thousandth time since he walked into the gym, sweat was stinging his eyes. Beading and running off his forehead down onto his eyelashes, grouping the individuals together, directing most of the fresh moisture away but failing to keep all of the perspiration out of his eyes.

Right, right, left, right, left, left, right.

Jab, hook, jab, knee, uppercut, jab, kick.

The dull, repeated thuds of Eskkaar’s gloves against the swinging punch bag echo around the gym, joining with the rest of the cacophony filling the space. The steady beat of trainers against treadmills, the clanging of weights being lifted and set back on their stands, distant sound of splashing from the swimming pool beyond the glass wall to the sergeant’s back and finally the pained grunts of servicemen and women sparring against one another, limbs and bodies impacting against the training mats.

Regulating his breathing to push through the dull ache that seems to fill most of his body he continues to rain blows down on the punch bag. As if the inanimate object had done him some great wrong, like kill his childhood pet, insulted his mother or stars forbid began to brag about the Drexls latest victory over the Ogres. Using this somewhat fabricated dedication he forces his body to continue with today’s exercise, something that in previous months would have been considered routine but now taxes his system greatly.

“You’re not dropping you right hip properly when you punch.”

A final jarring hit and following thud leaves the punch bag swinging gently as the Sergeant turns his back on the equipment, scooping up the towel he’d deposited on a nearby rail while he turns to the newcomer. Burying his face in the inexplicable mix of soft and harsh fibres that seem to make up the service issue towels he at least manages to removes most of the perspiration before he addresses the familiar voice.

“Apparently that’s a side effect of getting stabbed in the gut, the resultant muscle loss of being laid up on a gurney and partially damaged nerves near the injury site.”

Rena Morillo leans up against a nearby treadmill with her hip, hands resting on either end of an identical towel draped around her neck. A thin film of moisture clinging to her exposed skin explaining the form fitting workout attire, something that perhaps grabs his attention for a second longer than is appropriate for someone who remains a superior officer, despite his approved transfer.

“I’ve heard that happens, but I thought Marines, especially you ODMCs weren’t supposed to complain.” She smirks through her reply, offering a small shrug and pointing towards his clearly visible 6 Battalion brand courtesy of his navy issue tank top.

He scoffs a little at that statement, accompanying it with a small shake of his head. “Only when we’re deployed. Otherwise it’s a tradition, griping can do wonders for the monotony of a six hour guard rotation.” He rips the covering flap from the tightened laces holding his gloves secure on his hands, lifting the garment to his mouth and employing his teeth to loosen the offending knot.

The Lieutenant pushes off the wall, releasing the towel from her grasp as she closes on Eskkaar, taking the glove in her own hand without the preamble of asking permission. “Here, let me.” Agile fingers usually employed for hacking through a multitude of security systems begin to make quick work of the laces.

Quietly watching her work he remains silent, eventually listening as she speaks up while tugging off the first glove. Morillo’s voice has become softer with the reduced distance, and more serious tone of her next question. “How are you Esk?”

Looking up through her lashes she can see the typical grin the Marine sports, no doubt an extra attempt to reassure his former officer on his mostly healed state. “Much better now that I’m out of the hospital. I’ve just got to get back to fighting weight and pass the physical.”

Tossing the now freed glove onto a bench she moves onto the next leaving the hand wraps in place, tugging on the laces as she glances up with a coy tilt of her head. “I’d say you’re not far off then.” She frees the other glove, throwing it to meet its brother on the bench and taking half a step back now that her task is complete. “Of course, there is a way to prove my theory.”

“Oh really? And what might that be?”He replies while flexing his fingers now that they have been freed from the confines of the boxing gloves, going so far as to retrieve his towel and run it through his hands to dry any traces of perspiration.

“A tumble.” Rena manages to school her expression as she replies, maintaining an innocent demeanor. Unlike Eskkaar, whose eyebrows had virtually merged with his hairline before a tiny smirk began to pull at his lips. That is before the Mirialan robustly shuts down his train of thought. “Mind out of the gutter, Sergeant.”

Suitably chastised, gaze dropping to the floor, with his cheeks darkening slightly again despite exercise not being the cause. He coughs quietly, clearing his throat as he looks up once more. With a smirk of her own Rena decides to put him out of his embarrassment fueled misery. “What I was actually going to suggest was putting those CQC skills you were practising into use.”

Eskkaar releases a half a chuckle as he picks up his water bottle ready to head over to the training mats. “And you just so happened to use ‘tumble’ instead of ‘spar’, ‘fight’ or ‘brawl’?”

The Lieutenant had already retrieved a set of hand wraps and is busy wrapping her hands as she turns back to the Marine, that same coy tilt to her posture, her voice taking on a faux professional tone. “Well...I think you’ll find that it was your mind that went there first Sergeant. Besides, aren’t we supposed to be testing fitness. Think you can keep up?”

Esk’s only reply is another short chuckle as he jogs to catch up with Rena who had already covered half the distance to the training mats. Both dumping everything next to a free mat before setting into a fighting stance.

Roughly two hours later it turns out he still has some work to do.
Last Edit: 8 months 3 days ago by Eskkaar.
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The following user(s) said Thank You: Margo Faulkner, Gloridenis Rexicalus, Lexihes Ryan

[Timeskip] Family 8 months 1 day ago #17215

  • Eskkaar
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Time: +2 Years, +2 Months after Zakuul invasion.
Coruscant, Apinea Residence.

Esk really wasn’t sure how he got into this mess. That mess being pinned to a sofa in his new squadmates house by a veritable mountain of soft toys varying from Banthas to Gundarks, while some previously unknown animated holovid plays on the vidscreen. Now - after his fifth or sixth viewing - he could recite it verbatim. Amongst the teddy mosh pit the sofa had become were the twins - Satra and Suna - now asleep he’d guess, the unaccompanied stereo of the holovid and the slack hands held in each of his being his only real indicator as he physically cannot lay his eyes on them.

He’d said yes on a whim once he’d picked up the holocall from an irate Bendak, their babysitter had not shown up on the only free evening for the married Mirialans the week before the RSS Justice was to ship out. He’d watched his nephew plenty when he’d been back home, how hard could it be, right? The next six plus hours made him wish for a five day patrol in hostile territory surrounded by angry Kinrath and blaster toting mercenaries.

Thankfully small mercies do exist and by the time he’d turned up at the Apinea residence the twins had already been fed, bathed and dressed in their pyjamas. Which really was star sent as Nola was literally dragging Bendak out of door before he’d fully managed to step into the house with a half shouted promise to relieve Eskkaar sometime the following morning.
Having shut the door after a hastily thrown wave he’d turned and was greeted by what was becoming a familiar sight. The twin stood side by side in the hallway, holding each other’s hand with the same identical expression on both their faces. Today it was a toothy grin, as if they already knew how much trouble they were going to be.

The first of the evening’s activities was Courageous, the holovid, that they actually managed to sit all the way through, perched on either side of the marine and leaning against his much larger frame as they bemoaned their inability to make his hair a frizzy and curly mess like the heroine that was clearly their idol of the month. Eskkaar meanwhile was trying to fathom how and why his hands and forearms were covered in scraps of food and stickiness despite the fact he hadn’t eaten anything and the girls had been limited to the decidedly non-sticky and savoury snacks that had been left out by Nola.

The rest of the night continued to be filled by the background noise of the holovid, the shouted banter of some tribal culture and shapeshifting family members resembling domesticated Wampas as the girls insisted it be started each time it finished. For over an hour they’d played an intense game of hide and seek in the small house, which Esk happened to use as an excuse for watching the Grav-Ball highlights on his datapad whenever it was his turn to hide.

Which, when they found him crouched inside a cupboard, turned out to be an interesting turn of events. Both wedged themselves in the cupboard, taking up what little space remained as they perched on his lap and explained the sport to them, at their insistence along with all the various food items and drinks being consumed by the crowd. Before they worked their way out, a full two quarters of the current Ogres match later they’d managed to extract a promise from the Marine to take them next time he was on leave and to buy them at least half of the pointed out sugary delights available to the crowd.

Next on the twins list of things to do that a certain Marine would have to clean up later was the making of a den. They’d located the sheets in the cupboard he’d been hiding in, another way his master plan had backfired. So they set to work, appropriating the dining table as the foundation of the den. Soon stools, bean bags and even the sofa were moved to further extend its m2 floor space. Much to Esk’s chagin both Satra and Suna rejected his helpful input on how to make their den more defensible with cleared firing arcs and overlapping fields of fire, causing him to grumble to himself. Something that was swiftly rectified by the two five year olds as he dragged into said den and made to participate in a tea party, despite his stated preference for caffa. This is also when the stuffed toys had made an appearance.

As the twins had finally began to run into their energy reserves the embattled marine had managed to convince them that a final rendition of Courageous was the best course of action. Armed with what he was sure was every stuffed toy in the household they had all piled on the sofa, the girls taking a hand each as they slowly relaxed. Thankfully managing to fall asleep a little before the holovid picked up any real pace causing their little brains to gather a second wind of excitement.

Sensing some sleep for himself on the horizon he frees his body from the teddy mosh pit and scoops a twin up in each arm, letting them rest their heads against his shoulders as they continue to slumber. Truly dead to the world as he maneuvers through the minefield the living room has become and navigates his way to their shared bedroom. With the utmost care he sets each of his precious cargo down, probably in the wrong corresponding bed but he’ll take the win of them being asleep over a lecture on the co-authored paper regarding ‘Who sleep where?” delivered the next morning.

Tucking each child in he carefully moves their hair away from small chubby cheeks and mummers a hushed sleep well to each before departing the room and making his way back to the living room. Upon arrival he can finally take in the scale of the destruction visited upon the room, and the house in general, over the evening. He stumbles, collapsing upon the sofa and promptly follows the pair of five year olds into a blissful sleep, the angry tribal culture on the holovid soothing him to unconsciousness.

He’s found the next morning (5½ hours later) by the twins, snoring and spooning a very cutified nexu, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth and his hair almost finally resembling that of the heroine the girls idolise. Except for it’s fiery red colour.
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