The Katarn Homestead [Sulon]

[Gabriel Sionoma]

​

Wind cuts through the grain, a soft whistle of a tune. Soft rolling fields dull the thoughts of the day, a place were life and work go on, the sun crawling off the crest of a hill. Which hill was simply one to choose, the melody of their presence a soothing sight for the sorest of eyes. A home, centuries beneath the stone, it stood as a watchtower for such display of freedom and peace. Nestled in the heart of the Galactic Alliance, it made all the more sense.

Baron's head laid in the distance, darkened city the hub for the small moon and it's limited exports. Far removed from such things, the Homestead was a place of quiet serenity and growth. A place for the woes of the world to be left at the numerous doors, a place for children to be raised and crops to be grown. A place to rebuild.

The farm was new but it smelled old, the rustic wood throughout gave hints of aged varnish. Securities laid subtle but stern, prepared to protect when needed. Rooms for multiple families, rooms for friends, kitchens and family rooms for socializing and meaningful discussion. The world around the estate was inviting, crops of various types littering in patches of well kept gardens. Bubse trees to the north, their large fruits provided a hollistic cure for indigestion. A grove of oranges acidified the soil far to the south, on the edge of a hill with a healthy morning sun. A garden of sand sat kept, hugging the homestead, for those that needed it.

Gabriel needed it. He liked the feel of the warm mica beneath his feet, between his toes, as he tried to replicate a randomly generated pattern with a hard rake. It helped with the ache in his back, morning stretches not quite what he needed. Damage done on Taloraan, damage that would continue to bother him and linger, he padded softly through the white sand as he listened to the calls of birds overhead. He waited to be interrupted, the cries of babies woken from a restless nights slumber. The clank and scrape of scuffed metal, a bothersome droid. [member="Avalore Eden"] and her closest companion, [member="Meeristali Peradun"], might stir to wake in preparation for the day. Who knows.

He wondered if this would be a day like all the others, time spent between incursions into One Sith space. He had a desk that needed making. He had a pipeline to the Tap Tree that needed mending. And a bothersome oak snag in the field needed to be uprooted. But for now, those were tasks for future Gabriel. Now, he appreciated the rising sun and the rake of wood through crushed stone.

OOC:

Spoiler

If you are part of the Galactic Alliance, feel free to come around. Eat, do something, help Gabe with a task, maybe get something made, or just interact with one another. If you are unsure whether you should be here, PM me or Avalore and I'm sure we can work something out. This is a location thread, time is fluid, make it what you want.

Tag: [member="Ijaat Akun"] | [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] | [member="Chevu Visz"] | [member="Sarge Potteiger"] | [member="Adder"] | [member="Spark Finn"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

This place.... There was something about it really... Peace radiated from it in waves, as if someone were carefully cultivating it with a conscious intent and will to spread such goodwill. At first, he had hesitated really, to even approach when he had heard Gabriel was 'setting up shop' as it were. But he had come... The recent events were something he could not really process... Knowing you were adopted, and then knowing the identity of your father was one in the same, for all purposes, as the man who had murdered and tortured his family was... Shattering... Yavin IV had been his retreat as he processed it. For a brief moment, the Alliance had been a haven, and he had tried to settle in to it and give it his all, but he could not until he had settled the matter with Gabriel.

But now? Now was the time, if he were honest with himself... And so, the Hammer-Home had drifted to Sulon, and he had pattered his patrol craft down to the surface, and was now stepping along the halls of this place. Beskar plating clanked off each other, as he strode towards where he was told Gabriel was. The power armor, still highly experimental, and not exactly what he was looking for in truth... It had stayed aboard ship, in mothballs. Probably one of his first failures as an armorer. So he had put on the first suit of armor he had ever forged after rejoining the Mandalorians. Paint chips had been repaired, and the armor faintly gleamed white and copper, black striping here and there, while a proud pair of jaig eyes painted on the ionite fore-plate of the helmet glared in crimson disapproval wherever he turned the chromed mirrored visor to gaze at. A murder-holster in the small of his back held a DE-10 he had been tinkering with, a revived design he was particularly fond of. Just in case the 'family reunion' did not carry out as planned, his crushgauntlets covered his hands, and at his hip rode Jatharesa, which Gabe could probably sense as he stopped short of the sands where the man worked.

There was a suspended pause as the weary mando popped his helmet off with a hiss of decompressed air and clipped it to his belt, resting his left forearm across it like a chair arm. His eyes were sunken in his face, bags and dark circles and hanging flesh marking him as having lost a marked amount of weight and sleep recently. But there was still a fire in his eyes, that despite his force-dead nature, radiated a certain steely will and anger to the point almost anyone could have read it from him. And, less out of anger and more out of habit of decades, he stood in a casual ready stance that was either ready to do violence or drink the bar dry. Only time would tell.

"Gabriel...."

The words were dry like sand blown across metal, and he licked his lips to wet them, waiting for a response.

[member="The Revenant"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

Infinity circles, forking across the sand. He stepped quietly backwards in the sand, each footprint in the soft material was quickly washed away by his own efforts. It was an interesting concept that he pondered, steps taken in life undone by the willful and conscious actions. Some would have trouble in the idea of this practice, especially given his own torment, especially for the lives he had snuffed out while cohabitation in the body of the wrath. Or his desire to live with a particular Mirialan. Or know the life of love he had known on Arkania. But he couldn't dwell on things in this mental practice. Things seemed far more cosmic, the contemplation of a breeze and how the world turns and quakes in response.

The cypress and cedar calls in the woods, the fall of the cone, seeds that turn to drone, looking for a new place to live. He wondered if civilization was any different, contemplating the cruelty of the open field and existing at the forest line, knowing where to step and where not to. A delicate thought in the foot step, in the location of propagation, he had chosen his life in the same way. For the land that he once came from, clearing in the woods, he now sat in the emptiness, wondering if anyone would have made the same choice. And the ideas of that impact, over the universe, and how small acts impact big things, transcending towards the gargantuan, he couldn't linger. That was the idea. Footprints washed away with action.

The presence of such a forlorn notion, a son lost long in the wake of his actions, he lifted his head to the man. Ragged and on the edge, sunken eyes in a gaunt face, his expression was dark even in the light of the day. Gabriel continued on his path, stepping back, as he turned and dragged the rake behind him. "Ijaat..." The man looked like he came for a fight, he wouldn't find one here. Not for a man that was accepting of peace in a universe that demanded violence, he wouldn't take to the fight he felt in the man. Instead, he would give him something he had never known from such a face. "I'm glad you came...would you care to join me?"

Kindness.

[member="Ijaat Akun"]​

 

[Chevu Visz]

As her shuttle touched down near the Katarn Homestead, Chevu understood exactly why Gabriel was drawn to Sullust's gentle moon. Sulon and Sullust were like night and day, and the Mirialan couldn't say that she missed the volcanic world she now called her home. As she stepped onto the landing ramp, she gratefully inhaled the fresh air for the luxury it was, and squinted at the clear blue sky, dotted with the barest wisps of clouds. She was instantly glad that Destin and Armaud would be able to bask in the sunshine and not grow pale, lacking vitamins, from time spent underground.

With nerves twisting her stomach, Chevu strode towards the Homestead, greeted here and there by a couple of Sullustan farmhands peppered throughout the landscape. She was anxious to see Gabe and find out how he was healing from his injuries on Taloraan. She was almost aching to hold her children in her arms. There was no doubt in her mind that the twins would hold no recognition for her, and they'd likely squall their heads off. Whatever alienation she'd feel by their rejection wouldn't be enough to stop her from moving forward.

She stood back and watched as two figures greeted one another. The long greying braid told her that one was Gabriel. The other man seemed to be his son, Ijaat. Not wanting to intrude, Chevu wandered through a garden redolent of oranges and wood and just explored.

She was in no rush.

[member="The Revenant"] [member="Ijaat Akun"]

 

[Spark Finn]

[member="Chevu Visz"] [member="The Revenant"] [member="Ijaat Akun"]

Bony-shoulders hunched over the datapad propped up on the rough, stony surface of a founded cafe table. Across the way she noted a familiar mando-type dude approach Gabe. Blue-eyes narrowed beneath glass lenses. The technopath wasn't good at picking up on emotions through the force or reading them in social situations but it was clear Ijaat had a feth ton of tension in his shoulders.

Maybe he just missed @rook.

She took a sip of the free-trade cafe, gaze lazily tilting back down to the datapad screen. There was a flash of green out of her peripheral. She was going to ignore it at first but she saw it again. Looking up, she made out Chevu weaving through the garden.

#awwfeth

Small form began to sink lower and lower in the cafe chair, until she was practically under the table, pale-fingers clutched her datapad in front of her face.

#atleastitwasntCorentoo

 

[Avalore Eden]

"You know that's terribly bad for you back," the comment from the Healer came from [member="Spark Finn"]'s left, and just behind, echoed by the soft cooing of baby Armaud, up from his nap early while his brother still slept.

"Bad posture," tsked Avalore, smirk evident on her face, "are you deflating because Gabe gave you decaf again?" she peered over the chair at the mug.

Blllrrrb, said Armaud from Ava's arms, wide baby eyes looking down at Spark's shrunken figure.

 

[Chevu Visz]

Chevu weaved around the garden, letting the fresh air clear her lungs. The air in the Sullust biodomes was carefully controlled and rigorously filtered, but it could never feel as refreshing as the open air of a planet with a breathable atmosphere. She stopped to pick a wildflower, and was reminded of that day on Saleucami, when she and Gabe were searching for fruit and herbs for medicine. She'd put a wildflower behind his ear, and then he got angry with her for getting chased by her brother on Onderon. It was purely an accident that she ended up in the Wrath's line of fire that day. It wasn't like she'd called up Reverance for dinner and a Holomovie. She frowned at the memory and went to check on Gabe again.

The Mirialan's onyx eyes caught a glimpse of another figure slouched over one of the tables at the cafe. That stringy outline was the unmistakable profile of Spark Finn, Coren's ex-girlfriend. Sithspit. Chevu wasn't sure she was prepared for what could be one of the most awkward conversation of her life. She was just about to slink away when she heard the unmistakable sound of a baby gurgling. My babies. She almost ran towards the sound, but halted herself. Avalore was holding Armaud, the pale child, in her arms, while talking to Spark. Would she be welcome? Or seen as an intruder? There was only one way to find out.

She purposefully strode towards the two women and stood stiffly in their line of sight. The Mirialan knew that she lacked the social graces to make a smooth entrance so she didn't even try. Her almond eyes panned to Avalore and Armaud, heart swelling.

"Can I hold him?" she simply asked, gesturing at the child with a green finger.

[member="The Revenant"] [member="Spark Finn"] [member="Avalore Eden"]

 

[Spark Finn]

[member="The Revenant"] [member="Chevu Visz"] [member="Avalore Eden"]

Leave it to the healer to muddle things up. Spark's pale cheeks lit up like a tree on Life Day. Straining her neck, she peered up and over her shoulder at Avalore and the kid. #MissEden #burpsandfartsalotkid #gladIdon'thavetochangediapers

"Uh, no," voice squeaked a little after than nnnnn sound.

Grey-blue eyes quickly shifted too....well, feth. Chevu was there. Did she fricken teleport like Coren too?!?!?!?!

And she was just staring. But the green one's attention was clearly NOT on Spark. #relieved? #ignored? #awkward

With as much dignity as the slicer could muster, she scooted back up the chair and cleared her throat. Blue eyes beneath glass-lenses made eye contact with Chevu. Coren made his choice, the slicer really couldn't...or shouldn't have anything against Chevu. Especially when it took two people to make a relationship not work. The blonde could be cordial. Or, awkwardly cordial.

"Chevu." The chair scraped against the bricked-floor of the courtyard as she stood and plucked up her mug, still clutching her datapad in one hand. "Seat's here if you want it. I gotta go...re-charge this thing."

She waved the datapad and stepped to the side. Running away was always her strength. And this time, it would certainly make Chevu feel more comfortable, more at home. And why did she care? Because maybe a little space would make the slicer feel more comfortable too.

 

[Avalore Eden]

The Healer visibly perked a brow at the blond, strangely reminded of [member="Kana Truden"] for the briefest of moments. Not simply because of the golden hair but the curiously meek mannerisms revolving around a mug. She distinctly recalled Kana standing feebly in her doorway at her apartment on Commenor, waffling between staying or going at the prospect of a simple cup of tea.

What was it about blonds?

That was unfair.

Oh, but here we go. Spark was making her move - exit stage left - and ...Chevu? Was here? Force, she was a terrible Jedi. Avalore, not Chevu. The Healer had not even felt the young Knight's presence. Sensing things had never been one of her strong skills. Not even a passably average skill, for that matter. It was more along the lines of laughable, really. But, you know, where these younger gals beat her was certainly not in the social comfort skillset. She stood there watching the comings and goings of the two, completely oblivious to the scandal behind the curtains going on between them, and felt all the world like a mother hen roosting over a courtyard of tragically indecisive chicks.

There was a strong, unplayed notion of eyeroll somewhere in there.

Avalore smiled amiably at her green-skinned friend and gave a nod, gently handing Armaud over, "What a nice surprise to wake up to, hm? A visit from Miss Chevu," the Healer leaned in to give her a one-armed hug and kiss on the cheek, "I wasn't expecting you. Would have made up lunch. Are you staying long? Destin should be waking up shortly, too."

[member="Spark Finn"]
[member="Chevu Visz"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

It wasn't what he was expecting, really, when he had set out for this place... The disarming tone, the relaxed nature, the... Well.... The everything about Gabriel... It radiated something entirely different than the horror that he associated with that face, the anger he held barely contained even know. How dare he speak so calmly and nonchalantly, as if it were simply nothing for him to speak to Ijaat. Perhaps that was just the irrational fear, the hatred ingrained so deep it might as well have been a reflex as autonomous as breathing. Of all the people in this Galaxy, Ijaat had the best claim to lay for the death of the Wrath of the Dark Lord. The best claim to unfettered vengeance and violence. If he suddenly were to draw his blade and cut Gabriel down where he stood, there would be very few who would not understand. They might blame him, to be sure. But they would, even in their inevitable denial and decrying of his actions, understand on a primal level the action he would take.

But he didn't. For reasons he might not really ever fully understand, he stayed his hand. Memories of his speaking with Shule, of his brief time with the Jal Shey on Dantooine... Memories of other former comrades, of people he had crossed blade or paths with, the lessons learned therein. Judge each case anew, wait... Analyze then react.... Too often lately he had lashed out in blind hatred, or just a pure desire for revenge. That would have to end now, if he wanted to survive and continue with any semblance of sanity. There would need to be a disentangling of himself from the web of what he was so he could become him, and not the emotions. And if the man proved to be the Wrath, and it wasn't some paranoid trick? Then what better way to be able to kill him than right by his side, with him believing he had him duped and loyal?

"Join you? I am not sure I quite understand what it is you do, Gabriel. I have guesses, but if they mirror anything I learned on Atrisia and elsewhere... I was never good at the meditative arts... To turbulent and volatile a disposition, or so Marasun used to say. But I would speak with you, if you have the time."

[member="The Revenant"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

"What I do?" He tilted his head, stopping his tracks through the sand. "What do I do?" He scratched his mustache, stretching his mouth down, as he thought about the question. Which, as it were, didn't seem the point, but it got him thinking. "Well, I help to raise two children. Your half brothers." He looked towards the man, wondering if that might soften the hard steel around his heart. Or maybe hammer it for increased resilience. "Besides that, I tend to the crops around the estate. I build lightsabers and work on trinkets. I work as a consultant for the Sulust Law Enforcement Expeditionary group. I cook, work on the homestead, barter for goods, and help the Galactic Alliance whenever they call." He approached the man, not in fear but in care, as he handed him the rake and lifted his sleeve.

"Todays design is this..." He picked out a random tangled bit of scar and tattoo and pressed his finger down. "It's not about meditation Ijaat, it's about distracting yourself. Take on idle task, it helps clear the mind so that you can communicate more openly." He scratched his beard as he crossed his arms, resting against a planted tree. He spotted the likes of three women from afar, [member="Chevu Visz"], [member="Spark Finn"], and [member="Avalore Eden"]. Along with a certain child in her arms. Armaud. Exhaling, he looked back towards Ijaat and smiled. "What would you like to speak about?"

The topics were insurmountable. They could talk about the grievances a son might have with the father that abandoned. Or perhaps with a father that had killed his wife. Or perhaps a father that had betrayed that trust once more, coiling the yuuzhan vong technology into the bones of the man. Even standing there now, Gabriel could sense them sliver between hollow biots that resembled bones. The ribs, the spine, femur, the works. It was a well crafted species, for the purposes, but it had a voiding aura and presence that Gabriel could sense from a mile away.

[member="Ijaat Akun"]​

 

[Chevu Visz]

Chevu couldn't really blame the slicer for fleeing. After all, the woman had just come face to face with the Mirialan jezebel who had stolen her boyfriend. Still, since the two women might be working together out in the field, it would be nice to bury the hatchet someday. Force only knew whether or not that was possible.

The Mirialan closed her eyes as she folded her body into a warm hug from the Jedi healer. "I'm not staying long. Just here to see the twins, and have a look around the Homestead." She panned her gaze around at the the Bubse trees, and the fields, then back to Gabe and Ijaat.

"It's breathtakingly beautiful."

Avalore made holding babies look way too easy. As Chevu gingerly took Armaud in her arms, she realized that she had no idea how to hold a baby. She had the wobbly, anxious grip of someone afraid she might break the thing in her arms.

"Avalore," she said, her face full of candor. "I really can't thank you enough for taking the twins."

Her eyes were wet as she looked down at the tiny pale-skinned child in her arms, the one that had no recognition for her. This was much harder than she imagined it would be.

[member="Spark Finn"] [member="Avalore Eden"]

 

[Avalore Eden]

Were it not for Avalore's career she'd be in the same boat as Chevu. Working as a Healer exposed her to all types, all ages. Babies to the elderly, humans to togorians. One had to be comfortable with holding living things in their arms as the grew and prospered...as they faded and died. She smiled despite herself, having noticed the awkward nature of the Mirialan, and moved to help position her arms into a more secure hold.

"Like this," the Healer offered gently, showing Chevu how to support Armaud's head, expression easy, brow faintly drawn at the younger woman's words.

"They're the most wonderful thing that's ever happened in my life, Che, thank you for the opportunity." A gentle squeeze to Chevu's upper arm, Avalore stepped back to give her some space, "It's good to see you. Stali comes home with stories from missions and deployment. I worry..."

[member="Chevu Visz"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

He looked nervous for a moment, which was not an expression, or indeed a trait, that he expressed often. But, regardless, here it was, warring in his heart and mind... So much time spent on Yavin, in seclusion for the most part of it, just thinking... He had time to evaluate his life and his ideals. Just what it was he was doing. What it was he was achieving by running from his problems from place to place across the Galaxy. Worrying over some man who he shared blood with, and nothing else... He was a Mandalorian... Family was more than blood, the saying was repeated over and over again. Blood was certainly important... But he was not Ijaat Sinoma, son of Gabriel, an Arkanian mutt. He was Ijaat Akun, son of Dylan Akun, a Mando'ad and beskarsmith. And it was time he start acting like himself.

"History... I think we got off on a bit of the wrong foot... I'm a Mando'ad... I'll never be Arkanian, or whatever it is that you are... I will never really be your son.. To my people, to the Mandalorians, family is more than blood...Gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaasla. It means... "Nobody cares who your father was, only the father you'll be." ... I found we shared blood, and chromosomes, and the relationship to your brother that brought all sorts of complications... But I lost sight of one thing my father taught me.. My real father, no offense to you.. "

There was a pause, a clearing of his throat, and Ijaat nodded as if giving himself permission to continue his ramble.

"There are thousands of people capable of birthing a child... But there are much fewer meant to be that childs' parents. And the two are not by means one and the same all the time in identity... Nor is the number in the latter always the same as in the former...You and I, we share blood, yes. There is no doubt of that. And I would like to get to know you, when I have the time. As well to be around for your children, to see them grow, and be a brother to them. But... I have avoided responsibilities and duties I have had for too long.. I have obsessed over vengeance, over petty slights to perceived honor. The long and short of it is? I may never live on Mandalore again... Or stand in the Alor'e Council chambers... But I can not neglect those who raised and formed me... And the lessons they taught me..."

Again, he coughed a bit, nodding, and oddly enough drew a cigarra out of his belt pouch and lit it with a rather antiquated book of matches. He took one and struck it against the plating of his armored collar, filling the air with a faint smell of sulfur and ash. As it ignited, he puffed for for a few moments on the cigarra, and sighed contentedly as he was wreathed in blue-grey smoke that smelled pleasantly of herbs and fresh tobacco. There was nothing cheap about his whiskey or his smokes, and they proved it in their smell and flavor for sure. A few more puffs and he seemed to relax immensely.

"There is a nagging feeling I must forgive you, but there is nothing to forgive. You did not swing the blade or pull the trigger, and yet you mourn and repent the deeds your brother did, all the same. Shows your quality, that. There is little to be gained in holding a grudge against you if this is the type of man you are. I may not embrace you and weep at our reunion, if it can be called that. But I will not carry this hatred for you any longer, today is about dismissing and letting got of that, despite my attire. There is no sense to it, really. I came here today to simply know the man whose blood I share, and if you have a desire, to let you ask questions of me.. Seems like the place to start. The rest we can figure out as we go... "

[member="The Revenant"]