Let The Past Die. Kill It, If You Have To.

Hey, my variant cover to issue 50 of Marvel’s Star Wars comic hits the stands today. Thought it’d be fun to look back at my Star Wars covers for Marvel thus far.

Oh my!😍

It’s Cold in Space...

so be sure and take something to warm you up!

You may now return to your regularly scheduled dashboard scrolling

He’s No Good To Me Dead

Created by Derin Çiler

Cake I decorated to donate to my kiddo's Ice Cream Social, tomorrow. Theme was tropical/paradise, so I had to make a Rogue One cake since the battle took place on Scarif, a tropical planet. Nothing says "paradise" like fighting rebel scum!

- Son of Dathomir -

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Some chibis I drew as gifts.

Archives of the Last Jedi Academy (continued: pt. 3)

The Injury

Learning that Ben was that Skywalker intrigued her, but she had always kept her distance from him, avoiding any remote possibility of engaging in non-training conversation with him. His disposition made it easy as he seemed to not want to interact with others beyond their roles as padawans. And no one really talked about his lineage, at least not out loud.  She wanted to make sure it seemed that she saw him just another Jedi in training with her, not letting anyone know that she had spent a long time researching his family intrigued by the history learned in her school. But now he knew. 

Among her people, Anakin Skywalker was a admirable warrior and his legacy as Darth Vader was not communicated as a bringer of evil but as a more complex nuanced figure, a survivor, a victim fighting a battle that he fought internally and extrinsically.  His prowess in the Clone Wars had set standards for the guards defending the city in which her family lived.  

She was honored that Master Skywalker had thought enough of her to pair her with Ben, but she was worried that her skill would be nowhere near his. Although they were close in age and in years of formal training, he was a Skywalker.  She tried not to let it and him knowing her secret study in the archives intimidate her. 

From the start of the match it was a challenge because she didn’t expect her disappointment. His gangly build betrayed the strength that lay behind the blows of the saber. But his build did not betray the disconnect he seemed to have with his own body. With every strike was a clumsy recovery she saw the potential in exploiting.  In a feat of acrobatics she avoided a strike on her saber by his, and in his attempt to head her off, he threw himself off balance, and, as he tried to recover, he lost control of his saber and it pierced her leg as she landed behind him.

“Stupid, clumsy...” was her attempt to hurl an insult at him as she lay prone on the floor.  The saber had immediately cauterized the gash on the back of her lower leg, but the compound fracture of her thigh caused by the fall severed the artery in her leg. The rapid and extended loss of blood as they worked to stabilize her, released her head back into unconsciousness.

Hope for Recovery

A sweet, warm, tangy scent, soft sunlight fruit orbs on stone walls, draped in ivy...I imagine its nectar would make a compelling ink. The wall is tall and I am looking across the way at it and then following the ivy down as it falls down to the ground below. 

Out of the Bacta tank, she could walk a bit, but she would have to work her way back to stamina and strength that she had before the accident. The synthetic bone was strong, but the artificial muscle and tendon around it needed to adapt. 

“After a few more weeks, you should get clearance to start Jedi hand-to-hand training again…with the younglings.” These were the first words she heard in these first moments out of the tank. There was no contact in those sessions just technique drills; it would be ridiculous: basics, going backwards, an undoing and redoing. 

“Certainly, muscle memory will prevail,” she began, “I won’t be starting completely over, though. Right?”

“That will depend on how your body accepts the implants.” 

The idea that there might be some remote possibility that she might not be able to return to her current skill level let alone continue to improve was impossible for her to process. She forced herself to sit back down on the bed to resist the urge to kick something...well attempt to kick something. Then she wanted to scream, and then she wanted to find Ben. Some Skywalker. This was all that clumsy idiot’s fault. And she felt the last of her energy drain from her with this small fit of anger.

The medical droid monitored her as he injected a serum. “This is to keep the infection from returning.” He explained. “No visitors until it’s eradicated.” He paused, reading the data he had just collected and prepared another hypospray. “You need more rest, now.” 

“Wait! No.” And he injected her with a sedative. It felt like gravity changed, pinning her to the bed and her thoughts took her away from this room.

Something is making me consider the jump. It’s not a sense of urgency or instinct to flee, just a sense that I can make it. I can do it. To my left is an ongoing teal sky, darker above, lightening on the horizon. The wall protects a walkway in front of a stone tower, behind it trees, and that scent. It must be coming from the pale orange and red blooms.

**************

© Sheila Wright and Squire of the Knights of Ren, 2017. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Sheila Wright and Squire of the Knights of Ren with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.