Private Having A Sister Over For Tea And Conversation.

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen tried to shine up the bar, cursing himself when he used too much polish. Why did he need to clean so much you might ask. Well... he did have his sister coming over to meet a friend. It had been a long time since he had seen her in person though they did holo message when both had the time which wasn't often. To be honest, the Clone really had missed his sister's presence in his world. She was the one who made him a Mando after all.

As Gwyn enter the bar, the clone would wave and pull out a seat for her. "Thanks for coming on such short notice Gywn. She should be here after she lands her ship and you know how the port authority is. So... How have you been doing? Still slogging through your medical issues or have they hopefully gotten better?"

Jhira Mereel Gwyneira Vizsla

 

[Gwyneira Vizsla]

A - L E G - T O - S T A N D - O N​

Gwyneira would have been helping. She absolutely would have. Unfortunately, she had come here before Omen had even begun cleaning. Furthermore, her Beskar'gam was neatly laid on the bench next to her and her cybernetic leg had been removed. She was tuning it up and making repairs, as well as reinserting the whistling birds that had to be manually reinserted after use. Now, she had a tube top and shorts on. That was what she had worn beneath her Beskar'gam today! Once Omen had started rapidly cleaning, she had been doing her best not to be too messy in her little corner. At least, if Omen forgot a cleaner or broom or rag, Gwyn could telekinetically hand it to him without him having to walk back and forth. Hey, being Force Sensitive had it's advantages!

Being Force Sensitive, of course, brought other side effects as well. She could sense all of Omen's anxiety, the perfectionism, and the eminent joy and expectation. It radiated to her, coming in waves. She looked up to Omen from screwing bolts into her leg. He was absorbed in his polishing job, frustrated.

"Everything looks great, Omen." Gwyneira offered a small smile, "You don't need to sweat it too much."

She hesitated for a moment, then, "I'm sorry I can't be too helpful right now. This leg is still knee deep in repairs-"

Knee deep. Had she just made a pun? She snickered, "Heh. I made a pun."

Sergeant Omen Jhira Mereel Shai Maji

 

[Kaz Krayt]

Knocking echoed from the front door before the armoured figure stepped into the spotless bar. Kestri was still new to Kaz and required a lot of exploring, naturally he prioritized all the important areas first. Diners, clubs, bars, gun shops, hospitals, all the crucial places for any self-respecting Mandalorian to enjoy themselves. It turned out that Kestri wasn't as vibrant in its selections as other planets, which was to be expected, though he still noticed a number of places that piqued his curiosity.

Among them was the respectable cantina that, according to what he could find out, belonged to an actual clone trooper from the Clone Wars. If that wasn't a tourist attraction then he wasn't Mandalorian.

"Hey yo what's up." He greeted with a grin as he removed his helmet. "Is this place still open for business? I'm dyin' for a drink here, bruh." He walked over to the counter and set his helmet down before turning his attention to his fellow clan member... that still took some getting used to. After riding solo for literal years, having people to rely on again that weren't other mercenaries was a big adjustment. He doubted that the "wardog" filled the rest of them in of his new arrival, but that was fine. Nothing better than a first impression face to face. "Hey, you're Gwyn, right? What's up? Name's Kaz." He introduced himself, turning to look at the owner as well.

Sergeant Omen Gwyneira Vizsla Jhira Mereel

 

[Gwyneira Vizsla]

E X P O S E D​

Gwyn was a bit stunned when someone just waltzed in asking if the bar was open. She ducked a bit, flushing in embarrassment, as he approached her and inquired of her name.

She looked down at her detached leg, her hands both deep in mechanical parts and tools. Her heart pounded. She felt naked like this. She was always so ashamed of her leg, and what she lost. Of course, she adored Alora Vizsla's work on this cybernetic. Unfortunately, Gwyn was struggling to come to terms with all the misery and agony this leg represented. Trauma, terror, torture...

Gwyn blinked up at the zabrak. She hoped he did notice her leg too much, just nodding in response. "Yeah, I'm Gwyn. Nice to meet you."

She paused for a moment, then set her screwdriver down and extended a hand to shake his. "I'm Clan Krayt. You?"

Perhaps, this would all distract from her missing limb.

Sergeant Omen Kaz Krayt Jhira Mereel

 

[Jhira Mereel]

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LOCATION: Omen’s Bar, Kestri
Objective: Talk
Equipment: Cybernetics | Jet Pack | Beskar’gam | Weapon load out | The Echoy’la Sun

Jhira wasn’t at all comfortable with a planet as a homeworld, especially now. So much had happened, just as she had been beginning to trust and hope again. But so far, Kestri had survived, despite being exposed to outsiders.

She had friends here, and some family too, but she’d never again be wholly at ease while stuck within a planet’s gravity well. Following the directions from Omen’s note, she navigated from the docks to the bar indicated. Curious as she was as to why they were meeting here, and not on his beloved Kashyyk, she was determined not to simply blurt the question out.

Right away, anyway.

Slipping inside the bar, Jhira’s HUD found [ Sergeant Omen ] behind the bar, polishing it determinedly. Joy and an easing of the heart lifted her spirits immeasurably. Pulling her helmet off, she spent a few seconds studying the young mechanic [ Gwyneira Vizsla ] working at the bar near him. There was only one reason Jhira could think of, to wear a tank top and shorts under metal armor, instead of a body glove or flight suit. The thought brought a rare, flashing smile to Jhira’s grave face. Rags, cleaning supplies, and the occasional tool moved of their own accord. Perhaps Omen’s doing, perhaps the young lady’s? So many Mandos were Force Sensitive, it felt as if the assorted vicious purges meant to wipe them out had been karmically punished in a most profound manner.

The demonstration of Force Power’s didn’t seem to impact the popularity of the mechanic … but then she was skilled enough to be working on her own cyber-knee, and almost all Mandalorians respected skill and bravery. Or perhaps young [ Kaz Krayt ] simply hadn’t noticed. The way the young lady flinched and blushed upon being addressed moved Jhira to gently intervene. She understood how much trust the young mechanic had in Omen, to be utterly without armor in his presence.

Especially expecting Jhira’s arrival!

A good lass, indeed. But perhaps she had not been ready to meet another stranger? Walking to the bar, Jhira caught the tail end of the new arrival’s very brief introduction. A swift glance at his armor, to see if he announced Clan or any other affiliation in his gear, and then she settled in on the other side of the mechanic, leaving plenty of room for the ongoing work. Her HUD suggested an affinity between the work at hand and that which her sister, [ Mia Mereel ] used. 80% Probability of the same maker.

“That’s a nice piece of work,” she said approvingly of the cyberlimb, holding the young lady’s gaze just long enough to show that she felt nothing but respect. Ending up with Cyber-parts was just part of being Mandalorian. “Is that Alora’s work? She’s the best Cyberneticist I’ve ever met.”

A flashing smile, unable to quite erase the haunted, grieving expression from her eyes, took in both Kaz and Gwyneira. “I’m Jhira Mereel, Clan Mereel; pleased to meet you both. I'm Omen's sister!"

Hopping over the countertop with preternatural grace despite being in full Beskar armor (with Jet Pack), she pulled Omen close for a swift hug. “Vod!” Joy danced in her voice, and she stepped back to take a good look at her dear kinsman.

​

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[Sergeant Omen]

Why didn't I get this spot? Omen was so caught up caring for the bar that he almost didn't hear Gwyn speak. He returned the smile with a nod of thanks. "Thanks Gwyn. I'm just trying to get this bar ready for the visit. And don't worry, I have to take apart my own legs sometimes to repair them so I get the pain." He would pat her on the back with a chuckle as a reward for her puning before returning to his work. Everything had to be perfect.

Letting Gwyn take on the FNG by herself (Sorry Gwyn!) who couldn't even read an open sign if their life depended on it, he would start to clean glasses while he watched the two youngins talk to one another and made sure he didn't have to throw a boy in a pool again. Maybe one of the fountains outside would do the trick. And then she walked in, his one and only sister, Jhira.

Omen spent the duration of Jhira's introduction stunned by the fact that she was here, that she was here in his bar at this exact moment rather than just on the holo. She was really here... He quickly regained his senses as the woman jumped over the bar and squeezed all the air out of his lungs. He would of course fling his arms around her in a giant bear hug. "It's good to see you Jhira... Really, really good to see you... To be honest, I had a sinking feeling that I would never see you again out of a holo message."

The Clone would seem a little tired and worn but that wasn't exactly unusual... Working and fighting all the time could do that to a man. What he was wondering if she was alright. "How is Mia doing by the way? Is she looking over that faulty elevator on your ship? Oh and I'm forgetting..." He would gesture to the pale girl who was screwing her leg back on. "This is Gywn. She is a good armorer and probably could create a whole artificial planet if she set her mind to it. Plus she has a pretty nice single dad who is about your age..." The former ARC moved away preemptively with a chuckle from the possible two gut punches coming his way. It was all in-joke of course. Kranak did need something to make him happy again other than just drink... Maybe... He pushed it aside for now and introduced his long-lost sister to the Pale Death.

"And yes, this is Jhira, my sister and Rus'alor of Clan Mereel." He would reach over and put her in a headlock, giving her a loving nuggie. "And I love her to death. Oh and I forgot she is a simp for anything related to Breshig War Forge. She even has a shrine believe it or not. I can show you pictures." And this is where Clone's life expectancy probably dropped to zero. Oh, the things that came from Omen's head to his mouth. They might just get him killed.

Gwyneira Vizsla ,Kaz Krayt, Jhira Mereel

 

[Jhira Mereel]

​

LOCATION: Omen’s Bar, The Mythosaur’s Den,, Kestri
Objective: Talk
Equipment: Cybernetics | Jet Pack | Beskar’gam | Weapon load out | The Echoy’la Sun

Despite the stunned look on [ Sergeant Omen ]’s face at Jhira’s arrival, he returned her fierce hug with interest. He was strong enough that she was secretly grateful for her armor. Ah, he grew stronger and fiercer every time she saw him! Yet it didn’t stop that deep seated fear from eating at her when she’d gone too long without checking in on him in person. Sometimes there was nothing like a physical touch to let you know someone you cared about had survived the troubles and tribulations life threw at them.

And the blaster bolts. And bombs. And Force Powers …

No.

The Captain-and-ruus’alor ruthlessly stifled the threatened flash-back, instead focusing upon Omen, examining him in just that way that had made her brother so uneasy when they had first met. She gave him a gentle smile, yet couldn’t stop looking for injuries, scars, badges, banners, tattoos. New lines of exhaustion and care had revealed his strong character and added distinct individuality to his handsome, once-standard-issue face. The too-thin cheeks, the hyper-alertness, told her he’d been through some rough times while she recovered. And as always, he was a vast comfort to be near.

Fierce, strong, protective.

The joy and mischief dancing in his eyes, the drive to expand the Clan (it was darn near reflex, in Mandalorians, despite how it made her blush) told her that his spirit remained unflawed and unbroken. As did his careful tending to Gwyn Kyrze.

As for Jhira, the surface of her had scarcely changed. Dark, haunted eyes were perhaps more distant, as if she was still battling ghosts. The body was leaner, harder than he’d recall. Her hug a touch more desperate, her weapons more lethal. The hair was still black as night, but the golden hair net was now studded with small jewels that glittered with electronics. The liquid way she moved, that defied age and physics alike was the same. Fear, too, was stronger in her. A fear so constant a companion that ignoring it became its own sort of bravery.

“Mia is … Mia.,” A soft laugh escaped, a little sad. “The elevator still gives us fits, at random intervals. She thinks it’s time for a major overhaul.” Jhira shook her head, the idea both appealing and extremely daunting. “She has decided to join Strill Securities.”

“I am not sure she is ready; Mia requires a great deal of individuality for her personal genius to shine.”

Turning to [ Gwyneira Vizsla ], she added “Mia adores Alora.” A beat passed, as Jhira considered Omen’s introduction.

“A whole new planet, hmm?” Jhira looked thoughtful, rather than dismissive of the concept. “If you’re interested in restoring or repairing planets, Mereel Ice Works focuses on the technical end of Terraforming. I’d be happy to compare notes, sometime. I’m always looking for new techniques to help rebuild. I’m looking at doing what I can for Naboo, if i can find anyone in charge to negotiate with.”

Despite the Mandalorian doctrine of Ba'slan shev'la, the dissolution of the CIS had not felt either strategic, or temporary. Each system had been left to fend for itself. Even Naboo, the one planet in the whole galaxy Jhira had thought might last an entire decade without being bombed or blown up.

Her grave, considering gaze swept over both young Mandalorians. “And new Mandalorians to offer work to.”

Omen’s information that Gwyn had a warrior father - single, about Jhira’s age - widened her eyes and provoked an immediate, of carefully metered response. Wisely, her brother dodged the elbow she’d aimed at his rib. Omen retaliated with a headlock; there was a brief struggle, but he was still a better hand-to-hand specialist than she was.

He surely would not torment her again, even though she’d lost?

She’d not even had a chance to bring young [ Kaz Krayt ] into the conversation yet!

Laughter escaped, the change in demeanor taking decades off her apparent age, as her little brother messed up her carefully precise hair. The shear joy of it left her ready to forgive and forget …

Until he mentioned Breshig Warforge Consolidated. And her Office.

Cheeks flamed, her deceptively relaxed posture skillfully failing to telegraph her blow to his gut at all. If he dodged, it would likely be because of his knowledge of her! She hoped Omen would be unlikely to dodge the carefully-metered-elbow to the gut, but feared he might well dodge the follow-up, lightning fast attempts at light touches to his instep and the back of his head. It was a traditional combo, the follow up taps both habit and good practice. Omen was fast and skilled though; if she landed either of the light touches and the gut blow, she’d count it a victory indeed.

“Adenn mir’sheb.” Mando’a was her native tongue, and in times of stress Jhira still slipped into the flowing, ancient language of the Taung. “Kaysh mirsh kote koty’c!”

Glancing back at Gwyn and Kaz she politely returned to Basic. “It’s an office, not a shrine. Breshig work is the best there is.”[/maroon]

 

[Kaz Krayt]

A laugh escaped the Zabrak at the mention of her clan. He knew it already, but it was still an odd thing to adjust to, knowing that there were others again that he could look to. It was going to take some used to... though the view wasn't too bad. "Same, believe it or not. I guess I'm the fresh meat in the clan now. The mutt extended the offer only the other day." He explained briefly, hoping to have some more private time with the girl later on. "I dig the chrome, though. If you want, we can swap comm details, I know a few clutch machines with this kind of stuff." He nodded to her leg with a casual smirk.

His terrible attempt at getting her number ground to a halt when another person entered the cantina. She and the owner seemed to recognize each other, and he soon realized that he wasn't going to get his drink anytime soon. With a glance at Gwyn, he casually slid in behind the counter and fished out a glass for him and her as the other two were catching up after, what he figured, a long time of not seeing each other. Pouring them both a cocktail with practiced precision, he slid one over to her while he sipped at his own.

Things were definitely feeling weird for the total stranger as he shrugged at Jhira's remark with a high-pitched "Ehhhhh." He set a few credits down by the register as he leaned against the counter. "I take it you two know each other well, then? What caused you two to split?" He asked casually.

Gwyneira Vizsla Sergeant Omen Jhira Mereel