text;

[photophobic]

[In the year and a half or so since his arrival, Kylo's discovered plenty of native customs and practices he enjoys- one of them being the frankly obscene indulgence of a very, very long shower. He's used up all the hot water on plenty of occasions.

But he's only very recently been introduced to bubble baths.

After a long day of hard work, there's nothing better than to sink into the richly foamed water to relax... and then scroll idly through the network, looking for the right flavour of trouble. And if there's nothing suitably provocative immediately available, if there's nothing he feels like responding to, or it's simply a slow night? Well, he's certainly not above starting a fight.
Thankfully (?) he won't be inflicting a video feed of himself sprawled comfortably in the tub on the imPort community at large, only this:]

Explain it to me.
How so many of you can be content in the belief that a person should be judged solely by what is seen of their actions, as if intention and circumstance count for nothing.

Comments

[redwarhawk]

[He's a Force user in a lot of black with a permanent pouty scowl and fantastic style according to his profile pictures. He's a Sith, as far as she's concerned.]

Someone as concerned with others' values and perspectives on the judging of "actions" as you apparently are is looking for an excuse to judge someone, or to justify their own "actions", in my experience. I flipped a coin.

Either someone did something good, but they're a Bad Guy, or someone committed a few war crimes and got slapped down for it.

"How so many of you can be content in the belief (You don't like that people are happy with something you are opposed to) that a person should be judged solely by what is seen of their actions, (Perception and image is important to you, but I could have guessed that by the fact that your hair is shiny, bouncy and perfect in every picture I can find on a skim through the network. You don't like what people have "seen" of something, because it's wrong) is as if intention and circumstance count for nothing. (Someone had REASONS for THINGS and they were IMPORTANT)"

[Mmnyes, switching to video for this baby-Sith too, typing out all that was horrible.]

Or I'm talking out of my ass and things are different in the future. Feel free to correct me.

[photophobic]

[He's also extremely broad, solid with muscle built with a far more physical style of combat than might be expected from a Force user, heavily scarred with what certainly might be the remnants of lightsaber wounds (among others) and apparently unconcerned with a little casual nudity.

As she'll discover, when he follows her in switching to video.

He definitely doesn't appear as steaming mad as his posited question suggests, relaxed in the warm water of a luxurious bubble bath... with another prime candidate for being mistakenly labelled a Sith— if wearing black, scowling near-permanently and favouring a certain style are her criteria. Especially as Kylo borrows from Ronan's wardrobe with distressing frequency.
...not that either of them have a stitch on, presently. Thank the Force(?) for all that foam.]

Well. It is refreshing to talk to someone who can read.

[redwarhawk]

[Her response is surprised and blatantly, lasciviously approving, up to and including licking her eyeteeth as her grin widens. He might even be one of the few Sith that do more than posture and blow hot air, banking on the innate fear of their power.]

Manda-fuckin-ner is it my nameday already? I might as well have ordered the both of you off a menu. (Literally "oh my-fucking-gods", used in the same way as like "goddamn" in the same situation)

[She tilts her head like a dog, admiring the long scar down his face, neck and chest. That's a saber cut or she'll eat her helmet. He got very lucky. The cauterizing effect could well have cut off bloodflow to his brain if it had been more than a graze, but sabers leave ugly wounds. And what'd he take in the side, a turbolaser?]

And now I definitely stand by my guess. Person doesn't get that kinda damage playing for the good guys.

[She opens a couple buttons to pull her shirt off her shoulder and show the near-twin to the crater in his. Hers is under her collarbone, and had been a nightmare to patch in the field. And it had completely fucked up one of her jaig.]

What's the matter, cyar'ika? Did someone pull your fangs out and make you play nice?

(Endearment equivalent to an affectionate "baby" and said in about the same tone.)

[nightmarist]

[The smaller, more tattooed beefcake stares over Kylo's shoulder at the screen, increasingly displeased by the objectification. Things are getting far more heterosexual than he cares to tolerate, though he manages to hold himself back from seizing the communicator and throwing it across the room.

Instead, he shifts to position more of himself behind the cover of Kylo's body, though his lips can still be seen as they pull into a sneer at the assumptions she drops. He lets out a derisive laugh against the back of Kylo's neck.]

[photophobic]

[Kylo, on the other hand, doesn't seem particularly displeased at all— by either the way she assesses and appreciates what she sees or the surprisingly exciting introduction of diminutive pet names in conjunction with it.
...and when paired with Ronan's lips at the back of his neck? Well. He won't be telling.

All she gets from Kylo is a slow, answering smile that has very little business calling itself a smile at all. Pulled out his fangs?]

Hardly.

[redwarhawk]

[She doesn't bother with something so subtle as a retaliatory sneer, baring her teeth in a blatant snarl and briefly opening her eyes as wide as she can so the whites show crazily all around the iris. Then, she ignores him completely, no intrusion on her conversation with baby-Sith at all.

He doesn't actually look much younger than her, but he doesn't have the jaded boredom of an experienced Darth or Lord secure in his power or the seething paranoia of one that isn't. He likely would have still been under a Lord's thumb.]

And yet you ask for trial, ask to defend yourself, your intentions and circumstance.

[Another assessment of his injuries, this time skeptically.]

I can't imagine begging comes to you easily.

[photophobic]

Is that what you think I'm doing? Begging strangers for a fair trial?

[He's simply amused, now, his broad shoulders rolling slightly in response to the soft, unseen press of Ronan's lips— and he knows he shouldn't like the idea that Ronan might even be a little jealous, but he does. He can't really help it.]

Perhaps you are the ones on trial. All of you. For your inability to hear anything other than what you expect.

[redwarhawk]

[As arrogant as they come, this one, but sometimes--some rare times--it's deserved, and even admirable, appealing, if it's earned. Stars knew she could and occasionally did hold her head higher than most.]

Then enlighten this barbarian, this wild dog, this savage killer, my lord. [She all but purrs at him, though the fire in her eyes tells him she is mocking him with the title and the poetic reverence.] Tell me what my eyes cannot see, through the bloodlust that stains my teeth and hands.

[The half-bits of poetry she is pulling from sounds better in mando'a, but such are the limits of her audience.]

[photophobic]

[Well. He is fond of poetry and can appreciate willingness to commit to a role, at least. He leans forward a fraction as if considering, but—]

Perhaps another time. It's a little late in the evening to be educating savages, particularly as desperate as I am to have my hair appear shiny, bouncy and perfect in every picture of me you can find.

[redwarhawk]

Oh, go on then, [She rolls her eyes, indulging him. Her own hair--none too shabby itself, thank you--falls over her shoulder in a bonfire-red cascade when she tilts her head at him. Them. The other one is still glaring.]

Just don't run too far, darjet'ika. I've been known to run my prey into the ground when I have a mind to it, and it would be such a shame when I caught you if you exhausted yourself.