"Survivor happily swiped the macron and snacked on it, clearly savoring it as well." –Jaal Ama Darav, "A Jedi Knight's Resolve"*
"You like that, little girl?" Ahsoka crooned, stroking the little Loth-cat affectionately and reaching back into the bag of treats. "Yes, I'll bet you do. How about a nice circumflex next?" She frowned. "Or maybe this is a hacek. It's hard to tell which side is the top when they're all jumbled together in the bag…"
A wry chuckle interrupted her, as her master's master approached the fountain-side where she was sitting. "You know, Ahsoka," said Obi-Wan, "when Tahl and I rescued Survivor from that poacher, it wasn't so that you could spoil her with imported kitty treats in the shapes of diacritical marks."
Ahsoka smirked up at him. "What, are you afraid that I'll get too attached to her and end up turning to the Dark Side to protect her from rabies?"
"No," said Obi-Wan. "Just that you'll burn through our mission budget like a Triyemmian wildfire. Those things don't come cheap, you know."
"They didn't even have inhibition ships since they didn't work on [W]ookiees!" –EmperorNefarious1, "A Different Clone Army"
But how, Goraffma thought, could he dare to confess his feelings to Zemeeru with her first love so fresh in his grave? There were no words in Shyriiwook that would suffice to express the torment in his heart – so he didn't bother with words, but simply tackled her with a passionate roar and smothered her with burning kisses, the way his grandfather had always…
"Argh, not again! Why does this keep… no, you stupid machine, I don't want to save the changes I made to Kashyyyk's Weeping Skies! I don't know what's wrong with me; I just want to write a nice angsty little pairing between two OCs of my favorite canon species, and it keeps turning into the most shamelessly lemon-scented fluff within five paragraphs!"
(chuckle) "Give it up, kid. If there's one thing that anyone who's worked with Wookiees can tell you, it's that no ship that depends on their having inhibitions is ever going to work on them."
"Han Solo! What are you doing in my room? You don't even exist!"
"Yeah, well, I'm just full of surprises…"
"The top danced above her mid-rift, a deep burgundy." –QueenMeep, "I'll Make Your Legs Shake"
"What happened?" Padmé murmured dazedly as Anakin helped her to her feet.
"Some kind of space-time rift," said Anakin. "Catapulted us who-knows-where – probably across countless light-years and centuries. I knew there was more to that top of Dooku's than just some spinning child's toy." He glared at the top in question where it lay nestled in the lush, verdant grass; then he blinked, and frowned. "Now that's weird."
"What?" said Padmé.
Anakin kicked at the top with the toe of his boot. "It's white again," he said. "I caught a glimpse of it mid-rift as it danced above your head, and it was some kind of dark reddish-purple color then."
Padmé's brow furrowed. "Some sort of light distortion, maybe?"
"I doubt it," said Anakin. "Your own hair and skin were the same color as always; I wouldn't have missed any change in that. Probably it's some indication of when and where it took us – but what it means…"
"Haltez-là!"
The two wayward Galactics started with alarm as a grim-faced soldier suddenly appeared in front of them. "What do you mean, Monsieur and Madame," he demanded, in an unfamiliar language that both Anakin and Padmé were startled to find themselves understanding, "by trespassing in the gardens of the ducal palace? Be warned, the Duke does not take kindly to intruders; if you should prove to be spies for the French king, you had best look to your heads."
Anakin paled, but Padmé, sensing her cue, drew herself up with all the regal hauteur she could command. "So someone has come at last," she said. "We have waited long enough. Go and tell your lord that the Queen of Naboo wishes to confer with him about matters of great moment to his realm and hers."
The soldier hesitated, and then bowed. "Very well," he said. "Your Grace's realm is unfamiliar to me – I have traveled little in the Germanies – but I will gladly carry your message to the Duke. Certainly, Charles the Bold is always pleased to gain new allies for Burgundy."
"'Here are your assignments[,]' a lieutenant said, passing them tablets before mooing on to the next group." –Will X, "Tales from the Rebellion"†
"Does he have to do that?" Han grumbled, as the lieutenant's cow imitations echoed through the hangar bay.
Leia shrugged indulgently. "That's Lieutenant Braoon for you," she said. "He's very proud, you know, of all the wonderful sounds he can do. He can buzz like a bee; he can pop like a cork; he can make the dibble-dibble-dopp sound of a Katruvian rainstorm; he can…"
"Blrriieerarrgh-rullrrgrr, kgrreearraull-rrgrraatt!"
"Er… no, Chewy, I'm not sure he can do that one."
*Regarding the chapter title, the author here actually spelled it "macaron" elsewhere in the story, but I've gone with the spelling that I and the OED and the Stampeders recognize as standard. Sue me.
†Crossover with Phineas and Ferb.
