empires_heir: (AU: supr srs)
Armitage Jade had amassed quite a tidy little criminal empire.

Though, really, not so little any more, he had recently gained control of a handful of planets along one of the shipping lanes that the First Order had previously held. He didn't remove it from their control out of any sort of altruistic reasoning, but simply because it was something they wanted, which meant that it was something he didn't want them to have.

His mother had told him, and often, not to let himself be dragged into helping either side of the ongoing conflict because they would both use them for what he could do, whether that was his minimal abilities in the Force, or his brilliant analytical mind, or both.

So he'd gone about building his own side to the thing, though not allied with the Rebellion, he still thwarted the First Order here and there, if only because he knew it must be infuriating to his father that his bastard child -one of many as likely as not- was proving to be such a formidable foil. That was, of course, if the man even admitted that Armitage was his blood.

He didn't have any audiences on his schedule that day, which was why he was surprised when one of his advisors came to tell him there was a small delegation arriving, and, not one to turn away visiting allies -or potential allies- he instructed that they be brought to the great hall where he'd meet them.

People looking to describe Armitage usually settled on 'severe', or 'intense' and he could certainly be both, a shock of red hair tied in a stub of a tail at his nape and a wardrobe that consisted of varying levels of 'black', with a vibroblade in a magnetic sheath at his calf and what could only be a lightsaber at his hip, he was intimidating enough even before he spoke, a clipped Coruscanti accent that most people didn't expect from someone of his reputation.
empires_heir: (jaw-set)
Armitage itched everywhere, not an itch that he could do anything about, but an ever-present near-electric buzz behind his eyes, under his skin, gathering at the base of his skull in a way that made him irritable.

He knew that without the inhibitor around his wrist it would have been so much worse, the same way he knew that it meant something was coming, and not the kind of something to look forward to. He didn't have visions like some of the others, he might have had without the inhibitor, but the only time they took it off of him was during training or when they were running tests, because every time he tried to use his abilities on purpose the control just slipped through his fingers but he could use them instinctively, and usually to protect himself.

That, more than anything, was the reason for the inhibitor. Because even after a decade of trying he still didn't have any more control than he'd had when he'd first arrived there all of six years old. He'd never really made friends, he'd never really wanted to, he knew after the first year that those who didn't learn vanished, or had some sort of unfortunate accident. By the time he was ten, the rumors had reached saturation, that even though he couldn't -or didn't want to- learn to control his abilities, he'd survived, the only one left of the group he'd arrived with.

The buzzing had reached a plateau after morning meal, and he'd given up trying to get an actual answer out of anyone, the other trainees didn't know anything more than he did, and if they did, it wasn't as if they were going to tell him, so in lieu of trying to wrench answers out of anyone, he'd simply returned to his quarters, pacing the small cell, and trying to will the sensation of something's going to happen away to something manageable.

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Armitage Hux

November 2020

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