Private Seafood and Shanties (CIS / Friends Social)

[Mia Mereel]

POLITICAL REGION: CIS SPACE, Naboo
LOCATION: Qwint’s Place, Kaadara
Objective: Don’t break anything, don’t burn it down, and don’t get arrested.
When: After the Great Nexu Hunt The Swirling Depths And Dawn of a New Era.
TAGS: [ OPEN ] [ Pieter Hejaran ] [ Kyyrk ]

The discussion of Sith culture unnerved Mia, without a doubt; the Mon Cala chef was very brave and calm, soothing Mia simply by not being flustered. No matter what she did, Mia’s mind would not stop worrying at the problem. Not only was there always the question of which type of Sith (culture, race, Force-credo) was under discussion, but you then had to parse through a dozen or more political factions to go with it, before any actionable data could be discovered. Well, besides the so very obvious: Sith could not be trusted, because their own values respected betrayal. While her Aunt might hunt a single fact out of all the information the Sith-lord Knight Obsidian offered, Mia could not be so dispassionate. It hurt, to see her Aunt sitting with any Sith; worse was her Aunt’s ironclad determination to treat with this one as if he had honor. That made no sense to Mia; the violet-eyed Knight must have been indoctrinated in the worst of the Sith ideologies.

So why was her Aunt still here?

When Qwint turned to her with that grandfatherly smile, Mia’s grin came out from hiding, her shoulders still hunched with tension. “Kal or Kad, hmm?” She nodded in sympathy; not only where those names very close in sound, but in meaning. Beige and brown were a touch problematic, in getting to know a new Mando, simply because they could as easily indicate a practical man used to working in desert environments, as speak of vengeance - either sought or achieved. A glance at the golden, beautiful sand of Naboo made her lean towards vengeance, in this case.

Her grin flashed wider, at the notion of how much that particular warrior had loved songs. Sure, the culture was largely taught in the oral tradition, and music was a big part of it. Yet the shear joy the Mon Cala exuded as he spoke of Kal (or Kad) Rau’s love of music suggested something else, entirely.

As did the trip to provide relief to the Mando’ade in hiding. “Thank you, Qwint Akkaro, for you aid.” Any inclination to slip into mournful rumination was utterly vanished, however, by his next comment.

“Uj cakes?” She squeaked, when he mentioned the cakes. “Uj'alayi? If I brought you some Mandalorian fruits and nuts from our garden, do you think that would make the difference?” It seemed as if she was ready to race to the ship that very instant, for the chance to devour one of the dense, sweet flat cakes. She could all but smell the syrup and spice!

She leaned over and clasped his arm gently, as his spirits seemed to drop. “I’ll ask around, Qwint. Any sigils? Clan marks, great battles, friends immortalized upon his armor? Or Jaig eyes?” She nodded to her aunt’s armor, which sported that distinctive commendation for bravery under fire. “We’re headed to a …” Suddenly she was unsure how secret the Solstice memorial was supposed to be. “A gathering, where we’ll have a chance to look around. I’m sure they’ll have some way to ask about our Vode.”

[ Garm Oligard ] A new guest moved up, then, settling at the bar and placing an order for slitherfish stew. Curiously, Mia studied his uniform … it took her a bit pick out the Commander’s tabs upon his uniform, but he‘d have screamed navy, she suspected, even if she‘d seen him in his civies. Had he been at that vast armada protecting the Nexus gate? Her sharp mind ran through the voices she’d heard upon Marshall Verin Oldo ’s ship. Falling silent for now (Mia was never silent for long), she flashed a smile at him.

 

[Jhira Mereel]

POLITICAL REGION: CIS SPACE, Naboo
LOCATION: Qwint’s Place, Kaadara
Objective: Don’t break anything, don’t burn it down, and don’t get arrested.
When: After the Great Nexu Hunt The Swirling Depths And Dawn of a New Era.
TAGS: [ Pieter Hejaran ] [ Kyyrk ] [ Garm Oligard ]

A long absence was always hard on any relationship, but Jhira had come to feel that the absent of a parent was a dreadfully deep wound, no matter the cause. Whatever it was that had burdened his family had shaped him quite oddly; while there was no malice or resentment in his voice, neither did the memories seem to bring him the peace or joy she expected. That or he was so used to muting positive feelings, it was inherent in him to conceal them, even here. After all, the last thing you wanted was a Sith knowing where you weaknesses were.

The notion of a Clan invading Sith Territory was not new; what surprised her was the idea that they had done it alone. Again, a thoughtful look accompanied the idea that his Sith-loving true Mand’alor had declared his rival Dar’manda. That was an unusual step. Mandos were usually much more direct than that. A soft head shake followed, for the ease with which Sith, Jedi and even the Republic were able to turn Mandalorians against each other whenever their was a Mand’alor of any sort was a constant burden upon Jhira.

It too painfully reflected recent history.

A thoughtful frown appeared, as he spoke of reconciling his child-hood oath with the Sith creed. Glancing at him again, she offered, “I felt as if the Vylmiran code spoke most firmly of balance. My understanding of the Sith creed is that it is very devoted to extremes? Extreme emotion, leading to extreme power.” After speaking, she was silent a moment, once more shaking off a memory. Or two.

“Yes, I knew you were a hunter when I first saw you.” A beat passed, and she looked at him fully. “More recently … did you ever Hunt the Sith behind the Omega Wars?”

 

[Kyyrk]

R E S P I T E

Wearing​

Kyyrk shook his head quietly. "No. The Vylmiran Code speaks of defense. Of aiding those unable to aid themselves. We're...very pragmatic as to methods." Kyyrk smiled thinly. "When you're all alone in the galaxy, you have to do what you have to do to get by. Though the ruling council always condemned the darkside, if that was the tool needed to enact change..." Kyyrk refilled his drink from the pitcher as he left the thought unfinished.

He took a drink, thinking long about her question. "The Omega War was....before my time. You understand, it was by my own hand that I am alive this long. And yet, it was not. I know not what to call it, but there was a ritual. One that had to be stopped." Kyyrk shrugged, looking at the amber liquid within his cup. "We did. Quite successfully. But not without price. Most called it death, but...knowing what I know now, I'm not so sure. For I have walked the lands of the dead. And this....was different."

Or in laymans terms he had been killed. But...wasn't really dead. "Do not ask me how it came to be, for I have told you all I know. Though I suspect my wife, and her skill in the more...eldritch parts of the Force had a hand in it. Either way, it was a prison. A prison I was not freed from till mere months before the Battle of Eshan."

Jhira Mereel || Pieter Hejaran

 

[Pieter Hejaran]

TAGS: Kyyrk Verros | Mia Mereel | Garm Oligard

Qwint seemed to be thinking again as the young Mandalorian prodded him more about the details of the man named Rau. His grey-blue eyes seemed to lighten up with a sudden memory. He reached under the bar counter and pulled out a small datapad and a stylus. The device was typically used to write orders at rush hour, but it was unnecessary at this point. He turned to Mia with a reminiscing look.

"If I am recallin' right...." He muttered, and began to use the stylus to carefully sketch out something on the screen, "He had somethin' like this on his left pauldron."

He finished his sketch and showed it to Mia, revealing a crude yet legible recreation of a symbol. He saw another customer walk on in, and gave a polite nod to Mia to excuse himself to go handle business. He hobbled closer towards the young, reddish-skinned fellow in what appeared to be some sort of uniform.

"Ahoy there, and welcome to Qwint's." He greeted with a smile,"Catch of the day is gooberfish, but I have some slitherfish still in my stores. How would ya like it?"

He gently leaned on the counter, pondering the different ways he could serve up the swampy, eel-like creature that hid among the vines of Naboo's marshes. His eyes lit up once more with inspiration.

"Some like it raw, where I could serve it as a sushi. I have some fresh snoruuk sauce from Gamorr, which I could marinade it in to give it nice savory, mushroom-y taste. Fry it, grill, bake it. You name it! Oh, and todays sides are fried zucchi, mashed chokeroot, or a fresh garden salad with Chadian dressing."

He stood back up, awaiting to hear fancypant's response as to how he wanted his food. In a way, Qwint was beaming as this little spot of his started to get new customers. It was always nice to have things go so well.

 

[Garm Oligard]

The Daedra smiled back at the old sea dog before nodding and grinning at the young girl who was looking him over. Might as well not get pushed out with a slugthrower aimed at his head before his order was taken down. He of course thought of the Mon Cala’s discussion about the Menu with interest, deciding on his meal in his brain. “I’ll take my slither grilled medium with the snoruuk sauce you mentioned. If I could have some Coca-cola with that, the meal would be set” Having given his order, the naval officer started to look around at all the memorabilia. He smiled at all the fish hooks and steering wheels. It made him feel at home since he did grow up in a seaside village after all. Sometimes he would steal fish from the markets, not unlike the one up above just to survive. Garm quickly shook off those memories however, they didn't need to taint this meal.

 

[Jhira Mereel]

POLITICAL REGION: CIS SPACE, Naboo
LOCATION: Qwint’s Place, Kaadara
Objective: Don’t break anything, don’t burn it down, and don’t get arrested.
When: After the Great Nexu Hunt The Swirling Depths.And Dawn of a New Era.
TAGS: [ OPEN ] [ Pieter Hejaran ] [ Kyyrk ] [ Garm Oligard ]

Jhira’s finger traced patterns in the frost on her stein, for she no longer had a death grip upon it. Precisely, carefully, she recited from memory, “ ‘The Darkness may engulf me, but it will never consume me. The Light may guide me, but it will never blind me.’ ”

Angling her head to look at him obliquely, she sought confirmation she’d gotten it right. “But you are suggesting that rather than avoid extremes, they simply use both extremes at will?” There was some tension there, she felt, between he and the High Council who condemned the Dark side. Gently, she asked, “And can you see why they do, after so long trapped with the Sith?”

It was her turn for a long, slow pull of her ale when he spoke of the Omega War, and his odd … undeath. A momentary stillness, as a sharp disappointment crushed her. Oh, how she’d wanted him to have those answers. Unease swiftly drove the disappointment away. He spoke of his life, his death. Something in between; a strange prison that was some of both. Long, lost centuries between the world he’d sworn to protect and the one he’d woken up in. She shook her head, trying to derail her train of thought. It came anyway.

Certain very disturbing, very old tales would account for his glowing eyes and odd coloring.

A searching glance danced over his face, the glowing eyes, that odd structure of jaw she’d taken to be no more than cyberware. “Being not quite all the way here might account for your coloring. Are you sure Mirilith is a race, and not a state of being? Like a nether ghost who made it here, but didn’t quite finish the transaction?”

It seemed the kindest way to ask, are you really alive?

Her gaze swept over to Mia and the commander, for not even the most dire conversation could fully divert her from her family’s welfare. He was not a Mandalorian, which (at least in Jhira’s mind) eliminated whole categories of threat. Polite, well spoken. A soft nod, and she turned her full attention to her churning stomach’s aching and the strange revenant who’d taken a liking to her.

 

[Mia Mereel]

POLITICAL REGION: CIS SPACE, Naboo
LOCATION: Qwint’s Place, Kaadara
Objective: Don’t break anything, don’t burn it down, and don’t get arrested.
When: After the Great Nexu Hunt The Swirling Depths And Dawn of a New Era.
TAGS: [ OPEN ] [ Pieter Hejaran ] [ Kyyrk ] [ Garm Oligard ]

Mia’s enthusiasm over the Uj cake did not seem to be fully shared, and she surmised many a painful failure for Qwint. It was never, ever a good thing to fail, so she determined to find a few more recipes of the sweet, heavy cake and forward them here. If he could make Gihaal taste good, then there was nothing he could not eventually master.

Qwint’s eyes lit with memory and her grin flared, as he carefully drew an ancient, near-sacred sigil. A soft, “Oh … oh, that will be very helpful,” whispered out of her, eyes gleaming with wonder. Could this Rau’s family have kept alive the traditions and honor of The Rau? Fen Rau, the Protector of Concord Dawn?

A thousand questions fought for expression, but before she could choose one, Qwint had escaped to tend to his new guest. She’d been raised to never interfere with someone’s livelihood, which left her with no alternative, after all, than to study the sigil copied to her data pad and plan how to help find this lost Mando’ade.

A swish of movement at her feet, and she picked them up with a sudden laugh, expecting to see a soft furry animal of some kind. A pet - and how she wanted one! Reaching down to soothe the beastie after her sudden move, she froze. The soft, warm, furry thing she had nearly touched was a tail!

Mia blinked. Twice. Then followed the curve of the tail to a trim uniformed leg, until she was staring, astounded, at the Commander. Ears. Adorable ears, like [ Arash Garshasp ] had. Why had she never found out if he had a tail? That Mando armor, that’s why! She shook her head, at her own irrational irritation with the beskar’gam of her people.

Offering a rueful, embarrassed smile to the Commander, she apologized. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize. Please, may I buy you a drink as an apology? I’m Mia. Mia Mereel, Clan Fett.”

 

[Kyyrk]

R E S P I T E

Wearing​

Kyyrk mused quietly on Jhira's question, until she asked if he understood why the ruling council condemned the use of the Dark Side. He snorted, chuckling quite audibly. "Good Captain, I have spent many years studying the Code of the Sith. Thinking upon the meaning of each and every word. Every possible permutation of every possible meaning. And you know what I came to realize?

Not once in the code does it say one must use the Dark Side."

Kyyrk smiled into his glass for a moment, before taking another sip. When the glass was pulled away, the smile was gone with it. "After so long trapped with the Sith, I was the one who enacted that order." He turned his head to look at Jhira, nodding in confirmation of what he'd just said. Jhira in all likelyhood did not know that the Vylmiran Council had, in days past, been comprised of Six Councilors, one from each region of the planet. Each, in turn, cast their vote to a High Councilor. This figure led many roles. Mediator of the council. Chief diplomat of his planet. Viceroy, now that the planet was a member of the Confederacy. Not unlike her Mand'alor, the High Councilor was chosen in times of great need. So what did it say about Kyyrk that he had been chosen twice?

Though that was many years ago, and a different man wore the skin that he now wore. "The Sith Code speaks of power. How to gain it, and how to wield it. In truth, it is perfectly possible to serve both masters. Not that I care to do such things any more." Kyyrk smiled softly. "Not that I can remember how, anyway." He took another long draw of his drink, and began picking at the few scraps of food within the basket before him. "To speak in as plain terms as I may, Mirith is indeed a distinct species." He turned his gaze towards Jhira as he began to answer her second question. "Not three years ago, I was Miraluka. Pure blooded, not a blemish of any kind."

He spoke genetically, of course. He had to. Surely he was not THAT blind. "Then I was....tasked with something. Something that called me back to the hunting grounds of old." The Netherworld. "I do not know what caused it, but I was...called back. And changed upon my return. You can imagine, with the advent of the gates not a month later, that we had our suspicions about the cause of this change." He smirked to himself. "I may not be the wisest, nor may I understand everything, but I have been dead long enough to know the difference..."

Jhira Mereel || Pieter Hejaran

 

[Jhira Mereel]

POLITICAL REGION: CIS SPACE, Naboo
LOCATION: Qwint’s Place, Kaadara
Objective: Don’t break anything, don’t burn it down, and don’t get arrested.
When: After the Great Nexu Hunt The Swirling Depths And Dawn of a New Era.
TAGS: [ OPEN ] [ Pieter Hejaran ] [ Kyyrk ] [ Garm Oligard ]

A comfortable, contemplative silence settled between them, and Jhira nibbled upon a few more slices of the fried zucchini. The Knight’s warm chuckle reached out to her, drawing her attention back to him. The form of address he chose, Good Captain, won a flaring smile, though she was far too focused upon his answer to maintain it. She pivoted fully to face him, a thoughtful crease in her brow.

When he told her of the hours, years, centuries he’d spent meditating and thinking upon the Sith Code, she settled in, expecting a good, long tale.

Not once in the code does it say one must use the Dark Side.

Confusion blurred her vision, baffled her ears. So thoroughly, for so very long, had the culture, race and Creed of the Sith literally embodied the Dark Side that at first she simply did not understand what he had said. Thought that she must have missed something. But no; that was his full wisdom upon the topic. A tragic version of, It did not have to be this way.

“Kyyrk …” the single word was both a baffled plea for more information, and an amused, almost irritated demand that he clarify. It may well have been a very, very long time, since anyone dared such tone of voice with him.

Turning away to study his ale, he smiled. Perhaps amused at her temerity, or perhaps entirely for reasons of his own — but he smiled, and it was that bitter-sweet smile. Aay’han. Once he lifted his gaze to hers again it was gone; somber, intense, he focused upon her.

Needed her to hear and understand.

He, Kyrrk Verros, Vylmira’s Wrath, had forbidden the Dark Side to his people. Jhira forgot herself enough to stare; that would make it … twice, now, that his people had turned to him for aid. And yet he said he held no rank nor title at all, now.

So what had happened?

Bewilderingly, he turned back to speak upon the Sith Code. How it enshrined power, and taught people how to attain it. His follow up, that it taught them how to wield said power, caused Jhira to stir, as though she might disagree. But he stopped her with his simple, Not that I care to do such things, anymore. Not that I can remember how, anyway, and his soft smile.

A wound was lay bare, before her; an odd and painful gift.

Jhira wasn’t one for touch, really. Not even at home. But she felt she ought to offer some physical reassurance in that moment. Yet … the how was beyond her. It left inadequate words, and what poor words she might find constrained to the despised Basic. The moment was lost as he turned back to pick at the forlorn scraps of his fish. He told the fish firmly that he was alive. Well. A Mirilith, but she rather thought he meant - yes, I’m here. I’m alive. Somehow.

A lift of his head, and she could almost make out his eyes, beneath the violet wreath. It flickered softly, an endless eldritch glow. No stealth missions for him, unless his helmet sealed as thoroughly as a Mandalorian’s. Ah! A date, a time, a way to fix his terrifying history into place. Three years ago, he’d been a flawless Miraluka - pureblooded, without blemish, were his actual words.

The urge to tease him for this word-choice was profound; Jhira’s lips twitched and her eyes lightened with amusement. Yet she was aware that these were painful topics for him, so refrained from the obvious rejoinder.

For now, anyway.

“You were called into the Nether, to finish something from your past.” Her gaze sharpened. “Did you achieve that goal? Can you recall?” She feared she could guess the most likely cause, and was certain that neither one wished that upon their war-torn galaxy. It was too much to take in this sober. Dead, mostly dead, partly alive, alive. He’d been them all. And while he scarcely seemed to recall his recent past, those other states had so scoured upon his soul that he could not blot them out.

A lesser man would have surely succumbed to madness. But Kyyrk - he smirked at the forces that had dared to define and confine him.

“Are they there?” Jhira finally asked. “I went to the Nether, fearful that my lost loved ones had been drawn there, rather than to the Manda of our Clan.” For they were not a proper Clan, at all. Broken, lost fragments of a half-dozen Clans. Was that enough to bring her beloved dead home?

 

[Kyyrk]

R E S P I T E

Wearing​

Kyyrk's gaze wandered back to the basket before him, his eyes distant. Had he done what he set out to do? His eyes flickered slightly as a new memory filled his mind. A dark one. A realm devoid of light. Of hope. A gnawing hunger lurking at its heart. His right hand, resting beside the basket, slowly curled into a fist. He had been sent to finish something. Something from his past. Again, he heard the scream. The blade errupting from his chest. Something from his past. And in a single, horrifying moment...

...it all made sense.

"Yes. But there is still more to do." He turned his gaze towards Mia for the briefest of moments, then stood, placing a credit chit on the bar to cover a generous tip. "Walk with me. There are things that must be said, but cannot be said here." Kyyrk did not wait for the Mandalorian to join him, instead turning to walk from the cantina and having faith that she would follow. "Master Qwint, I look forward to the next I may be able to visit. May business be good to you."

A communicator had found its way into the man's hand, and he was punching in a message of some sort to it. No, not a message. A code. He pulled it up to his ear, and said in a hushed tone, "Lechner. We need to speak. Priority: Umbral Dawn." He paused, turning to look at Jhira for a moment. Lechner. Yes, that Lechner. Whoever this man was, he was on a name-with-no-titles basis with the Lord Commander of the Confederacy. And more to the point, if Jhira and the Enclave were familiar with Confederate Military terms, she would recognize the priority code. The Black Morning. Reserved only for the most dire of circumstances. "I may have just discovered vital information about Ektheros."

Kyyrk stowed the communicator, and turned his attention fully to Jhira. "I thank you for your aid, even if you did not realize you were giving it. But I must confess, I came here with a motive. One aside from a meal and pleasant conversation. I can't give you details, but I have a job for you. Pilot. Nothing to do with what you just saw." He offered a very important clarification. Whatever he was going to ask her about, he had been planning on since he walked through the door. "High risk, possible war zone. Pays well."

He held up a finger to cut off any attempt to speak, but also to emphasize the point he was about to make. "I haven't been entirely truthful about who I am. You know some of the truth, but not all of it. If you're going to accept this job, you deserve to know the truth. Most in the galaxy know me by a different name. Voph." The man who had led the Knights Obsidian to its downfall. The Lord Commander who had held the throne before Gerwald. "Our planets are not the only that suffer. But unlike ours, Csilla's destruction has gone unanswered. And I intend to do something about that. Are you in, or out?"

Jhira Mereel || Pieter Hejaran

 

[Jhira Mereel]

POLITICAL REGION: CIS SPACE, Naboo
LOCATION: Qwint’s Place, Kaadara
Objective: Don’t break anything, don’t burn it down, and don’t get arrested.
When: After the Great Nexu Hunt The Swirling Depths And Dawn of a New Era.
TAGS: [ OPEN ] [ Kyyrk

[ Pieter Hejaran ] Jhira slid out of her seat; jet pack swung to her back, helmet fastened even as she turned to their host and slid a small credit chip over to him. “Thank you; I will be back, and bring more Mandos with me. Stay alive, Qwint Akkaro.”

[ Garm Oligard ] The Mandalorian pilot stared for a moment at the quietly charming Naval Officer, before tuning to Mia. “You know the drill, M’ika.” The teen looked past Jhira, as the strange Kyyrk Verros was headed to the door.

“I’m not sure that it is safe to work for him, Aunt.” Mia said softly, clearly uneasy.

A soft sound of amusement escaped Jhira. “Oh, I’m quite certain he’s not. But I’ll hear the Knight out.” She clapped her niece upon the shoulder before falling into step with Kyyrk.

They weren’t two steps out of the building before he COMM’d a Lechner; the name would have meant very little to Jhira save that she’d had to memorize all those fancy names for the CIS ball. As it was, she was still just a bit unclear if the man ran the Knight’s Obsidian, or the Confederacy, or both. Anyway; too powerful to have anything to do with Jhira. So no, it wasn't the name that locked her attention.

It was the code-phrase.

Then a name, Ektheros. Apparently Lechner was as oblivious to protocol, courtesy and curiosity as Kyyrk was, for the discussion between the two ended without a single question being asked or answered.

Yet the man who turned his face to her was subtly different, both in posture and speech patterns from the one she’d met only days ago. His gaze settled upon her with purpose; she nodded as he spoke of needing a pilot.

Of who he was.

Of the destruction of their worlds being answered for. A small movement once more suggested he misunderstood something of her past, and again she chose to let it go.

This was business.

“Lots and lots of money, right? Double what you’re offering,” she dead-paned, since they hadn’t discussed an amount at all. “And free access to any Nexu I can find in CIS Territory.” She was, after all, a Mandalorian. Their services were never cheap … and nearly always involved barter. But if he could just call the guy who could give her a writ, order or whatever meaningless bureaucratic trapping was needed, she wasn’t above leaning on the ancient, Eldritch Knight to get it.

“I know how to slot into place and work with the military, Kyyrk,” willfully, she ignored his newly revealed name, the bloody litany of titles and horrors that followed it, focusing only upon the job offer. “But I will answer only to you, or to a leader whom I think makes sense.” There was no room in her life for people promoted beyond their abilities, or who thought a fancy name made them fit for command. The last thing she needed was a general or Deputy High Marshall deciding to co-opt her.

A beat passed, the steady regard of her T-visor never wavering.

“I do not look the other way, when people destroy or burn out whole worlds.” The calm phrasing, the perfectly controlled voice, seemed to bear little relation whatsoever to the deep, multilayered fury which had woken within her. Save that her emotions made clear that she held the destruction of worlds in an entirely different category from merely burning out, stripping or ravaging them. Oh yes; those who had turned Csilla into an asteroid belt were due for some payback.

“You need to know that, too.” Sorrow touched the anger, a sort of preemptive grief, then it hardened into purpose. She’d listened well, when he spoke of his action against the Zakuul Knights - and it made her wary of his choices.

Awakening whatever memories had turned him from a near-friend into a stranger had not done him any favors; she suspected it would cost more than the comfortable ease between them.

“Are you going to tell me about Ethkeros?”