Private Home Fires

[Tessa Monroe]

The Monroe Homestead was usually a place of quiet reflection for the family, it was where titles were left behind and family came together. The homestead rested in arid plains a few clicks outside of Keldabe, a modest house wrapped in a covered porch. It had seen celebrations, arguments, reunions and grief in equal measure. Through every triumph and disaster, the old homestead had endured. Typically, it spent most of its time empty. Yet today it buzzed with activity, and at the centre of it all was Tessa.

She wasn’t entirely sure what the final straw was, the glimpse she caught of her mother on the porch when she thought no one was looking, the light Itzhal had begun bringing back to her eyes almost out, deep-set shadows resting beneath her eyes. Or maybe it was the way Jonah had been so utterly lost in his own thoughts he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. Or the way that Aether’s visits for caff were becoming less frequent and he himself was becoming more withdrawn.

Whatever it was, Tessa was surrounded by people with a heavy weight on their shoulders and she was powerless to relieve it in any meaningful way. She wasn’t used to feeling helpless, every problem had a solution, no matter how big or how complicated the engine, she could fix it. But this? People were infinitely more complex, so she reached for the one thing that helped her feel better, that made her pause for long enough to find a solution instead of beating her head against the wall.

Food.

They’d all received an open invitation. Bring food, bring drink, bring yourselves, bring family.

Leave the titles and the jobs behind.

Blonde hair tied back, an apron protecting her jeans and pale shirt as she carefully glazed the nuna halves resting on the large grill. Her mother moved behind her carrying various dishes out from the kitchen, laying them on a trestle table close by. A mechanical rumble from the front of the house told her that her mother's very old and very senile basilisk had spotted the first of their incoming guests.

“You should power her down, Buir.” she called, setting the glaze down and moving to turn the sausages. “If she fries any more circuits I’m not going to be able to fix her."

Tags: Aether Verd Adelle Bastiel Aselia Verd Siv Kryze Itzhal Volkihar Astraea Vega Mig Gred Vytal Noctura Quinn Varanin Kirae Orade / Reina Daival

​

 

[Vytal Noctura]

​

Vytal knew the Art of Crossing, but often chose not to use it when time was not crucial. Most didn't appreciate people appearing out of thin air. Just being reminded it were possible and difficult to defend again was unsettling on its own. And lo, the Witch of Dathomir slowly stepped foot out of the carriage that'd transported her to the site of the Gathering. As much as it pained her, she'd even opted for red clothing that wrapped itself about her upper and lower bodies, but left her arms bare. A point had been made concerning the social nature of assembly, and so Vytal had put aside the armor she wore -- a familiar outfit from countless years of use and battle.

Emerald eyes turned up at the Basilisk that roused at her arrival. No words were offered to soothe it, however. Unlike Runi, Vytal did not view droids as possessing souls -- though she wouldn't say some of them hadn't learned how to mimic organic lifeform mannerisms and characteristics.

The spirits whispered of there being people around back, and so Vytal made her way toward the rear of the dwelling.

Which led to yet another.. informality. "Tessa." The Pale Witch's dark lips curved upward into a smile. Using another's first name was not unfamiliar, but it wasn't common outside of the Sanctuary. Few outsiders would consider a Witch on a first-name basis, and the same was felt in turn. "Thank you for the invitation." Her eyes glanced toward the grill for a split second. "Is there any food you desire for the occasion? The Sisters hunted Rancor and other meats of Dathomir if you've a taste for exotic." Not every rancor ended up a steed or felt to roam the wild as it willed. Sisters and Brothers had to eat.

Tessa Monroe | Open​

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

"It's just dinner." He muttered under his breath for the fifth time since landing near the Monroe Homestead. It was just dinner, that was the whole point. It was for those who had carried the burdens of Mandalore so its people didn't have to. It was a chance to shed the titles for a night and to enjoy the people under the armor.

Adonis couldn't figure out why he was so nervous.

Admittedly, Mia Monroe was his superior with both the Wardens and the Heathen Army, so going to your boss's house for dinner was always a little rattling. Aether Verd would be there as well, though seeing his brother again didn't inspire the same nerves. The Warden of Vaal hadn't had the chance to get to know Mia as well. He hoped to remedy that this evening, if he didn't choke on his own nerves.

Instinctively, Adonis reached for his armor, trying to pull at straps or fasteners. Instead, his fingers met nothing but fabric. It was an unfamiliar feeling on Mandalore, where Adonis rarely went anywhere without his beskar'gam. That was another reason he was feeling nervous. The Warden had hidden himself in his armor more often than not. After Crucival and his capture, Adonis found refuge in the power of his armor, so being without left him feeling exposed.

He took a deep breath in.

"It's just dinner."

He took a deep breath out.

The door to his rented transport opened with a soft hiss. Then, ready or not, out stepped Adonis, leather boots touching down against hot soil. He stood to his full height, which without the armor was not nearly as impressive. He continued anyways, noting that the boots he was wearing were not broken in yet. Probably another sign he needed to get out more. Behind Adonis was a droid carrying the gifts he had brought for both the party and the host. It was a custom on Vaal to bring gifts anywhere you went, it was a sign of respect to the family and the guests. Admittedly, he hadn't been to many Mandalorian dinner parties, so he wasn't too familiar with the customs.

The droid carried a bag on each arm. The first held fresh-baked bread and a Vaalan stew, prepared with fresh ingredients during the journey from Aran'dyr to Mandalore. Bottles of wine and spirits from Vaal and beyond Mandalorian space lined the other side of the bag. It was enough food and drink that Adonis was suddenly grateful he'd brought the droid to carry it.

The second bag held considerably less, though Adonis had put considerably more thought into it. It was made from dark tanned leather, unworn by sun or weather, its interior lined with soft burgundy fabric. Nestled within was a jar of dark Vaalan honey, wrapped in a square of woven cloth, alongside a small tin of tea from the mountain settlements near Aran'dyr. Nothing particularly extravagant, despite Adonis having spent an embarrassing amount of time deciding what belonged inside.

It was a gift for the household, not the Warden who commanded him. He had to remind himself of that several times while packing it. He was glad that the invitation had been extended to him, almost as glad as he was when he saw he wasn't the first to arrive. Adonis had an almost pathological refusal to be late, which meant he'd spent more than one social gathering helping the host finish setting up while everyone else arrived at a reasonable hour.

Adonis took stock of the homestead as he approached. It was modest, especially against the distant silhouette of Keldabe, but there was something undeniably inviting about it. A home that had been lived in. Somewhere memories had been made. Adonis wondered, briefly, how long it took a house to become something like that. Then, he noted the familiar grumblings of a basilisk droid as he approached, making sure not to rile her up. Instead, he offered a respectful nod of his head as he and his droid passed by.

No trouble from her today.

It seemed everyone was congregating in the back, so that's where Adonis went. The smell found him before the people did. Smoke from the grill carried across the dry air, accompanied by something sweet beneath the heavier scent of roasting nuna. Adonis rounded the side of the homestead to find Tessa Monroe stationed at the grill, while dishes steadily accumulated across a nearby table by none other than the Warmaster herself.

For all the nerves he'd worked himself into, the sight was remarkably ordinary. No war table, no holomaps, no armor lined against a bulkhead waiting for the order to deploy. Just food, conversation, and Mandalorians who, for once, weren't going to war.

Adonis felt his shoulders loosen.

Slightly.

"Tessa." He called in greeting, raising a hand before remembering that the droid behind him was carrying everything. "I wasn't entirely sure what the protocol was, so I may have overprepared."

The droid stepped around him with both bags.

Adonis looked at them, then to Vytal Noctura and Tessa.

"Slightly."

His attention shifted toward the grill.

"Need another pair of hands?"

​

 

[Aether Verd]

Wearing:
Armor - Darksaber - Mask of Mandalore
.​

MONROE HOMESTEAD

The invitation was highly unexpected.

It wasn't unwelcome, mind. If there was one thing that Mand'alor the Iron clearly needed, it was a break. The visions of the morrow and the realities of the present weighed heavily upon his shoulders. It would do him some good to just...be human for an evening. Thus, he arrived shortly after the others. His entrance was very mundane: his Kom'rk-type Fighter/Transport landed a small distance from the homestead and he hoofed it the rest of the way.

When he arrived, he saw some very familiar faces, and each caused a smile to dance upon his lips.

But first, he had to address the woman of the hour: Tessa. Within his grasp, Aether held a black bottle. Every Mandalorian across the Galaxy knew about the black ale contained within. But this one was special. Why? Because Aether had gone on the holonet and threw credits at the priciest bottle he could find, that's why. He didn't know if it tasted any better or different, but he hoped the golden label on the bottle would do the talking.

The message? Thanks.

He held the bottle up and said: "Since this is your party, you get to crack this open first."

He then rendered a polite nod to Vytal, the Witch he admired above all others. "Y'know, I never thought I'd see the day you're not wearing armor. Now I feel over dressed."

And to his brother, Adonis Angelis IV , Aether said nothing initially. He simply did what brothers did - he nudged the man with his shoulder once, twice, and thrice. It was a rare sign of affection, one that left rank and title at the door. One that said good to see you brother.

Tessa Monroe , Vytal Noctura , Adonis Angelis IV + Open

 

[Jonah]

This was the second time Jonah had visited the Monroe Homestead.

The first? Well, it had cemented the bond that he shared with the woman who put this shindig together. Today? She had leveraged that connection in order to have Jonah do her bidding. Never in a million years did he think he'd be standing in Mand'alor the Liberator's kitchen, putting together a meal. However, the blonde-haired smuggler had somehow learned exactly which combination of buttons to press to turn Jonah into a compliant accomplice.

He had just finished tossing the last batch of fried nuna wings when the sound of guests met his ears. Promptly, he added the sauced masterpieces to the platter - which was already adorned with seven different flavors of wing - and stepped forward to join them. Now, had
Jonah put his personal life out there for others to see? Absolutely not. The only person who had a clue that he and Tessa were an item was Aether, and that's because nothing got past him.

But otherwise? Jonah didn't kiss and tell. He wasn't going to be updating his online profiles to be "Spacebook Official" unless she wanted him to. And frankly, he'd be genuinely surprised if she did have a fething Spacebook.

Anyway.

Jonah stepped forward and leaned on the doorframe behind Tessa. His jaw raised in greeting to Aether and Adonis. It was a simple what's up from one brother to another. As for Vytal, his lips pursed for a moment as he overheard that her people had hunted rancor meat. "...How does fried rancor taste?" he asked the woman, tilting his head ever so slightly.

He couldn't imagine it tasted good. But then again, anything deep fried and smothered in sauce had a fighting chance.

Tag: Tessa Monroe , Adonis Angelis IV , Vytal Noctura + Open

 

[Mig Gred]

Mig slowly walked up, a wrap around his left eye as opposed to the usual prothetic. He'd finally taken the chance to get it calabrated.... Ok he was forced to, but still it had needed to work for some time. He looked around, seeing the others there. It was the first time he remembered really getting to rest like this, and he trusted the fleet not to fall apart for the time being. If anything, he was more surprised to be invited.

It wasn't exactly a secret he tended to butt heads with others in the Empire, and Fleet had stayed somewhat separate. Still, he wouldn't say no to some time planetside. The Alor looked over at his boys, Souma and Ilyushin, each carrying something. One with some cooked mynock.... Ok he knew how that sounded, but use what you can out there. Plus the twi'lekk crew members had taught the Greds a thing or two about it. The other was a fleet brewed tihaar. A lot lighter weight, but it worked. Leddie was busy working on her own projects, fixing up that heavy fighter if he saw right.

"Tessa." He said as he nodded before seeing that Illy and Souma were already off and running. He just laghed and shook his head. "Well I was going to introduce the boys, but seems they're on the run." He then looked at the dishes left behind. "Got something a bit... different food wise." Mig admitted, not sure he wanted to explain this one. He looked at Vytal and Aether, nodding in greating.

Tessa Monroe Vytal Noctura Aether Verd Adonis Angelis IV Jonah +open

 

[Kirae Orade]

Tags: Mig Gred Vytal Noctura Tessa Monroe Adonis Angelis IV Aether Verd Jonah
Social event or not, Kirae refused to part herself from her armour. It took all of the willpower she had to leave her shield behind, but to leave her beskar'gam behind would have been a choice she'd never make. The most she'd do was leave her helm off, though she kept it at the ready nestled between her armpit. She needed the protection anyway. Social activities weren't quite her forte after all...

There had been an expectation for the event, to bring some form of nourishment be it food or drink and Kirae was not one to ignore that expectation, as she just held a bag of hard sweets in her hand. It wasn't going to be a feast on her part but it was better than nothing. She wasn't much of a cook herself, considering the amount of slop and junk she was comfortable enough eating herself. Though Kirae knew she didn't have that strong a sense of taste herself.

"I'm just going to sit. Over there. If anyone needs me."

The Bulwark jabbed her thumb over towards a chair set off towards the side. Making her way on over and taking a seat, adjusting her weight ever so slightly to make sure it wouldn't break underneath her. Not every chair was built for someone in beskar to be sat in it. And then as she began her people watching, Kirae just chucked a sweet into her mouth to give herself something to do. She didn't exactly fit in here, as much as she was a Mandalorian like the rest of them, the others were responsible. Carried themselves with an air of confidence and authority. Something she did not.
​

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

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| Location | Mandalore, Outer Rim Territories

It wasn't every day that so many of Mandalore's most famous and infamous gathered without the call of duty or survival—then again, it was hardly surprising; few possessed both the connections and interest to organise such a varied group without the title of Mand'alor affixed to their name.

Naturally, Tessa Monroe had either ignored that little factoid, or far more likely, gleefully trampled over it with every invitation sent across the Empire and even beyond its borders. At least, she'd been kind enough to give a little warning, though it had still come as something of a surprise at the time, half-buried in a nydak nest that had propped up on the planet of Thule. In truth, Itzhal hadn't even realised just how much he needed the moment to rest until after he'd read the message, midway through pulling himself out of the pile of charred and blaster-ridden beasts.

The weeks that followed had passed in the unpleasant blur of time slipping away; the days stacking atop each other like overdue dataslates as fires were quashed, messages were delivered, and more tasks found themselves delegated than Itzhal preferred, in an endless march of logistics and obligation. All for the sake of a single night, unburdened by the duties that often felt as much like an anchor as they did a lifeline.

And now the time had come.

As Itzhal made his way towards the gathering, he paused, a subtle hitch in his step that left a soft wump of dust in his wake. Far louder, the drinks in his side-satchel accompanied the sound, rattling away, while he took in the sight of the border that spanned across the Monroe property, already dotted with other vessels that had anchored before his arrival. He wasn't late—not by any reasonable means—but he wouldn't deny that things hadn't gone exactly as he had planned.

With another step beneath the beat of the sun, heat pouring down upon his unarmoured face, Itzhal stopped not at the doorway, but rather at the hulking figure of the guardian that had served his clan well. "Permission to come inside this time?"

It was merely coincidence that when he drew the zip of the satchel, allowing light to spill into the bag, the very first 'bottle' on top happened to be marked 'Ordo Wells'—and just for the sake of lightening the burden, Itzhal lifted it out of the satchel, the oil can on full display as he loosened a slight smirk.

Tags: Mia Monroe Vytal Noctura Adonis Angelis IV Aether Verd Mig Gred Kirae Orade​

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Adonis Angelis IV | Aether Verd | Itzhal Volkihar | Jonah | Kirae Orade | Mia Monroe | Mig Gred | Tessa Monroe | Vytal Noctura

Mentally, Adelle knew why this shindig was at the Monroe homestead. Tess was the Warmaster’s daughter. Of course she’d still return here, still use the home as needed. And yet, Adelle couldn’t say she was thrilled about setting foot on the Warmaster’s property. She still hadn’t made up her mind about how she felt about the Warmaster herself.

Adelle dismounted the Halberd-441, only slightly tweaked since she had last brought it to Sundari. Phantom hopped up from the sidecar onto her shoulders, claws digging into the new leather jacket she’d finally bought to replace the one lost on Corellia.

It had been one thing after another since Gilaria. The recall, the skirmish on Somov Rit, Uyter and its nonsense… Adelle had been taking analgesics up to the medically safe limit but barely. The invite Tess had given was much needed. With a sealed container of ryshcate in one hand, Adelle walked the short distance from the improvised landing area to the homestead.

In the other hand, she carried a handle of Corellian whiskey. Whyren’s Reserve. It had cost a pretty penny but ever since Tess had challenged her view on usual Corellian tradition, Adelle had started reevaluating what constituted a special occasion. Celebrating normal life with friends had started to count recently. Ahead of her, Itzhal paused by the Monroe bes’ulik, the rusted edges on the chassis showing the droid’s age. The familiarity he seemingly showed to it confirmed what Adelle had only suspected during the Hapes mess. The tension that had eased from her shoulders at the sight of the Protector crept back in. She stuffed it back down as she approached.

“Bribery?” Adelle asked as she stepped around him. The droid’s head snapped up in her direction, a baleful red eye glaring at her. Adelle gave the droid a look and then nodded at the oil can in Itzhal’s hand. “He might just put that away if you don’t seem interested in it.”

Her terrible luck with animals, it seemed, did not ring true for droids. The basilisk stared at her a moment longer before returning its attention to Itzhal’s bribe.

“That’s what I thought.” Adelle nodded to Itzhal before entering the house proper and walking through to the back where things seemed to be happening. Several Mandalorians gathered on the back deck of the house, most of whom she recognized. Aether stood talking with Warmaster Noctura, the Mand’alor looking the most relaxed she’d ever seen in spite of his armor. A tall, broad-shouldered Mandalorian and Jonah Verd, Warmaster of the Nite Owls, stood with them in a small conversational cluster. Two young boys ran from a man with a wrap around his eye in that group, food and drink in hand. Kirae sat in a chair away from the conversation, isolating herself, which tracked from what Adelle could remember of their only interaction.

And of course, there was Warmaster Monroe.

Adelle tried to ignore Monroe, not wanting to let her own hang-ups ruin the get-together. She gave Tess a smile and found a place on the table for the ryshcate. The Whyren’s she put with the other bottles. Phantom hopped down onto the table and then the ground at a gentle nudge from Adelle, her tail twitching indignantly. A lot of Mandalorian leadership was here. Adelle couldn’t help but wonder if Aselia had also been invited. It’d make things easier to deal with if her partner was here.

 

[Mia Monroe]

Tags: Itzhal Volkihar Adonis Angelis IV Aether Verd Jonah Vytal Noctura Mig Gred Kirae Orade Adelle Bastiel

Tessa had been a whirlwind of purpose, evicting her mother from the kitchen and inviting Jonah to help her. She hadn’t argued, steering clear of her daughter’s mission and only stepping in when she was asked, but she had watched, she had seen the smiles, the touches that lingered too long between her and The Nite Owl, she had heard the banter that had flowed easily between them.

She set the last bowl of side dishes on the trestle table and retreated to the porch, leaning on the railings to watch as people arrived, shaking her head at her daughter's suggestion she shut A’den down.

“She’ll be fine.”

The leaders of the Empire were about to be gathered in one place, a place that didn’t have in-built defences or early warning systems should an attack arrive. It just had A’den. She was not about to take that singular warning away. Not that she ever expected an attack all the way out here, but it didn’t hurt to err on the side of caution.

She nodded her head in greeting to Vytal and Adonis, watching as Aether joined them an ease already settled over him she’d not seen in a while. Mig brought his boys and the sight of them running riot and laughing shifted something in Mia’s chest. She remembered Halvard Monroe and Tessa doing the same once upon a time. This was the most alive the homestead had felt in a while.

As Kirae found herself a seat away from the rest of them Mia felt her attention pull to the other side of the house, Itzhal’s familiar signature bringing a smile to her face. She straightened, turning as Adelle crossed the porch and moved to join the others before slipping back into the house and crossing the open living space towards Itzhal.

She found him attempting to bribe A’den and let out a small chuckle. “Why am I not surprised?” she said, rolling her eyes. She descended the steps to approach him, closing the distance to settle a hand against his chest, studying him for a moment before bringing her forehead to his, tension that was set deep in her shoulders easing. “Su’cuy.” she breathed softly.

Behind her the basilisk let out an impatient, mechanical snort, clearly wanting her bribe for allowing these intruders entry without complaint. Mia laughed, breaking away. “Come on, before she decides that shooting both of us will be an easier way to get her prize.” She turned away, making for the steps, pausing to pass a hand over the worn beskar plates of the droid.

 

[Tessa Monroe]

It didn’t take long before people began to arrive and Tessa found herself at the centre of something she would never have imagined in a million years. Vytal came first, the nightmother was power and grace, even without her armour, her greeting bringing a smile to her face as Tess moved the nuna halves to a serving tray, balanced on one hand.

"Is there any food you desire for the occasion? The Sisters hunted Rancor and other meats of Dathomir if you've a taste for exotic."

“Oh, Rancor would be great!”

Adonis appeared with more than enough of a contribution, his comment regarding protocol earning a snort of laughter. “The protocol is, there isn’t any.” she offered with a wink before jumping at the offer of help. “Yes, take these,” she handed him to tongs as she set the last nuna on the platter, “and don’t let the sausages burn.”

She moved, carrying the platter to the table as Aether arrived she set it down, accepting the bottle with a smile, eyes skimming over the golden label she tiptoed briefly to place a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll get us glasses.” To her he was never Mand’alor, he was just Aether, but the familiarity might catch others off guard.

"...How does fried rancor taste?"

Tessa’s expression shifted to one of horror, turning to regard Jonah resting in the doorway.

“Heathen.” she replied, eyes twinkling with amusement. “You don’t deep fry rancor, you grill it. And it tastes great, especially with a spice rub. Third row down on the left hand side of the spice rack, if you don’t mind.” She winked at him, fingers snatching glasses from the table and cracking the bottle of ne’tra gal and pouring one for her and one for Aether, before setting the bottle with the others and handing Aether his glass as Mig arrived.

She offered him a wide smile as his boys ran off and shrugged. “Let them run, just…if they find any scrap droids out there, make sure they don’t touch them. I don’t know what my mother has been tinkering with.” She nodded towards the trestle table. “Different is good! Life would be boring if everything was the same.”

The table was already beginning to run out of room, the smell of spices flowing on the warm breeze as Adelle made her way towards them adding her own dish to the growing collection. Tessa moved towards her, setting her glass briefly on the table to embrace her friend in a brief hug. “Ol’val.” she said quietly, pulling away to grab her glass again.

Vytal Noctura Adonis Angelis IV Aether Verd Jonah Mig Gred Adelle Bastiel Itzhal Volkihar​

 

[Sylor]

Objective - Cooking tasty goods. - Don't burn kitchen down.​

Sylor was not used to this. Outside of his armor, it seemed so foreign to him. Yet the cause itself was a good enough reason to shed the shield that he held over himself for the day. He had been in the kitchens for the better part of the day, preparing good, hearty food for those who led the Mandalorian Empire. True, honorable people in their own way, they were a force to be reckoned with on any day or night.

Today, though, they were simply friends meeting with one another to laugh and be merry. And while he was not among the leadership, he was still trusted enough to provide a well-made meal for the gathering. By all that was good and right, that was more than enough for him.

While several others had brought food as well, it was safe to say there would be plenty to eat for days to come. He dusted his hands on the apron he wore before moving out to set more dishes before the group.

"Sorry, coming through."

Additional breads, steaks of various kinds, along with what the others had brought. Once everything had been laid out, he moved among the gathering, filling their cups, then filling one for himself.

This was part of mandalorian life, there wasn't anything better in the world.

Vytal Noctura Adonis Angelis IV Aether Verd Jonah Mig Gred Adelle Bastiel Itzhal Volkihar

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

​

| Location | Mandalore, Outer Rim Territories

Dust swirled in the air, stirred up by the powerful respulsorlift engines that howled with their approach, creating a swirling cloud that stretched outward from the bustling cities into the embrace of the untamed wildlands, and towards their little slice of civilisation nestled within. There, the minimalist silhouette of the Halberd-441 sliced through the distance, metal plates strapped to a missile that screeched towards its target, undaunted by the open plains that only allowed it to push faster, harder, until it reached its destination. With a resonant thrum, the swoop bike shuddered, the engine emitting a final, strained wail as it slowed to a crawl, where it hung momentarily in the air before it powered down.

Adelle dismounted from the craft, her movements deliberate and measured, as if she were threading a delicate line between the journey that remained—a few steps, bringing her over the borderline—and the destination that awaited her. Phantom, her companion, clung to her with a gentle urgency, its claws digging into the leather jacket draped over her shoulders, which flexed with every subtle movement. In one hand, she held a sealed case, the contents handled with delicate care. In the other, she wielded a bottle of whiskey, the familiar colour twinkling under the rays of sunlight, while her fingers wrapped around the handle like a bludgeon.

"If it works, it works," he answered, casual as he shrugged, the can of oil in his hand rising and falling rhythmically, while the crimson red optics of A'den swayed between Adelle and the can as it tracked its movement with an intense focus. As the basilisk's attention switched to Adelle, Itzhal's gaze wandered away from the hulking frame of metal plates and powerful pistons to land upon the troubled young woman he called a friend, offering a nod as she started to leave, "I'll see you inside."

That was the intention, at least, as both the lawkeeper and droid turned their attention back to each other. A deep, resonant rumble of judgement rolled forth from the depths of A'den's core, emanating outwards from the sound projectors embedded in its metallic frame, a low vibration that pulsed like a gavel against hardwood.

Around the corner of his eyes, the folds of skin tightened. His fingers hovered carefully over the lukewarm metal of the can, skin prying against the tab but never quite committing to the decisive pull that would expose its contents. The standoff lingered, each second stretching like a taut string, until a soft, melodic chuckle broke the silence.

It was Mia, stepping forward with a graceful confidence, positioning herself effortlessly beside him, a bulwark between her guardian and the intruder that had stumbled beneath her defences. Her hand found a comfortable resting place on his chest, the warmth radiating through the fabric of his shirt, the tips of her fingers inches from the dip of his collar, where pale skin lay exposed over the hollow of his neck. He leaned forward, the broad stretch of his chin settling upon her fingers, as their foreheads met in the embrace. "Su'cuy," he breathed, his exhale soft against the shared space.

Unwittingly, the Mandalorian Protector's attention flickered over her shoulder, towards the mechanical menace, his fingers digging deep into the curves of the metal can, ready to throw it away. Before he could, though, Mia broke their connection, her laughter tinkling across the dunes, as the heat against his skin lingered. With a grumble that was not quite words, he shook his head, stray strands of silver and grey falling upon his forehead.

He offered the can, outstretched arm not towards A'den, but instead towards the woman that had settled between them, "I think it best you're the one to hand it over; I might lose a hand at this rate."

Direct: Mia Monroe Adelle Bastiel​

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

Things happened quickly on the Monroe Homestead, it seemed. Before he had a chance to feel out of place, his brothers and sisters began to arrive. Tessa Monroe was the first to rescue him from himself, pressing the tongs into his hand almost immediately. He was worried he would start to get jittery if he didn't have a task, not working was something Adonis wasn't used to. Work had always settled him.

Three familiar taps landed against his shoulder, softer than usual without the pauldrons there to ring beneath the impact. Adonis turned toward Aether Verd , meeting him with an easy smile. The greeting needed nothing more than that. There were no reports to give, no strategy to discuss, and no decisions demanding either of their attention. For one evening, they were simply brothers.

His attention returned to the grill as he poked one of the sausages with the tongs, checking how ready they were before moving to the next. Grilling was something he'd grown up doing with his father. On those warm nights there was no business to attend to, and no calls were accepted. It had been one of the few times his father stopped being the man who represented Vaal and simply became Dad. Standing over the Monroe's grill, Adonis finally understood why those moments had mattered so much.

The protocol droid returned a short while later, its hands now free of the gifts that it delivered. Resting carefully in its grasp was a tumbler of whiskey, poured exactly how Adonis liked it. He accepted it with a quiet thanks before taking a first sip. Then he took a bigger one.

It tasted amazing.

His gaze wandered over the gathering as he rested the glass within easy reach of the grill. Tessa moved effortlessly from guest to guest, making each arrival feel welcome. Mig Gred arriving and his kids running around. Even Kirae Orade making an appearance, even if it was away from the others. The whole gathering carried an ease that Adonis hadn't expected. No business- only good food, good company, and the quiet crackle of the grill in front of him.

He used the tongs to flip one of the sausages over.

Perfect sear.

TAG: Adelle Bastiel Itzhal Volkihar Sylor Mia Monroe Vytal Noctura Jonah
​

 

[Mig Gred]

Mig looked at Tessa, chuckling as he followed where the twins went with his eye. “Spent their whole lives on a warship. They know not to touch. Leddie might would try, but she’s busy working on her own fighter.” He looked out at the homestead, taking a breath. “Sorta reminds me of home.” He said, not referring to the fleet. To his old home on Concord Dawn. Made it nice honestly. Still, he looked at the dish in hand, picking up a piece.

He then looked at Adonis and Sylor, new faces to him, and smiled a bit. “Guess I should give some fair warning. This is mynock. And before you ask” he started, looking at Jonah since he heard the previous question, and Tessa’s response. “You don’t wanna fry it. Grilled with enough spices to kill a stormtrooper.”

Meanwhile, Illy had gotten every curious of Phantom, slowly getting closer and looking at Adelle. “Is that your pet?” He asked curiously. Souma meanwhile seemed to look for what trouble he could find as he was looking around the homestead for adventure.

Tessa Monroe Kirae Orade Adelle Bastiel Itzhal Volkihar Sylor Mia Monroe Vytal Noctura Jonah

 

[Mia Monroe]

Tags: Itzhal Volkihar Mig Gred Adelle Bastiel Aether Verd Jonah Vytal Noctura Adonis Angelis IV Kirae Orade Sylor

Mia reached for the can, her fingers lingering for a moment as they brushed Itzhal’s. “You think I’m much safer at this point?” she teased before turning back to A’den whose metal maws snapped with either excitement or impatience as Mia extended the gift, she rose onto all fours, rust staining the ground as she did, gently taking the can from Mia’s hands and moving away with it.

The Warmaster watched her for a moment, fingers linking slowly with Itzhal’s, leaning on him for a moment. Mia would have given everything to ride A’den again, but between her own schedule and Tessa’s it was taking far longer to repair her than Mia would’ve liked.

With a soft sigh, Mia pulled away leading them through the house. “Almost everyone is here, Aselia hasn’t shown up yet but I’m not sure what Aether has her working on and I daren’t ask within earshot of Tessa.”

Her lips curved slightly at the thought, Tessa’s rule of no work talk had been laid down with a fierceness that rivalled her own and she knew well enough testing that boundary would not be worth the consequences.

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

​

| Location | Mandalore, Outer Rim Territories

Beneath the surface of his skin, the warmth of Mia's gentle touch radiated through him, a soothing heat that held onto him long after her fingers had slipped away, leaving the blissful memory within reach. His fingers flexed, released of the burden that had held them tense, tendons stretched and twitched with anticipation as if reaching outwards for something else to grasp, or rather someone.

"Safer?" he pondered, allowing his words to fill the air, his hands dripping low to his belt, where thumbs threaded the curved loops near to his holsters, while his eyes followed her movements towards A'den. "Relinquish the thought; it may be a few tons of metal and machinery built for war, but there's a reason why any warrior worth their value would fear the rider as much as the mount. I believe, Mrs Monroe, that you are as safe as you deem to be. But, that said, I think I have much more to fear from that particular set of jaws," he nodded towards A'den, the motion a little more exaggerated than necessary without the obstruction of his buy'ce.

At least, the droid seemed happy with the gift.

With a subtle twist of his wrist, he extended his hand, inviting hers to join with a gentle confidence. In turn, their fingers interlaced once more, warmth coursing through him like the soft presence of a nearby hearth, melting away worries and concerns until all the tension in his muscles faded, replaced by the comforting embrace they shared. It was a shame that it could not last forever.

When the time came, and they were forced to part, he held onto the warmth, cradling it in his grip as he followed into their home.

"Now, is that respect I hear or fear?" He drawled, words laced with gentle teasing.

Tags: Mia Monroe​

 

[Vytal Noctura]

​

The Pale Witch turned to look over at Jonah with her emerald gaze. She looked back to the grilled before she responded, "Fried? I wouldn't know. Roasted over a fire? Like victory." Her head turned back toward Joanh, and a second later a small smile graced her black lips. "Those of Dathomir did not use explosives or blasters to fell a rancor. They are beasts worthy of hunting. A trial for the young to prove they have come of age. Rich and flavor to celebrate their achievement."

After a brief pause, Vytal added, "And earthy." Some offworlders didn't appreciate it, but it wasn't overwhelming. Just not sweet or full of fatty juices. One just had to look at a rancor to know the marbling wasn't going to be extensive. They were a lean species, but one with muscles that could crush boulders.

Tessa Monroe spoke up about the idea of frying the meat as well, of course. Spices were a good addition to the process, the Witch agreed with a nod.

A soft grunt followed. "I could have the Spirits tie them down, if you wish." Vytal turned to regard Tessa and Aether as they looked after the young that might fall afoul of droids. Better a possessed droid with a spirit that wouldn't do anything, or a spirit guide in case a droid did try something. Not that everyone felt comfortable enough around spiritual energies. Not much a humble Witch of Dathomir could do about others' sensibilities though; all she could do was offer.

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Direct: Tessa Monroe | Mig Gred || Aether Verd | Vytal Noctura | Itzhal Volkihar | Sylor | Jonah | Kirae Orade | Adonis Angelis IV

This was the second time a blonde surprised her with a hug. Granted, perhaps Adelle should’ve anticipated this one. Still, it wasn’t unwelcome. Adelle put one arm around her friend, returning the embrace. Hearing Olys Corellisi come out of Tess’s mouth wasn’t as surprising as hearing it from Itzhal, but it still startled her to hear it at this gathering, of all places.

“Ol’val,” Adelle said. “Minmin devus’av sci Valle prek Olys Corellisi.”

A sudden thought struck her with the force of one of Mia’s boulders. Itzhal was Field Marshal of the Protectors, the legal arm of the Mandalorian Empire. Tess was a smuggler and knew Corellian smugglers. If there were two people that weren’t going to see eye-to-eye on things, it’d be them.

“Ah, fair warning,” Adelle said, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’m teaching it to Itzhal Volkihar. He asked and, well, I like speaking my people’s language.”

“Is that your pet?”

Before she could either apologize or explain further, a young voice spoke up. Adelle turned and saw a boy standing nearby, gaze fixed on Phantom riding her shoulders.

“Sort of. The doctors told me I have some injuries that bacta can’t heal and told me I needed to find someone to help me when those injuries flare up and hurt again,” she said. Adelle couldn’t put an age to the boy so she erred on the side of being understood without trying to dumb things down too much. “Phantom is a therapy animal. That means she helps me when that happens but when they don’t hurt, she hangs around just in case. So while I take care of her like a pet, most of the time she’s kinda like a doctor for me. Does that make sense?”

She hadn’t seen many therapy animals among the Mandalorians and often felt like an outlier because of it, but maybe that was just a perception thing. Maybe the kid’s clan had therapy animals around. Phantom’s tail flicked and one ear turned back towards Adelle’s face.

<<Should listen more.>>

Adelle resisted the urge to roll her eyes. <<You’d have me napping all day.>>

She got the distinct impression that Phantom saw no problem with that possibility. The spukami stood and arched her back in a stretch before she hopped down to the ground and shook herself. <<See Gold Queen. Want pets.>>

“Also most of the time, she does what she wants,” Adelle added quietly.

 

[Aether Verd]

Wearing:
Armor - Darksaber - Mask of Mandalore
.​

MONROE HOMESTEAD

When Mig arrived, Aether turned and saw the two boys scampering off first. The sight saw the man chuckle before he greeted the Alor with a nod. "I can see you have your hands full with the next generation, good on you vod." The words he spoke were genuine, for in that moment the Mand'alor felt he could understand the Gred family just a smidge more. When the time for conquest came, Aether imagined that the Gred's notable restraint...well, it came from family. Not ego. Not bravado. Simply an unspoken regard for one's fellow man.

Aether made a mental note of that before the Bulwark stepped past and claimed a couch for herself. "Ohhhh no you don't ma'am." he said, before motioning for her to bring that ass back here. "You and I are gonna have a chat, it's been long overdue, don't you think?" In truth it had been eons since he had seen Kirae and curiosity drove the man in this regard.

The only thing that gave Kirae a little rope was when Itzhal approached and asked if he could come inside. The Mand'alor bit his bottom lip. He'd let that one slide just this once. Only because he didn't know how deep Itzhal's sense of humor was...or if the man even had one...Aether blinked. Had they ever spoken when there wasn't explosions in the background?

Behind Itzhal arrived everyone's favorite designated adult: Adelle. Aether rendered a polite nod to her as she approached, further chewing the hilarity down. It just wouldn't do to expose his sense of humor to a woman of such caliber, right?

From thence, Aether found the couch that Kirae had claimed and unceremoniously deposited himself in it. The night was young, the vibes were just right...and for a chance, the Mand'alor felt relaxed.

Tessa Monroe | Mig Gred | Aether Verd | Vytal Noctura | Itzhal Volkihar | Sylor | Kirae Orade | Adonis Angelis IV | Adelle Bastiel