Yasha Cadera
Mom'alor
On the eve of her birth father’s desertion, the Manda sent a new Mandalorian father to take his vacant place. How would the Mandalorian Empire be different now if Preliat Mantis had stopped his battle and taken Jasper Ar'klim up on his offer of adoption? Yasha stopped admiring the well loved pistol and nearly dropped it. “You… you want to be my Buir?”
Gray Raxis had risked his health, safety, force sensitivity and shebs to follow the Manda’s calling and return to Mandalore. Throughout the last seven years, Yasha Mantis had been on an extended Mandalorian exegesis, a metamorphosis into the future Mand’alor she was. It had been done for the good of the Mandalorians, and more selfishly to discover what happened to Ra.
Sitting at the feet of [member="Ember Rekali"], standing toe to toe with [member="Darth Carnifex"], she fluttered like a branch caught by a tight wind. Directionless, flailing, one part peacemaker and two parts murderer and murderer’s daughter. Then [member="Gray Raxis"] showed up in the throne room knowing full well the next words out of Yasha’s mouth should have been ‘seize and cure him’. All Gray wanted was to remind the Hell Child of what the Resol’nare was and said. To charge her with the tough love of a Mando'ad Buir
All he wanted was to bring a child of Mandalore home… even at the detriment of himself. At the moment before the scream which would begat a warlord and sent blood and gore across the universe, the Manda sent a blind relic of past sins and glories to stand as tall as he could, and say, “This is Mandalore. This is who and what you are. You are not a pawn of Witches or Sith Lords. You are now and forever Mando’ad. Accept it. Come home.”
Yasha’s face softened and for a moment nothing existed but the blind man in his beskar’gam. Ember Rekali said Yasha had a will to befriend any and everyone. This was a half-truth. Yasha’s entire life was a search for connection. A search for one parent to love and protect her above themselves. A father to teach her what security meant, when her entire life was spent snarling aggressively at the next threat to her and her terrified mother’s survival… then to her and Kaden’s survival… then to Mandalore’s survival. A mother to be tender and stalwart, as strong as beskar and as brave as an army.
While Preliat Mantis was as loving and fierce a father as he could be, he turned from Mandalore. He was broken beyond repair. He turned from his daughter, and that heartache was strong enough for Yasha to search for meaning elsewhere. It was a dangerous road, upon which she and Kaden forever changed.
“Best verd’goten slash birthday slash secret wedding party ever.” Yasha threw her arms around Gray’s shoulders and embraced him. “Yes, I’ll be your daughter.”
A code surrounding the taking in of orphans into a society, where battle made them frequent, was also the code by which true warriors knew how to live and die. Mando’ade had, above all other cultures in the universe, a handle on kindness at home and viciousness abroad. They were a people of armour, a people constantly breathing for and waiting in the pause for that next fight… yet their system of self-repair was as simply understood as a blind man taking a lonely girl as his daughter. Was this the lesson Ember wanted Yasha to learn? Was this what Kaine hoped from the alliance between Sith and Mandalorians?
Probably not. [member="Baiko no Kaho"] had done the unthinkable when she approached Gray for help. The Atrisian found the suture for an open wound, allowing the angst and fear of an abandoned little girl to flow clean. To heal. Arms breaking from the embrace, Yasha turned her gaze to Kaden and the group around them all.
That girl now stood at the cusp of leadership, and her boots were newly light. Her chin was strongly raised, shoulders back and proud. She was wanted, like Manda’yaim was wanted. She was loved, as Manda’yaim was loved. Yasha Mantis would bring plenty and security to her people, erasing the dangers and horrors of the times before.
Gray Raxis had risked his health, safety, force sensitivity and shebs to follow the Manda’s calling and return to Mandalore. Throughout the last seven years, Yasha Mantis had been on an extended Mandalorian exegesis, a metamorphosis into the future Mand’alor she was. It had been done for the good of the Mandalorians, and more selfishly to discover what happened to Ra.
Sitting at the feet of [member="Ember Rekali"], standing toe to toe with [member="Darth Carnifex"], she fluttered like a branch caught by a tight wind. Directionless, flailing, one part peacemaker and two parts murderer and murderer’s daughter. Then [member="Gray Raxis"] showed up in the throne room knowing full well the next words out of Yasha’s mouth should have been ‘seize and cure him’. All Gray wanted was to remind the Hell Child of what the Resol’nare was and said. To charge her with the tough love of a Mando'ad Buir
All he wanted was to bring a child of Mandalore home… even at the detriment of himself. At the moment before the scream which would begat a warlord and sent blood and gore across the universe, the Manda sent a blind relic of past sins and glories to stand as tall as he could, and say, “This is Mandalore. This is who and what you are. You are not a pawn of Witches or Sith Lords. You are now and forever Mando’ad. Accept it. Come home.”
Yasha’s face softened and for a moment nothing existed but the blind man in his beskar’gam. Ember Rekali said Yasha had a will to befriend any and everyone. This was a half-truth. Yasha’s entire life was a search for connection. A search for one parent to love and protect her above themselves. A father to teach her what security meant, when her entire life was spent snarling aggressively at the next threat to her and her terrified mother’s survival… then to her and Kaden’s survival… then to Mandalore’s survival. A mother to be tender and stalwart, as strong as beskar and as brave as an army.
While Preliat Mantis was as loving and fierce a father as he could be, he turned from Mandalore. He was broken beyond repair. He turned from his daughter, and that heartache was strong enough for Yasha to search for meaning elsewhere. It was a dangerous road, upon which she and Kaden forever changed.
“Best verd’goten slash birthday slash secret wedding party ever.” Yasha threw her arms around Gray’s shoulders and embraced him. “Yes, I’ll be your daughter.”
Might and mercy.
The Resol’nare.
A code surrounding the taking in of orphans into a society, where battle made them frequent, was also the code by which true warriors knew how to live and die. Mando’ade had, above all other cultures in the universe, a handle on kindness at home and viciousness abroad. They were a people of armour, a people constantly breathing for and waiting in the pause for that next fight… yet their system of self-repair was as simply understood as a blind man taking a lonely girl as his daughter. Was this the lesson Ember wanted Yasha to learn? Was this what Kaine hoped from the alliance between Sith and Mandalorians?
Probably not. [member="Baiko no Kaho"] had done the unthinkable when she approached Gray for help. The Atrisian found the suture for an open wound, allowing the angst and fear of an abandoned little girl to flow clean. To heal. Arms breaking from the embrace, Yasha turned her gaze to Kaden and the group around them all.
That girl now stood at the cusp of leadership, and her boots were newly light. Her chin was strongly raised, shoulders back and proud. She was wanted, like Manda’yaim was wanted. She was loved, as Manda’yaim was loved. Yasha Mantis would bring plenty and security to her people, erasing the dangers and horrors of the times before.
It was time.
Mand’alor the Hell Wolf would rise, the Manda willed it.