Private Flashback to Jutrand

[Tae'l Vizsla]

Jutrand.
Several years ago...​

It had been months since she was captured by Omon Kaa aboard the liberator, and ferried to Saijo where she would live with the Sith lord as a guest. It had taken some time for Tae'l to shake the feeling that she was a hostage caged without bars, but in that the time the unthinkable happened: They began to trust one another. Well, Omon Kaa / Darth Diem did most of the trusting, while Tae'l still had some edge to smooth over. Still, she acknowledged that he had been most hospitable. She was well taken care of by his servants, and Omon often shared fine dinners with the young mandalorian in between his duties to the empire. She had grown accustomed to Wine of all things, though it lacked the spicy kick of a Mandalorian brew.

It was all so... normal. normal was alien to the gunslinger who had spent most of her brief life on Level 1313, tracking down and killing those affiliated with Apollyon The Betrayer .
Now she poured champagne like some imperial aristocracy.

She hated it... she loved it...

But even domesticated, a wolf still had claws and fangs, and all the habits that came with. She wanted a semblance of her old life back while she thought over the deal. Omon had given her a new start, Cin'vhetin as her people called it, but that didn't mean she would discard the armor.

That's why she was here today. Omon took her helmet as a trophy, something about his sorcerous "visions" that she didn't understand, but what she did understand was that she had lost. He earned it, in his own way. By some variations of the creed, she was unfit to wear it. So, she would simply earn a new one. But for that, she needed to find another Mandalorian, and she had an idea of how to find one. But she would- begrudgingly- need help.

Omon could finally trust her to leave the house without killing anyone. or... anyone important, at least. He also entrusted her with a contact: Darth Malum of House Marr .

So she approached the unassuming cafe where she was supposed to meet the mysterious knight, dressed in a black cloak that hid her armor and helm-less face from the prying eyes of cameras across the city, Omon wanting to hide his guest from Mandalorian intelligence, if such a thing existed. For her part, she just felt naked without it.

She didn't know much about the man she was meeting today, just that he was a good friend of Omon and had access to some sort of spy network. Her instructions were to approach the counter and order a specific drink which they inevitably did not carry. So, she put her armor-clad hands down on the counter, sliding a few credits towards the serving droid behind the counter, and ordered.

"I'd like uhm... a Rodian spice, please" She asked nervously, hazel eyes shifting around the cafe

The apron wearing droid would merely tilt her head in confusion
"So sorry honey but we don't serve anything with that kind of kick around here. Can I get you sunrise caf instead?"

"Uhh?"