Private A Neat Trick | House Verd

[Darth Metus]

Wearing: Armor of Darth Metus​

VERUN - SETTLEMENT

The initial fires had been put out.

Verun, as the world had come to be known, was unforgiving. It was similar to Tatooine in its heat. Similar to Onderon in its vegetation. All in all, it was a challenging space to master - but they had mastered it nonetheless. The survivors of the Southern Cataclysm had established a settlement. One would think that escape from certain annihilation would bring relief - but with each step forward there was a whole host of problems. The planet was situated in a dangerous region called the Shiraya Expanse; and was plagued with slavers, pirates, and a murderous banded called the Khanate.

Exterior threats aside, there were the problems of supplies, creature comforts, and illness within the settlement. They may have survived, but life certainly wasn't getting easier. But, for just a moment, there was calm. There was an opportunity to exhale and to step back from the list of priority concerns. For now, for this moment, the people were housed, moderately fed, and alive. The survivors had survived - now Isley could stop leading for just an instant. He could remove the metaphorical crown and focus inward.

His family.

Since the Cataclysm, there had only been two of his kin that he knew were safe. The first was Damsy Callat , who was thousands of lightyears away from Confederate space at the time. He had seen her since and knew that she was safe. The other was Aether the Iron , who had been within arm's reach since the first wave of the assault. But his other children? His siblings? That was a question that he desperately needed to answer. For weeks now he had been calling out over their House's channels, hoping for an answer. He knew that the signal was sometimes weak coming from Verun. Hell, he knew that the Expanse was such a backwater that it wasn't even charted to this day.

But he held out hope they would find their way here. Find their way home. And as Isley took the time to breathe and think about his kin, there was a call from outside his command tent. "Dominus, you've visitors."

A solemn sigh fell from the Sith's lips.

"Send them in."

Duty beckoned yet again.

Darth Ivum | Lace Verd | Damsy Callat | Rann Thress | Aselia Verd​

[/code]

 

[Darth Ivum]

VERUN
Catch Up

​

He had received the transmissions and messages, a few of them anyway. Some went ignored as the Sith made preparations to join his father. He wasn’t terribly far away from the meeting point so travel wouldn’t be some long, tedious task to get through. His travels took him throughout the Galaxy and his little home was his haven in the grand scheme of everything. It was quiet, peaceful. Safe from the politics and war and clamoring of the rest of creation. That was until the news came in.

The Confederacy had fallen to the Unmaker and his forces.

Somehow, they had been defeated and brought to heel. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Many dominoes fell during the calamity that seemed to envelop the whole of the Galaxy. Giants reduced to dwarves.

But, there were things to be done, plans to be paused, emotions to be felt as he went about setting things in practiced order. Everything Ivum did while getting ready was laced with threads of anger. It started small at first, quiet. It was putting on clothes suitable for where he was going too quickly. Tension in his voice as he gave commands to droids and set up flight with the a co-pilot. Intensified to a tight grip on the controls during take off. A heavy sigh as they lifted into the stars, as he typed a secure message to his father to let him know he was on the way. A grumble as he turned around in his chair and gave control to the co-pilot for hyperspace entry.

He wasn’t sure who he was angry with. Maybe it was everyone involved. Maybe himself for not knowing until it was too late for him to come to help. Anger and… disappointment for having been idle. Even as he tried to shake it, it boiled back up to the surface and radiated off of him. Even when they eventually touched down on the desert-jungle world, it remained. He nodded to his companion absentmindedly as he strode down the shuttle’s ramp and into the wind of the desert.

Ivum seethed quietly as he passed small medical posts and food stations. They were down, but not entirely out. There was still hope, and yet this should not have happened. Wind whipped around him and sand cut at exposed skin, passing through the path to the command tent. He only stopped when he reached his destination, looking to the guards standing post outside. A deep breath was taken as he heard the call made to alert the person waiting for him behind the door.

His lip curled before it became a schooled expression before he stepped inside. Golden eyes settled upon Father for the first time in years and venom oozed through as he spoke softly.

“Dominus, not Vicelord.”

Darth Metus | Damsy Callat | Rann Thress | Lace Verd | Aselia Verd ​

 

[Damsy Callat]

wearing
Darth Metus Darth Ivum​

The saying went 'old habits died hard', but apparently so did relatively new ones.

A few moments after Damsy had strode into the Verun settlement, she had managed to inject herself into the bustling of everyday life. She still remembered how to coordinate emergency relief and administer basic triage from military tours now a few lifetimes ago, but more recently she had breathed life into one of the most decrepit corners of Coruscant's underworld. It felt right in more ways than one to translate her skills to the encampment within these steel walls.

After what felt like, but couldn't have rightfully been, hours of offloading supplies that had just arrived, finding a lost boy's mother, and even patching a hole a small gyro of sand had ripped in a tent, she plopped down on a random durasteel crate. She unclipped a water flask from her belt with one hand and rose the other's wrist to look at her gauntlet HUD's chronometer widget. Oh. So it actually had been a few hours. The time had sweated right out of her pores. She laughed out loud at herself, the noise cutting through the air like a tsunami wave: it soaked right up into the sweltering midday.

Damsy tilted her head back, flask neck to her lips. Her gulps of water were almost deafening. When she lowered the flask, she screwed the lid on blindly, and leaned back on both hands. The heat and light of the sun baked through her eyelids, but she didn't mind. In fact, she gave herself over to the sensation of muscles slowly uncoiling under it, like a snake sunning itself on an artificial rock.

Silence rang in vertigo for a prolonged moment. Next came the subtle shifting of sand, the casting of a person-shaped shadow. Then—

"Damsy?"

A cold sweat shivered down her spine, rewinding her musculature around her cartilage bones. Her eyes shot open and she looked directly at the source of the interruption. A concoction of dread and past trauma solidified like duracrete slurry in her stomach. She felt the impulse to dry heave, but survival instincts had frozen her to the spot so all that she could do was stare at Typhan Berrezz .

"...Damsy?"

She could have sworn she was back at the invasion of Ryloth. His question sounded just as it had then and there.

"Uh..." was the only syllable the Siren was able to push from her suddenly chapped lips.

A nervous chuckle came from him. He took a step towards her, then faltered, acting like that lost boy rather than an Omega. Damsy let out an uneven sigh, realizing she wasn't sure if the squad had made it through the Cataclysm. "I'm-I'm so glad you're okay."

"...Really?"

"Feth." He breathed it out like he didn't believe she had just asked that. "Godsdamn straight."

Managing to get to her feet, it was Damsy's turn to step towards him, but she, too stopped. Her com beeped, flashing a notification LED down on to the sand. She didn't even look at it, but did see his face fall in response. "Typh, I—"

He stepped back, nodding slightly despite the emotion written over his face and down his rolled-up sleeved. "I know. And I get it. Your dad prolly wonders where the hell you are, right?" Typhan strode back again. He gave a toothless, lopsided smile this time. "Good seein' ya, Major." A matchingly-lackluster wave saw him turn and leave.

Eventually, Damsy did too. She checked her HUD for the quickest way to her father's command tent. The last thing she needed was another unplanned distraction.

 

[Aselia Verd]

​

TAG: Darth Metus | Damsy Callat | Rann Thress Lace Verd | Darth Ivum

The fall of the Confederacy had come swifter than any had anticipated, no grand battle in the skies and massive armies on the ground. A sudden deep strike into the beating heart of the titan was all it took to bring the disparate worlds to the breaking part. Atrisia, Ryloth it was easy to see why some would feel safer without the Confederacy looming over them far removed from their concerns.

Still, it did not sit well with Aselia, the unmaker had seemingly rallied the entirety of the south against her Father and by extension her family. She had never been too attached to the Confederacy itself and had always been more of a free spirit in that regard. Aselia would come and go as she pleased usually in long stretches of time. She had not been home when the unmaker attacked but as soon as the word went out she dropped what she was doing. In the aftermath of Naboo however there had been plenty of work for her on Verun, wild beasts that needed to be dealt with that threatened the survivors as well as bringing in supplies off-world.

Aselia had just returned from a hunt as it turned out, fully clad in her beskar she led a ronto by the reigns back toward the settlement. Upon its back were several fresh kills, local predators that would not trouble the populace any further. She would range into the wild for days at a time and return to sell the carcasses for processing it. In a fledgling society, every part was not wasted and the number of threats was reduced. Handing over the reins to the shop owner she turned to walk away. "Keep an eye on my friend there I have to visit my father."

Aselia removed her buy'ce, allowing her red hair to fall free of its restraint. She shifted the helmet to her other hand and held it firmly under her right arm. As good as Breshig's work was there was no substitute for fresh air and sunlight on your face.

 

[Rann Thress]

Damsy Callat Aselia Verd Darth Ivum Darth Metus


After the destructive cataclysm that had destroyed much of the Confederacy, Rann Thress was a ghost. Having barely survived, he escaped on his own from the horrors and conflict and had fled to Dagobah, to the Bunker his father, Darth Metus had given him. Once there, the only contact he tried to maintain was with his two students, beyond that he never reported in to the CIS survivors. He never gave his all clear signal. For the longest time, he felt it was better for the Confederacy to imagine that he had died or, at the very least, was missing.

He had failed. This whole mess started on Rannon, the planet he had claimed for himself. He should have protested when a dark object was removed from the temple. He didn't. Then on to Geonosis. Thousands, tens of thousands of Knights Obsidian died that day. Friends. People that Rann could have helped, should have helped, but didn't. But peace was won. Voph had died shortly thereafter, and there was peace.

Then...Now. No peace, never peace. Just a lull, a false sense of security. From the Beyond, hordes of abominations descended upon the Confederacy, billions dead. Worlds laid low. He should have died. He didn't. He had failed. This was his Father's realm, His realm, and he had failed it simply by being unable to protect it, then unwilling to die for it.

So he left. Once defeat was ensured, and nothing but death surrounded Rann, he fought his way out to a hangar, took a small ship, and shot into lightspeed. He spent much of his time in reflection, beating himself up for what he considered to be his many failings, and he spent much more seeking redemption. Any good deed he could do, he did, drops of water in a bucket weighed against the oceans of misdeeds he had committed but it was a start.

Then the House Verd signals started coming over the comms. A rallying call from his Father and for a long time he struggled with following the coordinates. He had failed the defense, then had abandoned the battle. Surely, he'd have no place in the presence of his Family. Yet...As he sat there, watching the message blink across his screens, he knew that at the very least he needed closure. His Father deserved to know he was alive. And so, he boarded his ship again and shot towards Verun at speed...

Upon arriving, he did his best to keep his head down. He had no doubt that people wouldn't recognize him, he very rarely showed his face, and his mask and robes were damaged during the Cataclysm. Now he was in a simple outfit, with his new Onderonian chevron stitched into the arm. Only a few people would recognize him, and he was sure he wouldn't see them before he saw...

"Damsy?"

 

[Lace Verd]

She had been separated from her brother again. Part of her wondered if the universe wanted to keep their family apart, and the attack on Naboo made her want to confirm that theory. Lace fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve as she walked through the settlement, trying to not think too hard about the attack. Felix told her it wouldn't be good for her anxiety.

Pushing the thought down, she tried to not feel guilty leaving Felix. He had gotten her off-world and somewhere safe after the attack, and while he was her best friend... Well, family came first. So with a tearful "see you later" because it would not be a goodbye, Lace left to find her brother... Again.

Walking through the settlement, she grimaced. Illness, low supplies, and only the bare minimum to survive was all she could see, and her heart broke for the people. She would find a way to help directly later, but for now she had to make sure her brother was okay. Past the normal tents, she had to find a guard to point her in the right direction.

Slowly, she found her way, and she only got lost once! Mostly because a guard spooked her and she panicked, but still, she'd found the command tent! She'd found her way home again. Calming her nerves, she took a deep breath before entering the tent.

"Isley?" Lace sounded hesitant as she entered, before a smile of relief spread across her face when she saw her brother's face. "I got your signal. How can I help?"

Darth Metus || Darth Ivum || Damsy Callat || Rann Thress || Aselia Verd

 

[Damsy Callat]

Rann Thress Darth Metus Darth Ivum Aselia Verd Lace Verd

The weight of another set of eyes bore into the back of her head. She felt sick all over again, but steeled herself to face her shadow. Her demons. The scarier fish that swam the abyss right beside her. Just before Typhan's nickname could slip free of her tongue again, it caught to her very last taste bud. The syllable dangled freely there until she closed her mouth, swallowed, and switched it out. "Rann?"

She blinked and flexed a fist at her side. Something felt different about this encounter. She wasn't frozen quite in place because she didn't have anything to be embarrassed for in her half-brother's presence. "Rann!" She did just that, over whatever distance separated them. Her boots pattered in the sand until the last few footfalls, which she leapt instead, arms poised to wrap him in a hug. The embrace only tightened when she was caught. She buried her face in his shoulder and started laughing at her luck again but in a different light.

Or for the first few beats. Soon, pearls of joy turned into breathless sobs. Damsy could barely feel her knees buckle; it would either be up to Rann to hold them both up or they'd fall to the sand together.

 

[Darth Metus]

The Sith could feel it.

The sensation was as emerging into the scorching sun. Frustration burned as sunshine, radiating from the visitor who stepped within the tent. Given the circumstances of the day, Isley was not surprised. There had been too many lately who stood before him furious. They were enflamed due to the challenges of Verun, yes. But more that this...they were enflamed due to the conclusion of all they knew. Thus, Isley didn't blame not a single soul who entered his presence angrily. He couldn't. And he didn't bat an eye as the frustration washed over him.

What gave the man pause was the source.

It had been...years since he saw his eldest. Since before the chaos insurrection. The Sith blinked, as if to dispel a mirage, but found the visage of Darth Ivum staring right back.

Dominus, not Vicelord.​

He could feel the accusation in each syllable. He had failed. Made a mockery of the blood and sweat so many poured into the South. Now, more than ever, the weight of this guilt fell heavily upon his shoulders. But. He would not run from this. Though there had been so much loss, they still had to march forward.

"Survival dictates change, my son." He answered. "And we will survive."

Isley stepped forward, coming with an arm's reach of his son. For but a moment, his expression was as even and severe as Ivum's...until his lips curved into a smile. "I see you've grown out the beard. Careful not to make me a grandfather."

His jest veiled one true fact: he was overjoyed to see his son.

The flap moved.

Before Isley could say much more, the entrance of the tent found another occupant. This one was heralded by the weighty footfalls of armor. The Sith's eyebrow rose inquisitively for a moment, as he was not anticipating further guests. Either there was grim news waiting for him, or those posted at the door had taken a break and anyone was walking in. In truth, neither reality was accurate. Another of his house had survived. His daughter, Aselia.

She was silent upon arrival, leading Isley to pat Ivum's shoulder enthusiastically. "I don't believe you've met...this is your sister, Aselia." He then faced his younger daughter. "You've no idea how relieved I am to see that you escaped unharmed. I'm glad to see you. Both of you."

The flap moved once more.

The Sith cracked.

In but the span of seconds, monumental pieces of worry had been washed away. Two of his children and his lost sister wandered onto Verun simultaneously. His cries across the stars had been answered. In disbelief, he wandered forward a pace and place his hands on Lace's cheeks. "This...must be a dream." His eyes stung, but they did not yet betray him. His hands, which trembled upon either side of her face, were another story.

"What I needed was for you to be okay. And you are. You're here. That's more than I can ask for."

Isley took a moment to pull himself together and motioned towards Aselia and Darth Ivum. "This is your aunt, Lace. I...fuck, I need a drink."

Darth Ivum | Aselia Verd | Lace Verd | Rann Thress | Damsy Callat​

 

[Darth Ivum]

VERUN
Catch Up

Survival dictates change.

Survival was not a question for the South, that much was evident by those he passed on the way to the command tent. Survival was the only option for his father and himself. The way of the Sith was strife and struggle that either caused one to fold or adapt and evolve. There was no other way. Change was — is — inevitable.

It shouldn’t have happened the way it did. One instant, all was well. In the next, the Confederacy crumbled. Ivum sighed as his father stood and felt the anger start to dissipate. He supposed that it could not always be day. Just as it could not always be night. The South had its time in the sun and now, it must recoup and rebuild.

A smile cracked his expression at the mention of beards and grandchildren. “I just might now that you’ve said not to.”

There was a subtle affection in the older man’s joke. Ones that he’d learned to key into as a youngling. Small things that showed that the Sith that raised him did, in fact, care. Even if he didn’t overtly show it all the time.

By now, his eyes returned to their original brown hue and he turned to the entrance as another entered. A hand landed on him and a woman with red hair stood in front of the pair. He could feel the light practically exude from Father. As always, it was family first. Family before all other obligations.

Before Ivum could move to speak, another woman came into the tent. His eyebrows raised as Father embraced her, his aunt apparently. It was almost puzzling. But, simultaneously, heart-warming. Metus had, indeed, softened with age. That and what else did you do when your family goes missing after a cataclysmic event? It would’ve been more alarming if he hadn’t shown emotion.

The man took a deep breath as he took in his newly found kin. “It’s nice to meet you both. I’m Iv-....” That felt wrong, unauthentic. They were family, after all. Out came a name that he hadn’t spoken in a decade, accompanied by a genuine smile.

“I’m Zellen.”

He turned towards Metus once more. There was one that he’d hoped he would see among their numbers who was not present and his heart ached at the possibilities. “Where's Dianah? Is she alright? Do you know if she’s coming here?”

Darth Metus | Damsy Callat | Rann Thress | Lace Verd | Aselia Verd ​

 

[Aether the Iron]

The situation was a mess.

Since the Cataclysm, Aether had been separated. His Rogue and His Mage were nowhere to be found - and he dared not assume the worst. No. They were far too clever to have met their end on Naboo. They were out there...and he wanted to scour the heavens until they were found. But. Aether could not. He had managed to escape annihilation alongside a few civilians that day, and followed after the flotilla once the dust settled. His parents led the charge into the unknown, and it was his responsibility to follow after him.

After all, the House was his responsibility.

And he was doing a bang up job, wasn't he.

Aether had never met most of his siblings. He had only met his uncle in passing. Yet he was expected to ensure that the House's affairs were kept in order? Why did he accept? Now all he did, even before the assault, was make sure the family business didn't go under. That was hardly helping the people that mattered.

The Mandalorian sighed as he walked along the camp. Upon his shoulder chirped a BD unit that he had commissioned for aide in doing his job. Without it? He'd have been lost many times over. And even now, it was pointing him in the right direction. Whiiirrr, BEEP! It argued. "What do you mean talk to him?" Boop. Chirp. Warble. "Like that'll help. You know how mother is. Even if he did listen..."

CHIIIIRP!

Aether blinked and looked at his companion, who drastically changed the subject. Its antenna was suddenly pointing between two tents - towards two souls sharing an embrace. The Mandalorian lofted a brow behind his buy'ce. "Okay, some lovebirds, and?" If the Droid could roll its photoreceptors, it would have. Chirp. Beep. Chirp. It "said" condescendingly.

"No shit?"

Chirp Beep.

Aether strode over in their direction, pausing to remove his helmet as he drew near. He felt...nervous. Awkward. Even more so when he realized the woman was crying. He should just go. He almost turned, and then his Droid nudged him with its leg. "Alright. he hissed under his breath, before clearing his throat.

"I'm...so sorry to bother you. Would you happen to be Rann and Damsy?"

Manners idiot, manners, he thought.

"My name's Aether...if you're you ahh...I'm your brother?"

Awkward smile goes here.

Damsy Callat | Rann Thress​

 

[Rann Thress]

Damsy Callat Aether the Iron Darth Ivum Darth Metus Aselia Verd Lace Verd

Any attempt at keeping his presence here a secret to only his Father were dashed as soon as Rann and Damsy locked eyes with one another and even though his initial plan didn't pan out, Rann couldn't help but smile as Damsy said his name and ran at him for a hug. With his arms wide he braced himself, catching her and backstepping to maintain his balance with an "Oof." He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, trying to make up for years of no contact in the span of a few cherished moments of a loving sibling embrace.

"It's so good to see you Dams." He said, the smile still plastered across his face as he held his half-sister. He remained steadfast as she began to giveway, holding both of them up as they continued to squeeze eachother. There were a thousand things he wanted to say. He needed to say... But right now he was content just providing that comfort. He knew that at some point they'd have to go see Father. But he wasn't going to be the one to ruin this moment.

That lucky position fell to someone else. Someone who introduced themselves as 'Aether'. Another sibling. Rann pulled his head away from the hug to look at his brother. He blinked at the intrusion kind of annoyed, taking a second to process what was just said to him. This was almost precisely why he wanted to keep the lowest of low profiles. Well, not quite. Meeting new family wasn't the worst thing that could happen, but the awkwardness of the situation wasn't lost on Rann. They could have met under literally any other circumstances and it probably would have been less cringey, but he was never and would never be the type to turn his family away. He forced a small smile and spoke,

"Yeah, we're us. Rann Thress," he said, then nodded his head towards his sister still hugging onto him, "Damsy Callat," he finished. Looking down to his sister, he said, "It's okay Damsy, it's alright," pulling himself from her grasp, but still leaving an arm for her to cling too if she needed it while he spoke to his newly discovered sibling.

"Aether, you said?" he asked, holding his free hand out for a handshake, "Always good to meet another child of Isley Verd. Although at this point I think it'd be easier to find someone who wasn't that man's spawn." He chuckled softly. "I've lost count at this point."

Somewhere in the thousands?

He'd have to tease the old man when he finally did see him.

 

[Artemis Verd]

Verun? Where in the kark, Artemis didn't even see it on any known map. Artemis just hoped the little bucket of bolts she had would make the trip, she did after all have plans that involved heading out toward Enclave territory. Yet, when grandfather Darth Metus put out the call, she knew that at least someone from her side of the family had to show up. Still, she supposed it wasn't all bad, even if the stops between were far and few. It was a good thing she packed plenty of instant noodles, dried meat, and lots of ice.​

​

Hues of hyperspace, blues, and purples.​

​

Lots of napping, audiobooks, holoflix dramas, and a ton of checking the map.​

​

Artemis eventually managed her way to Verun. "If I ever exile myself, I'm exiling myself to a tropical world." She noted to herself, as the ship prepared to land and she stretched her legs out. "Next time, one of my stupid brothers can show up to one of these things." Or even better, her mother could show up instead. Checking the coordinates she all but marched her way toward the meeting place. Some, stiff, with a beskar'gam up his arse guard asked who she was and she all but rolled her eyes.​

​

She was led to where they were gathered.​

​

Who the hell are these people? The... kark? What have you gotten me into old woman.​

​

An accusatory thought toward her mother, Amaya.​

​

She saw people hugging, ( Rann Thress | Damsy Callat | Aether the Iron ) and decided to delicately tip toe around them and carefully slid around big, tall and clunky Darth Ivum just so she could get next to her grandfather. Artemis politely tapped his shoulder, "um, gramps... who in the abyss are these people?"​

​

Aselia Verd | Lace Verd​

 

[Yusha]

The King of Beggars heard the call.

There were many things that the larcenist was prepared for. Evading nobles after pilfering a safe? Absolutely. Surviving an apocalypse? Not so much. So it was that, after Naboo went belly-up, Yusha fell in with the refugees fleeing southward. For the whole of his life, the thief made a point of not using his heritage for his own advantage. The House was a foreign entity - spoken poorly by sire. His mother, a member, had disappeared from his life long ago. He never met his grandfather, his aunts, uncles, or cousins. Never knew the embrace of an extended family.

He was content to keep it that way, until the Cataclysm.

Seeing so much devastation firsthand rattled the thief to his core. Enough so that he was willing to at least see what the call was all about. Therefore, whilst the Verd were gathering outside and within the tent, the King of Beggars snuck in through the back. He raised the back flap of the tent and ducked inside, before lowering his hood. The last words he heard were that of a young woman - Artemis Verd - calling the House patriarch gramps.

"Yeah gramps, who are all these people?"

The thief raised his offhand, revealing the sigil of the ram tattooed upon the back of the skin. The sole proof of his membership.

"My name is Yusha, a pleasure."

Rann Thress | Damsy Callat | Aether the Iron | Darth Ivum | Darth Metus | Aselia Verd | Lace Verd | Artemis Verd​

 

[Damsy Callat]

Rann Thress Aether the Iron​

"My name's Aether...if you're you ahh...I'm your brother?"

Damsy almost fell over herself stepping away from Rann. She sputtered, putting one hand to her mouth and palming over her cheeks with the other to pretend she hadn't just been crying happy but painful tears. Although she knew she wasn't fooling anyone, she hoped to save a bit of face with a newfound brother. She gave a wave equal in awkwardness to Aether's smile as she was introduced, then dropped both arms to her sides.

"Always good to meet another child of Isley Verd. Although at this point I think it'd be easier to find someone who wasn't that man's spawn."

Damsy's face screwed up a little like she might breakdown all over again, but she didn't. As far as she was aware, she was Isley's—or more accurately Metus'—only actual Spawn, though recent events had shown her that she didn't know much about her father at all. So much was her fault; she had forsaken both his House and home long ago, and, although their relationship had ironically never been better than it was today, she was not prepared to return to either permanently.

She had her own People to look after now.

 

[Aether the Iron]

Spawn.

The word itched the back of the Mandalorian's mind for a moment - as if something was nagging. He dismissed the discomfort right away, filing it away as "just meeting siblings nerves." His elder brother, Rann, was kind enough to make introductions whilst embracing their sister Damsy. He spoke well. Carried himself well. Much befitting of the former Lord of Rannon.

"You're actually the first of my siblings I've met." he answered, taking Rann's offer of a handshake. "Hard to believe given his track record."

Awkward-laugh.exe launched.

He then offered his dominant hand to Damsy with a smile.

"It's so good to meet the both of you...I know only bits and pieces, but I'd love to actually get to know you."

"...If you're willing."

He didn't get a chance for his nerves to shoot him in the foot any further, as his companion chirped angstily.

"Oh! And this is BD-0308. But you can call him BD. He's my partner."

The Droid bobbed its head in greeting, chirping away.

Rann Thress | Damsy Callat​

 

[Rann Thress]

Aether the Iron Damsy Callat

"Nice to meet you too, BD," he smiled at the droid as he retracted his hand, then shifted his eyes back to his brother. "Anything you'd like to know or talk about, I'd love to share and get to know you both."

His smiled faded, and his face hardened slightly, "But later," he said, looking towards the tent his Father occupied. "We have to go speak to him. After that, I've no plans." he finished, returning the smile to his face.