Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Faction Inheritance (DIA)




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Zara blinked up at the blaster aimed at her face like it was a party trick gone too far. Her limbs were still tingling from the stun round, her braid was a mess, and there was definitely a bruise blooming somewhere just beneath her ego. But her voice? Her voice still worked just fine.

"Force," she muttered, eyes narrowing, "I didn't know Mandalorians were so fragile. Say a few words, and suddenly it's threats and weapons and very dramatic posturing. Do they all break this easily, or is this one just special?"

She smiled, teeth bright, infuriating.

"You should really get a hobby, Mand'alor. One that doesn't involve pointing your feelings at people like loaded weapons. You're not a martyr, you're a monument to overreaction."

A beat passed. Then another. Her gaze didn't flinch. She stared down the barrel, lashes fluttering with insolent poise.

"Go on then," she whispered. "Make me a symbol. That'll go over so well when we start carving this war into history books."

And she would've kept going.

Zara absolutely would've kept going, probably would've called him a walking bucket with daddy issues next, if Rokul's hand hadn't cracked down against her neck in a sharp, practiced blow.

The world turned sideways. The cantina lights flickered in her eyes like starlight through tears.

Cowards, she thought, as darkness swallowed her.

---

Pain was the first thing she felt. Second was indignation. Third was the awful, awful recycled air of a Diarchy shuttle.

Her eyes shot open. She groaned like a wounded animal and flopped dramatically onto her back against the cushioned bench.

"You knocked me out," she croaked, glaring up at the ceiling. Then she turned her head sharply toward Rokul, eyes blazing with betrayal and post-stun vengeance. "You fething betrayed me."

She sat up too fast, regretted it instantly, and then did it again out of spite.

"You don't get to decide when I leave a conversation. You especially don't get to body-slam my dignity into unconsciousness in front of an entire bar full of emotionally unstable tin cans!"

She jabbed a finger in his direction, which wobbled only slightly from the residual neural backlash.

"They don't deserve diplomacy, Rokul. They deserve a mirror and a therapist. You think honor gives them the right to execute people over bad PR? What are they, Sith with helmets?"

She let out a huff and leaned back against the wall, rubbing her temple.

"Reign better put that glorified tin soldier on a leash before I go back there and really make the next round personal."

A pause. Then a glare.

"...And don't think you're off the hook. You owe me caf. And a foot rub."

She crossed her arms like a defiant queen on a slightly wobbly throne, blonde hair now a wild halo of war-torn glamor. Because Zara Saga may have lost consciousness.

But she had not lost the argument.

Not even a little.




 

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Location: Taris
Tags: Aether Verd Aether Verd Laphisto Laphisto

As Rokul Rokul carried the Archon away, Reign returned his attention to the Mand'alor. They were nearly face to face now with the other man's most recent approach. The Diarch stared into the visor in front of him. Mulling over the terms.

"I would expect no less, should you come to Diarchy space, it would be much the same. We welcome visitors but none are allowed passage without supervision."

He let some of the tension release from his shoulders as he continued.

"Order must be maintained, as leaders we have an obligation to stand as the bulwark against the chaos of the galaxy. I am glad we could find reason."

Reign looked to Laphisto behind him.

"Laphisto will be happy to coordinate with your forces. As long as the corridors are secure, relief will continue. Taris has seen enough war, she deserves peace"

The Mandalorian did not seem as headstrong as Reign had initially thought, he was just another leader trying to look out for his people.

"There is no need for conflict between our peoples. We have an accord"

Reign motioned to a seat in the corner

"If you can spare the time, I would honor you with a drink, and perhaps discuss other things"




 
Third was the awful, awful recycled air of a Diarchy shuttle.

Rokul Rokul Zara Saga Zara Saga

The shuttle had a pilot: a Chancellorate of Commerce navigator, Merion Oreno by name, recently a survivor of the cantina confrontation. If not for Laphisto Laphisto 's intervention and Diarch Reign's diplomacy, Merion was fairly sure he'd have caught stun fire or worse. The margins had been that slim. And while he was angry at the Mandos, eager for confrontation, he had more than his share of anger towards the woman who'd been so cavalier.

Zara's latest speech percolated from the cargo bay. Merion eased up from the skyline of Taris toward low orbit. His orders were to get her off Taris before she got anyone killed. The powers that be wanted a word.

"You know," he called back down into the cargo bay, "there's a saying in Commerce: the purpose of a system is what it does. Intent or labels aren't much compared to the actual outputs. I figure it applies to people too. For example, if someone was to set out to undermine a humanitarian effort, provoke violence, discredit the Diarchy, and cause the Diarches a whole lot of stress and lost time — if that's what they'd tried to do — their results wouldn't be much different than yours."

He glanced over his shoulder for a better sense of the cargo bay and its occupants.

"So, system, what's your purpose?"
 
There was little that escaped Iandre's attention. She noticed the quiet conversation going on in the corner that was none of her business. What was her business was what was happening in front of her. Zara was trying to start a war by being a brat, and then shot. Luckily, it was with stun shots.

Her first Master had always instructed her to wear a Force Barrier whenever she was in unfamiliar territory. The current state of Taris was precisely that. Her armor should have also protected her, but the wing of Laphisto flashed out and did the same. Keeping that barrier up, she drew her blaster at the exact moment the others of the Lilaste Order did. Like theirs, she lowered it when they dropped theirs.

Turning only slightly when Diarch Reign entered, she had moved enough to allow him to pass through. Pushing aside her heebie jeebies, this was not the situation to have that hanging between them. Watching as he spoke and approached the Mand'alor. With soothing words, slick promises, and a swift chop to Zara's neck to knock her out, the hostile situation started to be defused.

Iandre was more than happy to allow Rokul and Merion to assist in removing Zara. When Laphisto spoke, she and his men listened. Since he was her Master, she remained and holstered her blaster. She still had to break her silence, and her helmet covered her face. So similar to the Mandalorians yet so different. Her opinion of them was the same as it was over 900 years ago. They aren't allies but not enemies either.

Aether Verd Aether Verd Diarch Reign Diarch Reign Laphisto Laphisto
 


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"Unfortunately, for her, words are also an action with rules all their own," the Shaman replied to Rokul Rokul . As the seconds passed it became clearer that despite how impressed Rokul was with Zara, the lively woman was begging to be shot dead on the spot. Mandalorians weren't blood thirsty in the sense people believed, but they did not shy away from spilling it. If there was one thing they would spill blood over it was honor; and Zara was constantly defying not just a Mandalorian of authority or acclaim, but The Mand'alor, Aether Verd Aether Verd . A response was inevitable, and from what Runi had seen of this young Mand'alor so far it would not be 'polite.'

In fact, the situation got tense enough for Rokul to not only attempt to subdue his valued companion, but their leader to reveal himself and petition Aether for understanding.

Runi for her part had subtly used the Manda to divert any fired ammunition from anything it hadn't been meant to destroy. They were stun rounds -- to that point -- but there was no need for a hapless bartender to be struck down, or the cantina to end up with holes.

Her hazel eyes met those of Rokul Rokul as the man prepared to remove Zara to keep her from lasting harm. The Shaman nodded her head in response to his smile. Things had not gone well, but they could have been far worse. That the man sought to help prevent it from getting out of control spoke well of him. Peace was always preferable to suffering.

Then she looked to Ze'bast Verd Ze'bast Verd to see if the man would require any assistance coordinating with Laphisto Laphisto .

 

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TARIS - CANTINA

Even stunned, the blonde animal kept flapping her gums.

Aether could hardly believe it. The sheer audacity. The sheer stupidity. The fool had been moments from death, had heard Bastion named as the next target, and still she refused to hold her tongue. He began to wonder if the old stereotypes held fruit. Were all with her hair color that daft?

No matter.

She was being carried out now. Not by force of Mandalorian arms, but by one of her own who had the sense to strike her down before worse came. Aether watched as she was hauled off like a sack of meat and offered only a nod in return. Nothing more. No words. Not for him.

Words were for the one who wore the crown. His attention returned to Reign.

The man spoke with calm. Measured. Stated that they had an accord. That his people would coordinate, that order would be honored.

That was enough.

The Mand’alor tilted his head slightly, eyes settling on the crimson armor nearby.

"Ze’bast. See it done."

He did not need to say more. His sibling would understand. He would coordinate with this Laphisto. He would ensure that what aid came from the Diarchy reached those who needed it. No more. No less.

Then came the rest.

"Order must be maintained," Aether said plainly. "It is not a slogan. It is a truth. There are too many in this galaxy who would prey on the broken and exhausted. Too many who would take advantage of a world like this while her bones are still settling."

He paused, letting his words settle.

"Taris deserves rest. She will have it."

For a moment, Aether studied the man across from him. The Diarch. A neighbor. A leader. Perhaps more.

Then, finally, the Mand’alor gave a nod.

"I would be a poor host if I did not break bread with my neighbor."

His voice lost none of its gravity. But it had cooled.

"What did you have in mind?"

Then, before stepping further, he looked toward the Shaman.

He had felt it. The way the Force moved during the moment of tension. The way it shielded what needed shielding, guided what needed guiding. He met Runi’s gaze and gave her a small nod.

There was no need for words.

She would know what it meant.

 


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TAG: Aether Verd Aether Verd / Diarch Reign Diarch Reign / Runi Kuryida Runi Kuryida / Laphisto Laphisto / Iandre Athlea Iandre Athlea / Merion Oreno Merion Oreno / Zara Saga Zara Saga / Rokul Rokul

He was astonished by the sheer brazenness. The audacity to keep speaking—defiant and undeterred made it clear she wasn’t going to learn. Ze’bast had already fired a warning shot and now lowered his blaster to a low ready. He didn’t bother to shake his head; the display didn’t even warrant that. The fact that beings like this still existed in the galaxy gnawed at his warrior’s soul.

Fortunately, someone she knew had taken action—knocking her unconscious before things escalated further. His finger had lingered over the trigger, eager for a second round—one that wouldn't be non-lethal. Respect carried weight here, and fomenting insurrection came with consequences. Still, Ze’bast found a sliver of calm creeping back in.

Those aligned with her tried to salvage the situation, and for that, he was grateful.

Then, a man who appeared to be their liege spoke up. Reign offered coordination between Laphisto and the Empire. Aether issued a command shortly after, and Ze’bast gave a firm nod as he holstered his weapon.

“Good to go, Mand’alor.”

He had caught Runi’s eye earlier. There was something in her that suggested she could be of help.

“Lady Shaman,” Ze’bast called out, “I could use your assistance. The more hands, the better.”

His gaze then turned to Laphisto, the tension in his shoulders continuing to ebb.

“Vod, it’s probably best we take this outside,” he said with a gesture toward the exit.

Ze’bast stepped out, pacing a few meters from the cantina doors. Whatever came next, he intended to see it handled cleanly and with purpose.



 

Location: Taris
Tags: Zara Saga Zara Saga Merion Oreno Merion Oreno

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Rokul listened to Zara's croaking, his arms folded along his front as he stared down at the Archon. Not letting his face show anything for now, letting Zara throw her anger at him. He was a better target anyway. Unlike the Mandalorians, Rokul wouldn't shoot at Zara for saying some mean words at him. Though he did raise his finger in the air for a moment to interupt her mid argument.

"I chopped your dignity. Not bodyslammed. Bodyslamming is too crude."

Plus it would have been too violent for the situation. The chopping motion had been efficient. It had brought a somewhat end to the tensions, at least Rokul had hoped so. Rokul opened his mouth, preparing to agree with Zara about her opinion of the Mandalorians...Up until he heard that they had some form of audience, causing Rokul to change his stance ever so slightly. He was willing to shed his armour and shell around Zara, and the Diarchs. He was not willing to do so amongst the regular rank and file. For now, he cleared his throat, glaring at Zara this time as he spoke.

"You forget yourself Archon. You can't go risking your life like you did in the Cantina. You're invaluable to the Diarchy. You aren't replaceable like me. Now I'll go work on making that caf."

It was true in Rokul's mind. It was part of why he had risked his own safety to protect Zara. He was just a regular soldier. A typical member of the rank and file. There were hundreds, if not thousands more like him. But there were only three Archon. Not as easily replaceable. Either way, he stepped off to go and find if this damned Shuttle had some form of caf machine.​

 

Laphisto

High Commander of the Lilaste Order
Laphisto brought a closed fist to his chest and gave a respectful bow towards Ze'bast Verd Ze'bast Verd giving a whistle to his men and throwing his hand in the air pointer finger up and spinning in a circle " alright men grab your gear and let's move. Enough sitting around." Turning from the Mandalorian laphisto looked to Iandre Athlea Iandre Athlea and gave her a soft subtle nod before heading outside arms crossed over his chest with a small growl before looking at the super commando again

" I wouldn't pay any mind to the blond one. She's a finatic every factions got a few of those. My only hope is the Diarchs react appropriately. If not them than I will ensure of it myself. Her insults were uncalled for. And for that I apologize." He gave a small chuckle shaking his head gently

" I'm surprised manda'lor didn't call for her head truth be told. Gods know if this was the neos they would have. " He rumbled out softly his ear pinning back on his head before giving it a small shake ", I am pleased to see our kin on a less fanatical path. One similar to the protectors "
 
The silent exchange of eye motion and nods was all the language Iandre needed. With the words spoken by Ze'bast and the instructions from Laphisto, she silently fell in line with everybody except the Mand'alor and the Diarch to head outside.

Listening to Laphisto, she wondered what was going to happen to Zara. One thing she knew was that her friend wasn't going to be killed, even if the blonde might deserve it.

Laphisto was the best person she knew and would follow him...even to death if it was needed. Neither of them would be required to pay that price today.

Her helmet remained in place, and she took up her position next to her master.

Laphisto Laphisto Ze'bast Verd Ze'bast Verd Runi Kuryida Runi Kuryida
 


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Runi did not nod back so none that watched would know for whom Aether Verd Aether Verd 's acknowledgement was meant. It was her Way not to stand out. The Manda was meant to serve its people, not be a neon sign to conjure accolades. To protect and serve the Mando'ade was its own reward.

Ze'bast Verd Ze'bast Verd seemed inclined for her to openly assist, which brought Runi to rise to her full height. As she moved to follow those outside, the feather-cloaked woman paused to lay a hand and lean down to whisper to the woman from earlier. A good deal of adrenaline had happened in such a short time; not quite what the survivors needed. She would remember to visit the woman later after things had calmed down to ensure she was doing well.

She stepped outside as Laphisto Laphisto began to address Ze'bast. Runi watched the man's expression and listened to the inflection of his words carefully. A fanatic, he'd called Zara. He was not wrong, but the Shaman couldn't help but notice just how familiar a few members had been with this fanatic. Curious they'd managed to make it this far among them; near enough to set fire to the Mand'alor's ears -- and very nearly her own head.

"He had." Runi neither scowled nor smile at the pronouncement. "A single moment was all that separated her from the next life. Audible words had not necessary to seal her fate." It was no boast or threat. Merely a cautionary reminder for the future. It was doubtful Aether would forget either Zara's name nor her face. A second such encounter would not begin with a stun round. Runi hoped the woman understood just how short the rope was with which she could hang herself next time. It would be the Manda's good fortune if Laphisto or the Diarch were around then with even grander words to forestall such fate.

 



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Zara rolled her eyes so hard she practically saw the back of her own skull. She flopped sideways on the bench like a spoiled heiress recovering from mild turbulence, which, in fairness, wasn't far off. Her boots thunked dramatically against the floor as she shifted. Merion's voice drifted from the cockpit like smug smoke, and she groaned theatrically.

"Oh Force, philosophy now? What is this, a moral crisis or a mid-life one?"

She sat up just enough to yell toward the front, "If I wanted abstract judgment wrapped in a budget pilot's voice, I'd ask a fething droid."

But then he asked the question. "So, system, what's your purpose?"

Zara blinked.

And without a word, she reached into her coat's hidden interior pocket and pulled out her personal holotablet. With a few swipes, she logged into her long-running burner account on GalaxyX. Her handle?

@PrincessKraytWrangler3000
Bio: Opinions my own. Most of them correct. May or may not be a Force-user with dangerous cheekbones. Not affiliated with the Diarchy (pls stop asking).

She opened a new post.

Hot Take from the War-Torn Front:
Just met this "Mand'alor" ( Aether Verd Aether Verd ) in person.
RATING: -5/10
-Rude
-Sensitive
-Not even that hot for a Mandalorian.
-Smells like wet bantha and ashtray rage.
+Helmet hides his face, which frankly, does the galaxy a favor.
#WarDaddyFail #Overhyped #SomeoneNeedsAHug
Also, he pointed a gun at my face, which is not a euphemism, sadly.

She hit post. The burn was now public. The galaxy would judge.

As Rokul made his dramatic exit to hunt down caf like a caffeine-summoning crusader, Zara shouted after him, voice sharp and cutting through the cabin.

"You are not replaceable, you absolute walking tragedy!"

She didn't even wait for him to turn around. She just kept yelling at his back like it owed her rent.

"I don't care if you're wearing ten layers of tactical sadness, or if you think being quiet and noble makes you expendable. You're not. Moron."

She folded her arms, fuming now, her tablet still glowing in her lap.

Then she turned her fury toward Merion again, this time with the full wrath of a woman who had been stunned, shuttled, and ignored.

"And you! Where the hell are we going? Back to base? A cell? The smug-smiling tribunal of Reign and Laphisto sipping wine and pretending they can be friends with those neanderthals."

Her nose wrinkled.

"I swear, if Diarch Reign Diarch Reign tries to do that 'disappointed dad' routine, I will scream into the Force so hard it causes a planetary landslide."

She sighed and slumped, tossing the tablet aside like it had betrayed her somehow.

"And Laphisto Laphisto ? I hope he's ready. I've got a whole thesis prepared on why his ancient Force cryptic act is just bad emotional communication wrapped in wings."

She glanced up, eyes narrowed and glittering.

"Also, someone better be making me caf. I've been shot today."




 
DIARCHY SHUTTLE
TARIS UPPER ATMOSPHERE

Zara Saga Zara Saga Rokul Rokul

Around fifty words into Zara's last round of commentary, Merion came to some conclusions. He chewed on the details for a while — she offered plenty of time for that — but the core of it remained.

Would he get fired from the best, most fulfilling job he'd ever had? Possibly. At this moment, his intention seemed worth the risk.

There was anger to it, of course, and frustration, and leftovers from how this person of exalted rank had embarrassed and endangered all the Diarchy people there, and a soupçonne of satisfaction at the idea of doing better at retribution than a small army of Mandos.

Mostly, though, this just felt like poetry.

He pushed four buttons:
  • Cockpit door lock to on.
  • Cockpit air circulation to sealed, a necessary precaution against aerosolized vomit.
  • Inertial dampener to off.
  • Artificial gravity to off.
And started spinning the shuttle through aggressive random maneuvers, as intense as he could tolerate, in full and satisfied knowledge that he was turning both passengers into human bounce balls.

He did not intend to stop.
 

Location: Taris
Tags: Zara Saga Zara Saga Merion Oreno Merion Oreno

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He was silent for most of his journey through the Shuttle. After all, he was just trying to find the caf machine and once he had found it, Rokul stood there for a moment, waiting for the water to boil. Maybe he should have just used Zara to boil it. She was angry enough. Either way, he was just doing his job. There was no way anyone could take that out on him right?

At least that was what he thought for a moment...Up until he noted the artificial gravity being turned off...And the next thing Zara Saga Zara Saga and Merion Oreno Merion Oreno knew, they'd hear a roar of pain echoing through the Shuttle, almost like some kind of beast had been injured...because well, a beast had been injured. Rokul just had the entire container of boiled water crash against him and break because of...what? The pilot had some kind of sick fantasy about hurting people for no reason? Sure, Zara was being a female Kath Hound, but that didn't mean he deserved to be punished for doing what he was asked. People always say Karma comes around, but considering Rokul had been trying to keep the peace, and was being pushed as a human bouncy ball, maybe peace wasn't the answer.

Either way, the human wrecking ball was thrown around from side to side, scalded and burnt, with his own anger starting to rise now. The Force at his finger tips as he used it to push himself against the effects of the tricks. You didn't piss off someone who acted like a human wrecking ball, as he'd use the Force to throw himself against the cockpit door again. And again. He was used to this. And even if he wasn't used to it, the anger would fuel him to fight against the pain. Someone had to answer for these injuries.​

 



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Zara had just settled into a proper pout, legs crossed, arms folded, moral superiority fully armed, when the shuttle lurched sideways like a drunken bantha on roller skates.

She slammed into the wall face-first with a startled, undignified grunt. Her tablet ricocheted off her thigh and spun wildly into the air, before catching her in the shoulder on its way down. For a second, there was no sound in the cabin except the gentle, tragic bonk of her forehead against the bulkhead.

"What in the actual..."

The gravity failed next.

Zara floated upward like a horrified soap bubble, flailing in slow motion, her boots kicking against nothing, braid flapping behind her like the flag of a defeated nation. She spun once, twice, before finally catching hold of a strap on the wall and anchoring herself in place, limbs all tangled and furious.

She took a deep breath. Another.

"HEY!"

Her voice cracked through the chaos like a hyperspace detonation.

"I swear by every holy Force ghost in the galaxy, if I survive this shuttle ride I'm going to put in a requisition to have you launched into the nearest binary star by hand."

Another spin. Her boot narrowly missed smashing the light panel.

"I got stunned, dragged, and knocked unconscious, and now I'm being yeeted through the air like an unwanted spice crate because you had a feelings monologue?!"

A thud echoed from the galley followed by Rokul's unmistakable howl of pain and what sounded like the world's angriest bowling ball hitting a door repeatedly.

Zara blinked.

"Oh my gods... did you boil Rokul?"

She twisted around, still gripping the strap, now upside down and upside fed up.

"He's trying to make me caf, you lunatic!" she shouted toward the cockpit. The shuttle jolted again. Something clattered loose and floated by, a cup, a spoon, maybe her will to live. She groaned and slammed her head gently against the wall, then muttered to herself.

"This is why no one likes pilots. Always brooding, always with the buttons, never just say what you feel like a normal homicidal bureaucrat."

And then louder, to the galaxy at large:

"I WANT MY FEET ON THE FLOOR. I WANT ROKUL UNSCALDED. I WANT CAF. AND I WANT A DIARCH AND AN OLD DRAGON MAN TO YELL AT."

She took a ragged breath, eyes wild, hair a mess, boots twirling slightly as gravity teased a return. And then, quietly, exhausted:

"…I also want a nap. But mostly to slap someone."

Her voice dropped to a low, threatening murmur.

"If I ever get control of your payroll, I will retroactively tax your ancestors."

A beat passed. Then, louder, toward Rokul:

"Rokul, if you're dead, I swear I'll resurrect you and yell at you for dying like a damn caf martyr."

She drifted in silence for a few seconds, hair floating lazily around her face, lips tight in barely-contained rage.




 
DIARCHY SHUTTLE
TARIS UPPER ATMOSPHERE

Zara Saga Zara Saga Rokul Rokul

Between the collateral damage's persistent thudding at the cockpit door and the diatribe behind it, Merion seriously considered venting the shuttle. The temptation was unexpected and strong.

So was the urge to call a mayday, declare mechanical failure, and have some fun avoiding consequences.

He did neither of those things. They would have been beneath his dignity. Instead, he gave the shuttle one last hopefully-vomitous twist and evened out on a course toward low orbit. Inertial dampeners and gravity resumed.

He toggled the intercom to speak to the main compartments of the shuttle.

"This is your captain speaking," he said without inflection. "We're hitting some slight turbulence on our scheduled flight to Bastion. Please buckle up and await further notifications. For your convenience, waste bags and medkits can be found in the labeled compartments under the passenger seats."
 

Location: Taris
Tags: Zara Saga Zara Saga Merion Oreno Merion Oreno

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As soon as the gravity was back, Rokul just collapsed down to the ground, silently groaning in pain to himself. So many sounds were echoing amongst his head as his anger was slowly fading. At the very least he wasn't filled with any liquids or solids that would want to come throwing out of his mouth. Just anger and pain that was slowly fading. The anger at least. The pain was still evident as he pushed himself up to his feet. Now, you'd expect him to go and head straight for the medkits right and wait before going back to Zara? To get to treating his own burns...

Of course that wasn't what he actually did as the door opened up to reveal Rokul walking in with a cup of caf in one hand and most of his face alongside his neck covered in bandages. Honestly, his face was wrapped up near enough like a mummy. He held the cup out, as his hand shook, throbbing from the pain of the burns. They weren't going to be too serious. A day or two laying in bacta and he'd be fine...but that didn't mean in this moment he wasn't in agony. It took a lot to make him roar in pain like he had earlier.

"...I'm...not...dead. But...I would like to ask...for you to hold back on slapping...me. It hurts enough as is."

If he had been a slow speaker to begin with, he was moving at a snail's pace at this point. It was sore to talk. More than normally. He was used to his head hurting when other people spoke and gave him a headache. He wasn't used to it happening when he spoke.

Either way, his little moment of anger and rage had swiftly faded away. Like a flame that roared at high temperature but ran through its fuel too quickly. He made his way over towards the chairs, preparing to buckle himself in as he winced, adjusting the buckles for now.

"...I think...I'm going to...take a nap. It hurts."

Blaster-fire and blunt force trauma was a different beast compared to this in Rokul's eyes. He could deal with being shot at, he could deal with being stabbed or beaten. But liquid burns were agony...Hopefully he'd be able to sleep through Zara's next little rant if she had one as he rested his head against the wall.

"...Also. Next time...Get your own Caf."

 



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Zara clung to the wall strap in silence, hair a wreck, dignity even more so. The intercom announcement hit like a slap from a very sarcastic droid, dry, smug, and condescendingly calm. She didn't respond. Not with words. Just a long, seething sigh that said I am going to commit one strategic homicide when this shuttle lands.

Then the door opened. And Rokul stepped in. Zara went quiet.

He looked like a corpse that had tried to dress up for the afterlife and gotten lost somewhere between "noble warrior" and "mummified disaster." His neck was bandaged in layers, his hand shaking around the caf cup like the universe was still laughing at him. He wasn't whining. He wasn't even complaining. He just looked at her, slow and stiff and obviously wrecked, and said...

"…I'm not dead."

And something inside her softened. Damn it.

She rolled her eyes, not at him, not really, more at herself. At the galaxy. At the absolutely unhinged space drama she'd fallen into like a high-heeled meteor. There wasn't room for another tantrum in this shuttle. Not with Rokul looking like that. Not after all this.

"Ugh. You had to go and be pathetic, didn't you?" she muttered, pushing herself off the wall and floating gently over toward him as the shuttle settled.

She didn't say anything else. She didn't need to. She knelt beside him, peeled off one of the bandages with just enough roughness to be petty, that's for knocking me out, you noble idiot, then placed her hand over the raw, angry skin of his shoulder and neck.

Her palm was warm. Calm. Centered.

The Force pulsed gently outward from her touch, not like a burst of power but like a breath, cooling, soothing, slowly unwinding the pain. The worst of the burn faded, the inflammation retreating beneath her fingers. It wasn't dramatic, wasn't flashy, and she didn't make a show of it. She just did it. Quietly. Carefully.

When she was done, she exhaled through her nose and wiped her hand on his sleeve like it had been sticky.

"Try not to set yourself on fire next time," she muttered, before collapsing into the seat next to him and buckling herself in with a practiced flick of the wrist. The shuttle gave a light bump, as if in response, and she glanced up toward the ceiling.

"To be clear, I'm still mad at everyone on this ship," she added flatly. "But I'm tired. And I'm bruised. And I might vomit. So for now, I'm going to sit here and be quiet. But it's not forgiveness, it's temporary restraint."

She tilted her head toward Rokul, side-eyeing him as she leaned back.

"…You snore, I swear I'll throw you out the airlock."

But her voice had lost its edge.




 

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Location: Taris | Cantina
Tags: Aether Verd Aether Verd

A quick sigh of relief escaped the Diarch at the cessation of hostilities.

As he sat down at the table, he ordered an old Tarisian meal of roasted meat. One he hadn’t had in years.


“I only wanted to apologize again, and ask for leave for one specific pilgrimage.”

Reign bit into his food, savoring the flavors and memories it brought back to him.

“It is good to be home, though I wish it had not played out in this way. There seems to be no shortage of slight in the galaxy. Yet I would come to an understanding. We do not want war”

He waited a moment for his words to sink in.

“To my ask, though I know I have no right, I would rather receive permission than slight you again. The house of my father is not far from here, I would ask your leave to visit, periodically.. he has disappeared under unknown circumstances, and I hope to receive a glimpse of why from his old records”

He was sure that with the rocky start, the Manda’lor would not be willing to allow Reign movement on Taris but it was worth the ask to catch a hint of their father.




 

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