Aziraphale
Temptress
He was making his way toward the Saber, though it seemed he had little intention of presenting himself at the entrance like any respectable visitor. No, he had spotted just the thing he needed sitting contentedly outside.
A small gathering of Padawans had claimed a sunny patch of the courtyard near the temple steps. Four of them, scarcely into adulthood, sat in a loose circle around a rather disgruntled little astromech whose open chassis revealed an assortment of tangled wiring. One young woman was attempting to repair its motivator while another held up a datapad, apparently reading instructions that neither of them particularly understood.
Their companions seemed considerably less concerned with the repairs.
One young man, perhaps twenty or so, had surrendered a considerable portion of his lunch to a scruffy little tooka that had wandered over to investigate. He had soft, chestnut-brown curls, a scattering of freckles across his nose, and a slender Padawan braid tucked behind one ear. His robes were a little too large for his narrow shoulders, the cuffs carefully mended in places. He was smiling at something one of his friends had said, holding another morsel out to the little creature, which had settled quite comfortably in his lap.
It was a darling little scene, really. Young Jedi enjoying a pleasant afternoon, wholly occupied with such innocent pursuits.
How positively precious....
Aziraphale's attention settled upon them with an almost appreciative smile. One hand drifted toward his hip, where a length of coiled metal rested. With a practiced motion, he unfastened the weapon and began unraveling it, allowing its articulated length to spill onto the pavement with a succession of metallic clinks.
Then, with a flourish of his wrist…
CRACK!
The whip snapped through the open air with a loud echoing sound like a blaster shot. The raven horned auburnett gave it another extravagant flourish, rolling the weapon through a graceful overhead arc before sending its tip snapping against the pavement.
CRACK!
Oh, what a magnificent little performance! He seemed positively delighted with himself, turning his wrist to send the length of metal undulating through the air, each motion executed with the practiced precision of a seasoned performer. His wings shifted behind him, their enormous black feathers spreading just enough to lend his exhibition an appropriately theatrical silhouette.
A third crack rang out, this one accompanied by a particularly ostentatious sweep of his arm.
And then, without warning, the performance became something altogether more sinister.
The next swing came viciously fast, the articulated metal lashing toward the young man with the tooka. Its wicked length was aimed to rake across his cheek before curling around his throat, threatening to leave a bloody welt across that freckled complexion. Aziraphale wrenched sharply upon the weapon, intent on hauling the unfortunate Padawan from his seat and dragging him into his waiting grasp tippe din deadly black talons.
His sable black wings flexed outward in a tremendous display of black plumage, casting their imposing shadow across the courtyard as his free hand reached to seize his intended captive. His thumb hovered almost affectionately over the activation switch built into the whip's handle, prepared to send a debilitating electrical current coursing through the metal coils at the slightest provocation as he drew himself up, spreading those magnificent wings to their fullest extent, and raised his voice. A booming proclamation carried across the courtyard toward the Saber and its surrounding thoroughfares.
"JEDI KNIGHT KO VUTO!"
He allowed the name to ring out before continuing, his expression brightening into a positively devious smile.
"Would someone be a dear and deliver a message for me? Tell the good Knight that an old acquaintance wishes to renew their friendship! The southern concourse of the Coronet City Spaceport, one hour from now. I shall be expecting him."
His icy cold gaze returned to the young Padawans, the terrifying monster gestured toward the temple with the weapon's handle as if insiting they should run along quickly.
"And do impress upon him the importance of punctuality. I should hate for our little guest to suffer on account of someone else's poor manners... ONE HOUR, KO VUTO! After that, I'm afraid my generosity expires!"
And with that, he offered a charming little smile, as though he had just extended an invitation to afternoon tea rather than threatened to electrocute a young Jedi.