Darth Gyaumchem
The travel from Sabarene was done once again in the bosom of the Isdihar-I-Timad. One of the few pieces of [member="Darth Metus"] Ahani had left, the woman stood in the small bridge of the luxury vessel and watched her Handmaidens bustle about. For the first time the Handmaidens were more anxious than their Matron: it wasn't every day a collection of loyal Traditionalist Echani paid Mandalore more than a wide berth and a hiss.
Today was worth the trouble of breaking cultural barriers and coming to the end of centuries of angst over the tawdry and vile Mando'ade and their Iron Carapaces. Ahani was meeting the daughter of [member="Isley Verd"]. [member="Adela Verd"] might be a clone, but clones were no oddity to the woman who cloned the very wife of her beloved son Manu. The Echani Master unfolded her arms from her chest and padded out of the Bridge with a nod of approval and a moment of poised comfort for her crew. Tables were odd things turned on their heads and faces.
For the event, Ahani had dressed in gunmetal grey trousers and sturdy black combat boots, which swept up to her knees. Tucked in to the utilitarian belt was a long sleeved red shirt, upon which she tugged her nearest grey hooded jacket and pulled the last bit of her silver hair behind her ear. Baiko had braided Ahani's hair up in a sweeping style on her head, tight and fashionable but out of the way. Ahani had brushed a soft pink tint on her lids and cheek bones, sliding a similar pink on her lips. Had she worn make up before? Back in those harrowed days? Not herself. Never herself.
Ahani clipped her sword Anandi's sheath to her belt and latched on her telescoping Echani staff. What was a girl to do without weapons? Besides, why would Ahani fear that which she was building? She would face this.
As the Isdihar came to a landing in the Spaceport outside Keldabe, Ahani pulled the hood atop her braided hair and trotted down the gang plank to seal her fate. 'Ugh. Keldabe smells funny. What is that? gun oil? WD-4000? Damn Mandos.' She covered the grimace on her face with a smile and waved her Handmaidens back. They were far more comfortable tending the ship. Besides, should she need them the Master would come running.
Stepping onto the earth beneath her feet, Ahani looked outward to Keldabe. She held a small gift bag in one hand, her other drifting toward the hilt of her sword as she walked toward [member="Isley Verd"] and [member="Adela Verd"]. "I'm here, you did it. You finally did it, Metus. Got me all the way to Mandalore. Feel proud. Feel proud and introduce us, please."
Today was worth the trouble of breaking cultural barriers and coming to the end of centuries of angst over the tawdry and vile Mando'ade and their Iron Carapaces. Ahani was meeting the daughter of [member="Isley Verd"]. [member="Adela Verd"] might be a clone, but clones were no oddity to the woman who cloned the very wife of her beloved son Manu. The Echani Master unfolded her arms from her chest and padded out of the Bridge with a nod of approval and a moment of poised comfort for her crew. Tables were odd things turned on their heads and faces.
For the event, Ahani had dressed in gunmetal grey trousers and sturdy black combat boots, which swept up to her knees. Tucked in to the utilitarian belt was a long sleeved red shirt, upon which she tugged her nearest grey hooded jacket and pulled the last bit of her silver hair behind her ear. Baiko had braided Ahani's hair up in a sweeping style on her head, tight and fashionable but out of the way. Ahani had brushed a soft pink tint on her lids and cheek bones, sliding a similar pink on her lips. Had she worn make up before? Back in those harrowed days? Not herself. Never herself.
Ahani clipped her sword Anandi's sheath to her belt and latched on her telescoping Echani staff. What was a girl to do without weapons? Besides, why would Ahani fear that which she was building? She would face this.
As the Isdihar came to a landing in the Spaceport outside Keldabe, Ahani pulled the hood atop her braided hair and trotted down the gang plank to seal her fate. 'Ugh. Keldabe smells funny. What is that? gun oil? WD-4000? Damn Mandos.' She covered the grimace on her face with a smile and waved her Handmaidens back. They were far more comfortable tending the ship. Besides, should she need them the Master would come running.
Stepping onto the earth beneath her feet, Ahani looked outward to Keldabe. She held a small gift bag in one hand, her other drifting toward the hilt of her sword as she walked toward [member="Isley Verd"] and [member="Adela Verd"]. "I'm here, you did it. You finally did it, Metus. Got me all the way to Mandalore. Feel proud. Feel proud and introduce us, please."