Private Eye of the Tiger

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Aurelian Veruna | Sibylla Abrantes | Renn Vizsla

When Aurelian’s grin sharpened, hers turned wicked. “In your dreams, pretty boy.”

The humor faded when he resorted to mocking her. Fair, she supposed she deserved it for indulging in the dramatic. But if he thought that she would give him the satisfaction of taking his bait, he had another thing coming. Maybe she’d read him to filth over whatever was going on between him and Sibylla.

He moved and she moved with him, as if it were a dance she’d long known the steps to. She deflected his jab to the side. Breathe. Meditation had always come easier with motion during her days as a Jedi. Adelle brought her guard up as he swung a hook at her and countered with jab to his ribcage with her other hand. His stance shifted and she could see the kick coming.

A hammer struck metal, piercing flesh.

Adelle froze, eyes glazed over.

Someone screamed.

Blood. So much blood.

The kick slammed into her thigh. She staggered, rasied her guard again. She had to focus—

Crosses littered a open field. Blood soaked the earth. Screams rang in her ears.

Pain, piercing, blinding, sharp—

Knuckles crashed into her jaw. She stumbled back, fell. Dust and dirt clogged her nose, her throat. Her ears rang to the point she couldn’t hear anything else.

Krayt was in her ears. “Get up. Fight back, you two-cred whore! Kill him.”

Where was she? There was grit in her eyes. Blood when she closed them.

Blood coated her hands. There was so much blood. She had to do something, had to save her Master, her uncle—

Her jaw clenched until it ached. She couldn’t hear, couldn’t see, it was happening all over again—

Staying down meant death in a fighting ring. Losing meant worse. “Kill him.”

A hammer struck the nail and someone screamed.

Her mother’s screams echoed in her ears.

How long had she been on the ground?

“Kill him.”

She had to listen to Krayt.

Something soft brushed against her face, a rumble cutting through the ringing in her ears. A cold nose pressed against her ear, purring and breathing deafening. Phantom. Adelle slowly came to and threaded trembling fingers into the spukami’s thick black fur. The screams from the vision still echoed in her ears but she knew where she was. Knew who she was. Knew she was safe. It had been a long time since she got a vision. Much less one like that.

Adelle took shuddering breaths, the adrenaline leaving a hollow shakiness behind. The fight left her body but tension of a different kind wound itself in her chest, constricted her heart. Kriff. She hated this part. Hated how weak it made her feel. Hated the reminder of how broken she still was. Years of healing and she still couldn’t hold it together. She could feel eyes on her, judgment, pity. She was supposed to be training. Not hyperventilating. Not curled on the ground, holding onto a feline like it was a lifeline.

But it was all she could do to hold on. Adelle cursed under her breath as the panic attack got stronger: Mando’a, Olys Corellisi, Huttese, Basic. She hated this so much.

“Gimme a moment, s-sorry,” she said, fighting to keep her voice even, fighting to keep the tears back. “That— I-I— Osik fething Hells.”

Phantom had curled near her face, pressing her small body against Adelle’s head with all of her tiny weight. Adelle buried her face in the black fur, shame burning hot in her throat as the panic attack reached its peak. She should be stronger than this.

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: R O O O O O O O O O N
Tags: Adelle Bastiel | Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian's kick landed solidly against Adelle's thigh. He felt the impact carry clean, felt her weight shift, and instinct took over. He wound up for the follow through. Then he stopped. Something was wrong.

She was still, guard half raised, eyes unfocused. Not calculating. Not tracking. Gone. The space between heartbeats stretched and Aurelian felt a cold thread slide down his spine. This was not fatigue. This was not pain. Surely his words had not cut that deep.

He lowered his hands, breathing slowing as he watched her stagger and fall back. Her jaw clenched tight, breath coming uneven. Whatever had her was loud, violent, and entirely inward. Panic. Raw and consuming.

A small black shape moved in fast, pressed close to her face. The feline curled in without hesitation, purring like an engine forced into existence by will alone. Aurelian swallowed. So that's why it stayed nearby.

He glanced across the yard, eyes finding Sibylla for half a second, helpless question written plain across his face. He had no idea what the right thing was here. Saying the wrong thing would make it worse. Touching her might too.

Think. Veruna. Think.

Aurelian straightened abruptly and then yelped at full volume. "Ah!" He hopped on one foot, then dropped dramatically to the mat, clutching his leg. "My leg! Kriffing hells, my leg!"

He rolled onto his side with a groan loud enough to carry. "I've been bested. Utterly defeated. This is it for me." He slapped the dirt once for emphasis. "I regret nothing except every decision that led me to this moment." He peeked through his fingers, voice lowering just a touch. "Training suspended. Clearly. I am grievously wounded."

The attention shifted. Eyes turned. Noise redirected.

Aurelian stayed down, absurd and earnest all at once, heart hammering as he hoped it was enough to give her space to breathe.

​

 

[Renn Vizsla]

F I G H T

Tag: Sibylla Abrantes | Adelle Bastiel | Aurelian Veruna




Renn let her circle.

He turned with her just enough to deny the angle, boots carving shallow arcs into the dirt, shoulders square and relaxed. To anyone watching, it might have looked like patience. To Sibylla, up close, it would feel like pressure that refused to go away, an opponent who would not overcommit, would not chase, would not give ground unless it served a purpose.

When she dipped again, Renn’s eyes flicked down for the briefest instant, acknowledging the feint, and then ignored it.

Her elbow came in tight toward his ribs. Renn’s forearm rose to meet it, not as a block meant to stop her cold, but as a slanted surface that bled the force away, guiding the strike past him. His other hand checked her upper arm, not gripping, not striking, just steering, denying her the clean line she wanted.

Her hooked foot tugged at his ankle.

This time, Renn moved.

Not away.

Into her.

He stepped forward and, through the attempt, lifted and turned his leg just enough that her hook found nothing solid to pull. The motion brought him closer, crowding her space deliberately, his weight suddenly present in a way it hadn’t been before. His shoulder came in near hers, not to slam, but to occupy, to compress her stance and force her feet to adjust.

“Too honest,” Renn said quietly, almost in her ear, as if the yard weren’t roaring around them. “You committed before you owned my balance.”

He didn’t strike. Instead, he kept advancing, one step, then another, hands active and insistent. His forearm pressed across her guard, not hard enough to break through, but angled downward, forcing her arms to work while her feet scrambled to keep up. Every inch he took stole space she wanted to control.

Renn shifted his weight suddenly, just a sharp, deliberate change, pressing diagonally across her centerline. It wasn’t an attack meant to end the exchange. It was a test.

A shove of pressure into her stance.

A demand that her feet solve the problem her upper body couldn’t.

“Now,” he continued, tone calm, almost instructional despite the aggression, “you’re fighting me…”

He stepped again, cutting the angle, boots digging in as he crowded her base, hands still redirecting rather than striking, forcing her to react to him instead of the other way around.

“…instead of the space.”

Renn stayed tight, relentless but controlled, eyes locked on her balance and breath, clearly intent on seeing whether she would overcorrect, stumble, or find a way out before her own momentum betrayed her.

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Renn Vizsla Adelle Bastiel Aurelian Veruna

Sibylla felt the pressure shift and adjusted instinctively, feet scrambling to keep beneath her as Renn crowded her space. She was already correcting, already searching for the angle out, when the shout cut across the yard.

"Ah!"

Her head snapped up and around without thinking, catching to see Aurelian hopping about then collapsing in a display so dramatic it barely belonged on a battlefield. She couldn't help it, her focus broke -- just for a heartbeat -- but it was enough, prompting her foot work to overcorrected, making her weight slide too far. Her momentum carried her half a step past where she meant to be.

She stumbled, catching herself before she went down, giving a curse under her breath as her attention locked fully on him now. A frown pulled sharply across her face as she took in the scene.

Then she saw Adelle on the ground, clutching Phantom and her hazel eyes went wide.

"Is everything alright?" Sibylla called out, even as she glanced back at Renn, frustration and apology crossing her features in the same instant.

"One moment." And then she was moving, breaking from the spar to head toward the other pair, concern eclipsing the lesson as she closed the distance.

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Aurelian Veruna | Sibylla Abrantes | Renn Vizsla

Thick fur warmed her face as she held on to her physical senses. Soft fur, churned earth, the muted thwacks of ongoing training. The therapist she’d seen ages ago had said grounding would help, finding ways to center herself in the moment. It was still damnably hard.

“Ah!”

What? That was Aurelian.

"My leg! Kriffing hells, my leg!"

Osik, what’d he do now? Adelle lifted her head just enough to turn it, to see what the Hells Aurelian had done to himself.

The man was on the ground and flailing, drawing attention to himself.

Away from her.

The tightness in her chest eased, even if it didn’t go away.

He rolled onto his side with a groan loud enough to carry. "I've been bested. Utterly defeated. This is it for me." He slapped the dirt once for emphasis. "I regret nothing except every decision that led me to this moment." He peeked through his fingers, voice lowering just a touch. "Training suspended. Clearly. I am grievously wounded."

Adelle barked a hoarse laugh in spite of herself. Ridiculous. She pushed herself to a sitting position on her knees, trying to discreetly wipe the tears away while Phantom took the liberty of curling up in her lap. A deep breath in. Hold. Long breath out. Adelle forced the rhythm until it felt natural, until the invisible Dagobah python around her chest released her.

Flickers of the vision and memory danced at the edges of her mind, even as she focused on what she could see. Mandalorian banners, the sigil of House Vizsla, the stalwart walls of the training yard, the boundary around the ring. Breathe. Fabric fluttered and snapped, flesh and bone connected with each other, metal clanged. Breathe. The sun on her skin, the vibrations of Phantom’s purring. Breathe. The smell of sweat washed away by a breeze.

Roon. Not Coruscant. Not wherever the vision had been. Roon.

Dread still settled in her chest but there was nothing she could do about what she’d seen through the Force. The primal horror the memories stirred faded into something more manageable. Endorphins released by the tears started their work. Phantom looked up and mewed with half-closed eyes. <<Just noise. All safe.>>

Adelle rubbed her small furry head with a thumb before leaning over to press a kiss between Phantom’s ears. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

She caught sight of Sibylla at the edge of the ring as she pushed herself to standing, worry plain on her young face. Adelle could not, in good faith, lie to her. But how much of the truth to tell. She had a good handle on what Sibylla consistently showed to be her character.

And both she and Aurelian were too young to have been involved in what had happened on Coruscant.

“We’re alright,” she said, a little hoarsely, slowly as if transcribing thoughts into words took effort. She walked over to offer Aurelian a hand up from where he had dramatically flopped. “I just . . . had my medical condition triggered.”

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: R O O O O O O O O O O N
Tags: Adelle Bastiel | Sibylla Abrantes | Renn Vizsla

Aurelian kept up the groaning until he risked a glance sideways. Adelle was on her knees, laughing.

He sucked in a sharp, offended breath. "Are you laughing at me?" he demanded, clutching his leg tighter. "At my pain? This could be considered regicide, you know. Extremely illegal. Very tragic."

He flopped more dramatically as Sibylla approached, one arm flung over his eyes like a fallen hero from a bad holo. Relief flickered when he saw her, quickly buried under exaggerated indignation when she passed him without pause and went straight to Adelle instead.

He peeked again. "Unbelievable," he muttered. "I am dying in the dirt and I'm being ignored."

Still, he stayed down. Calm now. Quiet on purpose. Watching the tension drain from Adelle's shoulders, watching the feline settle. Whatever that had been, it was real. Too real to joke about.

When Adelle came closer and stopped in front of him, he dropped the act completely. He took her offered hand and let her pull him up, steadying himself before he fully stood. The yard noise crept back in around them. "I'm sorry if that was me."

He met her eyes, sincere. "It was all fun and games to me. I didn't mean to push anything that far."

He cleared his throat, the familiar grin flickering back into place, gentler this time. "For what it's worth, my leg has made a miraculous recovery."

Then, softer, meant only for her, "I'm glad you're alright."

​

 

[Renn Vizsla]

P R E S E N C E

Tag: Sibylla Abrantes | Aurelian Veruna | Adelle Bastiel



Renn saw it the instant it happened.

Not the shout, noise was constant in a yard like this, but the break. The fractional loss of presence. The way her breath hitched, and her shoulders rose a touch as her attention tore away from him. It was the kind of mistake that didn’t announce itself, the kind that got people hurt because it only lasted a heartbeat.

Renn didn’t hesitate.

As Sibylla’s weight slid too far and her stance unraveled, he stepped in decisively, closing the space she had just surrendered. One hand came up to catch her forearm, not hard, not punishing, but firm enough to halt her forward motion. His other forearm slid across her centerline, angled and insistent, turning her momentum sideways rather than letting it carry her past him or toward the ground.

He didn’t throw her.

He owned her balance.

With a sharp pivot of his hips and a step that cut across her base, Renn crowded her feet, forcing them to cross awkwardly beneath her. The pressure was sudden, unmistakable, and instructional in its cruelty. Had this been a real fight, this was where ribs broke, or heads met duracrete.

Instead, Renn stopped it there.

He held her just long enough for the lesson to land, long enough for her to feel how completely the exchange had turned—before releasing and stepping back half a pace, hands lowering but posture still coiled and ready.

“Eyes on me,” he said firmly.

Not angry. Not raised. But absolute.

When she called out and moved to disengage, Renn moved with her, not chasing, but cutting the line, placing himself in her path with a single step that forced her to acknowledge him before she could go any farther. His stance was solid, unyielding, a wall made of flesh instead of beskar.

“You don’t get ‘one moment,'" Renn continued, voice low and sharp now, the edge finally showing. “Not in a real fight. Not ever.”

His gaze flicked, briefly, toward the other sparring pair, enough to confirm that no one was bleeding out on the dirt, then snapped back to Sibylla just as quickly.

“That,” he said, nodding once toward the space she’d nearly fallen into, “is where someone kills you.”

He didn’t grab her again. He didn’t restrain her. The pressure now was entirely in his presence, in the way he stood too close, denying her the illusion of safety she’d instinctively reached for.

“You felt it,” Renn went on. “The second you looked away, you belonged to me.”

A pause, measured, deliberate.

“Concern is human,” he said. “Distraction is fatal.”

He straightened slightly, giving her just enough room to breathe without giving back the ground she’d lost.

“Lesson’s not over,” Renn finished, eyes steady, waiting to see whether she would reset, or whether the weight of the mistake would shake her further.

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Aurelian Veruna | Sibylla Abrantes | Renn Vizsla

Aurelian’s tone was quiet and real in a way she hadn’t heard often from him. The only time she could recall hearing that kind of authenticity was at the Life Day festival on Ukatis. Granted she hadn’t known him for very long but in the short span she had, he used jokes, charm, and theatrics like armor.

It took one to know one.

And her armor had evaporated in an instant.

His tone carried care. It worried her—she’d always kept distance between her and people, keeping part of herself closed off even from her best friends. Even when she broke down. Especially when she broke down. Letting people close meant putting them in danger. She couldn't bear a repeat of what happened with Rishii.

Of what happened on Coruscant.

“It's not your fault. It wasn’t you,” she said quickly. She didn’t like how he had assumed blame, how he’d already started apologizing like it was a forgone conclusion. Like she was already blaming him.

Adelle stepped back, making space, as she stretched her arms and shoulders, more to center herself in the present than anything else. The sound of a hammer striking a nail still faintly echoed in her ear.

“I could never meditate sitting still as a Jedi,” she said, deciding to give context for her explanation. “Getting into the flow of the Force has always been easier when I’ve been in motion. Running . . . or sparring.”

She stilled and turned towards him, not quite looking at him. “I told you, there are some things I can’t turn off. Visions happen most often during meditation.”

The next words were harder to get out, if only because it all still felt too close.

But authenticity deserved authenticity.

“I saw a future. It triggered my PTSD. I got disoriented. I was . . . losing myself, losing where I was.” Short sentences, just the facts. No details. It was easier. She knelt to rub behind Phantom’s ear. “And that triggered a panic attack. Phantom’s usually able to tell me beforehand but when she can’t, she brings me back faster.”

Adelle took a deep breath and stood, feeling more like herself. Part of her still felt hollowed out, and another part of her still felt disoriented, like this was a dream. But she felt like she could continue the training without breaking down.

“Right, so,” she said, facing him again and placing a hand on her hip. Her next words dripped with self-deprecating humor. “Were you thoroughly impressed by the Jedi?”

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: R O O O O O O O O O O O N
Tags: Adelle Bastiel | Sibylla Abrantes | Renn Vizsla

Aurelian listened without interrupting, the grin easing off his face as her explanation settled in. One thing they could agree on, at least. He shook his head faintly. Sitting still for hours, thinking or not thinking, sounded like a personal hell. He needed motion, noise, friction. Stillness made his skin itch.

"Yeah," he said lightly at first. "That's one thing we're aligned on. I don't know how those monks do it. I'd lose my mind by the second minute." He gestured at the yard around them. "This makes more sense."

Then her words caught up with him. Saw a future. The phrase echoed, colder than he liked. Aurelian went quiet, posture easing but attention sharpening. He watched her kneel, watched the feline press close, watched the way she avoided his eyes. He wanted to ask what she had seen, what the PTSD deal was, how a small feline could sense a storm before it broke. Curiosity was his vice. Information was power.

But she was already moving past it, and he recognized the instinct. You shared only what you could carry. The rest stayed locked away. Fair enough.

When she straightened and tried to reclaim the moment with humor, he let her. He breathed out, some tension leaving his shoulders.

"Impressed?" He huffed a short laugh and shook his head. "No."

He met her gaze then, expression open, honest. "Not the Jedi. But the Mandalorian Adelle," he said. "That's who impressed me."

​

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Aurelian Veruna | Sibylla Abrantes | Renn Vizsla

Adelle felt it as much as she had let Aurelian feel the opening he’d left himself in their spar just a minute earlier. The lack of pursuit. The lack of refusal to let her deflect away from it. Most people pushed, if only because they thought they could help. Na’an and Leigh had both pushed, in their own ways. She wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it.

He did respond in kind though. Adelle felt some of the equilibrium return. Sarcasm and sass were safe. She could do that. She could pretend to be normal again.

And then he became honest. Approval and praise.

Undeserved. Unearned.

Adelle scoffed, trying to return to safer ground. “I don’t know why, I haven’t done anything yet.”

She settled back into her earlier fighting stance, pushing aside the residual feelings brought up by the vision and her PTSD. “Well, except kick your ass.”

“Ready when you are, pretty boy.”

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Adelle Bastiel Aurelian Veruna Renn Vizsla

Part of Sibylla understood exactly what Renn was saying. Keeping her eyes on her opponent no matter what happened around her made sense. Perfect sense. And yet, even knowing that, part of her attention still tugged toward Adelle, a quiet thread of concern she hadn't fully shaken.
This was training meant to keep her alive. Distractions would get her killed.

"I know," Sibylla said, nodding once. "I know we don't get even one moment out there." Her tone held that of understanding. "And yes… that would be where someone kills me."

Still, empathy lingered. Something had clearly rattled Adelle, enough to break through her usual armor of sarcasm and quick remarks, and Sibylla couldn't ignore that entirely.

Then she turned and saw Adelle already back on her feet. Aurelian was laughing.

Oh.

Had she misread it?

Something to ask about later.

Because now Renn was still in front of her, solid and unmoving, and the spar wasn't over.

Sibylla exhaled, refocused, and nodded at him again.

"Alright," she said. "Again."

She moved.

The rest of the afternoon blurred into strikes and corrections, feints and reversals. By the end of it, she was sore everywhere, sweat clinging to her skin, feeling like she'd been baited and outmaneuvered more times than she could count.

And yet, beneath the ache, she felt good.

It was real practice. Solid practice.

And it was only the beginning.

 

[Renn Vizsla]

F O C U S

Tag: Sibylla Abrantes | Aurelian Veruna | Adelle Bastiel




Renn watched the realization settle in her, not the words, but the weight behind them.

Understanding was easy. Discipline was not.

“Knowing it isn’t the same as living it,” Renn said, voice steady, matter-of-fact. “In a real fight, the world will always try to pull your attention away. Screams. Friends. Innocents. Fire. Pain.” His eyes stayed on hers, unblinking. “If you let any of it take priority over the person trying to end you, you don’t get a second lesson.”

He didn’t wait for her to brace.

The moment she nodded, again, Renn surged forward.

No warning. No reset ceremony. One step ate the distance between them as his hand snapped up, not striking, but forcing her guard high. His other hand followed immediately, pressing into her space, shoulder driving close enough to steal air and options alike. He angled his body so that her path backward narrowed, crowding her toward an awkward line of retreat.

“Eyes,” he said sharply.

He shifted his weight, feinting left, then drove right, not with a blow, but with pressure, forcing her feet to react before her hands could. Renn’s forearm slid across her guard again, pinning it just long enough to test whether she would panic or adapt. He stepped inside her balance, boots grinding dirt, stance aggressive now, no longer patient.

This was the lesson she’d asked for.

He kept coming.

Every time she adjusted, he adjusted faster. Every time she tried to reset the distance, he closed it again, denying her the comfort of space. He didn’t strike to finish; he struck to interrupt—to break rhythm, to overload decision-making. His presence was relentless, a moving wall that punished hesitation and rewarded focus.

“Battle doesn’t pause,” Renn continued as he pressed, voice calm despite the pace. “It doesn’t care who’s shouting. It doesn’t care who’s hurt.”

He shifted suddenly, cutting across her stance again, forcing her weight to chase her center. The pressure was constant now, hands, shoulder, footwork, all coordinated to make one point painfully clear.

“You keep your attention here,” he said, eyes locked on her, “or you die wondering what you missed.”

Only then did he ease, just a fraction, enough space to let her breathe, to let her respond, to see whether the lesson had taken root.

Renn stayed coiled, advancing presence unbroken, already prepared to surge again the instant her focus wavered.