Populate PRIMAVERA | ME Populate of Aurion

[Kael Varr Bastiel Skirata]

OBJECTIVE 1- The Fires- Keldabe
Armor: Dauntless-type Beskar'gam
Blade: Tal'Alor Beskad
Primary Weapon: Plasma Bow
Secondary Weapon: Paired Beskar Tonfa

Kael stared into his drink, knowing he needed to keep a clear mind. However, if the conversation got deeper, he might need it. "Don't be ashamed of being spotted, my friend, at least two of us here are of the Iron Wolves, so the force is what alerted me to your presence and gaze. Do join us, and we shall make you feel welcome. If I remember the reports right, you came with us back from that imperial citadel, correct? As for what I cast into the fire, well, I laid to rest the armor I wore all the way to the Verd'gotten, and a past that is best left there. Reflecting on the lessons I have learned and what brought me to being the Mandalorian I am today, with the help of friends and my Buir, Adelle Bastiel of clan Skirata, who found me as an abandoned foundling." Kael paused then, sipping his spiced drink, to let the others speak.

Veyla Krinn , Dral-Kar'ta Saandyr Prisoner #36929

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Objective: 1
Kael Varr Bastiel Skirata Dral-Kar'ta Saandyr Prisoner #36929

Veyla lifted her cup slightly at Dral-Kar'ta's toast, the warm spice of the drink lingering pleasantly as she took another sip and listened to the exchange between the two men with a quiet ease that had become surprisingly natural over the course of the evening. At Dral-Kar'ta's comment about callouses, the corner of her mouth twitched upward in a dry smile.

"Wise man," she observed. "Though I appreciate that he apparently still had standards."
The faint snicker that escaped the stoic warrior afterward earned a flicker of amusement in her eyes, as it was oddly reassuring to watch him loosen enough to let moments like that through. When he spoke of Keldabe, however, the humor faded naturally into something quieter. Her gaze drifted toward the ruined city beyond the firelight—toward the broken stone and reforged steel of a world that had survived its own funeral more than once and still refused to die.

"It's strange," she said softly after a moment. "You spend long enough away from a place and eventually you stop knowing whether you miss the world itself or just the memory of what it felt like before you left. Then you come back and realize the dust still smells the same when the wind moves through it."

The words settled into the warmth of the gathering without heaviness, sounding reflective rather than mournful. When the newcomer finally approached, Veyla's attention shifted naturally toward him, and she noticed the hesitation beneath his simple greeting. Something about his uncertainty reminded her sharply of Kael not so long ago—it wasn't a sense of unbelonging, but rather the struggle of not yet knowing how to stand comfortably inside belonging. She gave him a small nod, acknowledging him without putting more pressure on the moment.

At his question, her gaze flicked briefly toward the massive pyre roaring against the night sky.

"Nothing this year," she admitted quietly, her honesty devoid of shame or defensiveness. "Some years you burn pieces of the past, and some years you realize you're still figuring out which memories are meant to stay and which ones are only dust clinging to your boots. I think this year was less about letting go for me and more about remembering why I came home in the first place."

The fire reflected softly in her emerald eyes as she watched sparks twist upward into the dark, and only then did her attention fully return to the newcomer, her expression easing slightly.

"Veyla Krinn of Clan Kryze," she introduced calmly. "And if you're standing close enough to the fire to ask questions, you may as well sit and drink with us instead of haunting the edge of the gathering."

 

[Tekton Artez]

Quinn Varanin Seris Mataan​

Tekton smiled gently and nodded just as gently. He knew he could be an intimidating sight on first meeting, most Mandalorians were when it came down to it. They saw the armor, and the weapons, they naturally assumed threat. It was an instinctual, primal reaction to be presented with an armed and armored individual. To a Mandalorian though they were too integral to who they were to just put aside for the comfort of others. Nonetheless Tekton considered himself and his clan fairly progressive as Mandalorians went, as such he did his best to put people at ease where he could, or at the very least offer no cause to be threatened.

"Thank You." Tekton accepted her offer to join her by the fire. "Yes my people tend to congregate together whenever we are gathered." Tekton acknowledged.

Although Tekton was sure he could ingratiate himself with any of his brethren with a quick round of drinks and the participation of a drinking game or song, he like most of his clan enjoyed getting to know others from a wide variety of backgrounds. It was curious to Tekton that he found someone who would brave a gathering of Mando's such as this.

"Welcome Quinn, I trust Mandalorian boisterousness is not too off putting?" Tekton smiled wryly. "I am Tekton, Clan Artez. What brings you here?"

As he spoke a nearby fire let out a loud cheer, as if to highlight Tekton's point. Tekton glanced with a grunt of a chuckle as someone joined, celebrated, lost or bonded over some aspect their particular bonfire was engaging in. From the looks of it, they were playing a knife game with their beskad's. Tekton grunted and shook his head.

"Fools are going to lose a limb playing games like that" Tekton commented dryly, he half wondered if it was his place to break it up. Then again they weren't his men in the field, and they weren't of his clan off of it. What business was it of his if they should lose a limb to their own foolishness. Other than a distant lamentation of the waste of a viable warrior for the Mandalorians as a whole.

"Don't worry no one expects outsiders to participate in games such as that. Soon enough an alor or one of his leftenants will be along to break it up." Tekton attempted to reassure his new acquaintance.

Tekton glanced up at the woman Quinn noticed, he stepped a little to make room for the woman should she choose to join them.

 

[Perseus]

"No. It shouldn't be."

The words left me quietly.

Moving forward was never easy. Fear made certain of that. I knew it too well to pretend otherwise. Fear kept people alive, but if you let it settle too deep, it hollowed you out from the inside. It made thoughts spiral. Made hesitation heavier than action. Her second question lingered longer than I wanted it to.

Why was I here instead of with the others? For a moment, I almost ignored it entirely. Instead, the answer slipped out before I could stop it.

"You dull the senses. Don't think too hard about it. Just move."

My eyes lowered slightly afterward.

That probably sounded worse out loud. Still, part of me believed it. In combat, in survival, thinking too long got people killed. Mandalorians trained discipline into instinct for the same reason. Movement became reaction. Reaction became survival. And sometimes instinct carried you farther than thought ever could.

A slow breath escaped me.

I leaned back slightly, closing my eyes for a moment while I listened to the slow pounding of my own heartbeat beneath the armor. Rage always sat close to the surface now. I could feel it there again, pressing upward behind my ribs, wanting an excuse to become something louder.

I forced it back down before answering her.

"I don't belong."

Simple words.

Simple truth.

My gaze drifted somewhere distant after that. I was a foundling. A stranger brought into a culture that existed long before me. What place did I have among people remembering their dead when nearly everyone I had known was already gone?

The thought twisted uncomfortably in my chest.

Weakness got people killed. Attachment got people killed. That was easier to believe than admitting I still remembered the faces of the people I lost.

Alsin Vex

 

[Alsin Vex]

Alsin gave a surprised look when Perseus said he didn’t belong. She had winced a bit at his initial words, but him saying that stuck out to her. She tapped her eye wrap, trying to follow the knife to at least look near him.

“You realize you’re telling that to a Miraluka right?” She asked, genuinely wondering why he didn’t see himself as belonging. “The clan that took me in let me know some of the… rougher history. Not that long ago I probably wouldn’t be allowed in a large part of Mandalorians without blinding myself…. Still heard some murmurs.” She admitted. Not from her new family, the clan that took her in, but that didn’t mean there weren’t still some Mandalorians that didn’t exactly like that she needed the Force to see.

“If either of us doesn’t belong here, it’s me, and they’re trying to help me as best they can.” She then thought for a moment, and smirk. Looking… completely the wrong way for a moment.

“Dang it! Where’s the…. Ok. Pow about a proposition? I’ll go start all that pushing forward stuff, but you have to go too.”

Perseus

 

[Seris Mataan]

Seris had not gone far from the pyre. The smaller fire was quieter, the drums still carried through the field, steady enough to be felt in the ribs, and the voices of the clans rose and fell around her in uneven waves. Some laughed too loudly, some drank too deeply, and some stood in silence with eyes fixed on the flames as if they had left more than metal behind in them. Seris understood that well enough.

She stood there with the warmth against her armor, just resting in the moment, which was something her mother had taught her, though perhaps not in those words. Some things revealed themselves only when you were still and quiet. It was only when she turned slightly that she caught sight of the pale-haired woman near the same fire.

There was another beside her, armored and carrying the sort of presence that could intimidate with ease. Seris's eyes lingered on him for a moment, but her attention did not stay there. It shifted to the woman instead, to the way she seemed both present and ready to leave, as if some part of her had already stepped away from the gathering before her feet had decided to follow. The smile she offered was polite, welcoming even, but there was something careful beneath it. She returned the smile with one of her own, faint but genuine enough, and stepped closer to the fire without crowding either of them. The white of her beskar caught the light again as she settled near the edge of the space, her grey-green eyes moving briefly from Quinn to the flames.

"Seris," she said, stepping closer to the fire but not so close as to crowd either of them. Her eyes moved from the man beside Quinn, then back to Quinn herself. "If there's room, I'll stay for a while. The larger fire is a little crowded for my liking and loud.”

TAG: Quinn Varanin Tekton Artez

​

 

[Perseus]

A broken laugh escaped me before I could stop it. Not humor. Pain. Sharp and ugly in the back of my throat. My head dipped slightly while Alsin spoke about not belonging. About murmurs. About people trying to help her despite what she was. The words scraped against something deep inside me the longer she talked. Something raw. Then she mentioned the Force again. And everything tightened.

My jaw. My chest. My stomach. That pit inside me twisted violently.

"You realize you're telling that to a Miraluka, right?"

A slow breath pulled through my lungs. Another. Trying to keep control of it. Trying to force it back down where it belonged. But the pressure kept building anyway. When I finally spoke, my voice came quieter at first. Too quiet.

"You can still feel them."

The words barely left above a whisper. Then the anger slipped through with them.My head shook once sharply.

"Nórrmen live through the Force. Breathe through it. Die through it. It is how they hear their ancestors. How they carry those who came before them. Their voices. Their guidance."

The breathing had become uneven now. Faster. I could feel my hands tightening unconsciously at my sides.

"And I…"

The words caught briefly in my throat.

"I hear nothing."

The last word came out harsher than intended. Silence. Then suddenly the restraint broke apart completely. The words snapped from me violently now.

"I am cursed. Do you understand that? I was born wrong."

The anger surged upward fast enough that even I couldn't fully stop it anymore. It burned through my chest and throat like something alive trying to claw its way free. My voice cracked beneath the pressure building behind it.

"I fought like the Nether itself just to become useful to them! To be something worth keeping around, and they still died!"

Images flashed through my head faster than I could stop them. Bodies. Blood. Armor in the dirt. People stronger than me. Better than me. Gone. Yet I remained standing. The thought made me sick. The words came lower now. Rougher.

"They fertilize the ground while I keep walking. I survive everything. That is all I have ever done."

The growl in my voice had become impossible to hide by then. I could hear it myself. Feel it vibrating through my chest. Part of me hated that she was seeing this. But another part was too exhausted to keep pretending otherwise.

"I have been astray since the moment I touched the ground,"

I muttered. My breathing had gone sharp beneath the helmet now. Controlled only through force of will. Then Alsin spoke about people helping her. And something bitter twisted inside me hard enough to hurt.

"If you cannot carry yourself, people stop looking at you. That is how the galaxy works."

My head tilted downward slightly. Not proud. Not angry. Just tired. The kind of thing learned too young and held too long. I continued dryly.

"You survive, or you become something buried and forgotten."

The words hung there between us for a moment while I struggled to force the rest of the anger back down into my chest where it belonged. It didn't fully go away. It never did. Then came her proposition. That smirk. That attempt to pull me forward anyway. A sharp breath escaped me through the helmet. Somewhere between frustration and disbelief. For a second, I almost wanted to laugh again. Instead, I shook my head once.

"You think I know how to stop moving?"

The words came quieter now. More worn than angry.

"I have done nothing except push forward."

Toward battle. Toward survival. Toward the next thing trying to kill me. Always forward, because stopping meant thinking, and thinking meant hearing the silence again. My head finally lifted enough to face her properly once more.

"You want to catch up?"

The growl had faded from my voice now, leaving only exhaustion beneath it.

"Then don't wait for someone to carry you there."

Alsin Vex

 

[Torvyn Kade]

​

Torvyn inclined his head toward Reina in greeting, one armored arm resting across his knee as the fire cracked between them.

“Good to meet you, vod.”

There was no judgment in his tone, only quiet certainty. Fresh to the clan or not, Mia had brought her here. That was enough for him.

At the mention of the other daughters, a low chuckle rumbled from beneath his helmet.

“Stubborn and angry sounds about right for family.”

His visor tracked Mia for a moment after that, catching the way her attention drifted toward the dark-armored figure across the gathering before she forced it away again. Torvyn said nothing at first, taking another slow sip from his drink.

Then, casually—

“You know, aliit’s supposed to make people soft.” He gestured vaguely toward the camp around them.
“Or at least softer than shoot-first-and-burn-the-rest.”

Mia Monroe Reina Daival

 

[Dral-Kar'ta Saandyr]

Objective 1, The Fires of Keldable

TAG: Prisoner #36929 , Kael Varr Bastiel Skirata , Veyla Krinn



"Draal-Kar'ta Saandyr of Clan Saandyr. You are welcome here." He said introducing himself to the new arrival and pushing the fourth drink in his direction as a welcoming gesture. The boy was young… well, he thought to himself, he was no boy but a young man. Perhaps Draal's impression said more about his own age than the new arrival's. "I have found these two are adept at noticing others who take an interest in their conversation." He alluded to his own not so different experience with joining the group.

Kael was the first to answer his question and Draal-Kar'ta followed. "I, as a representative of my Clan offered a spear taken from a worthy enemy unto the flames as a gesture to signify that after a battle fought truly and bravely, foes can burn their differences along with their dead."

He was still a bit introspective and Veyla's words of belonging sparked more . He looked North past the open bones of the ruined city. "My Clan made their home in a valley far to the North back during the time of the Old Republic. I was not born there nor even on Mandalore itself as the valley no longer exists. Mined into oblivion by the occupiers in search of beskar. I, like many others, was born in a far-off world but my home has always been here. We are a strong people. Our failures have not been through lack of honor and courage but because we have allowed our enemies to use our own strengths against us. We have our home again and it is up to us to keep it."

He looked at Prisoner. "What brings a young Verde like yourself to the fires? Is it to close a chapter of your life or begin a new one?"

 

[Alsin Vex]

Alsin wasn't sure how to feel as Perseus spoke. Honestly if she had the eye to cry she probably would. She turned her focus to him though, trying to figure out what to even say. But all that... the mention of him losing his people, pushing forward and never stopping, feeling outcast.... Her breath shook a little, looking to the ground, though her focus stayed on anything she could spot around him.

"We don't feel our ancesters...." She started, her voice shaking. "And you're not the only one who lost people...." She didn't turn her face to him. Just her hands.

"I could see them coming down, feel the cold the Dark Side gives off.... At least you could fight. I couldn't do anything but watch fire rain down and try to avoid being found." She put her face in her hands, if only to keep them from shaking. It might've even just hit her how much she'd gone through recently. But it did hit. Still, she looked back over to Perseus, catching her breath a little.

"You don't need to hear your ancestors to know some of what they'd want though.... even then if this was enough to... for all that to happen? Maybe looking at what we've got now would help. I lost everything... but someone decided to take a chance on some girl from a wartorn world." She took a breath, not sure if she wanted to head back yet or not. "Maybe that's enough of a start. Someone gave you a chance too, right?"

Perseus

 

[Prisoner #36929]

Tags: Kael Varr Bastiel Skirata | Veyla Krinn | Dral-Kar'ta Saandyr
Equipment: X
​

"Thank you," Prisoner said, accepting the dark brew with a slight nod. Stepping fully into the firelight, he settled onto an available crate. The Togruta's memory was sharp, confirming a detail Prisoner often kept to himself. "Yes, I was rescued from the Citadel. Your people have taken me in nicely enough."

A flash of recognition crossed his mind as Kael mentioned his upbringing. Prisoner recalled seeing the young warrior in the arena during the verd'goten, standing alongside Adelle. The unfamiliar word buir stood out, sounding deeply personal. Deciding it was a detail best researched later, he simply listened as Veyla and Dral-Kar'ta shared their own connections to the pyre. The shared honesty around the circle made his own heavy secrets feel a little easier to bear.

Dral-Kar'ta's question about whether this night marked an ending or a beginning lingered in the air. Prisoner looked down into the swirling dark liquid of his cup, considering the empty space where his history should have been. For someone with no memory of his past, defining an ending was nearly impossible.

"I suppose a bit of both," Prisoner admitted, his voice gaining a touch of confidence. "I still had the chains they kept me in at the Citadel. Clinging to them felt... weird, so I threw them in. I want to start over." Realizing the confession had grown heavy, a quick smile broke across his face as he raised his glass toward the trio. "And the drinks help. You Mandalorians certainly know how to celebrate."

 

[Kael Varr Bastiel Skirata]

OBJECTIVE 1- The Fires- Keldabe
Armor: Dauntless-type Beskar'gam
Blade: Tal'Alor Beskad
Primary Weapon: Plasma Bow
Secondary Weapon: Paired Beskar Tonfa

Kael looked to the new addition to their group. Due to his confusion with the Mandoa word, he clarified, "Buir is the Mandoa word for parent, whether by birth or adoption. Adelle found me, and she gave me the options of being adopted by her, by another person in Clan Skirata, or by the clan Alor, who is the leader of the Clan. I chose her because I didn't trust others, having been abandoned as a foundling. Clan Skirata seems to be the clan that takes in and gives meaning to those whom the galaxy has cast aside. They were some of the first to accept the Iron Wolves when they were created. I'm grateful to Adelle for giving me a home and training me to be the Mandalorian I am today". He looks over to a holoprojector showing the speeder bike race, raising a silent toast to Adelle.

Veyla Krinn , Dral-Kar'ta Saandyr Prisoner #36929
mentioned: Adelle Bastiel

 

[Perseus]

Silence.

Not the comfortable kind. Not the quiet stillness of peace. The suffocating kind. The kind that pressed inward against the inside of my skull while Alsin spoke. Every word she said scraped against something already cracked open inside me. My breathing had slowed by then. Not calmer. Just… hollow.

I stared at her without really meaning to. Watching the way her hands shook. The tremble in her voice when she spoke about watching fire rain from the sky. About hiding. About surviving while unable to fight back.

Weakness.

That should have been weakness. That should have been someone broken beyond repair. But she was still standing. Still talking. Still reaching outward instead of curling inward. My thoughts stumbled against themselves hard enough that it almost hurt. Because none of it fit. Not the fear in her voice. Not the honesty. Not the way she admitted helplessness without sounding ashamed of it.

People who survived were not supposed to stay soft. The galaxy burned that out of them. Beat kindness into survival and survival into cruelty until all that remained was instinct and scars. That was how it worked. That was how it always worked. Wasn't it? Yet she stood in front of me shaking and vulnerable and still trying to comfort someone else. I didn't understand it. And somewhere beneath the confusion, something uglier twisted in my chest.

Anger.

Not at her. At the fact she could still be like this at all. At the way she spoke openly without sounding afraid of being torn apart for it. At the way she could admit fear and pain and loneliness without burying it beneath violence or turning it into a weapon. Part of me hated her for it. Or maybe hated that I couldn't do the same. The realization made my stomach twist harder. My gaze drifted away from her. Somewhere toward the floor. Toward nothing. Thoughts crashed into one another too quickly to follow cleanly.

She lost people too. She survived too. Someone gave her a chance.

Someone gave me one too.

The thought landed wrong. Not comforting. Wrong. Like trying to force shattered pieces together that no longer fit. Because if that was true… then why? Why help either of us? Why care? Why take people in only for them to suffer anyway? The questions felt dangerous. Worse than dangerous. Unstable.

The tension holding my body upright started slipping somewhere beneath the confusion. My hands no longer felt tight with anger. Just heavy. The exhaustion hit suddenly and all at once. Not like battle. Not like injury. Different. My legs felt harder to lock in place. Breathing uneven for reasons I couldn't pin down anymore. My shoulders sagged slightly beneath the armor before I caught it happening. I hated it immediately. This wasn't fatigue earned through combat. There was no blood. No wound. No enemy to strike back against. Just confusion. And somehow that felt worse.

For the first time since speaking, I didn't have another answer ready. No anger left clawing up my throat. No sharp philosophy about survival waiting behind my teeth. Just static. A sharp breath escaped through my lungs. Then another. Slow. Uneven. The rage had burned itself hollow somewhere during her words and left only exhaustion behind.

"You…"

The word stalled halfway out. I stopped. Tried again.

"You should have broken."

The sentence came out quieter than intended. Not cruel. Confused. Because I meant it. Not as an insult. As something I genuinely could not understand. My gaze lowered again briefly before settling somewhere near her instead of directly on her.

"But you didn't."

Alsin Vex

 

[Liorra]

​

If Lio was to be honest, she had no clue why she was there on Keldabe. Mia had sent her something, she figured thumbing through her messages and trying not to bump into anyone or trip over herself. Inside her helmet she was watching Oyu'baat be Shebsen, Season 2. She carried with her a box of pepperoni pizza that she occassionally took a slice out of. Helmet had a nice induction port wide enough to take a bite of the pizza. A message from a friend asked if she had seen the latest season of Beskar'la Alkemist on ChewyRoll. Which she had not yet seen so, "no spoilers, vod." She exhaled.

Sipping on her ice cold Dr. Dapper that was attached to a magnetically sealed cup holder on her shoulder. Lio was sort of blindly following a recognizable force signature. When she stumbled into, of all people Mia. "Oya," she muttered, "watch the beskar, just had this polished."

Lio held up her hand, "hang on it's not commercial yet, I didn't wanna pay ChewyRoll more for the non-advertisement subscription, unless you wanna toss some more creds my way." She gave Mia a crooked grin, "who are the friends, old lady?" Lio gave an inclination of her head to the others there.

Mia Monroe ​

 

[Isar du Vain]

Just before the turn, Juniper eased onto the brakes, light and controlled. Not enough to slow her down in any meaningful way, just enough to keep the bike steady beneath her instead of fighting it. She let the others take their risks if they wanted to.

“Come on Le Fey,” Isar waived a beer in the crowd, alcohol splashing over his hand, “Easy on those turns, love.”

The lean, tattooed Zeltron ran a hand through his slicked back, wine-dark hair. His pulsed thrummed in time with the engines. He would say it was from the noise, but then he’d be forgetting about the two lines of glitterstim he did earlier. His nostrils felt a little numb.

Pinpricks of hot and cold broke out along his back.

Someone in the crowd, a big Nikto, gave him a side eye, “you got credits riding on this?”

“Only everything I own, sport,” Isar chuckled like a lunatic, head half swimming from the booze and the drugs and the emotions of those the crowd rolling over him.

“Look at her go!”

Juniper Le Fey

 

[Alsin Vex]

Alsin listened carefully, felt a weight sit next to her. But the words caught her. She should have broken. Before Alsin could even think of an answer, she focused where she felt someone sit. She presumed it was Perseus, or that he'd have reacted if it wasn't him. She kept her head in her hands for a moment before lifting her head. "It sure felt like I did." She admitted.

"I just... don't want to feel that way again." It was honestly the first time she'd admitted it. She didn't want to feel that scared again. And even without eyes the look on her face was clear. She hadn't exactly taken the time to fully process everything that happened. "And the... my clan has helped me not feel so....." She couldn't find the right word as she finally lifted her head up, just hoping what she said made sense.

Perseus

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Objective: 1
Kael Varr Bastiel Skirata Prisoner #36929 Dral-Kar'ta Saandyr

Veyla listened quietly as the conversation shifted around the fire, her drink resting comfortably between gloved hands while the warmth of the pyre pushed back the cold Mandalorian night. There was something strangely grounding about the honesty settling over the small circle. It wasn't a place for dramatic confessions or grand speeches, just people speaking plainly about loss, belonging, and the things they had chosen to carry forward.

Draal-Kar'ta's words about Mandalore drew her attention northward, toward ruins hidden beyond the dark horizon and scars that had long outlived the wars that created them. The image of entire valleys stripped hollow for beskar sat heavily in her mind, prompting her to speak.

"The galaxy's always been better at taking from Mandalore than understanding it," she said quietly. There was no anger in the statement, just a truth worn smooth with time. Her gaze drifted back toward the others around the fire. "Maybe that's why vode hold onto each other so tightly when they finally find their way home again."

When Prisoner spoke of throwing his chains into the flames, her expression softened, though her eyes remained thoughtful. She understood the instinct behind it more than she cared to admit; there were objects people carried because they mattered, and others they kept simply because letting go felt more frightening than the weight itself.

"Starting over usually feels strange," she told him calmly. "Especially when part of you still expects the past to come looking for you."

A faint trace of dry amusement touched her expression, breaking the gravity of the moment. "And yes, Mandalorians celebrate aggressively. We're not subtle people." A quiet huff of laughter escaped her as she took another sip from her drink.

When Kael explained what Adelle had done for him, however, Veyla fell quiet again. Her emerald eyes lingered briefly on the holoprojector and the silent toast he offered before returning to him, something warmer in her expression than before.

"A lot of people talk about Mandalorians like armor and war are the only things that matter to us," she said thoughtfully. "But clans aren't built by beskar alone. They survive because someone decides a lost child belongs somewhere instead of nowhere."

The words carried a quieter, deeply personal conviction. Her fingers shifted slightly around the cup as she leaned back against the crate behind her, the firelight catching the edges of her armor.

"My family took me away from Mandalore when I was young," she admitted, her voice dropping slightly. "They wanted a quiet life, far enough away from all of this that it started feeling more like a distant memory than home. For a long time, I thought that was my path, too—remaining distant, watching from afar."

Her gaze swept across the fire, the ruins beyond it, and the Mandalorians gathered throughout the celebration before settling back on Prisoner.

"Turns out some things stay in your blood whether you want them to or not. It took me a long time to realize that choosing to come back, choosing to step back into the armor, is its own kind of beginning. My parents wanted me to leave it behind, but I'm finding out that starting over doesn't always mean running away. Sometimes it means finally standing your ground."

The fire cracked loudly, sending sparks spiraling upward into the dark. Veyla studied the embers for another second, a faint, reassuring smile gracing her lips.

"So if this is the start of something new for you," she said more gently, "you could've picked worse fires to sit beside. You're not the only one learning how to build a fresh start from the ashes."

 

[Perseus]

Silence settled again after Alsin spoke. Not empty this time. Heavy. The kind that sat in the chest and refused to move. My attention stayed on her despite myself. Watching the way she struggled for words. The uncertainty in her voice. The quiet honesty behind it. She wasn't trying to sound strong anymore. Wasn't trying to hide what the fear had done to her.

And somehow she was still here. Still speaking. Still reaching outward.

I didn't understand it. The thought kept grinding against the inside of my skull no matter how hard I tried to force it away. My body still felt wrong after the outburst. Hollowed out. The anger had burned itself empty and left behind something weaker. Something exposed. My shoulders remained tense beneath the armor, but it felt forced now. Held together deliberately instead of naturally.

She had broken, or at least she believed she had. Yet she kept moving anyway. The contradiction hurt to look at.

My breathing slowed unevenly through the air. A sharp inhale. Then another. I tried to focus on something simpler. The dirt beneath my boots. The sound of distant movement around us. Anything except the thoughts clawing around inside my head.

She didn't want to feel that way again.

The words lodged somewhere deep before I could stop them. Because part of me understood that instantly. Too instantly.

Neither did I.

The realization hit hard enough that my jaw tightened beneath the helmet immediately after. Like the thought itself was dangerous. My posture straightened unconsciously. Rebuilding structure before the instability underneath spread any further. When I finally spoke, the words came quieter than before.

"Wanting it to stop doesn't mean it will."

The sentence hurt coming out. Not physically. Worse. Like something tightening around my ribs the moment the words left me. Because they weren't really aimed at her. Not completely. They landed inward harder than outward. A reminder. A warning. The only thing I knew well enough to trust. Pain stays. Loss stays. Fear stays. The galaxy doesn't stop being cruel just because someone wishes otherwise.

I swallowed against the pressure building in my throat. My gaze lowered briefly toward the ground again. The exhaustion inside me deepened instead of easing. For a moment I hated how hollow the words sounded now. Hated that some part of me no longer held onto them as tightly as before this conversation. That feeling frightened me more than the anger had.

So I forced the armor back into place. Forced the certainty back into my voice.

"That's not how the galaxy works."

Flatter this time. More rigid. Like the sentence had been hammered into shape before leaving my mouth. I held onto it harder than I should have. Not because it comforted me.

Because it was all I had.

My shoulders squared again beneath the armor even while the exhaustion still lingered underneath. Rebuilding walls plate by plate before anything else inside me could crack open further. Silence settled after that. I couldn't look directly at her anymore. Not fully.

Because part of me was still listening.

And that part had become dangerous.

Alsin Vex

 

[Reina Daival]

//: Mia Monroe Liorra Torvyn Kade
//: Objective: I //:
//: //:

"Rein...Ika?"

She raised an eyebrow at that. Whilst she didn't know Mia too well, she at least knew the Mandalorian well enough to know she wouldn't mispronounce Reina's name on purpose. So it was presumbly not that kind of mistake. It must have been a part of Mando'a that she didn't know. There was a fair lot of that she was learning the more she spent amongst them. Not that she would comment on it. If anything however, the redhead raised an eyebrow at the mentioning of two "sisters". Whether or not she'd seem them like that...Well, it was leaning towards the unlikely.

She let Mia talk with Torva in silence. She had nothing to add to the conversation anyway, as much as she might have disagreed with some of it, she was the inexperienced one in this discussion. Better to be seen but not heard. At least that was what she had learned from her time amongst the Jedi. Instead her gaze moved over towards the other new arrival, giving a small blink as they referred to Mia as "Old lady". They were also asking for credits, which only made Reina's eyebrow raise higher before she turned her attention towards Mia.

"If you're giving away free hand outs, I want one as well."
​

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Tekton Artez //: Seris Mataan //:

Tekton was kind and welcoming. Quinn found herself setting better than she had expected. Perhaps it was the liveliness of the event, or today was just a good day for her. She smiled softly as he explained things, nodding to show her understanding.

"I was recently crowned Queen of Eshan, which makes me a Warden of a Mandalorian world."

The words that came from her lips hurt. It was a reminder that Eshan was once more under the thumb of another government. Like the Mandalorians, the Echani were a proud warrior culture. To know they were snuffed and controlled by the Mandalorians felt degrading.

Quinn knew that wasn't the case, but it was hard to explain to those who had suffered under the Mandalorian raids.

"No, no, not off-putting — just different. I've been around people like this — they were very lively celebrating life before war, before combat." She mused, remembering her time with Gerwald's second legion.

With them, she learned the importance of celebrating and coming together before a battle. You didn't know who would come home, or if that moment would be your last with someone.

It was better to come together, get over transgressions and issues, and bond. Holding grudges or misunderstandings only hinders everyone around you. Quinn found herself suddenly grateful for this lesson that Gerwald's people taught her.

Perhaps her journey beyond the Blackwall only made the lessons she learned behind it more apparent.

She laughed, trying to hide the small pain from being reminded she was an outsider. Her eyes momentarily wandered to the game the others were playing. It was interesting, but she agreed with Tekton. Another laugh as she nodded to the man.

"I'm sure in your youth you did some things that were questionable." She smiled. "You must have some good stories."

Seris introduced herself, and Quinn gave the woman her full attention. It was hard not to; she had quickly taken in how the fire mirrored the color of her hair and the unique color of her eyes. Quinn found herself quietly admiring the gentle naturalness of her beauty.

Catching herself, Quinn's smile widened as she brushed back her hair from her face.

"Of course, I agree — the larger fires seem to be a bit wild. Tekton here was explaining a game some foolish younger Mandalorians were playing." She looked back at the man and then towards the brave youngsters.

As she watched, she caught a glimpse of another redhead she knew.

Reina Daival seemed to be busy and hadn't noticed her. It became a weight against her chest as she watched for just a moment, somewhat hoping the girl would look over. Alas, the conversation with the others held her attention.

Despite how Quinn felt, it was good that Reina was around others… it seemed she had finally found a place to call home. Pushing the thoughts from her mind, Quinn gave her attention freely to Seris and Tekton.

"What clan are you from, Seris? The only other redheaded Mandalorian that I know is my cousin Aselia. Are you also a Verd?" Quinn asked, her hands folding behind her back as she mused quietly. She hoped that Seris wasn't a Verd.

That would make her family...

Which would ruin everything...