That OTHER oldest profession

[Lynn Caromed]

[member="Fabula Caromed"]

When it came to spines, Fabula Caromed (neè Cavataio) had one of the toughest around. She'd taken hits without flinching that could rip a normal person in half. She'd taken blows without stopping that would have reduced an armored vehicle to a steaming wreck. The woman was a walking war crime, a platoon of shock troops in heels and a skirt. The trade-off to this was her literal spine was factors stronger than her social or metaphorical one, which tended to bend at the lightest of pressures.

Today was the day she was felled by a single blow from a twelve year old.

"Aunt Fabby!" Noise bounced up the last two steps and into his aunt's arms like a skinny Miralian rocket, all gawky elbows and scabs and shameless, innocent grinning. A few steps behind him, with a crooked smile was one of the more respected surgeons on Taris - Tiendas Caromed, Lynn's younger brother by adoption, and master of the bedside manner.

He raised a hand in greeting, setting down his case. "Su'cuy, vod." Tiendas, looking slightly trail-worn, intoned. He really was in a hurry - he hadn't even turned off his speeder, and his usually pristine white coat had a faint, but visible, caff stain on the lapel. Divorce, it seemed, wasn't agreeing with him. "Thank you so much for taking Noishe for the weekend - if I could have rescheduled the seminar, trust me, I would have..."

"Are we gonna go up to the BIG HOUSE?" Noishe asked loudly, motioning to the large, majestic manor up the hill that was the traditional seat of the clan's leadership. Lynn might occupy the position, but so far as anyone was concerned, she was more than content to live in her little place at the foot of the hill, just inside the woods. The house was looked after, Lynn promised, and that was all she had to say on the matter.

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Fabula's DR 20/adorable children was unfortunately of no use whatsoever against Noishe's tackle. Fortunately, she soaked the damage from the landing without issue. From her place on the floor, the pale woman looked up to nod at Tien. "Ba'gedet'ye. Like I could ever pass up time with my favorite nephew ever." Hair ruffles, because she was worried that she might bruise him if she pinched his cheek.

Hoisting the child up onto one arm without a lick of difficulty or instability, Fabula turned her attention to his dad. "He'll be here when you get back, and you're entirely welcome to stay for dinner if you like. I believe it's pasta." Habitual, crippling politeness refused to let her directly ask if she could do anything to help. At least, not in public, and absolutely not in front of Tien's child. She hoped her smile was empathetic enough.

Attention back on Noishe. "And until then, we're going to be working up an appetite, because Aunt Fabula may just have ordered up a full season of Tython Sector Rescue Force. I'm sure it will be quite the chore to watch with little old me~" Melodramatic fainting motion, hand to forehead. Smirk. It was unlikely Fabula would actually ever bear children, but that didn't mean she couldn't be the second-best parent ever.

After all...she had a great role model.
[member="Lynn Caromed"]

 

[Lynn Caromed]

[member="Fabula Caromed"]

Noishe, held under arm like a sack of potatoes, squirmed and fussed, trying to fight his way free - in good spirit, of course. "I appreciate the offer, sis - But I'm already an hour behind schedule." Tien apologized, as Noishe managed to grunt and shove and get him self kind of upright in an attempt to twist Fabula's arm into a joint hold. Wresting a statue, basically. "Noishe -"

"Yeah bedatnineandbehave. Got it dad." The boy replied, yanking at Fabula's arm valiantly. Tien nodded and leaned down to give his son a quick hug, which was enough to stop the struggle for a few seconds as they exchanged 'love yous'. As soon as Tien pulled away? "Raaaagh!" Noishe renewed his attack. At least, it seemed, his hand-to-hand training had been kept up on. At last summer's games, Tien had yet again placed third in the family's usual wrestling tournaments, joint locks and leverage were in Noishe's blood.

Lynn had come in fifth, and was none too pleased about it. Possibly because Fable had taken forth, and had been similarly eliminated by her uncle.

A handful more thank-yous, the exchange of a weekend bag from adult to adult and a pair of hugs, and Tien was on his way. Noishe scrabbled up to hand from Fabula's shoulder, watched his father drive off with a thoughtful expression, then resumed his attack on aunt titan.

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Was it a bit unbecoming of a strapping young Mandalorian lad to be held at bay with one hand while the woman he was grappling all over held his bag with her other? Maybe. But, to Noise's credit, Fabula was quite taken by just how good of a grasp the lad had on her shoulder. She flexed once, just to feel the resistance, then grinned back at him. "Someone's been drinking his milk. You're almost as strong as me!"

Making her way slowly into the house, Fabula carefully set down her nephew's belongings on the table in the front room, before flopping down onto the couch with every ounce of her softness cushioning the landing for the boy in her arms. Oh yes. In her arms now. There was no escape. "Sooo. Bed at nine and behave...but he didn't say anything about what you have to do until nine, did he?"

Giving him a conspiratorial grin, the woman reached for the datapad hooked up to the entertainment center, tapped once or twice. "TSRF, as promised. We've got a few snacks in the kitchen, but Fable has really been working on her pasta, so nothing after three. The compound yard is normally clear this time of day. Later on, we might be able to catch some of the teen armor training." She reached up a finger to poke his nose. "They have tanks this week."
[member="Lynn Caromed"]

 

[Lynn Caromed]

"Pbbbthbp. Fable's DUMB." Noishe grumped unhappily. When he'd meet her, he'd adored his little cousin and had practically dragged her everywhere by the hand. In a year, they were the same height. In two or three years, Fable was very nearly an adult and Noishe... wasn't. He still wasn't quite over the fact that she'd went and basically become an adult overnight, and then had had the bad manners to actually act like an adult in top of it. It was the most base betrayal.

Still. He was being held, and was comfortable. Noishe quieted down - he might be upset with Fable, but he adored his aunts. And TSRF, for that matter. "I got to ride in a tank last month!" He reported proudly. "Dad took pictures. Aunt Iliya let me try on her helmet, too. She said she'd help be design my tattoos when I come of age. Hers are really cool."

There was a non-insignificant portion of the clan comprised of Miralians, and had been for longer than anyone cared to remember. The marriage of their various coming-of-age rituals was simply business as usual at this point. "I think the yellow rescue ranger is my favorite. Bows are so cool." Noishe, as was typical for him, was simply rambling about whatever came to mind. Tien did his best to be a good father, of that there was no doubt, but there was similarly no doubt that Noishe was somewhat starved for attention at times.

 

[Fabula Caromed]

A now-single father with a job which required far too much of his time? It wasn't even somewhat surprising that Noishe basked when he had the chance. Fabula Of Infinite Patience was all too happy to provide that basking, too. Fable had grown up too fast for everyone, especially for Fabula. She hadn't had hardly any time to hold her close, and stroke her hair, and comfort her through heartbreak, and teach her to make cookies...

Actually, Fabula herself didn't really know how to make cookies. It would have been a mutual learning experience!

"See, what I hear..." Fabula leaned in as if telling an important secret. "...Is that your tattoos are designed based on your accomplishments. So yours might have something to do with wrestling." She sat up a bit and flipped her hair out behind the couch. It was getting long again. Augh. She'd need to see if she could find her scissors, or it would catch in her new-

New armor! "Hey, hold on a second. I'll be right back." If shiny, decorated, elaborate plate wasn't enough to get a young Mandalorian boy's attention, what was? Fabula hopped to her feet and wandered towards the hall, then poked her head back around. "Hey! No peeking!" And then, poof. Gone.

[member="Lynn Caromed"]

 

[Lynn Caromed]

"I'm not peeking!" Noishe protested, sitting up on his knees as Fabula left the room, tracking her progress. Of course, now that she'd said something, he was sorely tempted to peek just to see what all the fuss was about. Just because he was (usually) well-mannered didn't mean that he wasn't occasionally curious. Usually curious.

Very damn curious.

Noishe had had enough waiting by about thirty seconds into the ordeal and hopped off the couch, wandering into the kitchen. He peeked his head into Fable's room, he peeked his head into the fridge, he opened a window just to see what was going on in the back yard. Nothing much. Boring.

Snf. Lame. He hopped back into the couch and watched the Rescue Squad, waiting for his aunt to reappear in all her regalia.

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Clang.

Clang.

Each bootstep was as heavy as ever before as proud beskar strode down the hallway of her home. Yes, part of her wanted to show her nephew something cool that would likely make his head spin. A much bigger part of her just wanted to show off her brand new shiny, officially Mandalorian beskar'gam to every single person that she could, whether they wanted to see it or not. Whether they could appreciate it or not. Lynn had, at some point this week, caught her cooking dinner in her armor. Naturally, this wasn't exactly frowned upon by a culture who revered their armor as a part of their religious experience, but it was damned inconvenient at times, and definitely not fun to cuddle.

Five and a half feet of shimmering steel, scarlet cloth, and gold-decorated plates came back around the corner, helmet up, gauntlets flexed, and stopped behind the couch. Right hand on her less-armored right hip, Fabs smirked behind her helmet and used the exterior speaker. "Does this kama make me look fat?"

[member="Lynn Caromed"]