in what situation was your character the most afraid they’ve ever been ?
the moment brendol hux’s wound began to fester on parnassos. it was the possibility that her dream of escaping that damned planet were over. with his death, she would have had to begin her revolution to unseat keldo from his throne once returning defeated to the nautilus. especially since she left the scyre defenseless by taking their best warriors, healers and taking the majority of their resources after sparking a conflict with the claw.
in what situation was your character the most calm they’ve ever been?
when taking her first life, honestly. killing an older man at a very young age, one that never once held back when teaching you to fight, beat you into the dirt over and over again until you succumbed to unconsciousness as your father watched was a beautiful form of catharsis. she enjoyed the way he begged when he realized they were just training anymore, when that blade severed his trachea, crimson spraying all over the visage of a child. it was the calm of knowing she had seized all possible power in that situation.
how does your character behave around children ?
she’s emotionally distant. she’s not a mother figure to them. hux knows how to speak to them, deal with them so she often leaves the majority of the interactions to him. on parnassos, children were revered and protected, many dying early in infancy. they were seen as the future of their clans. phasma doesn’t see them this way. they are a burden and should become constructive members of their clans / platoons / groups. they are treated like tiny adults.
‘twas a foolish notion. paranoia often chased away the quiet calm required for proper rest. platoons required training, legions replenished for the onslaught that was to be wrought on what remained of the resistance. ❛ there is no time for rest, sir. ❜ insomnia was an old comrade, their history a lengthy one, intertwined since her youth.
since her birth, she was certain there was never of an ounce of innocence to reside within. perhaps it was beaten from her in her youth. small hands had once tenderly clung to the limb of her elder brother, the very limb she had maimed years later, care & humanity dwindling. her monstrosity was a necessity required for her survival. none created phasma. none but herself. ❛ spare me your sympathy. it sickens me. ❜ one could not be guided from darkness when they bathed in it.
❛ your evaluation is this afternoon. let us hope they do not impede your performance seeing as the general will be in attendance. ❜ nightmares were common - place for phasma. a true warrior conquered them, the captain lacking sympathy, cold in her response.
❛ my well - being is none of your concern. ❜ care for others had no place here. bred soldiers felt no tenderness, only the hell of war, the pain of battle. there was no room to forge a connection when in a moment it could be broken, life to be taken if needed, if it became a necessity. the blow to her helm would only make the captain fight harder, ruthless in her assault.
not often did many speak with phasma, fearful of the warrior from parnossos but she was fiercest of those who fought for general organa, guided from the wasteland of her youth to arise anew. sadly, the captain’s x - wing had taken heavy fire with their assault on the order, ship crash landing on a foreign planet. soft words attempt to coax her into submission when she awakens, prepared to fight. the rebel attempts to speak, a barrage of queries on the tip of her dry tongue, teeth clenched as pain rattles her frame, lashes fluttering shut as she unwittingly succumbs to exhaustion once more.
venom coated the syllables that fled from her lungs, the truths their new supreme leader had to hear, she did not fear the wrath, welcoming the punishment, the pain that would she would incur from her insubordination. the order was damned in his hands but what mattered most was the captain’s own survival. from death’s cold grasp she had escaped once, the fates would not be so kind a second time. RAGE scorched the veins of kylo ren, the fire ignited within his dark irises. he drives her into the nearest barrier, phasma’s spine melding with metal, the sickest of smirks fashioning itself on pale lips. with the impact, the hood that shrouded her visage was knocked from its perch upon her skull, exposing the horrid pleasure she derived from his fury.
blinded by his ire, he failed to notice the poisoned blade she concealed within her temporary uniform, the very weapon that was poised at his ribs, prepared to be driven upward if she so desired. ——- but phasma halted, a lesson was to be learned here. instead she inches forth, feeling the strength of that unseen force commands joining with what his limbs possess.
lips mere centimeters from his own, her head tilts to the left, sapphire irises studying the former knight’s twitching visage, her words a soft murmur, the lowest of growls rumbling in her throat. ❛ emotion rules you. you are a slave to it. ❜ a pause, applying just enough pressure to flay the fabric of his attire, careful not to nick the flesh beneath. ❛ it will get you killed – all of us killed. ❜