Private The Quiet Strength of True Friendship

[Balun Dashiell]

THE QUIET STRENGTH OF TRUE FRIENDSHIP
Location: Balun Dashiell's Cottage, The Dashiell Estate on Joiol
Present Company: Kellan Dashiell & Vesha Daruun (x)
Tags: Iona Starchaser​

"I'm just voicing my thoughts with a friend, that's all," Balun said gently, his words accompanied by a subtle shrug and an inquisitive glance in Iona's direction. There was no defensiveness in his tone—just a quiet curiosity, a trace of uncertainty flickering behind his eyes. Had he come across as venting? Did she think he was complaining, rather than confiding?

He tilted his head slightly, searching her expression for a sign, then continued, his voice steady but sincere.

"Believe it or not, I've always had a lot of confidence in your opinion," he admitted, offering her a small, honest smile. "It matters to me. I guess I figured I could lean on you with this kind of stuff… in ways I can't with my family."

There was no edge of sarcasm, no hint of bitterness—just truth, quietly spoken. Whether she shared the sentiment or not, he couldn't be sure. But he trusted her enough to say it anyway.

"I like to think you see me as more than just some overly aggressive dumbass from the field," Balun added, the corner of his mouth twitching with faint humor, though his eyes stayed earnest. "I've always wanted to keep growing in my training. But I want to do it right—staying true to the Light. Not just for power, but to serve. To help."

He shifted slightly, leaning back with a quiet breath, as if trying to ease the weight of the past from his shoulders.

"Venting sounds like I'm ungrateful. And I'm not," he clarified. "I've been lucky. Truly. When I left the New Jedi Order, I didn't have anything. I didn't even know who my family was, let alone what they were… or what they had."

His gaze dropped for a moment, his voice softening.

"It wasn't until my father found me that things changed. Judah… he reached out first. Everything I have now—the cottage, the company, the support—it came from that moment. And I don't take any of it for granted. Not one bit."

He let that truth sit between them before circling back, refocusing on the thread that had started it all.

"As for Holocrons…" he mused, his brow creasing thoughtfully. "No, I haven't really considered them. I wouldn't even know where to start—how to find one, which to use. There have been so many Force users through history, but figuring out which of their teachings align with who I am… that's the hard part."

His gaze lifted back to Iona's, more reflective now.

"Besides, I always imagined an apprenticeship as something living. Shared. There's something wholesome in learning directly from someone—not just their technique, but their perspective, their flaws. A Holocron can't challenge you in the same way. It can't walk beside you."

He paused, then smiled faintly again.

"Still… maybe it's something worth looking into. I just haven't known where to begin."

"Speech".
'Thought'.

 

[Iona Starchaser]

Location : Joiol | Weapons : Force Pike | Interacting With : Balun Dashiell , Kellan Dashiell
​

Shoulders lifted slightly in a shrug. As if to say, she was unsure about it all. Younger than Balun,she didn't have many of the experiences he did. Two different paths and all that. Which made it hard for her to get a bead sometimes on his thought process. Nothing bad, they just viewed the world in two very different ways.

"Believe it or not, I've always had a lot of confidence in your opinion," he admitted, offering her a small, honest smile. "It matters to me. I guess I figured I could lean on you with this kind of stuff… in ways I can't with my family."

"I personally wouldn't take much stock in my opinion, but I'm glad someone does. Maybe if nothing else works out for me then I can become a professor. Or hermit. Both visited often for advice and opinions. Those who can't do, teach, eh? Something to mull over.."

Drifting along, she didn't have much of a backup plan yet. She was young. There was no rush.

"Holocrons are merely another suggestion. Of course a living being would be preferrable. Just seems so many are closed off not wanting to teach these days. Just spit balling thoughts and such."

She paused, she was unsure enough herself left along to guide someone in their own thought process.

"So this found family...is good?"

 

[Balun Dashiell]

THE QUIET STRENGTH OF TRUE FRIENDSHIP
Location: Balun Dashiell's Cottage, The Dashiell Estate on Joiol
Present Company: Kellan Dashiell & Vesha Daruun (x)
Tags: Iona Starchaser​

"You make it sound like teaching is some kind of fallback," Balun mused, a thoughtful tone settling over his voice. "But some of the teachers I've known… they've done a better job than I ever could've imagined doing myself."

His gaze drifted for a moment, caught in memory—faces of old instructors flashing through his mind. The ones who had endured his rebellion, his sharp tongue, his tendency to push against every boundary set in front of him. They'd been patient—far more patient than he thought he could ever be.

"I gave those poor people hell," he added with a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "And somehow, they still showed up for me. Every day. I don't think I could've done the same."

He turned to Iona then, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"But you? I can absolutely see you teaching," he said, his tone lightening. "Can't be all that different from dealing with me, right?"

A short laugh followed as he added, "Just… with kids who are naturally stupid and probably less frustrating."

It was phrased poorly—intentionally so. The words were meant as comic relief, laced with self-deprecation, playing off her earlier "dumbass" remark. He wore the joke easily, as if trying to draw out a smile from her at his own expense.

But when the subject shifted—when she asked about his family—something in Balun changed.

The humor softened, giving way to a quieter, more reflective expression.

"My father finding me… it was the best thing that's ever happened to me," he said plainly, the words carrying a gravity that didn't need embellishment. "In my whole life, honestly."

His voice dipped into something more personal, more vulnerable.

"I think I resisted the Jedi as much as I did because I carried this chip on my shoulder for being abandoned. By my mother. I blamed a lot of people—especially myself. But my father… he never even knew I existed. And once he found me, he didn't hesitate."

Balun paused, a trace of a smile forming again, this time tinged with quiet pride.

"We're close now. Really close. And my brother—Makai—we've come a long way too. We're building something together, both in business and in family. That kind of connection… it's rare."

He glanced down for a moment, his hands folding loosely in his lap.

"There's never been a Force-user in the family before me, though. So, when it comes to the sixth-sense stuff we deal with… they don't really get it. And I don't expect them to. That's the only place where I feel the distance."

He lifted his gaze again, his voice steady but warm.

"But even with that… I'm incredibly lucky. I started out with no one. Just me, the Order, and a lot of unanswered questions. Now I've got a family. A home. A son. It's more than I ever expected."

"Speech".
'Thought'.​

 

[Iona Starchaser]

Location : Joiol | Weapons : Force Pike | Interacting With : Balun Dashiell , Kellan Dashiell
​

Teaching was still her fall-back plan. Iona couldn't see herself just staying on one planet for months at a time, droning on and doing it class after class. Of course she appreciated the vote of confidence from Balun, but perhaps it would be something she could do in her older age. Much older age. She was young and wanted to do a bit of exploring and living before having to settle into something more mature.

"My father finding me… it was the best thing that's ever happened to me," he said plainly, the words carrying a gravity that didn't need embellishment. "In my whole life, honestly."

"Its great to see your family has welcomed you. I mean, I don't see why they wouldn't have but people can be fickle. Families can be fickle. I'm pleased to hear yours was not."

Iona listened to Bale weave a tale about his found family and newfound peace and nodded. It was great to see her friend perhaps find a little bit of stability. While she didn't quite think it had been wise to get a girl pregnant, the Mirialan also hoped it would give Balun a more mature nature in time. A more stable nature. Something he needed in her opinion, but Iona was keeping that to herself.

"Our roles are to be reversed then. You'll be the one in a good spot and I'll be the one wandering the hyperlanes. Who knows when the last time you'll be seeing me."

 

[Balun Dashiell]

THE QUIET STRENGTH OF TRUE FRIENDSHIP
Location: Balun Dashiell's Cottage, The Dashiell Estate on Joiol
Present Company: Kellan Dashiell & Vesha Daruun (x)
Tags: Iona Starchaser​

"Just… keep yourself safe out there," Balun said quietly, a thread of genuine concern weaving through his words. His gaze lingered on Iona, the usual casual tone replaced by something more grounded—protective, even.

"I've been hearing some strange things about the hyperlanes lately," he continued, voice lowering slightly as if discussing something not yet meant for open broadcast. "A few ships from Dashiell Incorporated have gone dark—completely vanished. No distress beacons, no wreckage. Just... gone."

He leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees as his eyes narrowed with unease.

"There are rumours on the holonet. Reports of ships getting spit out in the wrong systems—whole sectors off-course, like the lanes are folding in on themselves or rerouting mid-jump." He shook his head slowly. "Could be holonet paranoia, or something more. I don't know yet. But the missing freighters? That part's real. And it's enough to make me wary."

Balun had spent enough time in deep space to respect its unpredictability. Even on a good day, the void was indifferent. But now, with trade routes faltering and whispers of anomalies growing louder, the stakes felt… different. More dangerous.

He looked back at her then, his voice steady and earnest.

"If you ever need anything—anything—don't hesitate," he said. "If things go sideways, if there's trouble, or if you just need backup… you call me."

His words weren't dramatic, just absolute. He didn't care how sharp Iona's tongue could be, or how stubborn she might act. None of that ever mattered to him when it counted.

"I know you like to handle things your own way," he added, offering a slight smirk. "And I know I'm not always your first call. Hell, maybe not your fifth. But I'm good in a fight, and I'll show up without question—no matter what's going down."

He leaned back again, expression softening into something more familiar—a quiet smile, unshaken in its sincerity.

"Hopefully you'll never need it. But if you do… I'm there."

"Speech".
'Thought'.​

 

[Iona Starchaser]

Location : Joiol | Weapons : Force Pike | Interacting With : Balun Dashiell ,Kellan Dashiell

​

"Oh I'll be quite safe out there Balun, however, I will keep your offer in mind."

Would Iona call a new father to fight? Never. She wasn't much of a fighter, only when backed into a corner. Yet even if she was in that corner Balun would be the last to call. Not that she didn't trust him, she did wholly. It was more he had a family. Had settled into life. Had a son that was reliant on Balun as his sole parent. To call someone away to visit far-flung sections of the galaxy was highly irresponsible.

"Appreciate the concern. I really do. Just focus on this little guy." Iona nodded to the sleeping boy in her arms. "That's what you can do for me. The galaxy is a rough place, just do me a favor and let him be a child for as long as possible. I think that would be the best thing you could do for me while I'm out in the hyperlanes."

 

[Balun Dashiell]

THE QUIET STRENGTH OF TRUE FRIENDSHIP
Location: Balun Dashiell's Cottage, The Dashiell Estate on Joiol
Present Company: Kellan Dashiell & Vesha Daruun (x)
Tags: Iona Starchaser​

Balun understood where Iona was coming from—more than she likely realized. He had Kellan now, a life far more fragile and important than his own, and while he hadn't forgotten his priorities, he also hadn't forgotten who he was. The risks that came with their lifestyle weren't lost on him.

Still, fatherhood had changed him. Slowed him down. Grounded him. But perhaps not completely. There was still a part of him—the same stubborn, driven part—that would throw himself into danger without hesitation if it meant protecting someone he cared about. In this moment, that someone had been Iona. That instinct hadn't changed.

"I get it," he said softly, nodding with a slow and measured breath. "And I appreciate what you're saying. I really do."

His tone was sincere, his eyes steady as he met her gaze. He wasn't going to argue. Her concern was fair—expected, even. No father in his right mind would willingly put his child in harm's way. And Balun didn't plan on becoming a cautionary tale.

"As long as you promise to take care of yourself out there," he added, his expression softening with a quiet smile, "then I'll do the same—for both of us."

There was a lightness in his voice meant to ease the tension, but the sentiment was genuine. He didn't see doom around the corner. In truth, what he longed for most was clarity—a path forward where he could still serve, still matter, without placing his son's future in jeopardy.

A pause followed, thoughtful, then his voice returned, quieter now. More searching.

"Do you think there's a way to serve the galaxy… safely?" he asked, his gaze drifting momentarily before returning to her. "I mean, in service to the will of the Force. Not just running into blaster fire or getting caught up in the frontlines. I'm talking about real purpose—duty. Living as a Force user responsibly. For Kellan. For ourselves."

His brow furrowed slightly, the question clearly one he'd been carrying for a while.

"It doesn't have to be field work, right? There's got to be other ways—ways to do good without making orphans of the next generation."

He watched her closely, genuinely curious. Desperate, even, for a glimpse of an answer he hadn't yet found on his own.

"Speech".
'Thought'.​

 

[Iona Starchaser]

Location : Joiol | Weapons : Force Pike | Interacting With : Balun Dashiell ​

"Do you think there's a way to serve the galaxy… safely?" he asked, his gaze drifting momentarily before returning to her. "I mean, in service to the will of the Force. Not just running into blaster fire or getting caught up in the frontlines. I'm talking about real purpose—duty. Living as a Force user responsibly. For Kellan. For ourselves."

Iona blinked. Not once, but twice. She was unsure if Balun was messing with her. He could be dense but this dense? Before she could open her mouth, the Mirialan stopped to think. Balun had grown up in the New Jedi Order. From what she had seen of it, they didn't do much serving of the people. Now, she could be wrong, and she had seen their healers in action. Yet that was all they seemed to have, healers. She had yet to see anyone serve in ways she considered to be a high calling.

"Yes, of course." She paused. "Vaccination clinics. Hospitals. Schools. Agricultural corps. Refugee support. Law services for the poor. There's so much out there but the first thing people think to do is turn on their lightsaber. Its sickening to see."

Iona paused, realized she let her personal feelings bleed in.

"There's a lot that needs to be done, Balun. Sometimes the front lines doesn't have blasters but farm equipment for poor farmers."

 

[Balun Dashiell]

THE QUIET STRENGTH OF TRUE FRIENDSHIP
Location: Balun Dashiell's Cottage, The Dashiell Estate on Joiol
Present Company: Kellan Dashiell & Vesha Daruun (x)
Tags: Iona Starchaser​

Iona's reaction landed with a teasing sort of obviousness, but Balun hadn't been asking just for the surface answer. He was casting his line deeper, hoping for something unexpected—something outside the battlefield, beyond the scars and saber fights. Maybe something with more weight in the public eye, though not as a war hero. More like the world he was slowly stepping into: the corporate sphere, the quiet machinery behind the Dashiell Relief Fund.

Still, when she mentioned the Agricultural Corps, it stirred something old in him—something that pulled a small, fond smile to his lips.

"You know," he murmured, glancing back at Iona with a flicker of amusement, "there was a time I used to dream of working farmland. Crops, vegetation, livestock… the whole thing."

His voice softened as he spoke, a rare warmth settling over him. He drifted momentarily into the memory, the way one slips into a well-worn dream. He could still see himself, young and restless, pacing the quiet halls of the Jedi Temple, chafing under discipline, imagining wide fields and sunlit mornings where the Force had no claim over him. A life of dirt under his nails instead of lightsabers in his hands.

The smile faded as he turned his gaze away, exhaling unevenly. His fingers absently worked at the edge of his pocket before retrieving a small, familiar packet. He stood from the sofa, crossing the room with a quiet determination, and cracked open one of the windows. The soft hiss of the igniting cigarra filled the silence before the faint aroma of spice-touched smoke drifted through the air.

"And yeah," he continued after a drag, his voice edged now with something rougher, more thoughtful, "I know about the clinics and aid work. But I'm no healer—not really. Sure, I know my way around some herbal remedies. But that's just hobby stuff. I've never applied it in the field."

He took another slow pull, the ember at the tip burning softly as his gaze rested on the horizon beyond the window. With the next exhale, the smoke unfurled into the cool night air, rising and breaking apart like drifting thoughts.

"I guess I was thinking of something… bigger," he murmured, eyes still fixed on the view beyond. "Like you talking about teaching. Imagine starting a whole Order or something."

A short laugh slipped out, low and self-deprecating, as soon as the words left his mouth. He turned slightly, shooting her an amused glance over his shoulder.

"And no—don't worry," he added, the grin tugging at the edge of his mouth. "Me, of all people? It's not happening."

His voice softened again as his shoulders relaxed, the joking tone giving way to something more earnest.

"I just want to do something that matters. To leave something behind. To make a difference—not just drift from fight to fight or mission to mission. I want to… accomplish something with this life."

For a moment, the only sound was the soft crackle of the cigarra and the hush of the night wind, as if the galaxy itself was pausing to listen.

"Speech".
'Thought'.​

 

[Iona Starchaser]

Location : Joiol | Weapons : Force Pike | Interacting With : Balun Dashiell

​

Eyes went wide as Balun lit the cigarra. Since when did he smoke? Iona wasn't one of those morally opposed to smoking on a certain level. Seemed up to each sentient to decide what they were going to do. Free will and every other philosophical idea on choosing one's own path. Yet, she had her limits.

"How can you smoke with the kid around?!" Iona nodded down to the slumbering infant in her arms. Her gaze narrowed towards Balun, looking like a disapproving elderly grandmother. If Balun thought he gained points with her those were instantly washed away, replaced once again with a disappointed tone. "Really Balun. Have you not researched anything about growing children?"

A shake of her head. Balun was at the window, but still. Fortunately or unfortunately Balun was this childs only parent. Iona wondered if that reality had hit him yet or if he was running from it. Lips thinned as she thought, another shrug of her shoulders.

Balun had many questions yet none she could answer. How could she tell him what to do when he didn't even have an inkling of an idea beyond working the land. Growing crops.

"Perhaps taking students to study underneath you for herbology."

 

[Balun Dashiell]

THE QUIET STRENGTH OF TRUE FRIENDSHIP
Location: Balun Dashiell's Cottage, The Dashiell Estate on Joiol
Present Company: Kellan Dashiell & Vesha Daruun (x)
Tags: Iona Starchaser​

Usually, when Balun managed to irritate Iona Starchaser , it was by blurting out something tone-deaf or charging ahead without reading the mood in the room. He was used to her exasperated looks by now—half amused, half annoyed. But this time… this time felt different.

As he took a slow second drag from his cigarra and met her eyes, something in her expression made his breath catch—not fully, but just enough to create a tightness in his chest. The moment lingered longer than it should have. Then, with a quiet exhale, twin streams of smoke escaped from his nostrils as he struggled to decipher what, exactly, he'd done this time.

Was it the smoking?

He didn't ask aloud. Didn't challenge it. The look she gave him was answer enough. Wordlessly, he turned and flicked the cigarra out the open window, the ember trailing off into the dark before it vanished completely. No protest. No sarcastic quip. Just quiet compliance—a small gesture meant to patch the sudden crack in the air between them.

"Grife, sorry," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as though that might ease the sting of whatever he'd just stepped into. "I don't know this chit. I researched everything to do with the kid… not so much with me."

His voice dropped, laced with a reluctant humility. He didn't expect pity, just maybe a little understanding. In matters of parenting, he was flying blind. And when it came to the unspoken expectations of those who seemed to get it naturally, like Iona, he constantly felt two steps behind.

He cast her a glance, then added, half to himself, half in jest, "On second thought… maybe teaching's not for me after all."

A soft, breathy laugh escaped him, devoid of humour. The idea of leading a classroom full of bright-eyed learners felt almost ridiculous now, especially when he still fumbled his way through raising one small child. He'd always thought of himself as someone who learned best in motion—but lately, every step forward felt like a stumble.

His gaze returned to the now-closed window, smoke lingering faintly in the air, as if trying to drift back in.

"Hard enough trying to raise one," he murmured, quieter this time. "I'd probably break the rest."

And beneath the self-deprecation, there was truth. Honest, raw, and quietly uncertain.

"Speech".
'Thought'.​

 

[Iona Starchaser]

Location : Joiol | Weapons : Force Pike | Interacting With : Balun Dashiell

​

"I mean, I don't care if you smoke. Just give this kids lungs like a fighting chance to develop first."

Iona just shook her head. They would be parting ways soon, probably to Balun's relief. The Mirialan would be hitting the hyperlanes again, drifting off to the Outer Rim to assist where needed. Perhaps even some time near Naboo, she had heard the small government was getting hit with refugees. If she could help in any way...

Plus, she had the need to also strike out and find more on the Jal Shey. An ongoing project since she wasn't getting the teachings needed from her cousin.

"You only have a classroom of children for what, a handful of hours? Not like you are singularly raising them. Not like what you are doing with Kellan. Its quite different. Don't worry though, we won't be seeing much of one another. Its not like my opinion has any real weight behind it."

 

[Balun Dashiell]

THE QUIET STRENGTH OF TRUE FRIENDSHIP
Location: Balun Dashiell's Cottage, The Dashiell Estate on Joiol
Present Company: Kellan Dashiell & Vesha Daruun (x)
Tags: Iona Starchaser​

"I love it when you assume the worst of me," Balun muttered dryly, snubbing out the end of his cigarra on the windowsill. The ember sizzled briefly before dying out, the last wisp of smoke curling into the air like a breath held too long. No more toxins—at least not the kind that clung to the lungs.

His tone wasn't angry. It wasn't even defensive. Just… resigned. That familiar weight in his voice, the one he wore like a coat too heavy to take off.

"I did invite you here, you know," he added, glancing at Iona, the corner of his mouth twitching in a half-smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "As much as I adore being patronised by you, you're one of the few people I trust outside my family. And I actually enjoy your company."

The words weren't laced with bitterness, but something quieter—fatigue, maybe. A weariness that came from hearing cynicism where he'd hoped for warmth. Her offhand comment about not having to suffer his company much longer struck a discordant note, one that contradicted the trust he'd placed in her, welcoming her into his home, into his space, into this fragile slice of life he was trying to keep steady.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, and continued, voice soft but biting.

"I mean, sure. It gets under my skin that everything out of your mouth sounds like a critique when it's aimed at me. But hey—if we set aside the fact that you look down on me… what's not to love?"

The sarcasm slipped out effortlessly, like a reflex. The kind of unfiltered remark that only came from someone comfortable enough to speak without pretence—and maybe too tired to keep the walls up any longer.

He leaned against the window frame, his expression unreadable for a beat.

From the outside, everything looked fine. More than fine. A warm home. His son, safe and loved. A thriving business built atop his father's legacy. To most, Balun Dashiell looked like a man who had landed on his feet.

But the truth ran deeper, quieter.

None of this had come easily—not the stability, not the fatherhood, and certainly not the sense of self that always seemed to slip through his fingers just when he thought he had it pinned down. His life had been a long string of uphill climbs, detours, and masked uncertainty. The confidence he projected was just that—a projection. A front forged from necessity, not ease.

What people didn't see was the inner weight—the ever-present self-doubt, the gnawing questions of who he was outside of titles and obligations. The craving to be seen, to be enough, without having to prove it constantly. And most of all, the quiet ache to be liked, for himself, not the version he performed.

But he wouldn't say all that. Not directly.

Instead, he just stood there, letting the silence stretch, hoping something unspoken might land where words failed.

"Speech".
'Thought'.​

 

[Iona Starchaser]

Location : Joiol | Weapons : Force Pike | Interacting With : Balun Dashiell ​

"I mean, sure. It gets under my skin that everything out of your mouth sounds like a critique when it's aimed at me. But hey—if we set aside the fact that you look down on me… what's not to love?"

Iona went quiet. There wasn't much for her to say. Scratch that - there was plenty to say. Plenty to rail back on, plenty to dig into. What Balun Dashiell about her looking down on him wasn't true, not in the slightest. Yet he was irritated with her point of view. Irritated with her comments. Irritated with herself in general.

Still silent, she eased the sleeping Kellan off her lap onto the couch, being extra careful not to jostle the young boy. A green hand reached out and she brushed it across the infant's forehead in a silent goodbye. Balun was still focused on looking out the window, as if waiting for her to argue back. To reach out to him. To do anything.

Iona wouldn't be doing any of that. Instead she stood gracefully, looking around the cabin one last time. The Mirialan would have no plans to return, there was no reason to. The door to her last friendship had effectively shut. If she was being honest, it should have been shut when he dated the last Sith but one had to live and learn.

"Goodbye Balun."

Without a glance back, she exited into the quiet of the forest. As promised, she wouldn't be seen again.