Private Family is more than blood

[Jhira Mereel]

POLITICAL REGION: Silver Jedi Concord
LOCATION: The Echoy’la Sun, Kashyyk
Objective: Talk to Omen. Drink Tihaar.
TAGS: [ Sergeant Omen ]

Kashyyk was a beautiful world, by anyone’s standards. Lush forests, high mountains, secret caves. The rugged, harsh terrain was a weapon all its own. The native inhabitants, of course, were a force to be reckoned with. But they did not, usually, allow strangers to dig into their land. Yet there Omen had been, dug in tight, with actual, true land of his own.

Baffling. The young man was endlessly resourceful.

Jhira awaited him in the docking bay, battered armor cleaned but not yet fully repaired. She was not taking it off until she could leave it off for a day or two; her whole body ached. Bruises covered her, head-to-toe, and she’d swell. A single stark bruise ran across her forehead, pulling her smile off center, as his ship came to rest, and the landing ramp extended.

“Omen. It’s good to see you.” She offered him the Mandalorian greeting, a warrior’s handclasp. “Welcome to the Echoy’la Sun. Tour, ‘fresher or food first?”

 

[Sergeant Omen]

As Omen got out of his Viper starfighter in his full armor, he tried not to clutch his ribs even though they hurt so much. The clone returned the smile before Omen's eyes widen a little at the number of bruises on her body. Was that the cost of her insert? He shook his head, trying to wrap his head around why she would insert herself and readily cause bodily harm to herself just to rescue him of all people. He of course returned the handclasp as he replied to her greeting."How about food in the medical bay. I think we both need some help. I can clean out the Slanar'naasir in my suit later." The Clone took off his helmet and cradled it in his arms, chuckling a little as he remembered the last day's events. "I'm guessing you want information about why I'm on Kashyyyk in the first place and why that cluster happened? But first off, while I don't want to take your hospitality for granted. why are you even here? This is a long way away from Mandalorian space."

 

[Jhira Mereel]

Jhira’s lopsided smile grew to a rueful grin, as Omen took in her damages. Angling her head, and walking with him towards the dedicated lift that would take them right to med bay, she added, “I’m not truly hurt,” a life-time of battle might allow Omen to decode that as if I don’t need surgery, it doesn’t count. “But I’ll feel better of someone runs a medical scanner over you.”

“We’ve extra flight suits and I’ve some easily sized armor lying around. Why don’t you let our armorer see to that,” and she nodded at his plastoid. “And get sized for something a bit more durable, hmm?” A slight glance to him, to see how he’d take the notion followed. She wasn’t about to push, if the older armor settled him.

As the lift door closed, she nodded. “I am filled with questions, ner vod.” Humor lightened her tone. “To answer yours, I heard that some Mandalorians went missing.” A beat. “And that there was a very nice bounty to be had, running off scum. The two are an irresistible draw, to me.”

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen rolled his eyes within his helmet before taking it off and giving her a small tired smile. "I suppose I would be remiss not to take your offer up about both medical treatments and the suits as long as I can paint them. I will miss this old armor though, it feels like home. Maybe if it could be in the same style, just different materials..."

The Clone trailed off as he heard her question and considered what he wanted to say before going with the whole truth."I made a base up in the mountains in a natural cavern as part of a deal with the Wookiees. I helped save/ assist them in the driving off of Trandosian raiders from their village and apparently they remembered so they offered me a deal. I could build a brewery and my home in that cavern as long as I tried to preserve the cavern as much as possible and serve as like a wildlife ranger and record the number of wildlife with my cameras which I record and give to the Wookies so they know the status of the local wildlife. Apparently, someone thought my outpost was a drug-smuggling base and it all just snowballed from there so yeah.... It's very fun to have your friends and Jedi blow down your door. Oh and the Mandos you saw running. I met them at the stream and explained the deal to them. I even gave them a cask of Tihaar which I think they drank way too quickly and well, you saw what happened... He chuckled softly before pulling out his datapad and showing her the video of the Jedi swinging at the Holograms. "At least I got this in exchange."

When the turbolift started to open, he pressed the door to shut it again before turning to his companion. "Alright, spill. You could have sent anyone else down to the surface and yet you chose yourself to go down through the sky to help me? What went through your head? I've been by myself for this long. I can take care of myself and you know it. So why try to rescue me? The lost clone raised an eyebrow as he waited for her answer. It probably was going to be a long one.

Jhira Mereel

 

[Jhira Mereel]

​

The tired smile Omen offered gentled Jhira’s own. Listened intently, Jhira nodded as he spoke of his armor. “I am certain it can be so styled; and you may paint everything to suit you.” such a simple thing, that too many organizations took away from it’s people.

Laughter erupted, and Jhira’s eyes sparkled in delight. “Omen, you are one of a kind.”

“I had thought you played a trick upon your Silver friends,” her mirth faded, though. Why hadn’t the Jedi simply asked the Wookies? And where were the smugglers? “I’ll have the Echoy’la Sun make a few sensor sweeps, just to be sure that there aren’t smugglers in the system. The Jedi must have been tracking something, to come in with such force.”

Hearing Omen speak of being a wildlife ranger was intriguing, but she was easily diverted by the thought of him building his own brewery. “Oya, tihaar!” a beat.

“You never did share that first crate with me.” but she leaned close and burst into heartfelt, delighted laughter at the video of the Jedi. “Perfect. Well worth he bruises, for that alone.”

He posed his question and Jhira, looked away, sorting through memories.

“Hmm,” Her gaze remained fixed upon the wall, her voice calm and soothing. “My father … he was Clan Mereel.” somewhere near by, a medical droid beeped distress; then was suddenly silenced.

Lights and sensors scanned over Omen, forming a comprehensive virtual model of his injuries.

“My mother was from a small splinter group of Clan Fett; she was actually, by-blood related to your Progenitor. They are dead and gone now, all of the Clan I was raised in.” Her cool gaze angled to meet his; voice still utterly calm. “Mereel, too; father’s family was dead before he ever fell in love.”

“But he raised us as Clan Mereel - True Mandalorians. The Codex, the Cannons of Honor, all of it.” A gentle, pensive shrug, as she sought to compress a lifetime’s contemplation into a few coherent sentences.

“Maybe I’d treasure you less, if I had more living kin; I don’t know. I would like to think that wasn’t true.” She slid back, settling onto a desk as if it were a chair, legs dangling, Beskar ringing against the plastic countertop. “Do you mind if I find out what context you have, first? Were you taught about the Codex, or Jaster Mereel? What did you learn about Jango Fett, and the Cannos of Honor?”

A small mouse droid rolled into the med bay, loaded down with platters and filled with iced drinks, glass decanters sticking up out of the ice. “Chilled ale and snacks, while real food is made,” simple snacks, on the surface, except truly finely made. Sliced fresh fruit form a dozen worlds, cucumbers and celery. Rolled meats, and cheese slices.

She lifted her foot, and gently nudged the mouse droid towards him, despite the disapproving whistle of the Medical Droid as it began to scary him with bacta, and prepared surgical tools.

[ Sergeant Omen ]

 

[Sergeant Omen]

As they talked, Omen thought about how much he hated conforming to rules now that he had actual freedom. He liked standing out and not just being one in the horde. It made him actually feel special. Hell, it was hard not to wipe a tear from his eye when Jhira said he was."Let us just say I was testing out my defenses and if a Jedi Knight can be fooled by a few hologram projectors, I think I'm well prepared. The Jedi are used to destroying a door and making everything inside surrender but when they can't possibly surrender well they tend to get stumped about what to do. And they don't go to the Wookies because they think that they are above the natives. The Jedi probably saw was my ship delivering construction materials for my little project and didn't think of the other possibilities other than smuggling. And don't worry, I'll get that crate for you before you leave."

He listened with interest as Jhira listed out her sad family story before softly gripping her shoulder in solidarity. "I'm sorry they aren't here now... But I'm glad I can be your family now. It is a little weird though getting all these people saying you are their relative..." He glanced at the Med droid for a moment, hoping the scan wasn't radioactive before answering her questions and comments with a soft smile. "Well, I know I wouldn't treasure you any less. I also know the basics about the documents and my predecessors but it was kinda hard for me to focus on my teachings in the middle of a two-year war. To be honest, I know you and especially Mia is going to hate me for this but I tend to follow my heart instead of a pair of inflexible documents. If my actions line up with the Codex and the Cannons then great. If not then at least I can justify my actions to myself, just like bringing a grenade to a diplomatic party because why are living blades of light allowed but my grenades not, it makes no sense to me."

The Clone grinned as thanks before he picked a cracker with meat and cheese on it and started to take a bite. "Mmm... This is really..." He immediately stopped as the droid sprayed Bacta across his face which he promptly spit out from his open mouth. And then he spotted the surgery tools the hair on his back bristled. It was only from respect of Jhira that he didn't run to his Viper right now to escape. "Jhira... What is going on with those tools... I... I don't need surgery... I swear if you let Med student Mia inside me I will tear this ship apart in order to get out...."

Jhira Mereel

 

[Jhira Mereel]

​

The soft grip to Jhira’s shoulder produced a moment of stillness and then a weary, gentle smile. When [ Sergeant Omen ] said that wouldn’t value her any less, Jhira had to look away and clear her throat before she could speak. But her smile flared, proud and fierce, when he insisted he would follow his conscious.

“You should always use your mind, your heart and your reason, Omen. Just as the tenants of the Resol’nare are the heart of what it is to be Mandalorian, and so shape and inform all our other principles, so exercising of our own will is central to being Mandalorian. We are not people of lawyers. Our Way isn’t about subtle interpretations or looking for loop holes. Common sense is always, always key, and no creed or command of others ever absolves any us of the ultimate responsibility for our own actions.”

A rippling laugh escaped, as she considered her niece. “Mind you, Mia is at an age when she believes in absolutes.” Jhira gave a helpless shrug; clearly, he’d be on his own dealing with the girl.

A second, thoughtful nod. “And really, the Canons of Honor are best understood through our oral tradition, with all the stories and histories around each one. When you study it or the Codex as some sort of text book, it can become very easy to take things out of context. Like the tenant of Strength—,”

The Medical Droid fouled Omen’s food, trying to rush to remove his armor and care for the cracked, bruised and possibly broken ribs. The uncertainty, the hesitation within Omen as to his own rights broke Jhira’s heart.

Swearing softly, she slid forward and thumped the Medical droid with her boot. The two engaged in an odd sort of staring match, the medical droid twirling in place, it’s many limbs rotating helplessly. Watching how tense Omen had become, she said firmly, “You may always refuse any medical care, Omen. You can even ask for a human to provide it.” Jhira hopped down off of the counter, retrieved the Bactra spray from the distressed and angry droid, then showed it to Omen. Looking him straight in the eye, she said firmly,

“On this ship, no one, and I mean no one at all, not even me, will do anything to you without your consent, Omen. The only caveat is if you are dying, and unable to give that consent. Then the choice falls to me, or someone you designate.”

Nodding to the display of his wounds, she put the bottle down; awkward or not, it ought to be helping his face and mouth feel better, anyway. “Those ribs need care. May I help you with your armor?”

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen nodded as he accepted her explanation with just a nod. It made sense. The Mando's ideals were the same as their combat tactics, straightforward and direct. You might not know where they were hitting you from, but they would hit you and hit you hard at that. He gave a soft chuckle to accompany Jhira's laugh, glad that he could make his vod happy. "She will learn in time. I should probably think in absolutes as well since I'm only 11 but this galaxy is a lot of pools of grey is it not?"

He was about to listen to Jhira's explanation while munching on the provided when he got sprayed with the Bacta. The thumping of his Vod's boot against the metal droid's body and the staring match afterward was enough to get a smirk out of the Clone's mouth as he waved away her concerns. "I know you wouldn't let anything happen to me Vod. I'm too cute and precious for you to lose. And I don't mind being cared for by a dry or wet, just wondering why so many tools are needed when I just need a roll of medical tape and maybe some thirty minutes Bacta tank time if that to heal my bruised ribs." He nodded as he let her help him get his old battered plastoid armor off. "How is Mia doing by the way? I got a Mando Computer for her for diagnosing problems with her armor and hud. An apology for overreaching over her first command on the hunt."
Jhira Mereel

 

[Jhira Mereel]

​

It was painfully, spectacularly true: the Galaxy was filled with pools of grey. “I can’t tell the bad guys from the good guys, anymore. Sometimes, even after the shooting starts.” Pensive thoughts dance across her eyes, but whatever troubled her there she set aside, helping him get free of his battered armor. “And have you dealt with the aging issue, yet?” His antics made her laugh once more, lightening her mood; she stored away when he called her Vod, knowing well it mattered, her hands stilling for a moment before getting back to work.

“Because you are too precious and cute to loose, and there’s rumors of a cure out there.”

Jhira eyed the medical droid, then Omen. Then the droid. Stepping between them, consternation and amusement dancing in her eyes, she said simply. “HD has a certain intolerance of any armor that isn’t extremely durable. She feels it makes too much work for her.”

Applying the Bacta spray right to Omen’s poor chest, she was careful never to touch or aggravate the injuries. “Feel free to hop in the Bacta Tank, but eat something while you do.”

At the enquiry after Mia, Jhira was quiet for a bit. A faint shake of her head. “I think the Byrn’adul shook her. I know the death and destruction of that world did. She doesn’t really speak of such things to me.” A small, crooked smile appeared. “But then I didn’t bring her a truly perfect gift. Well done, Omen. She will love it and I will sleep better at night, knowing she has it.” a beat, as Jhira considered and discarded asking something. “If you want, you can give it to her when I’m showing you around? Everyone wants to meet you, but I told them not to crowd or push you. It’s up to you, who you meet and how soon.”

Once Omen was out of pain, Jhira circled around to his first question once again. “Fourteen souls, five Clans, four races all told, including me, count you as kin.” A wry smile followed.

“To me, the very heart of the Resol’nare, is family. Four of the Six Actions are clear enough. Even Rally when called, for it’s central theme is to come and defend your own. Leaving only armor … which is so we know our Vode on sight.” The shrug that accompanied the comment made Jhira wince, and she began the laborious process of loosening her Beskar’gam. Powered armor had it’s down sides.

“So, as family is more than blood, the question becomes … how do we decide who family is?” pausing to peel off her cuirass, Jhira settled onto the exam table to continue her conversation, tolerating yet ignoring the medical scans with practiced ease.

“How do you see it? What is the heart of the Resol’nare to you?”

 

[Sergeant Omen]

I haven't yet, I have talked to a young woman over dinner who might be able to help but for now, it is just that, talking. We will see what comes from it. It was a long time ago now that he had met Aren D'Shade and it would probably be a long time still till he saw her again. But they both were kept busy by the things on their separate plates. Maybe they would meet up again soon.

The Clone chuckled softly as he watched her eyes track back and forth in her sockets like they were scanners. Remind him of his eyes when meeting a new person. "As far as I am concerned, that's a win-win for both parties.

He let the bacta spray full access to his chest, soaking into his skin and his chest before commenting on Mia. "To be honest, do you blame her? You threw her in the deep end with no way to get out and without the support of a guardian to find her way in the muck of the unknown. Even with her training and skill, leading various personalities that think differently is a little much for anyone to handle, let alone an 18-year-old. You got some major making up to do."

Omen just shrugged when she gushed on how perfect a gift he had got Mia. "It's what I could do. We would give a safe galaxy to the next generation if we could though we both know that isn't realistic or possible. And yeah, I would have to get it from my fighter but giving it to her while we do the rounds works. And to be honest, by the way, you act I'm surprised you haven't built a throne for me where I can name myself the next galactic emperor but I digress. We can at least get the armor job done while you are in the system. I'm just glad to know I have a place here if I want it.

Omen pondered for a moment. "I'm not saying we do this soon but I might want to join your clan in the far future. Either you or Clan Gred just depending on what happens. It would be nice to be a part of something bigger than myself and more intimate than any galactic government. Oh, that reminds me, I have a business meeting with Loreena in the next week and I might broach the topic of freeing the homeworld from NIO influence. There would have to be a lot of groundwork involved but it is very possible to do it via negotiation or just blowing shit up all across imp space. Negotiation first though of course once we get them to notice us."


The Clone got up from the table and put the underskin that was under his armor on. "Raising your children as Mandalorians because without no new generation, all we will be is new history book material like so many other groups. Without the new generation, there are no new families and there is no way of life. No followers of the Resol'nare, just dust in the wind. There will never be enough outsiders who truly want to be vod to replace those who are born into it. As for family well..." He considered for a moment, grabbing his datapad and taking a picture of her Aloy's life scans so her little niece would have something new to bother her about. "Family are those who really, truly care for you. Like you are." Hopefully, his answer would be acceptable to tug at her heartstrings and get even more emotion out of her.

And let the tears commence.

 

[Jhira Mereel]

​

A slow nod greeted the grave news that [ Sergeant Omen ] faced not merely adult hood by 11, but middle age by 20, and death from old age long before 40. A bitterness, a cruelty that the Jedi embraced.

And that Jango Fett permitted.

“I’ll look into it too, if you don’t mind? I have some unusual friends and business contacts.” The Sasori corporation in specific might have a lead on such a thing. But she flashed a grin, and added, “A young lady over dinner? And she let it go? I don’t think much of her judgment, then.”

He surprised her again, being calm about her med droids plans to mutilate his old armor. Her ripping laugh joined his warm chuckle. Yes, she’d see he got better armor immediately.

And the best, as soon as was practical.

He was sharp, then about Mia. It hurt, but she held onto her explanation in oder to hear him out. All of the way. And could only look away, when he spoke her heart so clearly.

We would give a safe galaxy to the next generation if we could.

The words were true enough to hurt, to break her heart, but he balanced the bitter with humor. She angled her head to the side, and shook her head firmly. “No thrones; not even Mand’alor, when we are burdened with one, gets a throne.” a beat. “but I’d buy you a bar stool of your very own!”

“You will always have a place here, no matter what Clan, what Aliit, calls to you.”

Running a hand through her damp hair, Jhira tolerated the Droid’s care of her bruises and it’s gleeful clucking that she would not even fit into her amor, once the swelling started.

Thoughts turning to deep things, Jhira sorted out words. “Those here of are of many Clans; I have never asked them to surrender their hearts or their names. I have only rescued them, piled them up in this small, fragile oasis, this false calm, searching for my own Alor.” she flashed a smile at him, whimsical and wistful, with a sliver of burning hope.

“I had never truly planned to become Alor. I am a ship’s Captain, a mother, a Mandalorian.”she shook her head bemused. “But it may yet come to that.”

“Clan Awaud is lost beyond reach; Clan Fett, too. But I have found a surviving Mereel, and one with the heart and soul of one. So we are not alone, out here. Not anymore.” but hard questions were before her. Should she take her family of lost ones to the Quartermaster, and have them formally declared a branch of Clan Mereel?

“Hmm. I adore Lori-goof, deeply. But I have not yet had the chance to … assess her new family. So simply be careful, until we have assured her autonomy and safety, even in this empire which seeks to devour her.”

Nodding innocently along with his reasoning that raising your children as Mandalorian was the central theme of being Mandalorian, Jhira began to explain, “The largest struggle I have as a parent is balancing protection and autonomy—,”

Jhira sputtered to a stop, utterly caught off guard when he snapped a picture of her injuries and med scans.

And then he finished his sentence,

Family are those who really, truly care for you. Like you are.

Jhira paled; she flushed. Turning away from him, body rigid as she re-asserted control of herself, her breathing trembled. She coiled the content and comfort away in her soul, hoarding and plotting it, against some future dark hour. Leaning down form her perch upon the table, she squeezed his shoulder tightly.

Snagging an ale and drinking it all in one long, flowing moment, Jhira then ran the cool, damp bottle over her heated cheeks. “Oya manda!” Clearing her throat she saluted him with her empty bottle.

“Tell me your plan, to free the homeworld; of how and who you would choose to speak to outsiders with. I badly, very badly, want Mandalore to be free. I just do not want to trigger any reprisals.”

Spoiler

Oya manda!

[OY-ah-MAN-dah]

Expression of Mandalorian solidarity and perpetuity: emotional and assertive.

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen sighed as he thought of her. Aren had medical problems as of late that involved her being aloof most of the time. "Don't bash her too much, she has medical problems she needs to take care of herself." Then he heard a metal-on-metal sound and looked as the med droid tore his old armor to shreds to his dismay. "Well, there goes 850 years of history that would have sold well on the market..."

The Clone chuckled at her answer. A barstool would make a nice addition to his mountain. "I'll take you up on that deal. I could use some extra seating at home."
His eyes started to well up when he listened to her say that he would always be welcome here. Finally, he had to place to call his own if he wanted it. "I'll take you up on that if my stubborn independent streak will let me."

The Trooper leaned against the wall as he watched her heal her bruises. "Seems like they have found their leader in you easy enough. And maybe their guesses are right. You have kept this ship off the rocks. In fact, you probably deserve a medal for keeping this upstart group alive for so long. I think you should make it official, why not? What's holding you back?"

The nickname for Loreena caused him to chuckle. "Lori-goof huh? It suits her. It will just be talking about business for her cooperation and maybe I'll add a few tibbits about rebellion to her and see if they will take." His chuckle only grew into a laugh as he saw her blush and attempt to regain her senses. "Oh, that is too easy... And too much fun... As for your question, well..." The Clone trooper thought for a moment before laying out his plan.

"Well, I think we should link it in some SJC and NIO talks about areas of influence and all that nerfing stuffing. Make it on the end of the agenda so the NIO has more of a chance to give in on our little messed-up planet. If that doesn't work, we raid the capital from below, either through the sewers or some mining cars hooked up to drill their way to the surface, raiding their little oasis of peace and maybe even the Imperators palace. We have to shake their tree and shake it hard till they let Mandalore go to save their own skins. The only reason that I'm not suggesting bombing their industry through plainclothes agents is that we will probably need the support against the Bryn. But that's pretty much my plan. Diplomacy first and raiding second if we need to."

Omen stood straight up again with a smile. "So, we going to go on this tour still. I got to show these photos to Mia so she can bother you to no end about your lack of self-preservation." Oh this was going to be a good day indeed.

 

[Jhira Mereel]

​

[ Sergeant Omen ] Omen took her gentle tease about the romantic possibles between himself and the young geneticist seriously enough that Jhira forwent further teasing. The lingering smile on the topic vanished into a glower at HD as the medical droid vented its spleen upon a relic of the past. Jhira winced, shaking her head. A silent command had the softy swearing droid loading the armor bits onto a float pallet.

“I”m pretty sure we can fix it, but it will take time.” Shifting her considering gaze to Omen, aware of the deeper emotions of finding family, a sense of home and belonging weaving between them. Yet she was far less adept at handling them than her young kinsman. Gently, she mimicked his comforting touch from earlier, clasping his shoulder.

“I recommend you keep it. This armor tells your story, holds a portion of your honor in tangible form. It will be very useful when outfitting ad’ika of your own. Even more, it will carry meaning and connection for them; a spiritual bond beyond blood.”

A smile flashed. “Stubborn and independent make for excellent mando’ade.”

The ARC trooper snapped a shot of her, bruises half-healed from the Bacta, lurid and vivid in purple, green and blue. She sputtered, then laughed as he threatened to give them to Mia. “ah, no!”

Jhira ran a brief diagnostic, her hand gliding over the sophisticated Prudiikute Body glove. It allowed a wide degree of medical care to be applied while still wearing it; both with the built-in medical portals and self-healing foam. Fascinating, innovative and beautify designed. Given her combat style and small frame, the self-sealing foam and onboard medical suite were every bit as critical to her survival as the power and agility of the under-armor itself.

[ Shuklaar Kyrdol ] “They’ve got two types of these body gloves at Warforge Consolidated. The Ramikad’alor has the most brilliant mind.” A quiet smile, and shake of her head, before sliding off of the medical table. Jhira took her first deep, pain free breath in what felt like hours, then turned to face Omen.

“But I’ve other options, right here, if you’re not ready to take the oath.” Sliding off of the medical table, Jhira took her first deep, pain free-breath in what felt like hours.

Gesturing the small mouse-droid laden with snacks to follow, she led Omen and his floating armor down a small corridor logically (at least to a Mandalorian’s mindset) connecting their med bay to their armory and small forge. This was a fairly complex area, devoted as it was to every aspect of weapons, cybernetics and armor. Small, off-set bays offered tools for Jet Packs, weaponry, droids, cybernetics and the precious armor itself. Some tools for working Beskar were present - the classical round Forge centered the large area, though sadly it was powered merely by her ship, not the greater secrets of a volcanic Forge.

Yet it was enough for repairs and modest, journeyman-level crafting. Above each bay flew a Mandalorian Clan flag, and the Cannons of Honor were emblazoned above the forge itself. Bruised fingers rested for a moment upon the small Forge, a pensive look stealing across her features.

“I will return to Clan matters, I promise; you have a right to know my mind on these matters. But first …”

“With the Bryn’adul a viable threat, offers of mutual assistance to both the SJC and NIO when facing specific foes - pirates, slavers, the Bryn, the MAW? - will achieve more long term than bombs. But only if we can keep our own vode from fighting on the side of the Bryn’adul, as they did just this past year.” Her voice serene, eyes cool as she angled her head to see his reaction to this information.

“As for the SJC, I think that we have a solid basis for compromise and gain. Making public our private sentiments - a public oath perhaps? So that they have an assurance that we absolutely refuse to purge the Force Sensitive, and even will even protect them. A request - not a demand, not a threat we won’t uphold our bargain, but merely a request - that they make an official, public policy to take children only with the child’s consent.” A pained moment of silence. Quietly, she added, “It would mean much to me, to have such in place.” With a shake of her head she pressed on.

“I have considered approaching The Rimward trade league, and the Merchant Captain’s Guild as well. Increased trade and wealth is a lure for any government I feel.”

“I have studied our recent history as much as I can. Several times, over the last decade or two, our Mando’ade have come together to free Mandalore. It has worked, too, as often a not. Did you know that?” she shook her head, frustrated, her gaze now gliding over the smaller Clan sigils that dotted the area.

“But they could not hold it. Many of those otherwise inclined to assist in a planet seeking freedom turn away from Mandalore. Our own bloody history of conquest and atrocities, the long association with the Sith, and our purge of those Force Sensitive have left a very, very powerful revulsion for all Mando’ade out in the greater galaxy.“ a greiving gaze settled upon Omen once more.

“Those decisions and events affect us and our children, even though we had no part in them.” Bleak mourning wove through her voice as she spoke of this horrific betrayal of their own.

“So I feel we must plan not to merely take, but to keep Mandalore.” Jhira pivoted to face Omen fully.

“Offer for our leadership to swear to the Codex, and it will help our long term situation. Individual Mandalorians may not keep that guide for who is a valid target, and what constitutes a war crime, but if the other factions and societies we approach know our leadership will at least attempt to avoid yet more atrocities, it will help.” Stillness; a pause as she considered how to phrase her next point.

“Raids and guerrilla tactics will not gain us a lasting hold, ner vod. Making war upon civilians will never have a good outcome, but only provoke outrage. Indeed, it is the fashion, these days, to destroy what cannot be held.” A shudder went though her, trauma still raw.

“It will not fulfill our long term goals — To keep Mandalore this time, yes?”

Heavy, weighing gaze sought to divine the heart of her young kinsman.

“So start now, Omen. Decide what you will not do. Anyone, anyone at all can bomb a city and murder children. Glass a planet, and claim it was that or loosing. But sometimes, loosing the battle is how you win the war.“ A hard truth, bitter to endure.

“It is harder by far, to accept the occasional loss of a battle, than to commit atrocities ourselves in oder to win the short term battle. Entire wars have been lost by opponents who never lost a single battle.” She stepped forward and gripped his shoulder once more.

“Bearing the failure of a mission and the death of friends is sometiems necessary in oder to keep our loyalty, alliances and honor intact. To secure not merley our survival, but our Clan’s. It is those three things, not only battle tonnage, that secures a future. That buys a chance at peace, not merley for ourselves, but for our children.” Memories ghosted through her mind, an ageless sense of loss surrounding her.

“Why do you think Breshig still lives?” a thoughtfull pause; not at all rhetorical.

 

[Sergeant Omen]

v

Omen only nodded with a small thoughtful smile etched on his face, accepting her reasoning. The armor also was a piece of history and that should never be forgotten. As for the ad'ika, well they would see if he lived that long. He chuckled when she said stubborn and independent people made for excellent mando'ade. "I guess that's true. All I know is that no one will earn credits for myself but for me." His grin turned into one of evil as he exploited the same weakness that she had on him, leaning into her face. "Do you have a big stubborn and independent mando'ade in mind to help feed this big family of yours Vod? I'm sure there is someone? You got to get back into the game sometime you know. If not, alor Shukkar is available if you want a sugar daddy. I could maybe set something up to see if sparks fly..." He had heard from Mia how Jhira's husband and children had died so he hoped he didn't tread upon rumbling ground "And I will use this photo as blackmail if you don't agree to it. Don't think I will?" He cupped his hands and shouted across the ship as far as his voice would carry. "MIA! YOUR AUNT HAS INJURED HERSELF FOR NO REASON!"

The Clone decided to push on in his harrowing trek, piecing together line after line as she put the skin-tight suit on"Is that longing in that voice? Boy, I think I know what your dirty dreams are about now that you are in that suit." He tried to contain the bottle of laughter within him as she healed herself before he got back to being serious when she asked about him taking the oath. "I'm ready to take the oath whenever it is possible. I'm too entangled in this community that I love to say otherwise."

The Trooper looked at the walls, trying to memorize all the weapons and tech they passed just in case he would have to face up against them in the field of battle. And then he realized Jhira was actually talking to him about their role in the galaxy so he listened to her as she started to list all the things Mandos should be doing on the galaxy-wide stage and they made sense, mostly.

"I see our ideas pretty much match up then. I don't know if we want to offer mutual assistance with the NIO since they hold our homeworld under house arrest or at least not just yet. Plus their policies are well... Let us just say killing with no regard to who is the target is not something I would personally support... But lets face it, we are never going to get stray vod to stop supporting other factions. They are always going to be vod who want to face off against the Jedi. We just have to say that these strays are not a part of our government and know what risks they are taking when facing off with one."

"I agree with you that we need the support of the SJC to make this new government and I plan to advance with Clan Gred on that idea. As for the request and assurances you mention, I think we do the assurances first to get their attention and then requests once we are united. It is the only way it could be done. As for the Rimward Trade league, I would like to make a station for them and other minor factions to use as a base. We get the rent and they get a place to call home. Though we would probably officially just "give" the whole station to the Rimward Trade league where they can expand their rescue and trade efforts from. But again, this is saying we have a government that could get the support for your future husband to make this station."

He returned her gaze with grim determination."That of course true. We just need a good enough strategy to convenience other factions that we are a better ruler of our ancestral worlds than the NIO is. As for the history part, we can't roll back time and change things based on hindsight. As for the government itself, I would like to set up a loose system based on the Corporate Sector in some type of guild system with an alor on top as a president of some sort of a council of houses that sets the economic policy and laws, with the various houses across the galaxy that help in making the government itself into a legislature with some power that can veto the proposed laws and give us an overall outlook at what the society feels is right or wrong in a situation. Plus we need to add a judiciary somewhere in there somewhere... The government would allow anyone, Sith, Jedi, and Smuggler inside its borders. As long you are bringing credits or trading items you are welcome, no matter who you love. We make Strill and Co. an unofficial police force until we can make an official one, base our constitution on the creed and we are pretty much set."

Omen thoughtfully nodded as he followed along with Jhira's reasoning. "I agree that we should offer for our leadership to swear to the Codex in a public ceremony which every faction can see and yes it will help our long-term situation to make sure we aren't immediately pounded to dust. And like you said, it would give us plausible deniability against any claim that we are sanctioning support to the Sith and Bryn.

The Clone noted her disdain for raids on the NIO or anyone else in his head before offering a counterpoint. "Raids and guerrilla tactics are going to be all we can do against the NIO if talking doesn't work. To be sure I don't want it to come to that and we would only be attacking the military targets to put civilian casualties to a minimum but we have to show that we will not back down against their tyranny. Power is the only thing they respect. Otherwise, the Imps will just ignore us or say it is just an internal matter, pushing off any external support we may have."

The Trooper returned her weighted gaze with his own. "I know why to have hearts and minds of the other factions and even our own kinsman and kinswomen to worry about and I will not kill any civilians or children if I can help it but if talks don't work... We will need a Plan B to show the strength Mando society as a whole can harreness and swing our gun turret around while internal disputes prevent the NIO's own turret from turning to face us. Everything from sabotaging their military factories to raided their capital city and showing the galaxy a bunch of mandos can face down the imp giant and win to even at the last resort trying to abduct their imperator from under their noses as bargaining capital for later. I won't resort to being what the Maw or the Sith want me to be, a destroyer of worlds but if things don't go our way in talks, well things won't end pretty so we need to make sure Plan A works." His voice quickly got solemn as he remembered she said the death of friends. He remembered how his brothers got needlessly sent into the breach for a better galaxy before shaking the bad thoughts and dreams off "I don't want any friends to perish needlessly but to secure our independence is as good of a cause as any... I want them to savor this new government and the freedom it provides more than anyone. We just need to make talking work..."

Her question about Breshig produced a dry laugh. "I think Breshig still lives because your future husband was able to get every plan, prototype, and blueprint off-planet so he could restart his work elsewhere. If we don't want to have to do that against the NIO invader, we must get their ear before their boot comes down on our neck. Either way, I'll talk with Lori-goof and your future husband about it at our business meeting in a few weeks time" The clone wiggled his eyebrows and with his lack of hair, it must have looked very amusing to Jhira. "Have any other points for me?"

Jhira Mereel

 

[Jhira Mereel]

​

A shake of the head, and a soft, aching laugh met Omen’s daring in teasing Jhira about romance! A deliberately gentle head butt followed, as she tossed off, “Have you been talking to Silver?” Terrifying, that he so readily perceived what she guarded so fiercely; that he understood so deeply.

Omen ambushed her once again, so accurately reading her weakness for excellence; for honor strength and the indomitable will that marked the Mandalorian people that she could only sputter laughter. He sliced open her soul’s old, desperate pain, his laughter washing out the lingering poison. Yet still, her heart stopped as he leapt to a conclusion. A shiver of terrifying, faint hope stole her breath. Jhira did not want to have her whole happiness rest upon eyes that lightened when she walked into the room, or a touch that soothed her soul as well as her body. The idea was ludicrous, in any event. “Not even you, Omen, could arrange that.” A date with the legendary Shuklaar Krydol? An eye blink, and the moment of panic passed - or at least was concealed by a strangled, horrified laughter as he called for Mia.

But hands trembled, at the near miss.

Shaking her head, Jhira accepted that this was the perfect, most beautiful moment she could imagine for what came next. The bright laugher and healing intimacy of having a friend close enough that they dared to stand up and speak when she was wrong, as well as to wash her wounds with healing laughter, was perfect witness to this.

To Omen choosing to become Mando’ade.

Placing her hands upon Omen’s shoulders, squeezing him slightly before stepping back, she spoke gently. “A simple, heart-felt oath. Ni atioa at Resol’nare. ‘I adhere to the Resol’nare.”. Then she waited, in attentive silence, for him to speak, offering a quiet, “Haat, Ijaa, Haa’it, ner vod.” when he had.

A brief, fierce hug followed. In that uniquely Mandalorian way, their talk swept from powerfully sentimental to utterly practical.

Jhira listened intently, pausing only to clarify, “Mutual defense against certain foes only if they free Mandalore. The NIO are a dangerous foe, I wholly agree. But I cannot help but feel they are still better than the Bryn’adul.”

A lingering sigh and nod admitted his point that some Mandalorians just had to test themselves, regardless of the greater picture. A bright smile, for his ideas on the Trade League, fading to thoughtful as he lay out the basics of government. “We have not often needed anything beyond our Alor’s as a council, and the Protectors. But Oh, I like bringing in Strill to train our national guard. Our customs, our old customs dealt with judicatory; I will look them up.”

“We are, indeed, in accord.”

He met her weighted gaze with that calm, centered confidence that was decades older than his years, and the words he spoke put her mind and heart at ease. “We need to make the talking work,” she agreed softly.

I think Breshig still lives because your future husband was able to get every plan, prototype, and blueprint off-planet so he could restart his work elsewhere.

Then blushed, furiously, picking up a cloth and tossing it at him, as he resumed his teasing. “No, it is because he keeps the codex; therefore his word and conduct in battle can be trusted—” she stopped herself, firmly. Right there.

“Just tell Lori-goof I miss her.”

Spoiler

Ni atioa at Resol'nare - I adhere to the Resol’nare.
I could not find the actual oath the Clones swore, to become Mando’ade. So I used this.

Haat, ijaa, haa'it

[Haht-i-JAH-hah-EET]

Truth, honor, vision - words used to seal a pact.

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omens' eyes opened in recognition as he saw his friend flounder around like a fish out of water when he mentioned Shukklar, raising an eyebrow before a headbutt appeared out of nowhere and gently hit his forehead, making him fall back a step. The Trooper looked at her in suspension as she mentioned Sliver. "No... What has she been saying?" The Clone knew little about the 13-year-old but he did know that she was as much as a shipper as he was at times. Omen's mouth formed into a frown as he held his friend's shoulders, trying to soothe her worries and fears as she laughed like a madwoman. But that was before she challenged him, saying that not even he could get a simple date with the alor of industry. The frown on his face turned into a toothy grin as his eyes turned green fires of determination. "Be careful what you wish for friend. You will get your date with your beloved by hook or by crook. You will have hope and happiness again if it is the last thing I do in this galaxy."

Placing her hands upon Omen’s shoulders, squeezing him slightly before stepping back, she spoke gently. “A simple, heart-felt oath. Ni atioa at Resol’nare. ‘I adhere to the Resol’nare.”. Then she waited, in attentive silence, for him to speak, offering a quiet, “Haat, Ijaa, Haa’it, ner vod.” when he had.

When Jhira asked for him to take up the oath, he replied with it and a little more with convection. "Ni atioa at Resol’nare. Ni will aid ner droten as. As val ganar aided ni. May cuun beliefs alorir bat ratiin o'r anay vencuyot generation." It wasn't a perfect translation but it would make the point that he was now Mandalorian and would remain so till his dying day. He returned her congratulatory hug with his own big bear hug, thanking her for all that she had done for him before.

While she responded to his concerns about foreign policy, he made her some of his custom shig tea with the ingredients in his belt, using the forge as a burner and an old tea kettle that the forger of this place must have wanted to recycle. His brew was more sweet and spicy like hot cocoa rather than the traditional tea's taste and would definitely soothe Jhira's nerves a bit. As he served the tea indented metal cups, he responded to her concerns with his own.

"The Bryn are a static concern that should be left up to the big governments to contend with. But the NIO is on our doorstep now. The length of the knife doesn't matter if you still bleed out to it in the end. Plus there are rumbles of an economic plan that the NIO are wanting to create called the Iron Ring initiative and who knows how much exploitation that could bring to Mandalore itself. No, more than 30 years of Imp occupation is enough. We need to throw the stocks from Manda'yaim now before the Imp axmen come to chop our heads off and take what meager passions we have. Right now, we need one figure with just enough control to represent us and our various houses to the wider galaxy, not to throw fists but to open arms in trading and offering state lead mercs in exchange for contracts with my bet being on your future husband. As for the laws, as long as we aren't stoning people to death, I would be happy to base the laws on the old customs."

The Clone looked at the cup of tea with his own thoughtful gaze, his voice with the same concern as he continued to speak. "We talk with as much of an upper hand we can get and if that doesn't work, we fight, showing the Imps that they need to respect our true power just like they think we should respect theirs. And these talks needed to happen yesterday. I can feel the imp noose closing faster and faster on our ancestral world every day."

He only met Jhira with a coy smile when she threw the work cloth at him, dodging the item as it flew past his head. "Looks like someone's got some issues that she needs to work out with someone else but is too afraid to do it. Looks like I'm going to have to do it for her. And yes, I will tell Lori-goof you miss her and to call the old Nexu lady as you see yourself being even if it isn't true, even more than she usually does. It is what friends do for each other after all." The smiles in both the young and old warrior's eyes would be clearly visible to the woman that anyone would be happy to call their alor. He just hoped his voice didn't need to be required to call for help when Jhira's heart stopped from his promises.

Jhira Mereel

 

[Jhira Mereel]

​

Jhira loved tea; she took it rather seriously, having crates of specialty teas delivered every month. So she watched, in patient fascination as [ Sergeant Omen ] brewed up a pot right there, in the forge. A delicate sniff revealed it was not a blend she as familiar with; that was enough to create a brief lull in conversation as she waited tasting it.

The lull, unfortunately, created a whole new level of stress.

Omen was a man of his word. Terrifying. to distract herself from his promise to see to it she was happy (by hook or by crook), she finally offered an answer to his earlier question. “Silver has decided that if I marry a Silver Jedi, I shall no longer fear or distrust them.” an eyebrow rose. “thought she insists it be someone who uses guns or grenades.”

And oh, Omen never did things by halves. As his Tihaar was amongst the best she’d ever had, and his first Action - his Oath - had surpassed her heart’s highest hopes, his bear hug one of the most healing she’d ever had, she feared he really, truly would approach the Ramikdad’alor.

A flickering glance at him, while she considered, sipping at her tea. The Shig soothed; her eyes closed in delight. “Oooh, Omen this is amazing.” Sweet and spicy, thick and rich. He spoke of the Bryn’adul, as being too hard to face directly. She nodded agreement, though she asked, “But if we wish to be taken seriously as allies, should we not at least help defend the Silver Jedi from the Bryn’adul? Not fight them alone. But aid?” a firm look. “And we are defending your home if they come for it.”

The new Iron Ring policy of the NIO spooked her. Clearly, Omen felt that pressure even more clearly. He feared they were out of time, and the shot, year-long peace they’d enjoyed upon Mandalore would soon come to an end.

Jhira leaned forward, agreeing wholly as Omen described the need for a publicly-recognized leader, who would not trigger fears of a Mand’alor or crusade. One whose first response would not be impassioned violence, but reasonable trade.

One who could be trusted, even down to leading their own mercenaries into battle.

Bartering their own blood to protect was the legacy of the Mandalorian; it became harder, as her children grew older, but it was the Way. No matter how much she loved them, she would not hobble them or deny them the glory of who they were, merely because their loss would wound beyond measure. The courage to hurt, to be wounded, was central to a Mandalorian. Yet that task burden grew harder and harder to bear with each loss.

Young-and-old eyes regarded her, wise with burdens far beyond his years. Then that delightful playfulness, reminiscent of the child he had never been allowed to be, and the hope and determination that was ramikad’yc. The commando state of mind. Confidence he could do anything if he put his mind to it.

Anything.

She choked upon her tea, coughing, as he casually threw out his intention to maneuver the Ramikad’Alor into this deadly position. Her heart stoped, frozen by a double fear. Lips dry, her heart ached. He flashed from older brother to younger and back so easily, so swiftly, and she could neither breathe nor form a word. Another desperate sip of tea, to open her throat and force out words.

Or at least breath. Dying might be easier.

‘Old Nexu lady’ made her laugh, soft and breathless. She rubbed her forehead, aching everywhere.

“Omen. I scarcely know him. Only the idea of him. The shape of his mind, from the nature of the company he’s built; the strength of his heart and moral courage, from Breshig’s history. The glory of his legions, the perfection of his technology. It’s … It’s deeply unfair to him; foolish beyond permission.” Squaring her shoulders, Jhira sought to catch Omen’s eyes. “It’s an idealism that is out of place at my age. Foolish.” A baffled shrug follows.

“Yet I confess to a considerable amount of fear as to the fate of the person who takes on this role.” Either roll, truth be told.

“Most who have reached for it have died. And loathe as I would be to lose you to it, I know it is your passion and your choice. I do not know if it is his. He has people who need him, far from the Mandalorian sector.”

 

[Sergeant Omen]

The Clone frowned as he watched his friend have the entire world on her back. He figured could see that Jhira at least loved the idea of the alor so why not see if she liked the actual person. It was worth a shot. But now he could see how much she was stressing over nothing. He placed his hand on her's trying to be sincere as possible. "I'm sorry... We can drop the whole thing if it stresses you out this much, I don't want you to have seizures over nothing..." The Clone raised his own eyebrow when she mentioned that she would no longer fear or distrust the Silver Jedi. "Silver is just a 13 year old who wants to see you happy, just like the rest of us do. Why are the Silvers distrusted by your clan?" It would be interesting to hear the answer from the vod who never seemed to anger anyone. And why would she be in Silver space if she didn't like Silver Jedi? Just for him?

A smile crept back onto the clone's face as he saw her face relax some finally at the taste of his tea. "It is just my version of Tarine tea with some mystery ingredients thrown in. Nothing special. As for supporting the Silvers, we need to take care of our house first before we help defend someone else's. We just can't let the imps have their way with us without a fight. Having a single figure even if they are just a figurehead will help with that."

His eyes went wide in surprise at a choking sound that made its way out of Jhira's mouth at his mention of putting Shuk in the position. He patted her back to help her recover before getting the same rag she had thrown at him. "I'm sorry Jhira, I shouldn't have mentioned him again... I just know that he is the most impartial of us out there and has had enough experience to lead our little culture. He just seems like the best choice to me." And then he stopped, listening to her babble about how she loved the idea of Shuk but barely knew him. The Clone only held up one hand to stop her mid-rant. "What you are describing is called a crush old-timer. I've read enough romance novels to know that at least. And yes, the person may not be what is advertised but that's what first dates are for. To feel out the other persona and see if they are really the one for you" He reached for an old metal shard and polished it till it showed a reflection before presenting Jhira a look of her own face through it. "Shuk would be a very lucky man to have you at his side. Anyone would. You are the kindest, lovely and amazing warrior and friend I have ever known, on both the inside and the outside. Now you only need to know it too."

Omen's face shagged a bit as she said how dangerous the job he was considering would be before trying to reassure her the best he could with those same smiling eyes. "You are right of course, it is why he would have the best protection we can offer. I'm not going to force the job on him but I would rather like to get his opinion on it. As for me, I'll be here to hold your hand a little while longer till you stop fainting at the alor's every portrait."

Jhira Mereel

 

[Mia Mereel]

​

“Because of Red,” Mia’s voice floated through the room, though she had been all but indistinguishable behind the large float pallet she parked at the double doors. How long had she been there, lingering in the entrance which lead not back to the med bay, but into the private living quarters. The doors stood ajar behind her, revealing a chaos of children playing while an old, grumpy man curled into a chair and a large-robo chicken ran about wildly in a crazy game of keep-away. It was a melee free-for-all, filled with pint-sized mandos, foam swords and chalk filled bing-bag ‘grenades.’ Zabrak, Falleen, Twil’lek and human, it was a wild hodgepodge of colors, people, languages.

“Red’s Force Sensitive, like Silver. Only the gutter rats know about Silver, already.” An angry kick to the float pallet followed.

“The children,” Jhira added quietly. “That’s a large part of why I fear all Jedi. A Coruscant Jedi took Silver from her family the first time. A bit before the disaster on Concord Dawn —””

“You mean the disaster everywhere,” Mia murmured ruefully. But she dimpled at omen, and flourished her first aid kit. “But the Silvers … yeah. They have issues.” Mia shook her head, and drifted closer, hands touching every surface with gentle reassurances.

“They asked for help, a couple years ago - just a bit after Breshig fell? - when the Bryn’adul attacked Yurb. ‘Bout everyone who they approached showed up: CIS, GA, OPA.” Mia became busy with her med bag, refusing to look at Omen.

Once the silence lingered a bit too long, Jhira took up the tale. “Everyone brought their mercs, of course. The Direwolves, Strill.” A graceful shrug. “I wasn’t there; I don’t know the details. But the Silver Jedi pulled back without warning, leaving the mercenary ground forces to face the Bryn’adul alone. The baby-stealing-Force thing aside, I have a problem with people who treat a mercenary that way. With a general who treats any of their soldiers that way.”

Studying her aunt’s swiftly-healing bruises, Mia shook her head, then glanced at Omen. “Why do you trust them?” she gestured at her aunt. “Enough to risk teasing them into violence?” Something in her gaze suggested she had other questions, carefully withheld.

“And why would you drop it?”

[ Sergeant Omen ]

 

[Jhira Mereel]

​

Jhira offered a lopsided grin to Omen, a smirk appearing and vanishing at his precise wording about first dates. And praying Mia hadn’t heard. The glimpse in the mirror, the warm affirmation and his firm convection settled her enough to admit, “I don’t want you to not speak of him.”

“Oh, there’s a him now? That sounds promising! Who is it? Mr. Armor? Mr. Justice? Mr. Magic?”

“You are free to tease me, how and when you like. I suffer from,” Jhira would not admit to crush, was too old for hero worship, respect felt woefully inadequate; this left her visibly hunting for the right words. “I grow …” Shy. “Worried about wounding or offending him. He could be married, or widowed, celebrate. I’ve no notion.” A laugh lingered in her voice; a rueful admission she wouldn’t seek out that information, enter.

He had tried to dismiss his tea, but she only shook her head. “I hope it’s easy to make, because I’m going to purchase regular deliveries of this and your Tihaar.”

Again, he spoke of limiting defense, even of where he lived. And how much they needed a leader like the Ramikad’alor. A sweet smile flourished and she shook her head. “He is the best, maybe the only choice. Smart, impartial, experienced; has commercial and diplomatic contacts all over. He would treasure and husband our forces, and we know he can manage an economy. I just ...” A baffled shrug. Breshig and it’s Alor had lost so much.

“You’re not talking romance, are you?” Mia gave a sigh, and settled down onto the floor of the forge in a graceful heap, her armor unfolding into an instant blanket

Jhira’s eyes flickered, but she managed not to laugh.

“You can do nothing save give him the choice.”

A fierce smile flared. color=maroon]“And protect him. I even have someone we can talk to about that.”[/color] Though a laugh lurked in her eyes.

She might just need the hand-holding.

[ Sergeant Omen ]