FFM 2025 1: Memories Not Wiped By Alcohol

Challenge: Your story must have nonlinear narrative.

The ideas in my head were replaced with a migraine so I had to use the FFM 2009-2024 prompt generator to get inspiration. Then I also went and wove in an Star Wars: Exceptional Jedi AU scene that’s been living in my head rent-free for a week and that will never happen because I’m never going back to trying to write the behemoth that is the mainline EJ, much less any majorly divergent AU like the one that this scene came into my head for. Also decided to have good old in media res to limit exposition and at least wordcount-wise it paid off.

Also, this story had a whopping 1159 words when I was done with the first draft. Wtf. Not the way I wanted to start the month. Not the way my migraine was planning on having today’s story. How did I get this below 1000 without cutting any important stuff.

(Oh, and this doesn’t count as Star Wars fanfiction because none of the characters are from official material or EJ, at least name-wise. And no one says that the warrior characters are Mandalorians. They could just be warriors of similar we-adopt-adults-too culture. Just saying.)

Why am I babbling here while I’m struggling to come up with a title for this story. I’m blaming it on sleep deprivation because I stayed up too late waiting for day 1 post to come online. And the migraine. Even though the migraine is probably already over.

Anyway. Inspired by the prompt “‘Incident’ is easier to say and less threatening than ‘remember the time I accidentally burned your beard off while trying to light a candle because I’d been up for nearly eighty consecutive hours and you drank the last of the coffee yesterday morning and didn’t bother to tell me until after the grocery store closed.'” by shadowdjinni (Year 2016), from the aforementioned prompt generator.

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“I still can’t believe you became a clan chieftain. You of all people,” Thokel mused, shaking his head.

Beyari kept swirling her drink with a coffee stirrer. “As I told you, it just happened. The powers that be just tossed me at these people and suddenly I had adopted enough people to form a clan.” Like clockwork, Steirdrar chuckled, prompting her to glare half-heartedly at him. “And you, my brother, are going back to work with your ass kicked.”

Steirdrar snorted. “Good thing I have an adjustable table in the office nowadays.”

Glay’el rolled her eyes. “You never change, do you?”

“The way Beyari broke the news of her suddenly having a proper clan to me will never stop being funny.” Steirdrar took a sip of his drink, grinning.

“And I am obligated to kick his ass anytime he laughs at my expense. Letting it pass would mean admitting defeat, and that will not do,” Beyari added.

Thokel — and the rest of what remained of his family — stayed quiet, observing the conversation. Without the familiar face and voice, he would not have recognized his little sister anymore. The hunter who had left them to fight a seemingly hopeless war and been gone for three decades… was not who had finally returned home. That became clear as he watched the warrior in front of his family squabble heatlessly with her adoptive brother to the chagrin of her adoptive daughter.

Beyari narrowed her eyes at Steirdrar. “Or I’ll just drink you under the table.”

“Absolutely not,” Glay’el snarled. “Have you forgotten The Incident?”

“‘The Incident’?” Thokel could not help huffing out a laugh when the two siblings adopted near-identical blank expressions. “What did you do?”

Beyari whooped, both leaning against and supporting her brother as they stumbled through the base’s corridors towards her quarters. “Lovely acoustics! Sing some more!”

Steirdrar belted out another verse of the drinking song they had been singing together, the rumble of his voice vibrating against Beyari’s hand on his chest even through his armor.

Beyari half-shrieked a laugh without any care for their clanmates in the rooms they were stumbling past. “You sound so good, my brother! Absolutely glorious! Magnificent!”

“You should hear yourself. C’mon, sing!” When Beyari continued with the next verse, Steirdrar laughed, his voice booming. “You’re real good too, my wonderful sister!”

“Best you don’t know.” Beyari took a prolonged sip of her drink.

“Yes, it is best that you don’t know indeed,” Steirdrar insisted.

Glay’el shook her head. “TL;DR: our clan’s two best elite warriors started a drinking competition, which took all five other elite warriors on base to stop, and sung drinking songs all the way to the chieftain’s quarters, praising the corridors’ acoustics and being maudlin with each other.”

“We were not maudlin,” Beyari said immediately.

“The acoustics were amazing, though,” Steirdrar remarked, his cheeks darkening.

“Oh yeah?” Glay’el challenged. “Do you seriously not remember that?”

Thokel was so confused. He had never seen his sister be so alive ever since the day her mentor was tortured to death. The war had changed her for the better somehow, thanks to the warriors she had adopted during it.

It was so strange to witness and glances around his side of the table revealed that the others were puzzled too.

Beyari sighed in contentment, nuzzling the armor covering Steirdrar’s chest. “Always loved how much bigger and stronger you are, you know?”

Steirdrar hummed affirmatively, holding her even tighter.

“It’s always so safe in your arms.” Beyari smiled softly, her freer hand trailing across her brother’s back. “Always feels like everything’s okay for a little while for once.”

“I love it when you hold me to your chest,” Steirdrar murmured against Beyari’s head. “So gentle and kind. Never thought I’d get to experience something so good.” He shifted a little, trying to keep their arms from going numb underneath them. “I’m so lucky the powers that be let us cross paths.”

“W’re both real lucky,” Beyari slurred. “I’m real lucky to have sucha precious brother like you.”

Beyari tried to ignore how hot her face and ears felt. “‘Maudlin’ is an exaggeration.”

“Doubtful.” Glay’el sighed. “Still, to think you two were so juvenile as to try to have a drinking competition…”

“Us being elites is why such behavior stands out. If the more inexperienced of us did the same, you’d just deem it par for the course,” Steirdrar noted.

Glay’el shrugged. “Fair enough, I guess.”

“Also, I want it to be noted that had y’all allowed that drinking competition, The Incident wouldn’t have happened. What would have happened is that he,” Beyari pointed her thumb at Steirdrar, “would’ve passed out and all we would’ve needed to do would’ve been putting him on a sleeping mat so that he wouldn’t have woken up with cricks, then I would’ve recorded a drunken ‘I win’ message for him to see in the morning and gone to bed.”

“Yeah, no, that last part wouldn’t have happened. You would’ve fawned on his unconscious form, maudlin about how precious he is, until you would’ve passed out too, either on him or next to him, and we would’ve had to drag you onto another mat or just leave you there.” Beyari opened her mouth to argue but Glay’el give her no ground. “No one in the clan will disagree with me and you know it.”

Beyari closed her mouth, stared at her daughter for a while, face reddening. Then she turned to her glass and downed the half a drink that was left in it.

Steirdrar hid his smile by sipping his own drink.

Thokel was truly, deeply confused. But he had gotten to hear his sister laugh for the first time ever since the day tragedy struck her and, honestly, he could not help but think that what he was witnessing was fine. She was fine — for the first time in a long time.

And by the powers that be, he was truly happy to witness it.