Olarom at aliit. [Lynn]

[Fabula Caromed]

Taris, Clan Caromed grounds
Only a few days after her experience in Chaos, it would have made much more sense for Fabula to be resting, regaining her strength, or attempting to puzzle out her new life. So much of it was still confusing to her. Which people on the edges of her memory were still alive? What names in the bungled up mess of letters her thoughts had become were useful, and who did they belong to? And what of all these experiences she'd had? Which ones were real and meaningful, and which ones had long passed into irrelevance?

Fabula knew at least two things were true of her new life. The first was that Lynn Caromed, a mentally ill woman who was still worthy of every ounce of respect Fabs could muster, was a Mandalorian. The second was that Fabula herself had absolutely nothing of importance in her life other than family. Lynn and Fable and sometimes a person named Alndis Merrill or Alna D'Lessio or something like that were the only things in her entire life that mattered. Whatever her clone body had been doing in the last few years seemed to amount to "not much."

The three sets of memories in Fabula's mind now all wanted different things. The eldest memories, dubbed "the Witch," desperately wanted someone to spend her time with, a family to hold her at night and listen to her dumb stories and laugh at her bad jokes. Her middle set of quasi-memories, "the Warrior," had been stuck on the Field of Blades for six hundred blasted years and wanted nothing more than to fight and kill worthy opponents (and this was a view that the other two Fabula-minds could agree with). The latest, youngest, and shortest thoughts she found herself with were from "the Wanderer," who seemed to have done absolutely nothing of value in eight years. She desperately wanted something to do with her life.

Fortunately, no matter whose point of view Fabula looked at her situation from, she saw only one course of action.

The Bloody Pilgrim touched down on the Caromed grounds as it had so many times before, and Fabula Cavataio, complete with leg splint and blasterproof jacket, limped down the ramp. As she walked, she pulled out her datapad and typed out a quick message to the person she was on this planet explicitly to see.

<I just landed. Where can I find you?>
[member="Lynn Caromed"]

 

[Lynn Caromed]

[member="Fabula Cavataio"]

The message did not have time to go through before a woman in khakis and a sweater strode onto the landing zone purposefully, arms at her sides, and the weight of authority hanging like a cloud over her head. Mindful of her partner's injuries, she wrapped the witchknight up in a tight, tight hug and took a deep breath of relief.

Then her datapad chirped to let her know it'd received a message.

When the Galaxy had reported that people had been disappearing into thin air, Lynn had been relatively concerned. When her daughter and wife joined their number, she'd been beside herself - and when Lynn Caromed had a crisis, there were few places to escape her. She'd spent the past few weeks scouring every source she'd built up over a long career of investigation. Shaking down leads, beating up leads, threatening to throw leads off of roofs, hijacking pirates, and other ways of trying to solve a mystery that nobody seemed to have the answer to. When Fable had sent her a message from a Dathomir hospital, Lynn hadn't wasted much time despite being on the other side of the Galaxy - she'd had the Bloody Pilgrim delivered to her girls, and arranged to meet them on Taris as soon as Fabula was clear to travel. Then she'd made amends for (some) of the things she'd done on her search while racing to meet them at home.

It had been a very trying time, and now it was over. What a relief.

"We had begun to think you were forever lost to us." Lynn sighed quietly, some of the incredible tension melting from her shoulders. "Whatever blessed wind that carried you from disaster and into these arms is one I shall spend the rest of my days giving thanks for, my beauty."

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Held close in a hug that was a bit tighter than she remembered Lynn being capable of, Fabula allowed herself a mild smile and brought her arms up to stroke her fingers softly over her lover's back. "Not even Hell itself could keep me from you, cyar'ika." And from where she was standing, that was quite true...even if it left out one of those important facts that she would definitely be telling Lynn later when the two of them sat down to have a proper talk.

But now wasn't the time for that. Finish re-introductions. Fabula didn't bother to move back. She didn't want to ever let go. Lynn being pressed against her skin was the single most comforting feeling she'd had since Anna had... "Fable's fine, too. Better than ever, I think. She was amazing." Her leg lifted a bit, the bacta gel splint sloshing slowly to one end. "Got me to a hospital when I couldn't heal myself, flew us to a better hospital when we got off-planet...the girl is becoming exceedingly capable in a crisis." Finally backing up slightly, Fabula poked her lady's nose. "I blame you for that."

Simply being here would have been enough to ease the pressure from every moment of Fabula's life up until that point. The idea that it was now beyond contest that Lynn was definitely completely vital to her life was somehow more liberating than it was constraining. Fabula had someone to care for, someone to believe in, and someone to relate to. If not a peer, then definitely a companion. The Wanderer had chosen extremely well, apparently, though one had to wonder at Lynn's seeming lack of judgement for falling for a psychopathic war goddess who could put her in the hospital by thrashing in her sleep.

"There's something more, cyar'ika," the Witchknight continued, taking a deep breath and looking the other woman in the eyes. "We need to talk. Could we find a place to sit? My leg is killing me."
[member="Lynn Caromed"]

 

[Lynn Caromed]

[member="Fabula Cavataio"]

"Fable understated her involvement over the holocall, but we could tell." Lynn agreed with a small smirk, putting a hand on Fabula's back. "If she's half the warrior you are, she may not need half the clarity I've been attempting to drill into her." She added a moment later, leading Fabula away from the LZ towards the house. Not the massive clanhouse that had remained in the Caromed family for ages, of course - seized as a spoil of war in some timelost war, but her personal house on the family lands. The site of at least two women losing sparring matches against the gimped warrior goddess Lynn was delivering there to rest and recuperate.

Once Fabula had been helped into a speeder, Lynn climbed into the other side and fit herself with a pair of sunglasses. "We insist that you remain here and recover your strength." She explained once they were moving. "We've wasted no effort in reading up on your injury - I've got a medical droid on hand should you need it, and the best education in physical therapy that a week of feverish preparation can produce." She explained. Anywhere else in the Galaxy, that tone might have registered as flat and businesslike - but to someone who knew Lynn, she might as well have been glowing with relief. "Fable explained that she will arrive tomorrow morning. We feel that you both could use a break, hm?"

 

[Fabula Caromed]

She was so cute when she was stodgy and professional. Fabula would have considered it easy to see why the Wanderer had fallen in love with her, but that would be pointless, considering "the Wanderer" was just another part of Fabula. Of course it was easy to see: it had been her who first did it. Very confusing. She'd changed, but not. Everything was different, and yet everything was exactly the same. If anything, he head hurt more than her leg did right now. Fortunately, Lynn was preventing her from thinking about that.

"I think any more rest would drive me insane, honestly," the Witchknight started with a sigh, leaning forward to hold onto Lynn as she piloted them back to civilization. "But you may be right. Therapy and long-term medical attention to speed the healing process. I can't normally regenerate damage at this scale. With actual medical staff on hand, I might have a chance to walk again within a week or two." Pausing a moment, Fabula leaned further towards Lynn's ear, muttering a bit intimately. "I hope you aren't attached to that medical droid, though. I doubt it'll survive the week."

A break might secure her insanity, but it would also give her time to do some things she really, really needed to handle before she got active on the galactic scene again. Official traditions. Other things that, hopefully, she'd be able to cover with Lynn before the night was out. Determining the shape of her future was something she'd like to put a tiny bit of careful planning into, after all, instead of just putting her first name in front of Lynn's last name and calling it a day.

Though that was totally going to happen, too.
[member="Lynn Caromed"]

 

[Lynn Caromed]

[member="Fabula Cavataio"]

"By all means, my beauty - shatter the troublesome thing like a truck scattering butterflies. It isn't even activated, and I can scant tolerate it's depressing presence in my home." Lynn admitted, having calmed down just enough to start flavoring her speech with speeches again. She paused and puffed a cheek out in thought, then shrugged while driving. "If you'd prefer the touch of a mortal physician, I suppose it'd be possible to call in an old favor from Tiendas - sun and sky only know that he could use something to pull his attention from his latest summer romance."

Tiendas, Lynn's brother by adoption, was a fairly superlative surgeon that Fabula had likely met less than four or five times. A large portion of the Caromed family was, in fact, comprised of doctors, nurses, and other people who worked in the health field aside from being faithful Mandolorian soldiers. Lynn, who could politely be called a detective and impolitely as a murder machine for hire, was the exception - as were her girls.

As Fabula was close enough to do so, Lynn leaned over and kissed the corner of her lover's lips while her ear was being whispered in. "But I should think that, between the two of us, we've endured enough injuries to know how to take care of the outpatient treatment, wouldn't you agree, love of my life?"

 

[Fabula Caromed]

"The droid will be fine, cyar'ika," Fabula responded with a shake of her head. "I wasn't threatening it on purpose. Just trying to account for the very likely eventuality that it pokes me wrong and I wind up kicking it into scrap metal." That said, the chance to see Tiendas again might be worth it, even if it was extremely likely she'd visit the same unintentional harm upon him as she would upon a droid. Hearing about his life, the life of someone else in the family that Fabula had belonged to for years but never really involved herself in, simply reinforced exactly what she needed to do.

Kisses. Oh Force, kisses. Significant parts of Fabula's being had never experienced the physical love of Lynn Caromed, and now that they were for the very first time, it was a kind of bliss that she'd need a poet's tongue to put to words. Lynn herself would have had the perfect turn of phrase to describe how she was making Fabula feel, but Fabs lacked the imagination to make any sound more sophisticated than a happy purr as her body shook slightly at the sensation.

Welcome home, Fabula. We've been expecting you.

The speeder ride didn't take long, thankfully. Otherwise, Fabula might have found herself at a loss for ways to respond. She needed to get herself prepared for telling Lynn everything that had happened to her. Full disclosure. No secrets or caveats. What was a relationship without forthright honesty? Things like this would have taken the Wanderer months to finally spit out after an emotional breakdown...and had taken as long before, actually. At least twice. No more of that nonsense. Fabula managed to get herself off of the bike and standing, bracing her gimped side against the hovering vehicle. "I'll need to take this in stages," she said idly, referring to the conversation rather than her movement, as might be inferred.
[member="Lynn Caromed"]

 

[Lynn Caromed]

[member="Fabula Cavataio"]

And it was inferred. Lynn stepped briskly around the speeder to her partner's side, and put a supporting arm around her - careful of both crutch and bandages. Before them lay the modest home they'd kept for the just-shy-of seven years of their relationship/engagement/marriage, a two-floor affair that was more yard than building - including the half-destroyed training equipment everywhere, which the Wanderer had used to train her daughter, or spar with the woman beside her. "Take as much time as you feel you need." Lynn instructed patiently. "I took the liberty of having your favorite soup ready, along with those rolls you like - either of which shall wait however long you deem prudent."

"But, true thread of my life, I suggest that you may be more comfortable seating your ample behind upon a bed of pillows rather than vertical, abed the metal shell of this vehicle." Lynn pointed out with a sly smirk, before nudging Fabula forward a bit - used to having to goad the woman forward a bit to get prompt results.

 

[Fabula Caromed]

So much pampering. A princess could get used to this...even if she hadn't been one of those in half a millennium. Fabula eagerly took the offered help, eventually landing her "ample behind" on a couch to allow her to elevate her leg, and let her lean back a bit to generally reduce stress on her body. Like she needed it. She was plenty durable, just not healing properly. "Vor entye, cyar'ika," she responded, once again in Mando'a. Peppering her sentences with the language had become much more of a second nature to her since her return, and for good reason. She needed to prepare.

Food and such could wait. It really, really could. There was something much more important to take care of. "But for now, please sit with me. We really do need to talk." Okay Fabula, you can do this. Just take it slow. Explain absolutely everything. Make sure there is no confusion at all, or else your schizophrenic lover will probably have a panic attack.

Actually, on that note... "Have you noticed anything...different about me?" For the love of the Force, her eyes were amber yellow and her skin looked like she'd been drained of a liter of blood. If Lynn hadn't noticed, she'd need to make a point to get the poor woman some glasses, or eye surgery, or something.
[member="Lynn Caromed"]

 

[Lynn Caromed]

[member="Fabula Cavataio"]

We didn't sit at first - we were partly through washing Lynn's hands when the question was posed, and gave it only a moment's consideration before offering a prim response. "Of course we have." We replied flatly, drying her hands on a towel.

I stepped around the couch slowly, a bowl in one hand, and a basket with buttered rolls in the other - disgusted at the domestic appearance forced on me by the counterpart, but such were the battles I chose to lose in exchange for a victory. It is hard to look predatory when you are an apron away from looking like some base dar'manda woman. "Since we picked you up, you have been succinct and clear in your speech. You have not once apologized, stammered, or muttered. You tense at our touch as though it is strange to you, and do not notice that I have never in life been one to joke about much of anything." I informed her pointedly. "This is in addition to the physical changes you've exhibited, which - if my daughter's retelling of your tale was half as detailed as I'd hoped - might be written off as a result of extreme trauma. But your act is incomplete."

Moving slowly, carefully, I bowed and set supper on an endtable within easy reach of the woman on the couch before standing and folding my arms to affect an imperious stare - which would have been laughably easy in my armor, but at some point in this relationship, I'd given up permanent access to it. "It was our intention to get you home, get you sitting, where I might easily find out what is going on and what I must do to address whatever you've done to my wife while retaining an advantage." I informed her sternly. "You may begin explaining, now."

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Right. For a moment, Fabula had almost forgotten she'd married a detective. Her expression was nothing less than deeply moved, a subtle blush setting into her cheeks as she stared at her lover with starry eyes. "Oh Lynn...thank you for your caution." No reason to be impolite. "I'm really not worthy of that much concern, but I can understand why." Okay, time to not-blow it. Don't freak out. Keep your head and try to be as intelligible as possible.

She decided to begin with a reassurance. "We met in a tiny bar, late at night. I was lonely, you bought me a drink, never once spoke a word or took off your armor. We went for a walk on the beach after I had a couple of glasses in me, and we...joined on the very first night we knew each other." Fabula stopped and blushed much more vibrantly. "...I wasn't...ahem...shaven, and I was terrified that would turn you away."

Next strong memory, the fight. "After several months together, we were sparring. It was after I'd discovered your affinity for the Force, and we were struggling with getting you trained. I said all of the wrong things, insulted you first by failing to work to achieve victory, then again by offering to fight you at less than my fullest, then a third time when I dropped your blade on the ground as I tried to follow after you." Fabula swallowed hard, painfully remembering exactly what came after that. "...I will never, ever forget what I did to you. I will never forgive myself, either, no matter how long it takes."

Strong memory three, Fable. "I brought home a girl who looked to be my perfect twin less five or so years. I showered her with affection, loved every moment with her, and for some reason I couldn't form the concept that she was of my own blood. You were worried I had gone off and had a child without your knowledge, and the fool that I was, I still needed it explained. We adopted her soon after."

Fabula took a long, slow breath, calming her nerves, because jeez were they ever frayed at the moment. "I'm still me. I'm the woman you fell in love with. But when I went to that awful place..." Her voice faded for a moment, and she thought to approach from a different angle. "Do you remember when I told you where I came from? The clone of a dead woman, without a soul?" Another breath. "Well, I found that soul...and it came with seven hundred years of memories."
[member="Lynn Caromed"]

 

[Lynn Caromed]

[member="Fabula Cavataio"]

It was a nice plan - three, seperate, private events in our lives. I would have been impressed, had I not firsthand knowledge that security cameras, hospital records, or common sense remained a thing. Or that Fabula had likely discussed all of the above with her thrice-damned 'therapist', who could have sold that personal information to the highest bidder with little or no chance of being punished for it... until I managed to narrow down the only person who could carry all three pieces of information, work with contacts in the medical field, and thus feasibly know some decent clone-technicians or plastic surgeons. Well played, therapist, but the game ends now.

"Of course we remember." Lynn spoke up, putting a hand on Fabula's arm. How dare she speak for us both? She wanted to sit down beside the woman pretending to be our wife, but I wouldn't allow that. No. There was still a not-insignificant chance that this creature was an impostor, or yet another clone, and that concern needed to be addressed. I removed our hand and stood upright, putting our hands on Lynn's embarassingly wide hips. "Before I allow this conversation to bend into non-provables, we require a blood sample to... 'confirm' 'your' 'identity." I insisted - sarcasm was usually beneath me, but I felt it necessary that Fabula know who was speaking.

Let Lynn worry about comforting the perhaps-impostor. I would, as I always had, be more concerned with the safety and security of my house. Against her wishes, I strode across the room and retrieved one of my gauntlets from the armor rack by the door - within which lay a genome-verification system, usually used for processing the recently-deceased victims of contracted hits. A simple touch would bring a slight pinch, and that was all - my loved ones were already loaded into the databank, of course, for events such as this. With that gauntlet on, I had made my statement. Lynn adjusted the hardware, internally seething with frustration, and finally sat down beside the creature, twisting our face into something apologetic.

Loathsome, weak woman.

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Yes, she knew who was in charge now. Lynn was the soft, compassionate one. The woman who the Wanderer had married was gentle but firm, a father and a mother, husband and wife all in one parcel. There was another voice in Lynn's head that came to speak Its mind every so often. She'd become quite good at keeping It contained recently, with her medication, but this was an extremely uncommon situation. It was entirely understandable that she'd lose control a bit.

Without making a move more than a nod, Fabula extended an arm to offer the full length of it while also moving her head to one side, exposing her neck. Whatever surface area was needed, she had it to offer. Not to mention that the second she was done getting pricked, the hole sealed up with barely the smallest application of the Force, channeled through her ever-mounting but quite contained fear. "Completely understandable. Thank you for looking out for her. I know we might not always see eye to eye, but for her sake and both of your peace of mind, I'll gladly submit to any kind of test."

The Wanderer had never once directly addressed It. The other two portions of Fabula's mind found this utterly ridiculous and she had made every effort to remedy it when she was first offered the opportunity. After eight years of sleeping with them, she knew roughly how It worked. Lynn was at least aware of, if not in control of, everything that was going on. She could hear as well as It could. "And please don't worry, Lynn. It knows what It's doing."
[member="Lynn Caromed"]

 

[Lynn Caromed]

[member="Fabula Cavataio"]

Lynn held Fabula's hand within the armored glove, her own laid gently atop it. A small pinching motion took a small blood sample from the lazy Godess and, a moment later, the tiny screen affirmed that this was the Fabula in it's databanks, with none of the degredation or standard mutation expected from a clone. Identity verified. Lynn felt It struggling to take control, and out of a combination of curiosity and compassion, allowed It to without a fight.

"I stand vigil for you, as well." It explained quietly, calmly, in an even and brusque tone ill-suited to Lynn's smooth, feminine voice. Someone had spoken to It, and that merited a reply. "You are our wife, the mother of our child. Your life is worth protection." Keeping Lynn's brown eyes focused on Fabula's recently-altered ones, it leaned down and gave the back of her hand a slow kiss on the knuckle in thanks for her patience.

Lynn closed her mouth, then nodded in silent agreement, delicately removing the cumbersome armored gauntlet. "I cannot express how relieved I am that you've returned home to us, my beauty." She sighed, scooting closer, so she could sit hip-to-hip with the Threefold Witchknight. "Tell us of your acquired memories - and rest assured that you've my full attention for as long as you'd like it, upon condition that you at some point eat and observe any medication orders handed down by your doctors from Dathomir." She insisted with a dry, dry smile - practically a grin in Lynnspressions. "Tell us everything of your adventure - Fable glossed over details, but I must admit that I cannot wait to hear of the two of you working together in flawless harmony. My only regret is that I was not there to lend my aid to your survival, though not for lack of trying. I pray you may someday forgive that."

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Kindness? Gentle touch? That was...wait, she thought It was in control. And It was. This was a very confusing situation for Fabula to be in, and not a single thought mulling about in her fragmented brain understood it. Apparently, she hadn't given It the chance It deserved. Eight years of knowledge but no actual contact, and she was left with only a cursory understanding of what the hell was going on. What she did know was that every part of her the love of her life - even the part she thought hated her - had just romanced her so completely as to leave her breathless.

Literally. Breathe, Fabula. Gasping a bit, tears forming in her eyes, the happily confused little Dathomiri woman leaned against Lynn and choked back a sob. "Th-...thank you. Both of you." So much had changed. It was hard to take in. Once again, she had to remind herself to take it slowly. Bit by bit, so her feeble mind could process it accurately and produce fitting responses. "...You may need to get comfortable, cyar'ika. This is going to be a long story..."

--

Fabula took a deep sip of water to wash down a roll and a small green pill, interrupting her story for just a moment. " *gllp* ...They have me on antibiotics for some unfathomable reason. My system can kick out any infection, now that I can feel the Force again, but you said doctor's orders, so here we are." Return to the tale, you spaz. "Anyway. After we managed to find a decently developed settlement on Dathomir - which, if I may clarify, was a challenge worthy of song and story - Fable dropped me off with the local physician while she tracked down a holonet communicator. After she contacted you to get the Pilgrim to us, we stopped by Axxila. It was the closest planet with an esteemed medical institute that could handle the mangle mess that was my left leg."

She had run out of rolls, soup, and almost everything else Lynn had brought to her. The one thing she had not run out of was Lynn. Her fingers idly played at the tips of her lover's hair between sentences. "I was there for the last few days. They refused to let me out of bed, and frankly I don't think I could have made it anyway. I was in an incredible amount of pain as they sorted out what had become of my tendons."

Swallowing hard on water again, Fabula closed her eyes. "I've...come to refer to those different spanses of memory by different names. It helps me tell one time period from another. I'm still fuzzy on some things. The Warrior that was stuck in Chaos is quite feral, so I don't have to worry about six hundred years, at least. Just the instincts." Holding up her hand, she started counting off from two. "The Witch is the original me, from hundreds of years ago. If you don't like the newer, more articulate me, that's the one to blame. And the me that you know..."

She smiled a little, giving Lynn a slightly more romantic gaze than she normally did. "...I've come to call the Wanderer."
[member="Lynn Caromed"]

 

[Lynn Caromed]

[member="Fabula Cavataio"]

It was a great deal to take in. Long story, some profound implications, that Lynn would spent a great deal of time puzzling her quiet way through over the coming weeks. In private. Because therapy or not, some things didn't change, and Lynn Caromed - both parts - would always do their best thinking while brooding alone, as far as they were concerned. "We see." She acknowledged quietly, having adjusted for comfort at some point during the story - an arm around her wife while her thick hair was idly fiddled with. "Nevertheless, it is a wonderful thing that you've discovered such a renewed harmony with the woman you were and are - your spiritual strength remains as admirable in it's depth as it is literal in form."

"However, and we realize that we are the last people who should be saying this aloud - but we suggest that naming segments or your recently-united memory is, perhaps, not the healthiest process and motion that you speak to your therapist about it." Lynn added. She paused, then glanced aside. "I recommend the therapist be filled in, in any case." She added begrudgingly.

With a faint smile, Lynn leaned forward and pushed her brow against the Witchknight's. "Tomorrow, we should make arrangements on your comfort and activities while you focus your energies on recovery. Before Fable arrives." She decided quietly. "We know that just sitting around will drive you to the limits of your patience, and spread frustration through the house like miasma - so, clearly, boredom is to be avoided. Tonight, however, I will be content with nothing less than holding myself to you, thankful for every breath that falls upon my skin and word in my ears, complete in your arms. Live without you scared my soul into ruin, beautiful one - thank you for returning to us."

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Fabula couldn't help but giggle at the ever-so-slight irony of Lynn's assessment, but she nodded her head anyway. "I like to think that I'm a little more stable now than I was before, but I do realize I'm probably a biased party in this situation. I'll at least go see him one more time, to see what he makes of it." Though explaining this...unique situation to Doctor Xendu was going to be interesting. He probably didn't get many seven-hundred-year-old patients with three different lifetimes' worth of memories to reconcile.

Then Lynn started talking. And talking. Oh, the words made the helpless little Dathomiri melt. The way that woman could use her tongue was more artful than any blade or paint. For several seconds, beaten down by the ecstatic joy of her lover's words, Fabula was quiet. Her eyes fluttered shut, and a little grin spread to her lips. Eventually, she even regained control of her body, nuzzling her head against Lynn's with a reserved, quiet passion more commonly found in lovesick cats. "Mmm...I would never stay away, cyar'ika."

Point of contention. Something Fabula had thought about in her days abed on a distant planet that was almost as embarrassing as having never addressed her second partner before. "Speaking of which...it came to my attention as I had nothing to do for several days but sort through my memories...we considered ourselves bonded, partnered, and wed. But we didn't exchange what I've come to understand to be the actual Mandalorian wedding vows."

The fluffy woman cleared her throat, sitting up properly with her hands clasped in her lap. She swallowed the lump in her throat and took a deep breath, exhaling her nerves. "Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an," she started in accented but rather fluent Mando'a. "Mhi ba'juri verde." Another pause, then Fabula let herself giggle quietly again. "Or more accurately, verd. I think it'd be best if we finish raising this one before we think about more."
[member="Lynn Caromed"]

 

[Lynn Caromed]

[member="Fabula Cavataio"]

With a small smile, Lynn thanked her wife for the kind words and pressed a small kiss to the corner of Fabula's lips. "Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde." The detective replied quietly, pressing her nose against whichever part of the pasty Witchknight's face happened to be most convenient for that purpose. "I couldn't agree more, joy of this life."

Getting Fabula's ankle properly healed and rehabilitated would have been a much more arduous process if she wasn't a walking siege weapon married to a woman who's family was comprised of capable-to-decent surgeons. The next couple of weeks were filled with cute little moments and bonding, but as this is a development threat not intended for the development of their marriage, we will gloss over the cute little moments and get to the real meat of why a factory judge is going to glance very quickly over this at some point.

"If you feel as though the join is about to buckle or give way, my beauty, I insist that you inform us so that we can take a break and evaluate your physical strength." Lynn stated plainly as she led Fabula out into the yard with a tiny smile, garbed in her usual workout gear. Tiendas had viewed her file and offered a tenuous approval for mild physical activity, provided she didn't push herself too far, so that was the afternoon planned for Lynn and Fabula - but not Fable, who was busily involving herself elsewhere and otherwise off-screen.

Walking backwards, Lynn drew one of her Mandolorian Iron shortswords from the small of her back and held it parallel to her leg, watching her wife follow with a critical eye. "I would like to reiterate my suggestion that you invest in learning the use of a ranged weapon that does not rely upon the Force." She pointed out in what some might consider a critical tone. "Area-of-effect denial of the Force seems to be the current fashion in warfare throughout the Galaxy, and I would not forgive myself if you were hurt because I left metaphysical protections to guard you where iron is more reliable." She pointed out.

"We have been maintaining the suspicion that Non-Force Users will eventually enforce ACTUAL balance upon the Galaxy by finding a way to sever it's influence entirely someday, but that is perhaps far off." Lynn added in a slightly breezy tone. "It could also be tomorrow. Learning the proper use of a rocket launcher is a skill every woman can benefit from."