Archais' humid weather made for a displeasure of a training grounds. Mevia had grown up here, however, and she even grew stronger in the tropical climate. Training in such a hot and wet environment only bolstered her durability and tolerance. Sweat coated her head to toe as she breathed through her barred teeth, struggling to hide her pain. She had lost track of time since the accident, but she knew that she and her mother had been training for hours. And as those hours passed on, Mevia's resolve had only grown in conjunction with her exhaustion. She
needed to get better. She
needed to improve. Unfortunately, in her recklessness during one of the many practice duels, Mevia had attempted a hasty move to break her arm out of her mother's lock... and, well, her arm indeed broke all right. Literally.
Tears swirled in her eyes as she shakily watched her twisted limb. It should not be looking like that, and it freaked her out. At least, her mother had been quick to inject bacta and pain relievers into her bloodstream. It still hurt, but Mevia was able to control her writhing now. She could sheepishly pretend that her mother had not needed to hold her down to even get a good look, while she had screamed in pain.
"Mmph!"
Mevia winced. Her mother held her broken arm and continued to heal it with the Force. The teenager narrowed her eyes. On one hand, she always appreciated her mother's care. On the other hand, she was using a gift Mevia herself could never achieve. Was the Force healing truly necessary?
She looked away, still grimacing at the pain. Covered in mud, the sticky adolescent was just now starting to realize how parched she was in this heat. Stubbornness told her to keep that need swept aside, however. She already had looked weak in how pathetically she reacted to the broken arm. Was she about to let a little thirst make her look even weaker? With no wind rustling the palm trees surrounding the clearing, however, she was quite weary.
"You just don't know when to quit, huh, kiddo?"
Snapped out of her thoughts, Mevia looked over to her mother. Gwyneira was still holding her arm, using the other hand to heal it with a visible glow.
"You know that my own Buir pushed me to my absolute limit when he trained me. Until my own bones broke, so I wouldn't be weak in the face of the real enemy on the front lines. He trained me hard, to protect me."
Mevia gasped as a large pop audibly resounded in her arm. The feeling was awful, yet she immediately felt like her arm was somewhat in place again. Her mom, meanwhile, chuckled as she relived her memories.
"You can imagine his shock at how I did! I had little combat experience prior to when he took me in. I didn't even know how to use the prone position with a sniper rifle. But I not only welcomed the brutal training, but relished it."
Gwyneira switched to holding Mevia's arm a different way, still healing it. The unnatural speed in the healing process was surreal and disturbing to Mevia, so she was happy to focus instead on her mother's story.
"I felt like I had something to prove! I had been an outcast, a loser, my whole life. I refused to show the toll the training took on me, as much as I could. I was the one who kept insisting on one more round, when he said that was enough. But I wanted, so badly, to prove my worth as a Mandalorian. I could take whatever he threw at me, and I took it with my head high."
She finished healing her, lowering her arm. Mevia blinked in confusion before flexing her arm. It was... completely healed! Was
this the power of Manda's Gift of the Force? How incredible it was! Jealousy poisoned Mevia's bones as she wriggled her fingers and moved her arm. She felt so cheated, not to have this power herself. But her mother hardly seemed to think that this was anything impressive. She just kept sitting next to her, telling her tale. Gwyn's face had been fond in recollection, but it now went somber.
"But I was insecure. I felt like I needed to put in my absolute best, because I was seeking his approval. I already had his love, his support, and approval for merely being his founding, his child. But old habits died hard, and I felt like if I didn't push past my limits, every day, he would be disappointed in me. I needed to prove my worth."
She looked up to Mevia with a sad smile,
"But what are you trying to prove?"
Mevia froze. How did her adoptive mother know her so well? Self cautious, the teen looked around the clearing.
"My arm's better. Can't we just train some more?"
Some drool accidentally fell from her lips - an indication of her current thirst.
Gwyneira crossed her arms, staying seated. Stubborn as always, she raised an eyebrow in silence. Her mom was giving her
that look.
And every time her mother gave her
that look, Mevia knew she already was in a losing battle.
With a huge sigh, Mevia slumped and looked away. With a rather childish pout, she crossed her arms. If she continued to ignore her question, they could be sitting her for hours. Mevia did not want to spend the night out here. Neither did she want to waste away, dying of thirst as her mom out-stubborned her. It was best to simply surrender now. Some battles were not worth fighting. And so, reluctantly, she looked to the ground with an awkward yet brooding demeanor. She frowned bitterly,
"I'm not talented like you were. Not like Elise is."
Mevia continued to look to look down, reaching and grabbing a fist full of dirt.
"I'm not particularly skilled. I'm not any kind of genius. I'm not Force Sensitive. I want to be..."
She gritted her teeth,
"Strong, like you are. But I'm still not at your level, or her's! I'm not-"
She lifted her hand and clenched it. Dirt and soil crumbled and fell from between her fingers.
She looked up to her mother, shouting,
"I'm not good enough! Not yet! And I have to be! I don't want to be weak again! I can't become a slave again!"
Mevia was met with her mother's somber, sympathetic expression. She offered a sad smile,
"Mev'ika..."
She placed a soft hand on her shoulder,
"You're progressing wonderfully, my dear."
Mevia hiccuped in surprise when she pulled her into a hug,
"I never expected you to be the same as Elise - and you didn't have to be. I always knew that despite a lack of supposed talent, you had so much inner strength and purpose. And that, that is your greatest ability. You are indomitable in the face of anything in your way, and you are driven by the resolve of bringing back your broken peoples."
Mevia returned the hug, albeit stiffly, and listened to her words with tears in her eyes.
"You were always good enough for me. From the moment I met you, shyly hiding behind your father as he introduced you to me. I knew, the moment I saw you, that you were my precious ad'ika. And I love you."
Gwyn pulled away from the hug, sniffling. Mevia looked up to her, crying silently.
"You don't have to prove anything to me, Kemme'viawa'nuvci. Focus on your training - a healthy amount of training - and you will excel as a Mando'ade I will be proud of. You won't fall into captivity, as long as you fight hard enough to repel it. That is why we train so hard. So you can fend for yourself. Just don't destroy yourself out here, dear. Don't burn yourself out trying to earn something you already had all along."
Mevia sniffed, wiping her tears from her eyes. Her throat was too swollen to speak, so she merely nodded.
Gwyn smiled,
"Good. We'll take a break, make sure you're staying hydrated. Then we can continue training."
She stood up, offering her hand to her daughter,
"It's all I can do, to prepare you for this twisted galaxy."
Mevia usually would have rejected such help. She wanted to prove that she could stand up herself. But this time, she reached for her hand.
*Slam!"
Mevia felt the final kick ram into her chest. She was far better at taking punishment now than she was then. The kicks and even her own punches to him never made her wince. But Veshok's combo had managed to unbalance her, and now...
She fell.
She thudded against the ground outside the arena. Snow and dust were kicked up around her and she felt the wind leave her. Panting, she stares up into Kestri's thick, clouded grey sky. She struggled to process that despite all her efforts, she had still lost.
She lost.
She gritted her teeth, tears forming in her eyes as she clenched her fist. She lifted her arm and slammed her fist on the ground, shouting in frustration.
She pulled herself up, having quickly recovered from the fall. She tried not to glare at
Veshok Rook
, but the anger beneath her buy'ce burned. She had trained so,
so hard in attempts to better herself. To become strong, and to be seen as a worthy warrior. Surely, she must have looked pathetic to this fellow vod. But what was even worse, was that she thought
herself to be pathetic. She was not particularly skilled. She was not a genius. And she was not Force Sensitive. She was just some random slave girl, pitied by some passing by Mandalorian. She was nothing. She seethed, but took a second to cool her jets. She was obviously tense in posture, but she was able to speak calmly.
<"I'm better than that.">
She
had to be. Everything she trained for, fought for. The restoration of the Mandalorians and Chiss, exiled and lost peoples. The glory of Mandalore, the pride and dignity of the Enclave. And her own strength and power. She refused to be a waste, no matter how much she felt like it.
<"Want to go again?">
She was strong. She would prove it to her peers... and most importantly, she would prove it to
herself.
Vren Rook
had grounded them all. In the interim, they did what they could to prepare for the battles that were sure to come. Scouts patrolled a wide perimeter and a few supply structures had been set up on the ground underneath the massive ship. A few tents and heat stations had been set up and a good number of battle circles had been set up across the surface. Many of their young were busy either training under the instruction of more experienced kin, or sparring, creating a good buzz of activity in the immediate vicinity of the ship.
