"But he made a choice that benefitted two peoples - though yours may force a dichotomous decision that may yet benefit one over the other...."
With a sigh, the Mandalorian walked through the crowded streets of the grand festival. They were all drinking, eating, laughing, being merry. She looked around at these people.
Her people. She grew up on Archais, learned to be a Novanian Shaman of her Arkanian people. But she also grew up training as a Mandalorian warrior, learning their, her, creeds and culture. She knew Mando'a by heart, she had the Catechisms and Resol'nare memorized. She was trained not just to be a Mandalorian fighter, but raised as one of their people. The words of a Novanian Ancient rolled in her memory as she continued to fear for her future and her place in this galaxy.
"Be strong, Jac'Eli'Serum. You carry a heavy weight. But, you are not alone."
Elise heaved a heavy sigh as she paused in the streets. She looked around, at her people, as they joyfully celebrated and partied in Tor Valum's grand streets.
How can you say I'm not alone, when I now know the atrocities already committed in the Enclave's name? And how can you say I'm not alone, when I alone feel opposed against it?
She adjusted her
winter coat. Even though she had no beskar'gam on, she had a large black Mandalorian Mythosaur symbol on the coat's back. Her black cloth pants were warm like the coat, and her fur boots scuffed against the cold stone road. On Archais, the tropic weather graced Elise with the freedom to take her shoes off and run barefoot through the rainforests and swamps. Kestri was the complete opposite of her own planet. Polar opposite, literally. The arctic climate made her shiver, even underground. She fiddled with her gloved hands as she noticed a stall with some jewelry for sale. Pulled from her brooding, the mud hybrid walked towards the vendor and bent down, placing her hands on her knees as she looked down at the metal, wooden, and gemstone crafted adornments. She felt the initial sensation of someone looking at her for a moment; but the Force did not warn her of any threats, so she paid no mind to it. It was a crowded city street, after all.
She looked up to see a Mandalorian woman with a Clan Bralor symbol on her chest. They smiled at each other as Elise pointed at a certain piece.
"I like this one! Is it made of..."
She paused, trying to look back on the various gemstones her mom crafted with through the years,
"... Garnet?"
The woman chuckled,
"Ruby, actually."
Elise's face fell. She knew nothing about crafting.
...
Anything.
The woman reached into the display and pulled out the necklace in question. The necklace was a metallic silver, bearing a medallion of a krayt dragon, curled up and coiled, with a bright red gemstone in the center.
"Do you know about krayt dragons and their pearls?"
Elise smiled a bit.
That was something she knew.
"Krayt dragons, a species local to Tatooine. The Tuskan people hunt them to test their honor sometimes. Some Mandalorian tribes have used hunting it as a rite of passage as well. The 'pearls' are actually kyber crystals inside the animal, shaped and pressured through time."
The woman nodded,
"Mmhmm!"
Elise was happy to turn around, pulling her long, blonde hair out of the way and showing off her Clan's symbol to the woman. She looked back to the woman over her shoulder. The woman smirked,
"Clan Krayt? No wonder you know about it. Hmm, is red your favorite color?"
"Maybe." Elise shrugged and turned to face her again,
"How much for this necklace?"
They talked expenses a bit and exchanged pleasantries. The woman laughed at the revelation that Elise's mother was a skilled Forgemaster, while Elise had no idea how to shape raw material or run diagnostics on a holocomputer. A couple minutes passed, and Elise was leaving the stall with a new necklace wrapped around her neck. The Mandalorian beamed proudly as she skipped a couple steps forward, her hair bouncing off her shoulders. She slowed again as she entered a thicker crowd. She blinked for a second as she treaded carefully between her fellow vod. Then, a fateful occurrence. Her shoulder merely brushed against another person's.
Suddenly, memories barraged her mind, striking fast as lightning and swallowing her like the thickest tar.
A young boy, watching his mother get dragged away. The young boy, sold into slavery. Cruel Hutt masters glared down at him with amusement in their eyes. The boy, thrown into a pit, looking up to today's opponent in the fighting ring.
The boy, older and free, spoke with a shaman as he vented his heavy heart for his father's sins. The boy, watching in disappointment, as the Enclave turned darker and darker. The boy... walking through a crowd of people, with greedy eyes devouring the appearance a young woman in the crowd, bent over to look at some jewelry.
Just as fast as the memories slammed into her, the memories were gone again. The girl gasped, bringing her hands over her mouth as she bent over. Sick feelings of disgust, somber oceans of sorrow, and burning inner rage all swarmed around her as she stood there, shaking.
At this point, the rest of the crowd was gone. Only these two people, memories exchanged through a bout of psychometry, stood in the street. Tears in her eyes, the girl swirled around to see that boy,
Darius Mereel
, standing there looking back at her. Elise's eyes were wide as tears slipped down her red cheeks. She stammered for a moment, then -
"I-I am so sorry! My psychometry just reacts to any physical contact sometimes! I didn't mean to-to pry or invade your mind like that! I-"
As awkward as she felt, the embarrassment of her figure being admired by this very man in the back of her mind, her sympathy was ever present in the forefront of her mind. Her shocked face turned to one of sorrow and compassion as she softly spoke.
"I'm sorry you had to go through that. You didn't deserve it..."
Unable to maintain eye contact, she blinked shyly away. Her care and sympathy were far more apparent, however, as her kind face remained soft and melancholy.
And so, they stood there in Tor Valum's streets. Two individuals who by chance - or by the Force itself - melded memories by the brushing of shoulders.
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