Private In This Quiet Moment You'll Find Home

[Varys Amun]

Jenn Kryze ​

Sailing through the void in the Inner Rim, there was a ship full of Mandalorian warriors. Aboard that ship, on the lowest deck, there was a pool, illuminated by strips of light from pale sky to deep azure, that cast rippling shadows on the ceiling above. At the entrance, where a corridor gradually sloped down towards the pool, a girl with a shock of black girl sat, toes tracing the edge of the water.

This was a meeting place and she was a visitor awaiting someone important, a woman with a long and storied legacy, who had borne much responsibility, and many titles, but who the girl only knew to be 'Buir.'

Varys Amun stared fixedly at the shadowed depths of the pool, which stretched the length of the ship ahead of her, her keen vision waiting to spot the moment that her mother's aquatic form would emerge from the gloom, her fishy tail propelling her the rest of the way. It was a fruitless effort. As closely as she watched, the water was Jenn Kryze's domain, and Varys was only alerted to her arrival when the splash of her tail revealed her presence. Her eyes turned to see the bright red hair and shining blue eyes, rivulets of water running down her face. Powerful, intimidating, but also comforting and familiar.

Varys was in the first week of her return to the clan, and still very much getting used to life aboard a starship. The lack of a windy coastline to practice her Senaar'sen was certainly an adjustment, and she was already considering petitioning Jenn to retrofit one of the training rooms with some sort of fan. Especially considering she was planning on spending it least the next few months aboard the vessel. Jenn had seemed morose in the few quiet moments Varys had caught glimpse of her alone, and even despite her long absences, Varys had gained a sense that the weight of the Galaxy's troubles, both personal and political, was beginning to wear down her adoptive mother. Varys knew her travels had been necessary for her journey through the Pillar of Sacrifice, but it hurt her to know Jenn was suffering without her there to help. Now, her wandering was ending. It was time for the pair of them to reconnect, and Varys had something very important to tell Jenn.

Varys looked up at her mother, brown eyes meeting the shocking layered and shining blue ones that return her gaze with intensity.

"Buir." said Varys. "I am home. I have a story to tell you, and a favour to ask."

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
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| Location | The Lake - Aboard the Enduring Flame
| Objective | Swim... forget... stop to think.

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Torpor.​

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A dread word, uttered merely in whispers aboard the Enduring Flame. Unease permeated the ship, more so than fear; a truth few dared to speak, but all seemed to know, feeling it down to their very bones. ​

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Jenn be aliit Kryze, Duchess of the New Mandalorians, The Redeemer, had taken them this far. Away from the Mandalorian Enclave as it burned out ingloriously, descending into raiding and barbarism, kept at a safe distance from the ill-fated Mandalorian Protectors... brought to fight against the Neo-Crusaders. And still, they had endured through it all, survived, staked their claim to a world and prospered. Live and die, rise and fall, it seemed they had found their place in the world.​

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But now, they sailed through the stars, and there was no home. What was a ship to them? Hallways, lights, all of it clinical, a facsimile. Although they labored without end in a noble attempt to recreate the beauty of nature aboard, no such victory came to them. Gardens, not forests. Glass ceilings, no skies. None of it was real. None of it was wild. The humble beauty they had grown accustomed to was no more, and they could only grieve for it... grieve, and wonder, for the first time in many years, if their Alor had led them astray.​

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For no grand speeches had been given in many a moon, none of the calm, measured words the Kryz'alor had become so renowned for. With most of her inner council gone, there was nothing for her to do but to fall into a morose state, sitting atop her throne in disquieting silence on most days. Worse, still, it seemed she had grown a habit of coldly dismissing any who sought to challenge her on any one topic, demanding obedience and suffering no disrespect. ​

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Sometimes, she wept.​

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Jenn Kryze epitomized the glory of the New Mandalorian way of life she had created. She was the New Mandalorians. And then, when they were finally victorious, having outlived the Dark Empire entirely and the worst of the Neo-Crusaders... no challenge around them but the distant thread of the Sith, far to the south-west. When the tide finally broke, Jenn broke, too.​

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Now, she existed as a remnant of better times, barely alive, too weak to change, fallen into a deep melancholy. ​

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Water brought her life, still, and so her excursions within the pool lasted longer and longer... until lack of nourishment forced her back to the surface, back to her legs, and back to her torpor atop her throne. This was no wild sea, no unfathomable ocean, no tranquil lake. It lacked a spirit, a soul, but it would have to do for now, it was vast enough for her to swim freely, to feel the caress of water against her features, to be-​

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To be herself. To let her thoughts drift. To dream. Truth was a spear of searing light, and its hallowed fire had scarred her, burned her, as if to punish her for being unworthy of its sacred power. But here, in the water... truth was a different matter altogether. Truth was an embrace. Truth was the sensation of water against her silk-like fin, billowing with every little shift of her tail in a mesmerizing display. Truth was the sheer strength of that single, powerful limb as it sent her gliding through the waves effortlessly.​

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Truth was the manner in which that captivating gaze came to rest upon her daughter, and recognition washed over her. Sad and melancholic, rather than lost in a soul-deep depression which left the New Mandalorians effectively leaderless, and her existence one of drab grayness. ​

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Varys was light. Colors. Emotion. Maternal affection all but forced the mind to start back up again.​

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"Var'ika," called out the Ersansyr in that sing-song voice of hers, so aggrieved and afflicted, yet gentle, and caring. "Speak, ner'ad. Seeing you again is a balm to my heart; tell me of your story, and make your request. I will help, in whatever capacity I may. Have you eaten? Are you rested?"​

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Varys Amun ​