R & R [ Mandalorian Empire & Friends ]

[Joza Perl]

“Mhm.” Joza nodded again, humming through a mouthful of drink. She realized now that it was a bit too sweet for her tastes, but would have no qualms about finishing it. Swallowing the fruity concoction quickly, she elaborated. “I’m not super into the whole ‘Mandalorian’ thing, but a free vacation is too good to pass up.” Only after speaking did she realize that it might have made her sound like a spoiled military man’s daughter. Truth be told, she’d only recently found out who her father was. Thank whatever deities there may or may not be, but Zef had accepted her as his own child. Their father-daughter relationship had started off rocky, but things were beginning to settle. Hell, the man had crashed a ship into a Sith garrison just to save her. It was something they didn’t speak of often, but it was also something she’d never forget.

Not that she was going to spill her guts out to this stranger.

Well, sort of stranger. It took a few moments, but the name Alkor Centaris rang a bell. Her eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh! I know you. Nik mentioned you.” She couldn’t recall in what capacity, and quickly reigned her sudden excitement in. A bit embarrassed at her sudden exclamation, Joza quickly smoothed out the twinge of anxiety in her chest, thinking it good to release a bit of her natural pheromones. She’d picked up on trickle of unease coming from Alkor, but didn’t press anything. Force users tended to not like it when she tried prying into their minds, and so she would refrain.

The Zeltron had to be curious though, would he be able to sense her if she was stealthy? Not wanting to spoil the....uh, mood…Joza settled on seeing how he would react to the pheromones. Some gave in to the soothing effect, some didn’t notice, and others…well, one didn’t want to be swayed into relaxation.

Green eyes followed his arm as it swept towards the sunset. “Somewhere…good?” She ventured slowly, gaze shifting from the vibrant sky back towards the Dark Jedi and then back again. “It’s a little like Zeltros, now that I think about it.” Musing softly, she went to take another sip of her drink only to realize that there was only ice left in the glass. Not saddened by the loss of the too-sweet beverage, she tilted her head back towards the man. “Have you ever been to Zeltros, Alkor?”

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

There were few things more sobering to the murderer than losing those who he allowed himself to consider friends. The back and forth about Nikias caused Alkor to stop for a moment and stare into the reddish twilight with a pensive expression. No tears fell from his eyes, but the ache in his soul was immense. Jedi taught that death was natural and part of a cycle that brought people back to the Force. Sith put value on things based on their passions, and at times oversimplified what it meant to care about something. Love, hate, anger, happiness, and sadness did not encompass the full spectrum of human emotion. There were things Alkor had never learned to understand, and had never had to. So when he saw the Hellyni in his mind's eye, the Jen'jidai was uncertain what he thought of the man. Was there a cause for this rift in his heart, or the knot in his stomach? Perhaps.

He gave only a slight nod in reference to her recognition of who he was. Yes, Nikias might have mentioned him. They were... friends.

Alkor's mind drifted from his fallen ally as Joza spoke again. The Dark Jedi glanced at his drink, then took a sip. The alcohol always made things a bit less daunting in social situations.

Her first question went unanswered as the Corellian skies washed in and out of his mind, and his shoulders sagged just a bit more. There was a serenity in memories of home that he disliked admission of. Maybe hundreds of years had robbed him of his Corellia, and maybe those people were dead but they had still deprived him of his home. A Corellian, no matter how spurned, would always be a Corellian. Those soothing thoughts made him acutely aware of a strange tingling in his chest.

Alkor recognized the prickle of emotional disarray as it set in. Tension was his factory default, as Zechar the Exile had once said in jest. He was more like a machine than a man in terms of emotional capacity and operation. His eyes shifted toward her rosy tinted flesh and wavered there for a moment. Ah. Zeltron were not uncommon, though his dealings with them had been brief. He knew of their ability to manipulate emotions and incite amorous thought, but this was the first time he had ever experienced it firsthand.

An uncomfortable stirring somewhere on his body caused Alkor to furrow his brow and set his eyes on the woman, a much harder gaze than before. "Zeltros?" he repeated, and his mind moved across the many planets he had visited during his tenure as an assassin. The Hapes Consortium, Rishi and the strange worlds around Kamino, Tattooine and the slaver spine, Zonoma Sekot, all of the Vongformed planetoids, Manaan and Togoria... "No, I'm afraid Zeltros is one of the few planets I've not had the chance to visit," he answered.

The thoughts of planets and various murders he had committed helped to remove the strange infatuation that suddenly crept into his thoughts, and the swelling started to abate. Alkor had learned mastery over himself first and foremost. Many other Jen'jidai had opted for love, and for dealings with others that they believed strengthened their tenacity. Alkor chose a more isolated path.

But that was over now, wasn't it?

"Do you miss it?" he asked, daring to make conversation that was outside his comfort zone. He rarely asked people about home, because they often asked about his in turn. It was a bitter topic to listen to, and to talk about.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Slade Zambrano]

Slade wanted to audibly sigh at his wife's response, he wanted to roll his eyes and tell her how naive she was being. But the most that would accomplish him would be a swift punch to the arm that would probably bruise a fair amount. Now Slade would have to use the gift of gab to try and reach his wife to inform her of exactly how stupid she sounded.

"Let me tell you something, love." Slade said as he brought up his right hand and gently ran the back of his fingers against Keira's cheek.

"The second time we met, before I had you meet me at that hotel. I woke up in someone's house to the smell of sex and vomit, in front of me there was this passed out pile of naked Twi'leks and whoever was sandwiched between them. And on my right was a dead man with a needle plunged in his arm." Slade said in his raspy weathered voice as he brought his thumb to run it on her cheek.

"Didn't know who he really was, nor did I care. I felt nothing, just a need to take another hit and continue my self destructive life. Now when I was using it was always everyone else's fault, the way I was raised, my lack of a father, the fact that my mother was probably some slave my father raped, or that every person that's tried to show me kindness I've pushed away. But you want to know the truth?" Slade dropped his hand down and placed it on his chest in an open palm.

"It's me. Wickedness and darkness, it's in my blood. Even now I long for another drink, for another hit, to grow my power and strike down my father. I long for all of it, because it's who I am." He then dropped his hand down as he spoke.

"But when you bring new life into this galaxy, who you are is no longer relevant. Who you are is pushed to the side, because if you're like me, or like you, then it needs to be fought. There are two souls at home, two souls we created that need to be guided through the twisted and confusing path that is life. And I can't guide them if I'm hooked on dope, and you can't guide them if you're at war or dead. So when you tell me it's impossible, I have two words for you." Slade paused for only a moment.

"Bull &@$#. If I can fight what I am, if I can reject that wickedness than so can you. I won't love you any less if you choose not to, but I want you to think of Kaya and Reid before you do."

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Thoughts of the Hellyni were initially good—they always had been, even after his death. She’d hazard to guess that she and Nikias had grown as close as siblings, especially as she viewed him through a brotherly lens. They sparred, bickered, and generally got on well during Nik’s time within the Sanctum. A change had occurred in him after absorbing that strange darksided talisman…but he was still the same Nik. Protective, loyal and steadfast. Twice he’d taken revenge on her behalf against those who had harmed her, and though she berated him on one of those occasions, Joza was genuinely touched that he cared for her.

But the pleasant thoughts faded, giving way to the same mix of feelings that washed over her the day he’d disappeared from the Force. She’d been mediating when his presence faded after a brief goodbye that had been whispered through the Force itself. What worsened it was the fact that she knew who had killed her friend—even then, she’d felt his anger through their own bond—in response to the Hellyni’s revenge quest. Absently, the back of her free hand grazed against her cheek.

If I had done a better job at hiding the evidence, Nik might still be alive.

A pause, and she shared in the somber grieving over a lost friend with the Dark Jedi beside her.

If I hadn’t angered Haytham, Nik would still be alive.

Perhaps she was overthinking it, or perhaps it was true. In times like these, Joza had trouble differentiating between her own runaway thoughts and bare reality.

Not wanting to fall down the rabbit hole of depressing thoughts lest she be unable to pull herself out, the young Zeltros would shift her focus towards Alkor. More specifically, his response to her pheromones.

As his heavy gaze passed over her, Joza tilted her eyes away for a few moments to avoid withering under it. It was not difficult to ward off the effects of the pheromones once they were sensed, especially for a trained Force sensitive. She gave him an apologetic glance, but only for a moment as the look in her eyes faded to one of vague curiosity. The Zeltron hadn’t been trying to seduce or manipulate him into something raunchy, but rather only wanted to put him at ease. It set her on edge to see others who were wound tightly, and to compensate for her own discomfort she tried to encourage them to relax. Selfish, but it was a reminder that she needed to consciously deal with her negative emotions better.

“Do I…?” She began to parrot his question back, voice fading as a thoughtful look washed over her face. “I try not to.” There was a hint of amusement in her voice. “I used to be terribly homesick.” Swirling the glass, she realized that some of the ice had melted. Bringing her mouth to the glass, she tilted her neck back so far that the ice nearly hit her on the nose. Pulling away quickly before that had happened, she licked a few stray drops of water from her lips and sighed in mild satisfaction. Only a few trickles of cold water had found their way through the ice. “It’s hard. Well, it was hard. I practically grew up in a cloud of pheromones. Leaving that led to some…withdrawal issues.” And a very, very anxious pink Padawan.

Strangely, she found that it didn’t bother or embarrass her to talk openly about her own insecurities. Perhaps because she had a new set of insecurities to take the place of her more childish habits.

Some of them, at least.


“What about you, Alkor?” She offered politely, figuring that it was only right that she turn the question on him. “Where are you from?”

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

The question he had anticipated came, and like every other time he was asked, he was still never truly prepared for it.

Only one answer was the "right" one, but there were so many possible alternatives to give. Togoria had been home to the Xendorian Citadel for a decade before the Iron Fists came and annihilated the home of the Guard. That had been the moment of severance, wherein the old guard and the Dark Jedi who disagreed with them were torn apart forever by difference of opinion. The carnage that ensued on that soil gave birth to a newer, more focused Order that rose from the ashes on Muunilinst. From that moment, Alkor was sworn to slaughter the enemies of the old order until he drew his last breath.

Villa Obscurum stood higher than all the other spires, even those of the Banking Clan during its time. Alkor still remembered the hanging gardens and the flowing aqueducts that kept them, and the beauty of Muunilinst attributed to its monumental wealth. He grew fond of the Muun lifestyle, and of how detached the people were from where their money came from or where it went. The system of credit in the Republic during his youth was something Alkor remembered hating, and the Muuns only scoffed at it. To them, money was little more than a means by which things ran smoothly. Through that lens, Alkor learned to tolerate its existence.

Neither ancestral home of the Jen'jidai was a proper answer, though. Both of them had been broken, and in the last moments of perhaps the greatest sage of the Dark Jedi Order, so was everything he had come to believe. Alkor learned to hate religions and dogma from the way that his life had been lived up to that very moment. He was forced to push aside all his thoughts, his desires, even the most basic of emotions in pursuit of goals not his own. The validation he got from every life that ended on his blade was little greater than a consolation prize.

He fought and bled for every time one of the others noticed him or sang his praises. It was a self-serving and bitter cycle of justifying to himself that what he was doing was not wrong, and that he was a warrior with a cause. To look further back than that hollow notion was to remember what he was before they found him. A street rat from Corellia, little more than a contract killer with a disturbing rap sheet that included petty thieves, spacers, innocent bystanders, and the daughter of a politician. The Dark Jedi cultivated a perfect weapon from an unstable murderer, someone who knew no other way of life.

In retrospect, he was the perfect tool.

When Joza asked the question, she probably did not realize the gravity of what it meant to be a Corellian exile. To never wear the bloodstripes of a proud pilot, or drink together with fellow Corellians in Coronet City after a successful flight, and to never be accepted by your people again was hell. Worse than that, to never again stare up into the pristine azure skies of the Jewel of the Five Brothers was almost the same as losing one's own soul.

Was there even a way to answer this question without ripping out his heart and telling her that he had no home?

Well, yes. There was. Alkor took a long sip of his drink and then let his gaze fall to his feet.

"The Core, originally," he answered, "but I left when I was very young." You could tell by listening to him that the Corellian accent had left him long ago. If there was any remnant of it now, it would have surprised him. "My real home was Muunilinst," he told her, "I lived there for nearly five years uninterrupted. It was as close to peaceful as my life ever came."

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

The question seemed to insight some deep thoughts within Alkor, but Joza remained quiet and patient. She was aware that this sort of question could stir up difficult thoughts and painful memories—though not to the capacity for which they affected the Dark Jedi. Home didn’t evoke pleasant feelings in everyone, she had learned. As such, the Zeltron wouldn’t inquire beyond an innocent question. It wasn’t nice to pry into stranger’s private thoughts. It also wasn’t nice to pry into the mind of a close friend, but when you do it out of love and concern, it makes it alright…right?

After all, she had her own triggers. Idle chatter about Hutts and trafficking caused her to cringe. The sight of a slave collar around someone else’s neck made her physically ill.

As his gaze drifted down towards the ground, Joza’s eyes did not leave his face. It was not an intrusive gaze, but rather lingering—as if she didn’t want to crowd him. “Muunilinst.” She repeated in a thoughtful tone, as if recalling what she knew about the word before shaking her head. “I’ve never been. I hear it has sunsets that could put this—“ She paused for a second, gesturing with her free arm towards the vibrant sky. “To shame.” Her lips tugged into a soft, slow smile, though there was an air of curiosity about her.

Why did you leave? What happened to make you leave?

Questions for another day, perhaps. Or never.

“Why the Mandalorian Empire, then?”

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"It's not far from here," he mentioned when she said she had never been to Muunilinst, "just a short jump along the Braxant run." He ran through memories of the Muun skies and shifted his weight to the other foot. "The scenery is magnificent," he conceded. "Ever are the Muuns a people who pride themselves in their money. They can afford to be a bit more extravagant in terms of aesthetic."

He paused, reminiscent of Villa Obscurum. The towering spire that was no more, and his home among the clouds. He remembered the day it burned, and the collateral damage of its ruin smashing to bits among the lesser beings that flecked the city streets of Harnaidan. Alkor recalled how the Jen'jidai all fancied themselves gods among men, even above Sith and Jedi. They instilled fear into the population of Muunilinst, and Togoria before it, and their strength garnered them a following of nigh zealot cultists who were willing to bleed and die. Those men and women tore each other apart and looked back to their divine leaders, and they reveled in the death that they brought upon themselves.

It was easy enough to hate, looking back.

His jaw clenched as the reddish haze of twilight in the backdrop framed the imagery forever in a hellish tide of finality. Muunilinst was beautiful that way, frozen forever as a memory of his freedom.

What a bitter beauty.

"You should visit one day, Miss Perl," he told her, "and decide for yourself which of these two planets is more beautiful. My experience would be wholly different from yours, I'm afraid."

That was when she asked another question, and Alkor found himself wearing a gentle smile. It was something the Demon of Corellia had never done, not in the twenty years since his childhood ended abruptly. It was an easy question, but one with many layers. "At first," he conceded, "it was a matter of diplomacy. Friendship between Dark Jedi and Mandalorian."

His eyes moved to the rose-skinned woman and he nodded. "I don't fully understand their culture, but I've been made part of it. What I do know is that they are a family..."

The word caused his eyes to slip shut. Alkor took a deep breath, then exhaled quietly. "I've never had a family, so I thought it would be... nice... to see what it was like."

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza’s head cocked to the side as she considered the idea Muunilinst for a few moments. Wealth had always fascinated her, having been raised by a single mother in a low-income district of Paradise City. When she’d been invited to dinner by Darth Orcus, she’d split her time between trying to remain calm and level, and admiring what such a large fortune could build. Still, affluence seemed so far out of reach that she’d rather not think about it. It made her a little uncomfortable.

“I will.” Maybe. Her voice was soft, thoughtful even. The Zeltron was always up for visiting beautiful places. Idly, she swirled the mixture of ice and water that was in her glass with gentle movements of her hand. She could tell from the way his jaw clenched that this was not an easy subject for Alkor. “Joza.” She said suddenly. “No need to call me ‘Miss’.”

A brow drifted upwards at his following words, and the uncharacteristic placid expression that spread across his face. Seemingly uncharacteristic. She barely knew the man.

A family. Well, it made sense. Mandalorians were a close knit group, and family seemed to be the foundation of that. The majority seemed to whole-heartedly accept those who were sincere about upholding the Mandalorian way of life, regardless of race. Even her father had accepted her upon their first meeting—that was, 24 years after he’d sired her.

“I don’t really get it either.” There was a tickle of amusement in her voice as she reflected on what she knew of the Mando lifestyle. “And I’d hazard to guess that I’m more detached from it than you are.” Instinctively, she reached out to touch him with a comforting hand on his shoulder, but retracted it after figuring it might not be well received. She may be Zef’s daughter, but she was still a Zeltron, raised among other Zeltrons.


“How does it feel? To be a part of the Mandalorian family?”

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Keira Priest]

Keira knew he was right, and more than that, so did he. There was no denying the complete truth of everything he had to say, and so she only looked to him with an almost smile and a nod of her head. "I know. You're right." His gentle touch kept her grounded and in the present moment, reminding her where she stood and most importantly who it was she stood with. "Believe me when I say I want nothing more than to walk away from everything without a second thought. That would be the easy thing to do, but the both of us were never meant for the easy way out. That's not in our blood." He might not have been a warrior like her, but she knew he felt the pull.

"You don't have to tell me about how difficult it is, or about giving things up, and especially not about self-destructive behavior. I've had more experience with all of that than I probably should, and on more than one occasion." Rarely did she take well to anything so much as perceived as a lecture, but it helped that it was him speaking to her. "This is worth it to me. I want you to understand that. I'm willing to give up the wars and the fighting to spend the rest of my life with you and the kids, and nothing else. I'm not hesitating because I don't believe it's worth the sacrifice, because you and the twins are worth more than anything to me."

Releasing a quiet sigh she moved closer to him, resting her head on his chest and holding him close in a tight hug and not letting go for a long few moments. Taking a deep breath she let him go, still standing nearer than she had been, wanting to keep him as close as possible. "You're asking me to choose between two parts of my family, Slade. Two parts that I love equally and completely. Because whether you like it or not, I have a family here among the Mandalorians. And I'm not abandoning any part of my family. I can't do that again. Don't make me, please."

[member="Slade Zambrano"]

 

[Slade Zambrano]

"I'm not asking you to do anything, Keira. Just think of the kids, because one day you might not make it home and the kids won't have a mother." Slade said with a small pause.

"Or worse, you live to grow old only seeing your kids once in a blue moon never getting to know them and being forced to tell them you chose war over them. You can't have both, love. We both know that." That was all Slade really had to say on the matter.

It was as real of a truth as it was going to get for the woman. While Slade would always support her through whatever she chose to do, they had to think of the children's safety and well being. If the drug addicted Zambrano could change and become a responsible father, then there was pretty much no excuse for Keira besides her being selfish.

"Anyways, suppose the party seems to be slowing down. I say we wander off to the hotel room where we can finally have a little alone time." Slade said as his hand creeped up Keira's lower back and he planted a kiss on her cheek.

Despite everything that was happening from war, politics, and other general crap, the two were still a married couple and did married couple activities like practicing the act of procreation just in case they had to help repopulate the Galaxy if another gulag plague hit.

"I'll buy you a drink." He chuckled a bit and stood by his wife's side wrapping his arm around her waist.

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Alkor seized up for a moment as he was touched, and his eyes darted to her hand. It had been unexpected, but not from any angle an attacker might use to take him by surprise. His mind darted through all the possibilities in an instant, and he actively beat back the combative response that his body instantly sought. "Joza," he repeated as she reneged from the touch. "I'll remember that."

If there was uncertainty in the Zeltron woman that this was a man unused to social interaction, his reaction all but confirmed it. As close as his expression came to serene in the notion of family, it returned the the guarded high alert of apathy only a moment later. They accepted him here, and there was no danger that he would be attacked unless it was a mutually agreed upon brawl, but that did not stop Alkor's instincts from distrusting everyone. It had been beaten into him.

He did like that the others were warriors as well, though. They were easier to relate to than some of the Dark Jedi he had met in recent times, who were more into the occult and pagan force traditions that Alkor tended to give a wide berth. Joza's presence in this place made it less difficult to talk to, because it meant that they had something in common besides a mutual friend in Nikias. There was not much to talk about where the fallen King of Makrosia was concerned.

When it came right down to it, her question about how it felt caught him more off guard than the touch.

Alkor had never been asked how he felt. His eyes stopped on hers and he briefly wondered if the question was loaded, or had some sort of ulterior motive. Did she want something from him? Was she looking for a weakness? Or was it possible that this woman had a genuine interest in how he felt about something?

How did he feel?

His mouth opened, but no sound came. Alkor had no answer to give her. For most of his life, Alkor had been denied that segment of his humanity, and so faced with it, he did only what he had been conditioned to do. The Jen'jidai glanced away from her and toward the ground nearby, whereupon he responded quietly. "Nothing," he answered. "It doesn't feel like anything."

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza made no comment as Alkor tensed, though she was relatively unsurprised by the reaction. But it was telling all the same, and she got the impression that physical contact was unwanted or uncommon. Nevertheless, her hand would quickly recede and hang loosely at her side. No point in making him uncomfortable. She mentally frowned as her touch seemed to whisk away his more peaceful visage.

Good job.

But he didn’t scoff or walk away from her, so there was that. And after a few moments, he’d answered her. Not quite the response she was expecting, and it gave her pause as well. Her mouth opened, then closed again as she gathered her thoughts.

“Well,” She ventured, as if unsure of her own words. “Maybe that’s a good thing. Or maybe you haven’t been dressed in beskar’gam and tossed from a cliff yet.” A light smile tilted her lips, and her eyes softened at the memory of her first day out with dad. She had a grudge against Ysalamir after that.

“I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable.” It sounded more like a confession than an apology for some reason. “I’m just curious, you know? I’ve never really met any of Nik’s friends before.”

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"That could be it," he reasoned as he saw her expression soften and wondered at what sort of antics prompted those memories in her. "Can't say I've spent much time wearing the armor, yet. Something about getting to know the family first. Culture shock might be the most apt way to describe it." No one had attempted to toss him from a cliff or anything of that nature, but hearing it made him wary of the possibility. He remembered warnings about how the Mandalorian people could be somewhat extreme, and how relations with them usually cropped up around times of war. He still had no idea what it meant to be one.

Maybe that was what he truly lacked in all of this.

When she spoke words of apology, he tilted his head. No one had ever shown remorse for any type of social interaction with him, especially not when they had never intended to upset him. Alkor was the first to admit he was on edge and well out of touch with sociocultural normality. Still, the act was fascinating in that he was uncertain of how to respond to it. He wagered the best thing to do would be to respond with exactly what came to mind.

"It's not your fault," he said evenly. What wasn't her fault? He was uncertain. "I don't know that Nikias ever considered me a friend," he pondered aloud, "we never did things friends do. Or I don't think that we did. I'm not very sure what it is that friends do." His gaze traveled back to Joza and he shrugged. "I've had a handful of..." his voice trailed off when he thought of the others, so long ago. "...I'm not sure I would call them friends. Acquaintances? Associates?"

Alkor's brow knitted in confusion. "Nikias, Aedan, and Nick are the only ones who were my..." The skies of Dubrillion were an endless sea of billowing clouds, rhythmic dancers above a cerulean sea. There was a certain mystery to all of it. His mind grasped at straws to rationalize anything at all, and the Dark Jedi found himself without another way of putting it. For some reason, it just made sense the way Joza said it.

"...friends."

He took a sip of his now watery ale and grimaced. "Piss," he muttered quietly as he swallowed his discontent and took another swig. He poured the remainder of the glass out and motioned for a new drink.

"You should not consider me a good example of the people Nikias surrounded himself with. He was a far more... sociable man than I."

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza watched Alkor intently, taking in his body language and the way he spoke. He seemed earnest enough, albeit a bit confused. Slowly, she began to understand that this was new territory for the man—the Mandalorian lifestyle, and perhaps even this level of social interaction. In that regard, he was doing remarkably well in comparison to how she handled her own life changes—or so Joza had imagined. One often viewed their own actions through a darker lens. Then again, she barely knew him, how he thought or what he’d been though.

Her gaze followed the mug as he poured what remained of its contents to the ground, confused for a few moments before she realized what he was doing. A smile ghosted her lips, and a serving droid whisked over to replace Alkor’s drink.

“So?” Both brows arched, and she tilted her chin downwards as if to exaggerate the motion. “Listen,” She paused for a moment, glancing over to the serving droid and wondering if she should request another drink as well. “Nikias is like a brother to me.” Even in death, she still considered him family. “He wouldn’t associate himself with you if he didn’t like you. He and I both come from hedonistic, social people, which probably played a hand in how quickly and strongly we bonded. But don’t fool yourself into thinking that being social is everything.”

Another pause, this one with more purpose. Joza took a half-step in front of Alkor, attempting to hold his gaze with her own. The movement wasn’t meant to be aggressive, but perhaps a bit forward. “You can still care for someone even if you don’t say it.” Pulling back, she cleared her throat, idly smoothing out the pleats of her dress with her free hand. Her expression softened again, and any sort of intensity she had while speaking began to drain from her face. “I trust his judgement.”

Maybe she was naïve, but Joza had a tendency to cling to those she had bonded deeply with. The Hellyni’s death had torn her up inside, moreso considering the circumstances. Her fist clenched, then slackened.

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

He was unsure of how to take the words she gave him, and so stared in silence at her feet until they fully soaked in. Being social wasn't everything? That meant he was potentially not as empty as the Dark Jedi would have had him believe, and he was at a loss. They all had lives, and friends, and loved ones. Alkor had always lived for the next battle, and when their battles ended, he simply looked for new ones. He went to where men gathered seeking war and banded together with a new set of warriors, but he never imagined that he would find warriors who's lives meant more than that. He never imagined that such warriors would simply accept him, or that a woman like Joza would show him this much... this was kindness, wasn't it?

His expression shifted for a moment as he lowered his gaze further and hair obscured his face. Disgraceful, they would have called it. Pitiful. In the moment where his convictions came to question, he had frozen in uncertainty. That alone was a failure when he considered his training.

Still, it meant there was an inkling of his humanity left. Alkor recognized that, but buried it quickly. He could ill afford to let that show now. Nikias was a man who let his emotions flow far more freely than Alkor ever had, and the Corellian had known that from the moment they met. When Joza said they were close, and elaborated on the closeness, Alkor knew.

They may have chosen different walks through life, but Nikas and Joza shared the same tenacity, and the same lust for life. Of all the people Nikias had fought for, this woman was the closest to family he had. Even more than his own family. "I... understand," Alkor murmured.

In the end, Nikias wanted this woman protected. It may have cost him his life, but he fought and bled, and even hurt. Alkor had never experienced what it felt like to care for someone that deeply. Even if he comprehended the sensation, it was impossible for him to empathize with it. At a base level, he could feel the loss still, a tremor in the all-encompassing Force. Nikias' end was a pulsar that rippled through space and time, and one with the gift of sensing those bonds could feel how it still touched the Zeltron.

How it would touch her, forever.

Alkor hated the Force. The light side, the dark side, et al- it all came together. All creatures were memory, inexorably linked by the binds of a power they could all harness, but never truly understand. He reached up and his fingers brushed Joza's arm, the closest contact he had ever given anyone beyond one with murderous intent. His face reddened a bit, but it remained unseen.

"I am... sorry for your loss," he managed to whisper. "Nikias wanted to protect you with his life. I have never felt that about anyone, nor has anyone felt it for me. Yours was... a powerful... love."

His hand twitched a bit, and he glanced away from her. The world felt so strange when he was connecting with others on any level. It was not the desolate darkness he was so used to. He watched the other Mandalorians talking, laughing, playing, and he sighed.

"I can't... remember feeling anything." He tugged his hand back slowly and it reflexively started to curl into a tightened ball. Not like a fist- he had no intention of striking her- more like an isolated fetal mechanism. "I know it is hardly consolation, but I will defend you for him, if the need ever arises."

Alkor's eyes were a color like the deep sea as he glanced up at her, and he forced a half-smile. "He was... my friend," Alkor affirmed, in no small part thanks to her words.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Ever anxious, Joza began to wonder if she shouldn’t have said any of that. Had she offended Alkor? Upset him? When he tilted his head down, she fought the urge to try and follow his gaze with her own. She could tell that he was thinking, possibly trying to feel out the situation and his own reaction to it. She would not disturb him, allowing silence to fall between them.

As his fingers brushed against her arm, Joza did not tense, but she did not lean into the touch. Instead, goosebumps formed where his fingers had made contact with her flesh. Zeltrons, for lack of a better explanation, loved being touched. They loved romance, closeness and good feelings. Joza was no different, in that regard. But recent events had left her reflexively wary of being touched. Not that she thought that Alkor—or anyone here, for that matter—would try and harm her.

Still, there was an odd sense of comfort in it.

When he mentioned Nikias wanting to protect her with his life, her eyes swept towards the ground, hardening for a few seconds. In her mind, Nik’s death could be traced back to her. If she hadn’t angered Haytham, he wouldn’t have struck her. If she’d hidden the bruises better, Nikias wouldn’t have found out and pursued the Sith who would eventually kill him. He’d still be alive. He’d still be here, and she wouldn’t have this hole in her heart.

“Thank you.” Her words were soft, but not whispered. “I’m sorry for your loss as well. He meant something to you, didn’t he? I’m sure that you did for him.”

But Nik was dead. Killed by the man she’d loved in a quest for revenge.

She’d thought about it many times before, but a simmering anger for Haytham—no, Darth Vanitas—was born in her chest. He’d even told her, practically taunted her about his plans to slay the Hellyni. Nothing specific, of course, but he’d dangled the information in front of her.

Swallowing her resentment lest it grow into a full blown rage, Joza tilted her eyes back up towards the Dark Jedi. She barely knew Alkor, but she got the vague feeling that he was navigating through new territory in interacting with her this way.

She nodded slowly, moreso as a reflex until she’d processed his words. Defend me? She stopped nodding, looking a bit out of sorts for a moment. In that instant, she vividly recalled being in bed next to the man she’d given her heart to. I’ll protect you. I’ll defend you. I’ll do better by you.

Again, she swallowed those feelings. Things could never again be how they were between her and Haytham.

“Thank you,” She repeated. “I appreciate it. But I don’t want to be a burden.” She did her best to mirror his half-smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “He was a good friend, Alkor. And I’m sure that he’d want us to carry on and be well.” Plucking another drink from a passing serving droid, she raised it in front of her. “A toast to Nikias. “

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Keira Priest]

"I'll talk to Isley and arrange something. He should understand. I'll probably still have to fight, but it won't be as often. Not unless I'm needed." Now that she genuinely took the idea into consideration, it didn't sound bad at all. It wasn't something she ever really thought about, but with everything that had been brought to light, Keira realized she was tired more than anything. Tired of the constant fighting, of departing one battlefield only to be deployed on another a few systems away. It was an exhaustion that ran straight to her core, and one unexplainable to those that hadn't experienced the life of a soldier. Yes, she was tired of the war. It was a day she never thought would come.

A slow smile crept across her face when he pulled her close, and she leaned over to brush her lips across his cheek. "You do know it's an open bar, min larel. The drinks are all free. But I appreciate the sentiment." As age had caught up with him it seemed Slade had only become more of a gentleman, whereas she had mostly stayed the same, though perhaps grown a touch more wise and maybe even restrained. "You know, Kaya asked me the other day how we met. I told her it would be better to talk to her dad about that." Her smile took on more of a mischievous edge as she looked to her husband. It was a tale the twins would have to wait to hear once they were a bit older.

Slight tremors in the Force drew her gaze towards [member="Alkor Centaris"] and [member="Joza Perl"], and she watched them for a moment. "Give me a second. I'll be right back." Pulling away from Slade she meandered her way through the gathering until she stood near the two. "Vod'ika, the both of you repeat after me. It's...a Mandalorian thing." Well, she wasn't entirely wrong in saying that. "'Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde.'" The words were spoken slowly enough that even those with no grasp on the language would have some idea of what to say, and with that she bid them adieu. Once she was with her husband again she pressed close to him, lips feathering across his jaw, "Now, about that alone time..."

[member="Slade Zambrano"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"I..." he was about to speak, but the sensation of [member="Keira Ticon"] approaching pricked the back of his mind, and Alkor quickly held his tongue. The conversation with Joza was a personal one, and involved things he was still not quite fully aware of himself. He nodded absently when the Zeltron declared a toast to Nikias. Alcohol was one of the few things in this massive galaxy the Corellian exile was violently aware of. The Jen'jidai had a proclivity for drinking small governments into massive debt as a collective, but Alkor had gained notoriety with his own ability to contribute to that tab. Between him and the other Corellian Dark Jedi, Leto Bes'tial, they had left the Xendorian Mug in near tatters. He lifted the ale to his lips and took a hearty gulp worthy of the name "Alkyholic."

"To Nikias," he gasped afterward, and he grinned at Joza as he carefully heard Keira's words. "Mandalorian... thing..." he mused for a moment. The words were simple enough to memorize and repeat. Was this some sort of rite of passage? If so, he didn't have much of a choice. He looked to Joza and repeated the words so that she would be able to hear them one more time before stumbling over them herself.

Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde.

Wait... had that been right? As he said the words, a strange feeling like fire ripped through his esophagus, down to his gullet. Must be the ale, he decided, that stuff's not half bad. He looked over the Zeltron once more as Keira walked away and scratched his head. It felt improper for him to say anything else before the daughter of a Warmarshal got her chance to speak the words, especially since she had a better claim to them than he did.

Instead, he kept his mouth shut and waited.

Little did he know...

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza’s gaze shifted from Alkor to the form of [member="Keira Ticon"] as the woman approached from behind. The Zeltron squinted for a moment, wondering if she looked familiar or not. She knew the name Ticon, but couldn’t pull up any faces or memorable acquaintances. Still, she knew enough to figure that this woman was the more experience Mandalorian of the trio, especially with how easily and effortlessly the Mando’a flowed from her lips.

She arched a brow as Alkor repeated the phrase, as if to ask if he knew what he was saying. She sure didn’t, only having spent enough time around Mandalorians to pick up a few words and some sounds. At this point, she could probably speak Huttese better than Mando’a. A faint wave of…shame? washed over her for a moment. This was her heritage, and yet she hadn’t really made an effort to be a part of it.

“Mhi solus tome, ma..mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verd…verda? Verde.” Repeating the unknown phrase after Alkor, Joza had a bit more trouble with phonetics than the Dark Jedi. No matter, as Keira seemed satisfied enough and returned to the man she was speaking with before.

“Any idea what we just said?” She wasn’t too concerned, but the words did give her an odd feeling. Maybe because they felt so foreign to her. Realizing that she’d forgotten to drink to the toast, the Zeltron took a quick swig of the ale she’d picked up—immediately making a face as the bitter liquid slid down her throat. She didn’t dislike ale, but it certainly wasn’t her first choice…that, and she’d just been drinking the galaxy’s sweetest cocktail beforehand.

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"No idea," he replied with a slight shrug. "I suppose it could be some kind of swearing in or oath of allegiance." His eyes moved toward Ticon as she drifted further from them and started to fraternize with her husband. It becams increasingly apparent that she had no intention of explaining the significance of their first soiree into Mando'a sentence structure, and Alkor found himself more than a little curious. "Maybe someone overheard and could explain it for us?"

The Dark Jedi looked around questioningly, then looked back to Joza with a poisitively confused expression. They were alone again after the strange intrusion and brief exchange, but something felt different. There was a ripple of something strange, deep beneath the surface. He stretched out with his thoughts and grazed the surface of the infinite mysteries, only to find something far more vast calling back to him. Somewhere in the stygian depths, a hand reached back for his.

His mind plunged into the murk and his eyes closed as he concentrated on the world around him. The galaxy was massive- virtually limitless in comparison to the finite constraints of human intelligence. Alkor had a firmer grasp than many around him of the structural integrity of the universe, and as he opened his eyes once more, he swept his hardened gaze over the Zeltron woman.

"I... that's strange," he muttered. He must have been seeing things. Alkor took a step closer and gently took Joza by the hand. It was a more careful, tender touch than he generally gave, but one wrong application of pressure could easily cause her immense damage. Alkor did not intend to break her apart.

When their hands touched, his eyes widened and he felt his heart skip a beat. "Wh... wha..." He quickly let go of her hand, then looked around. Was it some kind of binding rite of kinship? Had Keira made them oathsworn Mandalorians, battle brothers, and kindred spirits? Was it now the same for him and the others present?

His mind's eye still saw the pulsing ripple of Force energy that was a Shatterpoint, and his blood ran cold. His entire life, Alkor had the gift to perceive weaknesses and possibilities in space and time, but none of those anomalies had ever been centered around himself.

It was a sudden, harsh reminder of his own mortality.

More than anything, that was what caught him off guard.

[member="Joza Perl"]