A Modest Proposal...

[Julius Sedaire]

Socorro. Once home to a thriving Jedi Guardian academy. Now a retreat for Julius Sedaire and his students, and any others who sought out the battlemaster to learn from him, or who found the location and proved worthy. The black sands shifted under his feet as his legs and body moved and twisted in familiar motions. Age hadn't quite caught up to him, not yet. But it had begun to nip at his heels. He wasn't as fast as he once was, and touches of grey lined the temples of his sandy hair, his bright blue-grey eyes had the beginnings of the forms of wrinkles at the corner, some from laughter and some from stress.

Corellia stood, more or less, on it's own. He had stepped up, forming the League as an underground sort of cell. Now he ha full faith, even in the face of any new conquerors or rulers, that Corellia would never be broken as it once was. And so, he let other people in to take the reigns, well aware of his all too apparent flip-flopping. The beam of his lightsaber flicked and flashed, his body contorting in the forms of Ataru, Makashi, and the wild movements and restrained passion of Vapaad. A mentor had once told him that when he had progressed enough, how he fought would no longer need or fitt a singular name of a style, and it was true.

He could sense her still, acutely and near. His beloved didn't stray far from him now, not with her retired. She seemed to have silly ideas of his hot-headed Corellian nature, and became exasperated to no end over his penchant for slipping out into the 'Black to run a shipment of guns to freedom fighters, or as was the case this time, retreated to Socorro for a potential student. This one had found him out in the 'Rim and begged to learn. But as with so many, the younger warrior had far to go before Julius would teach them. Several days were spent anyhow, imparting lessons and advice and direction for their way.

Student departed, Julius had decided to extend his stay. Something about this place had been calling to him, and his house in Corellia would be fine if he took his ease here for a moment. So he had risen in the pre-dawn, careful not to wake [member="Keira Ticon"], and came out to the "yard" as he called it, to train. He had been at it for hours, on and off, and all but his trousers sat in a jumbled pile on a scarred table off to the side. Silvery vines and old faded black lines of numerous tattoos covered him, the vines from the Aing-Tii reflecting in the light, sheening extra bright from the thin layer of sweat as he breathed deeply and evenly, shifting posture to settle into a new routine against the dueling droid. One he hoped Keira didn't notice had been adjusted well beyond factory safety limits for this exercise.

 

[Keira Priest]

He was far more elegant than she ever would be, she'd decided. He was refined where she was brutal, the way he moved with the blade an art form by itself. It was an exercise in itself just to watch him, her warrior's instinct searching for weaknesses in his form despite him being the farthest thing from an enemy. They had sparred with more frequency once upon a time, but now that she'd walked away with a certain finality that had all but ceased. She had more important things to worry about anyway, he always reminded her, now that she wasn't being deployed to the battlefield every other week. That wasn't her job anymore, and it was time to let younger generations worry about which direction the latest war was heading. Somehow he'd always been the voice of reason, but she'd long since stopped questioning that.

From the doorway of the small abode Keira watched him, clad only in the shorts and shirt she'd slept in, feet bare against the cool earth. His form was outlined in the wash of colors that made up the sunrise, a small smile on her lips. It had been years since she'd been able to just exist, and her retirement had given her more free time than she could have asked for or even truly needed. The constant fighting may not have been the most conducive to a long and healthy life, but it gave her something more to focus on, and she needed that. A warrior's existence harbored a near-constant unease with one's surroundings, and that was a habit she didn't think she'd ever really abandon entirely. It was difficult to forget something that had encompassed your life for more than a decade.

Stepping out into the cool morning air she leaned against the table where he'd set his things, head tilted slightly to one side as he continued with his routine, that smile and the warmth behind it still remaining. Over the hum of his saber she called out, raising her voice to be heard, "Do you ever sleep, cyar'ika?"

[member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Hearing her voice brought a smile to his face, just knowing she was in his direct presence. And the sizzling grey beam of the practice saber of the droid hurtling for his neck. Despite fatigue and age, Julius blurred with the Force fueling his muscles, moving fast enough he appeared to have after-images in any Force sight viewing him. The droid jerked, a green blade hitting the deactivation pad on the back, standing down. The Green Jedi saluted it formally and came trotting over, stiff but not really limping. A towel scrubbed across his face as he brought the mando'ad he seemed linked to inexplicably by heart-string into a tight hug, not caring how sweaty he was, and knowing her protests would be true but overridden by the same affection he expressed.

"You know I don't. Not since the Outback and what I saw there. Time flows differently for me. Touches me differently too. Even the Monks couldn't tell me what the accident would change about me. I'll likely sleep when I am dead, my love. But I am glad you are up. Any thoughts for the day?"

Grinning, he kissed her forehead and turned to his lightsaber, standing at the edge of the table. As was his want, just like a sniper with their gun after range time, he reached out with the Force and began to disassemble the weapon piece by piece, each part hanging suspended in the air, rotating softly in a cloud around him as he examined, checked, and on occasion reached out with a precision tool from a pouch on the table top and tweaked something. So many Jedi, and even Sith or various non-aligned Force Users, neglected this aspect. A resistor slightly out of spec, a dial a few notches out, a coupling too loose, and all those minor imperfections led to failure or performance inadequacy eventually. Plus, it was a sign of respect to the weapon, which anyone knew was the best way to strengthen the bond between wielder and blade. Eyes half closed, he waited for her to respond as he continued his ritual. She would wake, come out and let him know, and he would wrap up training and they would start their day.

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

His embrace was returned with an equal level of fierce affection, her smile only widening when his lips brushed across her forehead. "Well, for starters, a gun would work just as well. More practical. Less parts to worry about." Keira turned with him, standing at his side as he began to telekinetically disassemble and repair his saber. "Besides, I'm pretty sure my pistol could beat your blade any day. Hard to block something when you aren't fast enough. My people do know a thing or two about efficiency, cyar'ika." He'd taken to the ways of the Mandalorians with more ease than she'd originally anticipated, but she knew he would hold fast to aspects of being a Jedi that she'd found far easier to give up. That was simply his way just as she had her own.

The silence that hung between them was comfortable, and she waited patiently for him to finish, well aware that this routine was necessary for him to rest easy, something she was far from foreign with. Reaching up she gently pulled his head down towards her, kissing him softly and pulling away only after a few seconds had passed. "Come inside when you're finished. I have something to tell you." A beat passed, and her smile turned a bit more crooked, taking on that distinctly Corellian edge he would no doubt recognize. "Don't worry, it's nothing to do with family troubles this time. Nothing either of us have to worry about." Of course, whenever she said that it never really eased nerves, least of all his. They'd been in each other's company plenty long enough to have a sense of the daily routine, and this most definitely lay outside of it.

After another quick kiss to the corner of his mouth she returned to the house, allowing the pastel light of the sunrise to suffice for lighting. It wasn't that she was nervous about telling him, not really. Hell, she'd nearly killed him the first time they'd met, and that didn't leave much room for nerves around another person. Not when you still had the scar on your leg from a near-dismemberment.

No, there wasn't a lot about him that made her nervous anymore. Except maybe the next few minutes.

[member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

He nodded, absently, at her request for him to come inside when he was done. The sun was rising, and it would be sweltering today. The black sun seemed to drink in the rays of sol for this planet, making being outside except in early morning and late evening a true trial on the body. Idly, Julius wondered if he should check the records on this place, and see if that was perhaps a reason the Academy gained such a reputation in the first place. It would make a fair amount of sense for the Guardians of the Old Republic's incarnation of the Jedi Order to be thus. Self-trials were practically next to right action in their mind in a large variety of things. A small dervish slide across the sand as he watched her retreat inside out of the corner of his eye. She might roll her eyes at him if she knew, but no matter time together or apart, he hated her to leave but loved to watch her go. Or so he had told her early in their dating.

Sighing, he closed his eyes, the Force flowing and thrumming in his very bones as he directed the parts back into a coherent whole from their orbit in seemingly random chaos around him, as if electrons in an atom and he the nucleus of it. As the casing clicked into place with a snicking noise, blue-grey eyes opened with a tinge of concern in the face, sandy hair mopped with sweat was brushed aside from his field of view, gaze directed to where Keira went. Closer attention let his senses note the something was different, though he was trained in other ways and not keen enough or familiar enough with the difference now noticed to tell what it was. But now that he had noticed, it would be hard to put it aside and not worry on it. So the lightsaber dropped and fell into his outstretched right hand, the calloused extremity catching the hilt easily, and he himself walking in almost warily, setting the weapon on the half-bar like counter near the kitchen, turning to eye her with not so much nerves, but anticipation and an air of eagerness.

She had commented once before he took to being a Mandalorian easily. Not that he ever truly woul be. The armor was just not right for how he fought. Especially that claustrophobia inducing helmet. But the cultural aspects had been easy to adapt to, and had even brought to him a deeper connection to the Force in how he practiced, drilled, and prepared every day. Now, however, he trusted that nothing bad was to come, but he could tell by unusual level of affections that she herself was nervous for what was to be said. And if it made her nervous, it damn sure made him nervous.

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

It had taken some deliberation. At first because Keira wasn’t certain she was right about her hunch, and secondly because she didn’t know how exactly she wanted to go about telling him. This was something she’d confronted only once before, and it had been easier then somehow, but maybe that was just time distorting itself. Here and now it seemed like the most difficult thing she’d ever done, although it wasn’t as if she was admitted to carelessness on either of their parts. They had both wanted this, at one point or another. It had just been a matter of time.

She just hadn’t thought it would have been so soon. Her retirement had only lasted months at this point, and already she had to worry about nurturing a new life. It wasn’t that her preparedness to do so concerned her, and she wasn’t concerned about her ability to care for the child either. It was just that it had all happened so fast, and with almost no time to consider the events as they unfolded. The two of them weren’t even married yet, and they hadn’t discussed having children at length. Perhaps that hadn’t concerned her when she’d had the twins, but age brought with it its own sense of wisdom.

On the table in the modest living room sat a blaster Julius had shown her long ago, when they first started dating. It was of Corellian origin, not of the modern age, and had been passed down in his family from generation to generation. Previously it had been in a state of disrepair, but that was when her significant other was convinced his family line ended with him. Except it hadn’t, apparently. The only question now was what to do about the last name.

When he entered he would find her standing in front of the couch but not sitting, her nerves not allowing her any semblance of relaxation. There would be no move to hand him the heirloom, but its presence was obvious due simply to the rather spartan appearance of their shared abode. Managing a small, nervous smile, her voice was quiet and betrayed just the slightest timid tone, "Surprise."

[member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

He had walked after her, slowly, smiling. There was truth to what he said in liking the view. Harsh lines and frowns on her face, but her smile was something that still made him nervous. Women were almost a hobby and a pastime for him. She always seemed to keep him guessing and curious, so he shrugged into his outer robe and walked after her as he cinched it tight. Trusting something was important to her, and knowing something in his senses and empathic abilities told him she was hiding and nervous about something.

Then he saw her. Standing, obviously tense. A woman who faced down armies with a smile was tense and nervous. As he wondered, he saw the blaster. Several generations of Sedaire men had worn it. A bespoke piece, based loosely off the legendary workhorse model of the DL-44, it was an heirloom of his family. Several things had failed on it, and given his refusal to settle down to have children to pass it on to, he had refused to repair it. It seemed pointless. And she knew that.

Little things fell into place. The missed nightcaps, the frequent bouts of 'the flu' that were gone by mid-day. So absorbed in other matters, he had missed it. Fear and worry spiked in his mind, evident on his face as he stared at the piece like a viper. Then the realization of meaning settled full, and his face broke apart in a rare, genuine smile. Distance between them vanished like nothing, and he wrapped her in an affectionate embrace and kiss, leaning his forehead to hers after, drinking the moment in before speaking.

"Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde."

Nothing more need be said. They had toppled Empires together. They could raise a child together as husband and wife, right? Contentment and joy bloomed within him.

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

Nothing in her life had ever happened slowly. At twelve years old she had been forced to grow up too fast, already having seen the worst the galaxy had to offer. At nineteen she’d endured some of her worst traumas, and then again sporadically throughout the years, never quite managing to outrun the nightmares. At twenty-seven she’d been a killer for nearly a decade, and it was then an army was handed to her. In the span of months she became a war criminal, then a Mandalorian. From there Warmaster, then Alor’ad, then that had shattered. Then again Warmaster, this time Alor, and almost – almost – Mand’alor.

Now she was a wife to a man she loved more than anything, and a mother not to two, but three children. And that had happened just as quickly as the rest of it.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” The vows were recited back in that span of a few seconds where she forgot to breathe, holding him tightly for fear of this moment, in all its perfection, slipping away just as all other good things had seemed to. Trembling hands hugged him tighter, and when finally she found it in herself to pull away just so she could look at him, really look at him - there was a smile and silent tears running down her face. For once she wasn’t crying over a loss, but rather in celebration of something she never thought she’d have:

A home.

[member="Julius Sedaire"]