Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Dominus Providebit

Mandalorian Muunilist
Harnaidan City
Citadel of San Hill
Zonia Kalranoos was not particularly important, to anyone. Her existence was, in the eyes of those who kept the cosmic cogs turning, quite menial. People like her, ordinary folks, were nothing but cannon fodder or collateral damage in wars fought between Force-wielding demigods. Every now and then, their lives would be extinguished by the billions, their names reduced to minute inscriptions on memorial walls and grave statistics collected when fire would cease. Nonetheless, these lives mattered, for they produced the food everyone ate, taught children in schools or cleaned the streets of toxic waste. Zonia was one of those countless individuals who were oblivious to the Force, without even the slightest sensitivity to detect it. Destined to live an ordinary life, some would say.

As the public transport glided through the Mara corridor towards Mandalorian space, the dark-haired woman held in her hand a flimsy containing an insert from newspaper where IGBC looked for external analysts. The contract paid well, much more than what she recieved from the Alliance for her services. She was already two months late with the rent and consultancy for Muunilist-based organization seemed like a much needed addition to her sparse budget.

Clad in a simple black dress she made way through the halls of the citadel of San Hill, in search of the headquarters of IGBC. Despite asking and receiving directions in fluent Mando, after a few wrong turns, Zonia was lost in the labyrinth of halls. Her sense of direction was literally non-existent, so instead of roaming about endlessly, she pushed open a large wooden door carved out of centennial wroshyr wood. The door opened with an ominous creak, leading into a spacious chamber. Dark eyes were fixed on flimsi, examining the information it provided once again. Perhaps it was the wrong date, the wrong place, the wrong job? While immersed in her thoughts, Zonia failed to look up at the single occupant of the ruling chamber; the Iron Wolf of Mandalore.

[member="Ra Vizsla"]
 
M U U N I L I N S T
Harnaidan City​
[member="Zonia Kalranoos"]​
The main chamber in the ruling Citadel of San Hill was made available to the Mand'alor of the Clans while Ra had been visiting these last few weeks.​
In these chambers, Ra sat.​
And Ra listened.​
It seemed emissary after emissary, banker after banker, politican after politican had visited. Everyone wanted Ra's ear. He sat, he made eye contact. His statue-esque expression held firm with stern intent and attentive interest. The room became a blur, as men carrying stacks and stacks of paper ran about. Time blazed at hyperspeed, a torrent of speakers and contracts making their way through the room. Swearing their allegiance. Pledging money to the new Mand'alor's crusade. Bringing their issues to Ra and expecting him to have an answer. Declaring their right to sovereignty. A tidal wave of bureaucracy swept over Ra, enticing him to either sleep in front of the constituents or rise up in anger.

Ra was a soldier. A leader. He hated this as much as he hated the Alor'e Council.

But it was just another thing to press forward through. Nobody said it'd be easy. Ra stood up. "That's more than enough for today. We will resume in the morning." The Iron Wolf stood firm as everyone began to trickle out. He began taking off his ceremonial wolf cloak, draping it over one of the many chairs of the Chamber as the last man left.

Finally.

Some peace and quie-

KNOCK. KNOCK KNOCK.

Ra heard the door slowly open in the distance and quirked an eyebrow. Was no one standing guard? Finding himself in an empty hallway just outside the main chamber, the large Mandalorian watched as a woman entered.

"Hello," Ra's voice boomed.
 
"Su'cuy." Zonia replied instantly, before her eyes rose from the flimsi to behold the gargantuan form of the Mandalorian leader. Her mouth remained semi-open upon uttering an informal Mandalorian greeting, the entirety of her being in state of utter shock. Ra was a legend in his own right, not only among the Mandalorians. A seasoned warrior, an apt commander and a master tactician, he was dubbed the Mandalorian man-warmachine by those whose lands would be scorched by the Crusades he initiated. He was the embodiment of the Mandalorian way, the fearsome engine of chaos that laid waste to the galaxy in the past.
The pictures in the news did not do him justice; he was even more imposing in person. Kalranoos blinked and took a step back, the hand which held the flimsi beginning to shake.

Fear. One of the primal emotions, which could not be feigned. The media painted him as a savage, ruthless conscript of Mandalore, who ate the hearts of his enemies upon singlehandedly ripping them out of their chests. Upon seeing him in person, Zonia found these propaganda-instigated rumors quite believable.

Her breathing grew heavy in an instant, back instinctively pressed against the inner side of the now closed door. He was on the other side of the room, yet she felt cornered.

"I'm sorry for intruding." she apologized meekly, but avoided to look him in the eyes - "Seems I'm lost."
Plump lips stretched into a thin line. The word was he could turn into a wolf at will and claw out one's liver with a single slash. Her heart raced into her throat, throbbing there like a wardrum.

[member="Ra Vizsla"]
 
M U U N I L I N S T

Harnaidan City

Ra remained silent on the other side of the room for a moment, simply staring, his glaring emerald eyes piercing the dimly lit hall of the Capitol. The doors would shut behind Zonia with a resounding boom, two guards retreating back into the shadows. Dust fell from the tall metal arches of the long hall. The Mand'alor seemed small from so far away, but one could tell his size as he stood next to the giant pillars of the Chamber's entrance.

Ra remained silent for what seemed like an eternity.

A fire blazed from within the chambers. Despite the technology of Muunilinst, The Iron Wolf was fond of more primitive decorations. Ra chose to be as thematic in person as he was honorable to the traditions of his people. A great way to lead, he would often counsel the soldiers, was to focus more on the enemy's perception of you than you did yourself. While he was here on Muunilinst working trade deals with the various merchant guilds of the Muuns to support his war, the Galactic Republic was busy writing fairy tales about how ferocious and fearsome he was. They would have no idea what was coming to them because they were busy weaving tall tales of what to expect.

The painting was finishing itself.

Ra finally spoke.

"I am about to have dinner, and desire company. Come," the Mand'alor commanded. "It is rude for a guest to refuse an invitation."

Ra turned to leave for his chambers, leaving the doors open in the Great Hall, and sitting down at a long table in front of the fireplace. Chef's began bringing out food.


[member="Zonia Kalranoos"]
 
His invitation had knocked the air out of her lungs. Just earlier this week she was rummaging through the cargo hold of the Alliance on Sullust, making sure the Rogue Squadron had enough toilet paper and toothpaste. Now Zonia was to sit opposite the most powerful man in this part of the galaxy and casually dine. Genuinely frightened for her life, Zonia accepted the invitation with the faintest of nods and followed the Mand'alor into his private chambers. Very few people had witnessed the interior of Ra's quarters, let alone shared the meal with the Iron Wolf. A thousand thoughts swarmed through her mind. Would he harm her in any way? Is he the beast the media so vividly portrayed?

Walls were adorned with weapons of all kinds and sizes; from ornamented beskads to Kaleesh shoni spears, the place looked like a war museum rather than a place where Mand'alor retrieved to think and relax. As a stout pacifist, Zonia loathed weapons. Blades made her feel uncomfortable, more than she was willing to admit. Yet, she wasn't exactly given a choice. The Prakithan thus sat down on the other side of the dining table, while a servant filled her chalice to the brim with Mandalorian wine. The scent of the potent beverage grazed her nostrils, reminding her this particular wine was brewed for the warrior kin.

Kalranoos was the antipode to most Mandalorian women; she was reserved, unassertive and composed. While they sought conflict, Zonia would avoid it at all costs. War had already stripped her of her family, leaving her alone in this cruel world. Wasn't it ironic that her host was, in effect, the personification of war?

"Who would dare to decline invitation from Beast of Mandalore?" she replied upon slightly sinking in her seat - "Yet I believe many are more worthy to take this chair than myself."

Zonia's modesty was in stark contrast with iconic boastfulness of Mandalorians. She often belittled her own achievements, rarely taking credit which kept her ego in check and assured a level head.

[member="Ra Vizsla"]
 
M U U N I L I N S T

Harnaidan City

Ra nodded to one of the Muun waiters who had brought out his plate of food in gratitude. A massive hand grabbed his goblet, tipping back a tankard full of jawa's juice down his gullet. He then began to devour his food. It wasn't a very pretty sight - Ra hadn't much time for courtesies and manners. It's often why he decided to dine alone, nor have his meetings over food with official representatives of other nations. The goliath continued to ravenously feast on his enormous plate of food while the waiters then brought out plates for Zonia.

Ra took pause, looking up at the woman.

"My name is Ra," he stated. "Am I worthy enough to hear your name?"

[member="Zonia Kalranoos"]
 
The way he consumed his food was mildly revolting, bits and pieces of meat tumbling down his jaw, some getting stuck in his beard. Overall, not a pretty sight. Zonia raised an eyebrow when Mand'lor asked for her name. She leaned back into the chair before a slice of fruit made it into her mouth. Having grown up in poverty, Kalranoos always ate slowly, simply to be satiated sooner and more food to be left for her younger siblings. Her dietary habits persisted, even now when she was the only living member of her family.

"I know who you are." the dark-haired woman retorted - "The Iron Wolf, leader of Mandalorians."
A slight frown furrowed her brow - "The bringer of war."

A few idle moments passed, with Zonia taking a sip of Mando wine from the chalice. Her otherwise fair face half-twisted into a slight grimace. The beverage had a bold aroma, chaffing against her unaccustomed palate. Nonetheless, the Prakithan took another sip.

"Zonia." she spoke finally, her lower lip still slightly quivering. Her chestnut gaze was fixed on Ra's burly form, carefully examining his every move.

"Is there something you want from me, my lord?" she inquired softly upon setting down her chalice and enveloping her lips around a single salak-berry before letting the sweet red globule slip into her mouth.

[member="Ra Vizsla"]
 
The displeasure on Zonia's face did not escape Ra's glance as he continued about his meal. He took another swig from his goblet, sliding the chair back and taking a turn to look at the fireplace. The flames whipped and roared at their metal walls, roaring against the silent encroaching nightfall of Muunilinst. The goliath's shadow grew as he slid his chair back, taking pause to fixate on Zonia's face once more. He remained silent - Ra was not very well versed in common banter. He carried the weight of a man who bore the responsibilities and duties of his people, the obligations of honor he held to his people pledged away in a single day. Oathsworn, he was, to the Mandalorian people in more ways than could be measured.

Standing, he walked towards the fireplace, finished with his meal. He motioned for the guards to be relieved from their posts as the waiter finished cleaning his side of the table. Still, there was quite some distance between Ra and the woman. His fingers stretched out towards the mouth of the fireplace, feeling the heat whip against his flesh as the tendrils of flame performed their ritualistic dance.

"Bringer of war..." He muttered to himself.

The Iron Wolf's emblazoned green eyes stared into the fire.

"...Do you fear me, Zonia?"

Those same eyes once more fixated their gaze upon her own.


[member="Zonia Kalranoos"]
 
Fear was an understatement. Zonia's entire body stiffened as the stupendously large male rose from his seat, her palms instinctively grabbing the wooden armrests of the chair she sat in. Only when he turned to face the fire did her breathing become less intermittent, her posture less rigid. Her auburn gaze inspected his features upon witnessing his full height; Ra's massive torso encapsulated in ornamented armor, placed atop mammoth stumps of muscle that were his legs. Yes, Zonia was afraid, but couldn't help but to stare.

"Yes." she admitted.

"Your actions paint a picture that terrifies me." the woman continued - "Where you set foot, the ground is scorched. Your trail is that of blood. Your sole legacy is destruction."

She couldn't genuinely respect a man who rallied others to lead them into war, regardless of his motivation. At the very core of Mandalorian culture lay the constant need for conquest; they yearned victory above all else. When united, they would vanquish all in their path. Ra had unified his folk; in their eyes, he was the champion. In the eyes of the rest of the galaxy, the harbinger of carnage.

"The worlds you destroy, I will help rebuild. Every edifice you bring down, I will erect again, stone by stone, if need be." the dark-haired woman voiced, before shifting her gaze to the fire - "Provided you do not kill me tonight."

[member="Ra Vizsla"]
 
Ra kept his back to the woman, staring at the flames, folding his arms.

[member="Gray Raxis"] had cautioned him, reinforcing Zonia's words, only weeks ago.

I ask that you keep it in mind. Every raid, every skirmish, every war. Always keep asking yourself how this benefits our people.

Ra's hand reached up to his breast pocket, reassuring himself of the token he had shown [member="Isley Verd"] nearly a month ago on Dathomir - the sole White King piece of the Csia chess game. The analogy that ended a potential civil war between Clan Verd and ancestral Mandalore.

This is the honorable thing to do.

His mind painted the picture of the Jedi children on Ilum, slaughtered.

This strange woman's words were spitting venom, background noise within his mind, but rapidly becoming louder.

His mind wondered to the Mandalorian children on Nickle One, a Roche Asteroid, vented by the Galactic Republic into space.

"Your actions paint a picture that terrifies me."
Ra closed his eyes.​
"Your trail is that of blood."
The hot flames reached for his hands.​
"Your sole legacy is destruction."
Rage burned inside the Iron Wolf.​
"You are currently a guest in the house of Mand'alor, girl." Ra snapped, finally. "No one is killing you tonight."

He calmly walked back over to his chair.

"So," he began.

"You think I'm a monster."

Vizsla sat back in his chair.
 
"I'm not a girl." she replied simply, dismissing the patronizing way in which Vizsla addressed her. Zonia had been around for three decades, about the tenth of Ra's current age, but she was mature enough to be considered a woman. Perhaps not when it came to dealings with the opposite gender which she actively avoided for the sake of focusing solely on her work, but with respect to understanding how the world functioned at large. Kalranoos was far from naive, despite her coy appearance.

"It doesn't matter what I think." the Prakithan continued calmly, reaching once again for the chalice - "Individuals far more important than me think so. Isn't this your intention, to present yourself as the fiend of Mandalore? Your actions speak for themselves, after all."

The potent aroma of Mandalorian wine grazed Zonia's palate, taste improving with every additional sip. Her tolerance for alcohol was rather low, given her lithe frame, so the beverage had to be consumed slowly. The chalice was set down to the table for the time being.

"The first lesson an economist is taught at university is the concept of opportunity cost. Every decision one makes has an implicit cost, in the form of alternative that wasn't chosen. Sometimes lives can be saved only if they are lost elsewhere. War is always a zero-sum game." the dark-haired woman explained. Unlike the Mandalorians who were predominantly egocentric, Zonia easily grasped the big picture.

"The second lesson is about reputation, which always precedes the player. When it comes to yours, you've either painted it yourself or did nothing to correct the picture your enemies painted in your stead. Perhaps I can note that this image of a beast both serves your goals well and flatters you, up to a point." she concluded whilst maintaining direct eye contact with Ra. His irises glowed in outlandish,electric green hues, their lustre further accentuated by the shadow cast by his bony brow.

"Do I think you are a monster? I don't know, since I don't know you." Zonia finally replied to his question - "Then again, nobody really does. Am I right?"

[member="Ra Vizsla"]
 
M U U N I L I N S T

Harnaidan City



Ra grabbed his own goblet of the Mandalorian wine. Listening to this woman was obviously going to take some patience, and he could be afforded none outside of his cup. The alcohol had a diminished affect on his... biology, but very few living men knew that secret. Many more had taken it to their grave. While the Iron Wolf wasn't ashamed of his racial heritage, he preferred his enemies knew less about him than he did of them. And enemies were abound when you fought for the Mando'ade.

He took a swig, listening, not waiting. She asked him a question.

Ra had been answering questions all day.

This woman would be the type to get annoyed by getting a question answered with a question.

"Do you have children?" he asked pointedly. "Do you have a family? You love them?"

"Do you have anyone at all, anyone you've ever cared about. Have they loved you, as you loved them? Someone that, when you looked upon their face, you knew you would do anything to ensure they stayed in your life." His green eyes wondered around the Muunilinst Capitol's chamber. "No, I'm not talking about a pet, or a possession. When you look at a wolf," he began, walking towards one of the Rekr statues that had been built in the Chambers in Ra's honor. "And it loves you, you know it. It depends on you for food. It is loyal to you, but it did not have the freedom of choice. Its life, its relationship with you, is built entirely on a debt owed. No, I'm speaking of two eyes in which you can stare," Ra's own emerald eyes lit up in the shadows."And you know, through some chance or happenstance, that this feeling they convey, this feeling you experience, is love."

"A mysterious thing, it is. To wonder if their mind is unlike your own. To not know. The uncertainty, yet both reached the same unfathomable conclusion - love." Ra let his hand fall on the face of the Rekr, a wolf native to Mandalore. He gently caressed it.

"This feeling, this mutual understanding of how two souls can experience something that is without words..." Ra turned to Zonia, and then began walking back to his chair. The larger Vizsla grabbed it by the top handle, dragging the massive wooden chair behind him and closer to the woman's side of the table. "That is the relationship between a Mand'alor and Mandalore, and all of her united people. Their blood courses through my veins... I feel every wound, suffer every loss. I could live a thousand lifetimes and never curse another with the burden I've been destined to bear. To love them, as I love them. To grieve for them, as I grieve for them. There is not enough time or space in all the Galaxy for a man's soul to bear it. An unyielding, crushing weight."

Ra swallowed down another gulp of his wine and leaned on the table towards Zonia, sitting down.



"Love," Ra whispered. "Is the sum of my war.
For my Clan. For My People. For My Home.
Everything I've done, everything I've yet to do is for Mandalore.
To ensure generations yet to come.
To seek justice for those long past.
Love.
How could you possibly understand?
I wouldn't suppose they taught it in economics."
[member="Zonia Kalranoos"]​
 
"Yes, how could I possibly understand?" the Prakithan responded somewhat sourly - "The entirety of my family; my father, older brother and sister were slain by the Sith. And there was nothing I could've done to protect them."
Her voice was somber, but Kalranoos did not want Vizsla's pity. The two of them were polar opposites; while revenge was hard-pressed into Ra's very soul, Zonia harboured no feelings of overt animosity towards Dark siders.

"I refuse to be a part of their war. If I was to raise a weapon, the Sith would win even before a single blaster bolt had been shot. I would be no different than the aggressor, if I endorsed their methods." she explained, her eyes never leaving Ra's luminous orbs - "Every day I wake with but a single wish; to once lay flowers onto the mass grave where my family lays on Prakith. You are not the only one who had lost someone."

A long-winded sigh escaped her lips. Zonia seemed distant sometimes, mainly because she wanted to minimize chances of developing attachments to individuals. Deep down, she was a natural empath who could easily stand in one's shoes. Ra carried the weight of the Mandalorian legacy on his shoulders, the weight that would crush a lesser man. He was tasked with assuring the survival of his people at all costs, which often included difficult decisions with far-reaching consequences. Zonia found it hard to wrap her mind around the stupendous amount of responsibility Ra had towards his kin.

"A conquerer is feared, a leader is loved. Maybe a question worth asking is - can you lead your people into a better future without stomping over dead bodies?" the dark-haired woman asserted, then rose from her seat. A few steps were made towards the fireplace, where she stood in front of the flames. The warmth of the hearth was in stark contrast with the rest of Ra's chamber, which was cold, ascetic and almost inhospitable. Her palms were extended towards the fire, as she tried to warm them. Indeed, nights were cold on Muunilist.

"Love is, among other things, sharing the weight of a heavy burden." she half-whispered, yet knowing Ra was able to hear her - "Have you ever considered sharing yours?"

[member="Ra Vizsla"]
 
M U U N I L I N S T


Harnaidan City

"So you're a pacifist, then."

Ra sighed, looking down at the table and taking another swig of his wine. The woman was intriguing, albeit difficult. This was much more entertaining than the endless financial squabbles he'd had to listen to all day. A waiter sat another pitcher of Mandalorian wine next to the warrior and he began to fill his own glass. His own emerald eyes pulled back up from his cup to Zonia's own unrelenting stare. So much for being fearful of the big monstrous Mand'alor, this woman was feisty in delivering her ideologies.

"The Sith would win regardless, because they'll murder you as they've murdered your family," the cold hard truth of Ra's words bit back, regardless of honoring Zonia's dead. She would find no pity here. "Pacifism leads to nothing but words, and their kind care nothing for it. They serve no order, obey no law. Chaos seethes through their ranks like a knife through butter, only ever held together by the endless collective need to destroy. They are violent heathens, misguided. They will only ever respond to violence, or they will continue to pursue their own path of destruction undeterred.

I will not offer them pacifism, I will give them what they want. I will draw them, like a stench, like a plague, from their shadows. They will come for me, like a metal to a magnet.

I will not lower my weapon.

I will hit them a thousand times harder."

Ra slammed his cup on the table, staring off into the distance, deep in thought of the misery he would bring the One Sith.

"Men, women, people like you. You would have me wait." Ra's mind turned to the Republic, a dying dynasty proven to be incapable of defending itself against the onslaught of the dark forces at work. He thought of the Sith, decaying in their strongholds. The Iron Wolf thought of Gray Raxis - who, like Zonia, offered caution. "But I will not. I can not. I go to them, before they come for my people. Our amies go to them, because soldiers and men of war face them - not our children, not our mothers. I can not wait for that. My people will not wait for that."

His head turned back to Zonia.

Zonia Kalranoos said:
"Love is, among other things, sharing the weight of a heavy burden." she half-whispered, yet knowing Ra was able to hear her - "Have you ever considered sharing yours?"


"This burden is mine alone to carry.
There is no other."
His eyes settled upon her own, virulent green pupils flaring.​
[member="Zonia Kalranoos"]​
 
"The people I serve are far from pacifists. The Alliance had recently struck the very heart of the Sith, liberating Coruscant. By taking the fight to them, they sent out a powerful message. To go quietly into the night was never an option for the Galactic Alliance." she asserted, still standing infront of the fireplace. Faint light illuminated her graceful form, wrapping her in an orange-yellow aura of eye-soothing luminescence. In a world infested by kitsch and vulgarity, Zonia was the epitome of discreetness. Simple in appearance, complex in her narrative; a rare kind of a woman among the lewd, the power-hungry and the corrupted.

"There cannot be long-lasting progress in perpetual state of war. Innovation and technological advancements, by which we measure our success as a civilization, cannot be forever fueled by conflict. You need stability and faith in the future, free ideas by free thinkers populating free worlds. Diversity, not just one culture." Kalranoos added, then made her way back to her seat and picked up the chalice she drank from.

Turning around, the Prakithan made way towards the end of the table where Ra sat and placed the cup back on the surface of the table to his right. The chair adjecent to him was pulled out, a seat which would usually be reserved for the closest of kin, such as the Warmaster of Mandalorian Clans or the Shukalar. Zonia sat down quietly, forearms resting atop the table, fingers intertwined before her.

"I have no doubt you will lay waste to One Sith, carve them out of the Core and extinguish the last of the Dark Lords. Of your ultimate victory, I am certain." the dark-haired female argued, then leaned in a notch, her voice transforming into a low semi-whisper.

"What I fear is not your conquest, but what comes after it. One day, when the galaxy is at your feet and your enemies have been defeated, the power you will yield will be unmatched by anything ever experienced by any mortal man. When you feel its alluring call just under your fingertips, inviting like the supple bosom of a bewitching woman, who will be able to stop you?"
Zonia's eyes were glassy, dark orbs reflecting flames of the fire crackling in the hearth. Did he truly trust himself that much, to lay down his beskad once his goals were accomplished? Power corrupted, absolute power corrupted absolutely.

"The answer is - No one." Zonia concluded quietly, then grew silent to let her words sink in.

[member="Ra Vizsla"]
 
[member="Zonia Kalranoos"]

The woman had possibly just made a good point.

But it was lost on Ra. He never really cared for trading philosophical points of view. Regardless of what Ra did as leader, he didn't spend his days explaining his actions, his mind, to other people.

Actions spoke louder than words, and in a few weeks time, Ra would be the loudest.

His face broke out into a broad smile as he leaned forward.

"So..."
He began, swishing the win around his cup.​
"....what do you do for this ...Galactic Alliance?"
 
Zonia tried to convey a simple message; the Iron Wolf had equal potential of becoming a tyrant like the ones he was hoping to dethrone. Whether he was able to resist the seductive prospect of reigning in blood even when the enemy had perished, nobody really knew.

Perhaps not even Ra himself, as he apparently chose not to think about it. She couldn't blame him though; Vizsla probably exerted more mental effort at trying to comprehend her short exposition than a year's worth of war babble from his commanders. Kalranoos was both educated and thoughtful, a polar opposite of passionate, primal Mandalorian.

For a moment, the Prakithan wondered how many other Mandalorians had witnessed Ra smile. She imagined smiling was an act of weakness among his kin, a part of oneself you show to children when they are too young to hold a beskad.

"I just sit around and talk a lot." she jested, matching his smile with a half-grin, before answering him -

"Now, seriously. I am an economist who deals with logistics; making sure everyone has everything they need. I make sure there are enough spare parts, enough food and other supplies." she explained. Her job was hardly glamourous; long days in dusty warehouses, occasional quarrels with the accountants and engineers who had a hard time respecting deadlines.
"A small contribution to the massive organization such as the Galactic Alliance." she admitted modestly, before glancing sideways to meet his viridian gaze one again.

"Are you alone like this often?" asked Zonia, trying to divert the subject of conversation away from her work. She was not at liberty to disclose any details of her employment with the Alliance; you never knew who was listening or watching.

[member="Ra Vizsla"]
 
M U U N I L I N S T


Harnaidan City
[member="Zonia Kalranoos"]

"Interesting," Ra noted, noticing that she didn't seem to want to talk much about her employment. The Iron Wolf took pause to drink again. Gurlanin's weren't very susceptible to alcohol - his increased metabolism could handle much more. But still, the liquid courage began to take its effect all the same, causing the Mand'alor to become a little more drowsy. His senses were hardly dulled, however. Just simply beginning to feel the weight of the day's decisions from all the meetings he had taken part in begin to take their toll. He was enjoying speaking with the stranger, this woman - who could very possibly be a spy or assassin. Coincidental that she just happened to walk into the Mand'alor's quarters in the dead of night.

But Ra feared no spy, he feared no assassin.

Lead by example, he would tell those that followed him. Never ask another man to do something you wouldn't do.

And he could defend himself.

He was no mere politician, no fat General that got by on brains and strategy alone.
"Are you alone like this often?" she asked.​
Ra looked up from his cup, seeming tired.​
"As you know, Mand'alor means Sole Ruler. There will only ever be one.
To be a Mand'alor
is to be alone."
 
Kalranoos didn't simply walk into Ra's personal quarters; she was invited by the Mand'lor himself - an invitation which could not be rejected. She could finally see he was a man of flesh and blood, burdened by the weight on entire nation, his shoulders bearing the past, the present and the future of united Mandalorian Clans.

Unfathomable responsibility,the sable-haired woman thought to herself, as she idly observed him drain wine from his goblet. Her eyes trailed along the veins on top of his massive, battle-hardened hands, then to the ornamented bracers encapsulating his broad forearms. Finally, her gaze fell upon the leather spaulders that framed his shoulders, anchored by straps crossed over his ample chest. A part of her wondered if he slept fully armored as well.

"If somebody told me yesterday I'd be dining with the Iron Wolf tonight, I'd tell them they should see a doctor." she said, figuring she owned Ra an explanation why she was on Muunilist to begin with - "I merely tried to find the main headquarters of InterGalactic Banking Clan and got lost. No point in telling anyone about it, since nobody would believe me in the first place."
The Prakithan chuckled to herself and shook her head - "I do apologize. Fate just makes me laugh sometimes."

A few moments passed, before her facial expression transformed into a melancholic half-smile. Zonia was able to fully empathize with his solitude; she was too a lone wolf. Yearning company as much as he did, perhaps even more, she left herself being drawn into a state of affairs completely foreign to her. Another sip of wine would eventually push her over the edge into completely uncharted territory.

"You are not alone." the woman voiced, peering deeply into his lustrous orbs. Only then did she notice signs of weariness around his temples, after a long day of formalities. Perhaps her host wanted to go to bed.
She thus rose from her seat beside Ra, her hand instinctively entrenching itself between his broad neck and shoulder, lightly gripping his trapeizodal muscle that buldged under the spaulder.

"Perhaps it is best if I leave. You must be tired..." Zonia said softly, fingers aiming to release their grip so that she could retrieve her hand.

[member="Ra Vizsla"]
 
M U U N I L I N S T


Harnaidan City


"You are not alone."​

Those words resounded in Ra as he stared into his glass. The woman's soft hand found its way onto his shoulder, and he did not reject it. Instead, his hand reached up to settle on top of her own. The Iron Wolf breathed deep, taking another swig of his wine. It was quite clear what signals were being sent to Ra, and there were far fewer signals that the goliath wished to receive a week before he led the entirety of the Clans into a foreign land only to face violence and death. Only a woman's touch could delay the inevitable of what the Mandalorians had yet to face, and Mand'alor was planning to put himself right in the middle of it all. "A magnet", Mand'alor had told the Alors during their many war councils. "I will be a magnet for the enemy to focus upon." Only a woman's touch could turn the possible nightmares to dreams, to turn the resounding beat of the drums of war to silence.

She was right.

He was tired.

Tired of the meetings that a Mand'alor had to sit through just to bring his people some peace of mind. Tired of the incessant bickering and squalor of the Alor'e Council in its ineffective leadership of Mandalore. Tired of the once upon a time Allies of the Clans that had vented men, women, and children out of a ship's escape hatch and into space because they 'would be a distraction'. Tired of the atrocities his people faced, would face, were threatened to face and yet Ra was slandered as the oppressive tyrant ripping children's hearts out as they slept in their beds.

Tired of his people constantly being threatened by a virulent, tumultuous corruption that plagued the Core.

Ra slowly stood, holding her hand and turning to face her.

His face inched closer, his own eyes staring into hers, their two glazed pupils formulating a symbiotic relationship in this moment where none of the war mattered.

Nothing else truly mattered when looking into the eyes of a beautiful girl.

But she was right.

He was tired.

"There is a guest bedroom across the hall. My men will escort you, should you require a place to sleep.
You may then procure an escort to the Intergalactic Banking Clan in the morning.
Good night and good luck, Zonia of the Galactic Alliance.
We will meet again."

Mand'alor let go of her hand and signaled for his men to come in. They escorted him out of the palace, headed towards the spaceport.​

Mand'alors never sleep.​
[member="Zonia Kalranoos"]
 

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