| Location | Enduring Flame - The Lake
| Objective | Aliit ory'shya taldin
Withdrawn, and morose. Jenn's greatest qualities, found in her near-unwavering calm, her aura of quietude, the thoughfulness she had about her... had spiraled out of control, and become weakness. Pain. Calm gave way to an inability to feel much of anything. Quietude left her all but silent, no grand speeches nor words of command escaping her lips. And thoughtfulness left her agonizing over her mistakes in that oppressive silence, dissecting all of her poor decisions, one after the other, from the very moment she had first taken the mantle of Alor for herself.
"I've missed you too, ner'ad," came the siren's voice, mournful yet kind. Never had she stopped Varys from spreading her wings, from flying out... for she knew, teenager or not, that a caged bird could only be forlorn. And, sometimes, letting the dearest person in one's life away from them to find their own horizon was more than merely a noble thing to do, but a necessity for their well-being. But when her daughter wrapped an arm around her, entered the cool embrace of this artificial sea-lake she had made for herself, the Sorceress answered in kind, albeit far more mutely than she normally would. Tired, yes... and so many things besides. And still she held her daughter close.
Home, Varys called it. Jenn could never see the Enduring Flame in such a way. It was, to her, a great source of chagrin. A mighty ship, to be sure, and the vessel of their deliverance time and again, ever since their departure from the Mandalorian Enclave... but, for all of her professed desire to see turned into a true home, to try and emulate the greatness she had seen in
Aloy Vizsla
's design with the Black Fleet and Archangel Station, her eyes saw neither beauty nor greatness around her, on those rare occasions she roamed the corridors of the ship. No open sky, rushing rivers, cool wind, briney seas. They could only ever approximate the real thing, and it all flew in the face of her ideology. To embrace the natural world, to live simpler lives, that such may remind them of their roots, of what they once were. A mighty warrior tending to his own crops, his own livestock - had a way of appreciating the more humble people of the Galaxy at large. To respect them, to protect them more fiercely.
But then, Varys spoke, and she listened, tilting her head forward as she motioned into a more comfortable position, half-floating, her shimmering scales and powerful tail breaching the surface as she made herself comfortable. Water clung to it as readily as it did her armor, her skin, her very self. Sorceress, some called her, and her unique bond with the wet made such rumors spread all the more.
Her child had hoped to return to Dantooine. This was hardly a surprise for her, even with Karrys purposefully keeping all that her niece vented to her about to herself, rather than bringing back such worries to the doorstep of her Alor and friend. The mermaid was, after all, a perceptive soul - or so she had once been, before the torpor, the sinking, the drowning. Varys had not abandoned the Amun name, and, although worried sick over it at times, Jenn had never challenged her on it... and drawn her conclusions. When the two had first met, Varys had professed the wish to redeem her aliit, and so Jenn had anticipated an attempt to return to Dantooine and challenge Lyka.
This, she had decided then, would be the time she would finally step in. Shadow her child with a strike team of her own and rescue the girl if she lost her duel, honor be damned, or if the Clan turned on her anyway. Loathe as she was to shed Mandalorian blood on most occasions, Jenn would stop at nothing to keep her daughter safe. Not even wiping out the entirety of a Clan.
What followed, however, did hurt. Because it was the truth, delivered from one of the only persons left she could not outright dismiss. No hope. No future. Nothing but her own misery to sink into, to forget, to stop. That her treasured, cherished child had seen her so low filled her with shame, and so she averted her gaze, and let her tail sink back beneath the water, as if ashamed of that as well. Different. A sea witch, lost in the embrace of water, in its obliviating touch.
It all would have dragged her back under, if not for Varys' talk of an epiphany. That caught her attention. That... dredged up whatever was left of Jenn, and not the Duchess, who, in all of her glory, her wisdom and her tragic fall, had dragged the woman down with her into the depths. Brilliant eyes, glowing ever-so softly, gazed with far more focus now as her child paused her heartfelt explanation, if only to see that her mother was still listening.
That she still was herself. That she understood.
When Varys reached out to take her hand, the Ersansyr accepted such a display of affection from her often-flighty daughter, and with little hesitation. No words flitted out from her lips, all the same. This was Varys' moment, one last Sacrifice to name and walk the path laid out by the long, long shadow of the Pillar of Sacrifice... and so she merely looked to her in silence, giving her the time she needed to vocalize that which she would last shed.
And when that request reached her ears, Jenn awoke from her torpor, if but for a time. The listlessness, the gloom, the emotional deadness, all of it washed away by the cleansing fire of such a declaration. Varys was no helpless little baby bird. She was the phoenix.
Arms and tail alike wrapped around her child, then, holding her close, so close, as if she feared she may lose her forever if she did not hold her tight enough. Beskar against beskar, all as Jenn wept softly, a wave of tender joy rolling over her mind. It was, she realized now, all that she ever needed. Beyond her obsession, her mission, her creed, her dogma - Varys was her daughter. That girl she had taken under her wing, adopted as her own, was far more important to her than her clever machinations.
"Little Fenix, you have made me so, so proud already. And not merely as a Mandalorian, or your Alor, but- as your mother. Seeing you grow, seeing you mature, is the Galaxy's greatest gift to me. Seeing you come into your own. Making me realize, over time, that... I was wrong. To think I would, should, raise you to be a legend in your own right, to place those expectations on you as they were put on me. I care not. Only that you are happy. Ner'ad, you can be everything you set your mind to, this I know. Why would I deny you this, Varys Kryze?"
A warming smile, a face not stained, but elevated by tears of utter joy as she finally pulled away enough to behold her daughter, to rest a hand on her shoulder, to let her see, to understand - that aliit ory'shya taldin. Not a drop of blood, they shared, but mother and daughter they were all the same. Why would it matter, that one had hair of burning fire, and the other black as night? So starkly different, even at a glance?
They were a family of two.
