Faction To the Victor || Mandalorian Empire

[Renn Vizsla]

OPEN​

The Warden of Roon walked amongst the crowd of gathered armored Mandalorians and mixed in with civilians, attempting to stem the tide of Ale and other liquors being funneled down the throats of warriors left and right.

Each path of a Mandalorian was seen here, in this moment, those who followed: The Mandate of War, The Way of Mandalore, Mandaism, and even the Ha’rangir’tru.

Helmets on, or helmets off, tall or short, skinny or.... not. Everyone was participating in the festivities, and joy seemed to radiate from the center of the streets. But that was never what Renn was looking for; he saw those in the fringes, their head in their hands, their eyes distant, those were the people he was there for. He walked up to a Supercommando of Clan Saxon, his gauntleted hand resting on his shoulder as the man looked towards the Warden, his focus coming back to him.

"I- Warden, I did not expect to see you partaking in the festivities."

Renn gave a small nod before he sat beside the man for a moment, looking out into the crowd of smiling faces and festivities.

"There is to be joy in making it home after a glorious victory. But sometimes we take some of that victory home with us. Friends lost... things seen that shake you to the core... heroism, and cruelty."

He did not look towards the Saxon as he spoke, his eyes searching the crowd. His voice was gruff, a long day of working and talking to more people than he could count, but he still made time for those who served him; no one was beneath a conversation with the Warden.

A firm, yet gentle hand returned to the man's shoulder, "Do not forget those that we have lost, they all go to the Manda, and we will see them once again in the next life. But for now, I am sure they would wish for you to take care of yourself, go see a medic, see what they can do for you, friend."

Renn stood up, patting the man's shoulder before continuing. His armor looked almost impractical, bright gold Beskar with a red cape coming from it. But if one looked closer, they would see the wear and tear that it had gone through, the years of battle and danger that it had gone through, and the care that had been put into taking care of it.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as he looked out into the crowd, more smiling faces. The Manda gained many glorious souls that day, and all of them would be remembered.

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Occupied Barracks District, Vjunhollow
Tags: Aselia Verd

The Verd’s response earned a wry smile and a quiet, if dry “Yes ma’am.”

There’d been no danger of her collapsing like a damsel in distress but arguing with Aselia would be an exercise in futility.

Adelle looked at the left ankle, noting the slight swelling. Nothing broken so truly just a sprain. The pain burning in her calf needed more immediate attention, she could feel.

The right set of leg armor quickly followed the left, set down with far less care on the floor, and she started to peel off her armorweave, revealing the compression tank top and shorts underneath. As the armorweave suit exposed her left calf, she saw dried blood sticking to her skin.

“Oh that’s not good,” she muttered.

The bit of durasteel that had caught her leg on her exit from the building had done more damage than she thought. The gouge was still shallow, still not enough to bother the medics with when she had her own fieldkit here, but deeper than she ordinarily would have left.

"I… need your help. I can’t both take care of the gash and keep it still how it needs to be," Adelle admitted, then pointed to the utility belt draped on the back of the desk chair. "My field kit's on the belt. There’s santizing wipes to clean the area and bacta patches in the kit.”

She rubbed her forehead, more than a little chagrined she left it until now before doing a thorough inspection. Idiot.

 

[Jonah]

When she rose, folding in on herself for only a breath before standing tall, Jonah’s gaze followed without haste. The faintest sound of amusement escaped him, low and rough, as though dragged across gravel.

“I would never mock a beautiful woman.” he said, voice smooth but edged with mischief. “I value living too much!”

He barely had time to register the shift in her stance before she moved. The drumstick vanished from his hand in a flash of fingers and audacity. For a heartbeat his jaw dropped in open offense, a rare crack in his composure. Then it sealed again, reshaped into a slow, appreciative smirk.

“Y'know what?” he muttered, watching her circle him with his stolen prize, “I like you.”

There was approval in it, not flirtation alone but recognition. She had moved fast. Clean. No hesitation. He turned on his heel, falling into step beside her without crowding, and gestured with an empty hand toward the cookfires burning deeper within the occupied district. Flames licked upward into the night, casting bronze light across stacked armor and laughing warriors.

“Come on,” he said, voice settling back into that grounded baritone. “Let’s see if there’s anything else edible out there.”

He glanced down at his now vacant hands, flexing his fingers as if mourning the loss.

“Since I’ve been so generously relieved of my rations and all.”

Tag: Tessa Thayne

 

[Tessa Thayne]

The momentary shock in his expression was the exact medicine she’d needed in the moment, a laugh burst from her the sound light, she felt the tension in her chest lift a little more. The shock folded away back behind a mask of composure, the muttered words making her smile as she took another bite.

“You’re right, this is too fucking good to share.”

She at least offered him back the tihaar, careful to keep what was left of the drumstick out of his reach.

It dawned on Tessa that she hadn’t eaten the night before, something about being in a room full of Mandalorian's on the eve of a battle had made her stomach too twisted unable to shake that suspicion that someone was going to come at her with a blade. It was absurd and she knew it but it didn't make the feeling any less prominent.

“Well, next time you’ll know to keep a better grip.” she said with a grin as they moved towards the cookfires, Tessa picking the drumstick clean as they went. “Or you’ll bring a second portion.”

She stopped sniffing the air as they drew closer, the aroma of spice catching her attention as she licked her fingers clean.

“I am starving…do I smell tiingilar?”

Jonah

 

[Aether Verd]

Wearing:
Beskar'gam - Darksaber​

VJUNHOLLOW, YAGA MINOR

The cantina had grown thicker with bodies and louder with pride, the circle around the table tightening as warriors pressed in to see what kind of chaos the Verd brothers would stir up next. Firelight rolled across cracked helms and scarred plates, across soot and fresh bandages that had not yet forgotten the day’s violence. Outside, Vjunhollow still smoldered. In here, the air carried liquor, sweat, and victory. Mia’s tankard struck the table, and her comment drew a sharp laugh from Aether. “If we popped out with every blink,” he replied, voice warm and unbothered, “the Diarchy would have fallen by the old man’s seed alone!” He leaned back just enough to enjoy the ripple of laughter. “If you'd like, I'm sure one of us wouldn't mind adding a fresh branch to Clan Monroe. Just say the word.”

Tyr’s declaration that he would catch up earned a sideways grin. “You better move quick,” Aether called across the table, lifting his tankard in loose acknowledgment. “Some of us been drinking since orbit!” Kurayami’s congratulations were met with a firm nod, steady and direct. “You don’t have to play,” he told him plainly, “but you do have to drink, Uncle.” The challenge was light, but it was still a challenge.

When Xerxes spoke of mapping unstable lanes and disciplining unruly stars, Aether shook his head with open amusement. “Out there taming hyperspace while we break empires,” he said. “Not minding our business is the family business, eh?” His brother’s reminder about childhood losses earned a dismissive scoff. “Hey now, I wasn’t terrible!” he replied easily. “I was letting you feel confident.”

Dreidi’s playful threat drew a slower grin, the kind that suggested he welcomed the danger. “If you're going to curse me, at least wait until after I have a mini-me running around.” he said, “I'm fair game after that!” He lifted his tankard slightly toward her. “And if Dathomir drinks blood and whisky, then maybe we’ve got more in common than I thought.” He did not reach beyond those who had spoken to him, nor did he pull strangers into the center. The circle had formed on its own. It felt full enough now that the game could begin.

Aether straightened in his chair, forearms settling against the wood as his fingers wrapped loosely around his drink. The grin sharpened, playful but dangerous.

“Since my brother thinks I used to lose...” he began, tone steady and confident, “I’ll make this easy!” His gaze moved around the table without hurry.

“Never have I ever kissed a woman.”​

He did not lift his tankard. He did not drink. He leaned back instead, grin widening as cups rose around him, fully aware that by sunrise the livers of his kin would be fighting battles of their own.

Tyr Mereel Xerxes Verd Niijima Izumi Itzhal Volkihar Dreidi Xeraic Maya Mia Monroe + Open

 

[Athena Faar]

​

Tag: Veyla Krinn , Korda Veydran mention

Athena leaned back, settling into a pile of plasteel crates. She let the cool beverage wash the sooty taste out of her mouth as bright green eyes casually observed those around her. She hummed a pleased sound, content to relax amid the sound of stories and banter crowning another victory. Those emerald hues lowered to the fire, remembering. She thought of Adonis, a brother-in-arms. They had made a damn good team, Stormbringers that wreaked havoc during the Black Summer. They might have been becoming more.

But duty to their Mand'alor came first. She tended to leading Protectors, Adonis to being a valiant knight. It was a good run.

Movement caught her attention as a warrior passed by. Black and red armor, usually so immaculate, showed the stain of battle. Athena knew the fiery redhead who wore it. Veyla. Beautiful and a true warrior. Then Velya paused and spoke.

The woman's words were well chosen, encouraging without being judgy. Velya's comments may have been just what Athena needed to hear. She knew she belonged, but without a clan, sometimes it didn't feel like it. Veyla's kindness really shouldn't have surprised her. Veyla was House Kryze. After leaving the Enclave, Athena had followed Jenn Kryze for a short time. There was no judgement there either, only acceptance. Veyla was like that as well.

Athena lifted her half-empty bottle in salute and offered a crooked smile. "Thanks, sister. You just earned yourself a ride on a dragon! Athena's grin turned to a broad smile. "Be well, Veyla." She added. The dark woman's eyes lingered, following the redhead until she encounted The Unyielding. Korda looked beat to hell, but that was certainly because he found the thickest part of the fight. She expected nothing less.

Heeding Veyla's advice, Athena emptied the bottle and stepped closer to a group of warriors eating, snagging a ration pack and invited them to tell her their stories.

 

[Jonah]

When she handed the tankard back to him, careful and deliberate despite the mischief still dancing in her eyes, Jonah regarded her for a moment before taking it.

“You’re too kind...” he murmured.

He tipped the rim to his lips and took a long, unapologetic swallow, the tihaar biting down his throat and settling warm in his chest. He lowered the cup with a satisfied breath and a faint chuckle escaped him as she praised the drumstick he no longer possessed. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand while they walked, boots striking steady against the duracrete as the fires grew brighter ahead.

“I heard some sage advice once...” he said, tone turning thoughtful in a way that suggested he absolutely had not. “If you’re ever around a pretty girl, make sure you order her something fried.”

His eyes flicked toward her briefly, then forward again.

“And if she says she’s not hungry, you order a large.”

The glow of the cookfires painted the courtyard in amber light as they approached. The scent of spice thickened in the air, rich and unmistakable. When she slowed and lifted her chin slightly, letting instinct guide her, Jonah followed the line of her attention until he spotted the source.

An older Mandalorian stood over a wide cookpot, stirring with patient authority.

Jonah stepped forward without hesitation and reached for one of the bowls hooked along the rim. He filled it generously, steam rising in fragrant curls as tiingilar stew sloshed to the brim. Turning back, he extended it toward her with an easy confidence.

“Ladies first.” he said, voice low and steady.

Only after she had been served did he reach for a bowl of his own, filling it just as full, as though there had never been any doubt about who would eat first tonight.

Tag: Tessa Thayne

 

[Kurayami Bloodborn]

Kurayami laughed at Aether's observation about the Verd bloodline. "If that were the case, Miss Monroe then the Ver'ds would have conquered the entirety of this galaxy long before the galaxies collided a few years back. The Diarchy would never have had a chance to be a gleam in the founder's eyes." The Corellian chuckled as he tilted the flask towards Mia in a friendly sign of recognition. "You needn't tell me twice that I need to drink, whether or not I play the game, nephew. I have never backed down from a challenge." The reply was tinged with the same light tone, but the acknowledgement was clear, there was no way the elder was backing down.

He tilted his head back and took a second swig, feeling the burn a bit more than normal. A sllghtly longer than normal blink was the only sign one would even pick up on that he had felt anything. The only other reaction was the return of his almost omnipresent smirk as he listened further to the conversations around him. He couldn't help but laugh heartily at Aether's start to the game. Chances were this was going to be quite an interesting evening by the time all was said and done.

Tags: Aether Verd | Mia Monroe | Dreidi Xeraic | Xerxes Verd | Niijima Izumi | Itzhal Volkihar | Maya | Tyr Mereel | OPEN

 

[Tessa Thayne]

Tessa gave a snort of laughter at his sage advice, tossing the drumstick bone aside. sucking the last of her grease as she side eyed him, catching his gaze as it flicked her way. He had called her beautiful and pretty in the space of a few mins, the realisation slowly dawning in her, tugging a smile from her lips.

“Must have been a woman, with advice as wise as that.” she winked at him.

Her stomach growled as they drew near the cookpot, the aroma making her salivate. It had been years since she’d had tiingilar stew, the smell of it stirred memories of on an old farmstead her ba'vodu trying to teach her the right balance of spices as she perched precariously on a stool in his kitchen.

“Vor’e vod” she said, lifting the bowl in cheers to the cook. Moving to grab a couple of bread rolls from the nearby table. One she clamped in her teeth to hold while grabbing another for Jonah. She picked her way across the courtyard to upturned crates set to serve as table and chairs setting her bowl down and offering the bread roll to Jonah.

“I regret not eating yesterday.” she said, tearing a chunk of her own bread roll off and dipping it into the stew before popping it into her mouth. She let out a little groan of happiness.

“Fuck, that’s good.”


Jonah

 

[Niijima Izumi]

Izumi did not look up right away when Kirae settled beside her.

She recognized her by presence before sight. Armor carried a particular weight, not just in sound but in the way it altered the air around it. The cantina was loud with triumph, thick with smoke and raised voices, yet Kirae's arrival felt contained. Grounded. Deliberate. It reminded Izumi, faintly, of another evening. A quieter room. Tatami beneath their knees. The soft clink of porcelain instead of bottles striking metal.

The ryokan.

They had shared a drink there once. The details blurred now, but she remembered the stillness of it. The way Kirae had spoken more than she likely intended, and how Izumi had listened without asking for much in return. Only then did Izumi lift her gaze beneath the brim of her hat.

Firelight skimmed along beskar edges before catching Kirae's expression. That slight grin rested there, restrained but real. It was not the smile of someone swept up in glory. It held something steadier. Thoughtful, perhaps.

"You have chosen a quiet seat for a night like this," Izumi said gently.

Her voice did not compete with the noise. It did not need to. She turned the ceramic cup slowly between her palms, feeling the heat settle into her skin again before taking another small sip. The sake's warmth moved through her chest in an unhurried wave, softening the lingering tension left by smoke and shouting and too many raised egos.

Izumi let it pass.

Her eyes returned to Kirae, clearer now beneath the shadow of the hat.

"You do not look like someone who minds missing the spectacle."

It was not said as a challenge. Simply an observation. She remembered that same undercurrent from the ryokan. The way Kirae had held her cup carefully, as though mindful of what it meant to finish it. As though indulgence required justification.

"You were not there," Izumi continued quietly. "And yet you carry the aftermath."

A slight tilt of her head accompanied the words, not probing, just acknowledging what sat between them unspoken.

"Some celebrate survival loudly," she said. "Others count it in silence."

There was nothing in Kirae that suggested envy of the revelry. If anything, she seemed apart from it by nature rather than circumstance. Izumi recognized that distance. It was not isolation born of pride. It was the kind shaped by responsibility. Her thumb traced the faint crackle in the glaze of her cup before she looked back at Kirae fully.

"At the ryokan, you spoke of your people as if they were something fragile in your hands. I remember that much."A small breath left her, almost a quiet laugh at her own imperfect memory. "I suspect that has not changed."

The noise around them rose again, another cheer, another exaggerated retelling. Izumi did not turn toward it.

Instead, she shifted the flask slightly between them on the counter.

"If you would prefer something steadier than whatever they are passing around," she said, "you are welcome to share."

No insistence, no ceremony. Just warmth offered without spectacle.
​

Kirae Orade​

 

[Kirae Orade]

Tags: Niijima Izumi

"Loud noises and celebrations were never my thing. I much prefer the quiet. It's...soothing."

She gave a small slight shrug of her shoulders. It was the truth when it came down to it. Kirae had never been one for the vast celebrations that people hosted in recognition of glory and honour. For her, there was no glory in war. Only death. Destruction. It was something that didn't quite match up with what others liked to believe. There were others who would want to see the enemies of the Empire wiped from the Galaxy but not Kirae. She always wondered what the cost might be for something like that. The Mandalorian lives that would have to be paid for it. No matter the cost, it would be far too much in her eyes.

"Is it spectacle I'm missing? Or a massacre painted as a masterpiece? If they have the desire to celebrate a slaughter, they can do so. I just won't take part in it."

If it was what the people needed, Kirae wouldn't speak out against it. But she also would not celebrate it. It might have been right. Their enemies might have deserved the destruction and death, but in Kirae's eyes, that wasn't something that should be celebrated. You accepted it. You mourned the loss of life. But that was it. She wasn't arrogant enough to believe that she was right with her belief of course. There were some who in death would want a celebration. A toast to their memory instead of a solemn farewell. She was not one of those. She would never be one of those.

"I wasn't there, because I am a curse. When it comes to a battle against men...I only bring more pain. More suffering. People die to cover up for my mistakes. It is...better for me to stay away from the frontlines."

Kirae ran her hand along her gauntlet for a moment, frowning in thought as she contemplated things. Whilst she may have thought her people were potentially fragile, maybe the truth was that she was the fragile one. She couldn't bend without breaking. Couldn't go against her own beliefs without the danger of shattering into dozens of pieces. Who was she without her shield?

"It has not changed. Only now...I wonder if I am the one breaking them. If my mere presence is enough to shatter them, like some giant brute in a glass store."

She did not react to the cheering behind them. Yet her eyes drifted off towards the flask, taking it from Izumi for a moment before having a slight swig. Letting the contents still her mind for now and focus on the flavour. Anything to get her mind off what she was thinking about...before she handed it back.​

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Veyla did not interrupt him once, choosing instead to take the bottle he offered with quiet care and simply listen to every name and every fracture in his voice that he tried to smooth over with duty. When he finally finished, and the surrounding laughter rushed back into the space his memories had carved open, she remained still for a long moment to let the weight of his words truly matter before she spoke.

"They sound like they loved you," she said softly, offering the observation not as a shallow platitude or simple comfort, but as an undeniable truth. "Tor, Fenn, Rex, Joric—I repeat their names because no one fights with that level of intensity for someone they don't trust, and no one smiles while charging unless they believe the person behind them has the strength to finish the job."

She finally opened the bottle and took a small, approving sip before setting it between them, her voice remaining steady as she looked him in the eye. "You didn't fail them; rather, you gave them something worth standing in front of, because redemption isn't found in dying for your people, but in living long enough to remember them correctly, and you clearly do."

Leaning back against the crate so her shoulder brushed his in a silent show of presence, she watched the firelight and added, "They didn't just become stories tonight; they became a part of you that surfaces every time you refuse to hesitate or put yourself where the fire is worst, which is exactly how Mandalorians keep their dead alive." Her gaze turned more personal as she met his eyes again, her voice dropping to a sincere murmur. "For what it's worth, you did far more than just your duty tonight. You saved lives, mine included. So to them."

When Athena's voice eventually cut through the night with its characteristic warmth, Veyla turned to catch the salute, laughing with genuine relief that eased the lingering tension in her chest. "A dragon ride? Careful, Athena, because I might actually take you up on that," she called out, raising her bottle before adding a final, simple truth for the woman to carry back into the crowd: "You belong here, so don't ever let yourself doubt that."

Without the need for further speech or ceremony, Veyla turned back toward Korda and the fire, content to stay exactly where she was—not as a commander or a symbol, but simply as a Wolf among her people.

Athena Faar Korda Veydran

 

[Korda Veydran]

Korda listened without moving.
He did not look away when she repeated their names.


Tor.
Fenn.
Rex.
Joric.


The sound of them struck somewhere deeper than the ache in his ribs. For a moment the courtyard blurred, not with tears, but with the pressure of memory pushing forward all at once.


When she finished, when she leaned her shoulder lightly against his and offered that steady truth without pity, something in him eased.
Just a fraction.
A weak smile pulled at his mouth.


It revealed the gap where his right canine had once been, a souvenir from the fight with norbert that he had refused to replace. He let the silence stretch a moment before speaking.


"Why," he asked quietly, voice rough but no longer brittle, "do you choose to sit here with me?"
His gaze flicked toward the larger cluster, the loud ones, the uninjured ones, the ones already halfway into legend-making for the night. Athena's laughter carried across the courtyard like wind through metal.


"You could stand in the center of it," he added. "They'd gather without question."


He nodded once toward Athena as she saluted, lifting his flask in return.
"To dragon riders," he called low enough to carry, and took a small swallow before lowering it again.
His eyes returned to Veyla.
There was less distance in them now.


"I am not unaware of what I look like tonight," he said, glancing down at the bandages wrapped tight around his torso. "Half-armored. Bleeding through linen. Smelling like burned munitions."


A faint huff of breath.
"Not exactly ideal company."
The firelight flickered across his scars and the hard line of his jaw before softening there.
"But you sit anyway."
He studied her for a second longer, then gave a small nod. one of acceptance, not confusion.


"If you choose to walk over there," he said after a moment, motioning subtly toward the main crowd, "I will follow."
His tone was calm. Steady.
"Not because I lack the will to walk alone."
A pause.


"But because you took the time to sit beside a wounded beast when you did not have to."
His lips twitched faintly again.
"And I repay my debts."


The sounds of the courtyard swelled again, someone cheering, someone groaning dramatically about the protein block, boots scraping against stone.
Korda pushed himself up slightly straighter, wincing only briefly before mastering it.
"I will stand with you," he finished simply. "If you stand."
He didn't rush her. Didn't rise yet.


But the invitation was there.
Not as obligation.
As choice.

Tags: Veyla Krinn Athena Faar

 

[Aselia Verd]

Aselia did not answer the dry "Yes ma'am," though a faint shift at the corner of her mouth suggested she heard it. She had no intention of letting Adelle wave this off, and she certainly wasn't about to let her handle it alone. When the armorweave peeled back and dried blood came into view, her attention sharpened immediately. The shift in her posture was subtle but unmistakable, the ease replaced by the focused steadiness she carried into battle.

"You should have said something sooner," she said quietly, concern threading beneath the firmness.

She crossed the room and retrieved the field kit, kneeling in front of Adelle with deliberate calm. The position brought her closer than the battlefield ever had. Armor and distance had always stood between them. Now there was only skin, bruising, and the faint heat of exertion still lingering in the air.

Her gaze flickered once, unbidden, taking in the compression tank and shorts, the lines of muscle earned through training and survival. It was not appraisal in the crude sense. It was awareness. The absence of beskar made Adelle look less formidable and somehow more so at the same time.

Aselia had never considered herself drawn to women. It had never been a question she bothered to ask. Yet something in the quiet strength of Adelle sitting there, wounded but still composed, unsettled that certainty in a way she did not immediately dissect. Instead she refocused on the wound.

"Hold still" she instructed gently, one hand settling around Adelle's lower leg to steady it.

Her touch was firm enough to keep the muscle from flexing but careful, mindful of the pain tightening Adelle's jaw. She cleaned the gash methodically, patient and precise. The proximity made her more aware than she liked of the warmth of Adelle's skin beneath her fingers, of the way she breathed through discomfort instead of complaining.

"You helped a lot of people today." Aselia said softly, eyes still on the injury. "You don't get to call yourself an idiot for not noticing your own blood."

She pressed the bacta patch into place and smoothed it down with steady pressure, her thumb lingering a fraction longer than necessary. The swelling at the ankle drew her attention next, and she adjusted her grip slightly, assessing without causing more pain.

"That sprain needs compression. But otherwise you'll live." she added, finally lifting her gaze to meet Adelle's.

The closeness lingered between them now in a way that had nothing to do with battlefield triage. Aselia did not pull away immediately. Her expression remained composed, but there was something quieter beneath it. It took her a only a moment to reset, then she quietly stood. "Have anything for the sprain?

TAG: Adelle Bastiel
​

 

[Mia Monroe]

A smile curved Mia’s lips as Xerxes, Aether and Kurayami echoed the same sentiment about the galaxy folding beneath the weight of Verd’s if her statement had been true. It was Aether’s offer of uniting their two clans that drew her full attention though, eyebrow arching above her sapphire eyes.

“I don’t think the galaxy would ever be ready for that union, no matter how much your old man wanted it. And believe me, he did.”

She took another drink, gaze lifting sweeping over those present, settling for a beat longer on Itzhal near the bar, eyes flicking over fresh marks on his armour that had not been there before the fight, a section of his gauntlet missing, but he was whole. Tension she didn’t know she’d been holding eased.

When her gaze lifted from assessment to catch his eye a flicker of a smile danced briefly across her face before Aether began the game.

“Never have I ever kissed a woman.”​

Her eyes snapped to him instantly, immediately regretting agreeing to play. More importantly than her own secrets however. Aether did not drink.

“Oh, Aeth’ika.” she said softly, her tone full of pity. "Gar cuyir graoti'r dayn.”

Mia drank.

 

[Julra Repraj]

(wrong account reee)

 

[Xerxes Verd]

Objective: I

Xerxes watched the exchange unfold with open amusement rather than judgment. Aether leaned back in his chair with that unmistakable Verd confidence, entirely certain he had played the room correctly. Then Mia drank.

Xerxes exhaled through his nose, not quite a laugh but close, and finally turned toward his younger brother with a look that held years of shared history behind it.

"You truly have impeccable timing," he said calmly, a hint of warmth threading through his voice. "You announce the possibility of uniting two clans and then immediately reveal you have yet to complete the most basic prerequisite."

He did not sound disappointed. If anything, he sounded entertained.

"I admire the ambition," he continued, folding his arms loosely as he regarded Aether. "It takes confidence to discuss legacy before you have even tested the waters. But perhaps start with a kiss before drafting genealogies." There was no bite in the words, only the easy rhythm of brotherly teasing.

"You win battles by charging forward," he added lightly. "That works remarkably well against enemy fortifications. I am not convinced it translates as effectively elsewhere. Especially in relationships."

His gaze shifted to Mia then, and the change was subtle but deliberate. He offered her a respectful incline of his head and a small, knowing smile.

"For what it's worth, Alor Monroe," he said smoothly, "should Clan Monroe ever consider entertaining such an alliance, I would recommend selecting a representative with at least the minimal field experience."

The smile lingered just long enough to make the tone unmistakably playful rather than presumptuous.

"Aether means well," he went on, glancing back at his brother. "He simply tends to assume success is inevitable once he has declared it so."

He reached for his tankard then and lifted it with easy composure.

"Fortunately for him, confidence has carried him through worse odds than this."

His eyes flicked briefly between them, amused and entirely at ease.

"But if we are discussing the expansion of our illustrious family, perhaps it is best not to begin with a public confession."

He took a long drink, settling back in his chair with the comfortable satisfaction of an older brother who had managed to make his point without drawing blood.

TAG: Mia Monroe Aether Verd Dreidi Xeraic Maya Itzhal Volkihar + OPEN
​

Edit: Dice total stands at 11

 

[Aether Verd]

VJUNHOLLOW, YAGA MINOR

Aether's gaze slow, methodically, and painfully shifted to Xerxes.

"aEtHeR mEaNs wElL." he retorted.​

(Drunk counter: 4)

Xerxes Verd + Mia Monroe

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Occupied Barracks District, Vjunhollow
Tags: Aselia Verd

The reprimand landed somewhere between rueful and nostalgic acceptance. The corner of Adelle’s mouth twitched upward and she huffed a breath. Na’an and Leigh had reamed her out over ignored injuries before, in their own, very different ways. Since losing them, she’d been trying to take better care of herself even if it was only out of remembrance.

A gentle breeze blew in through the half-broken window, cool against her skin. Adelle settled in her seat on the bed, turning the leg slightly so that the redhead could better see the wound. Her calf twinged reflexively under Aselia’s touch but Adelle kept herself still, using the breathing techniques she’d learned among the Jedi. The Verd’s hands were surprisingly gentle, despite the calloused palms. The methodical cleaning burned and the pressure made pain flare but all things considered, this was uncomfortable at best. It was, by far, not the worst pain she’d lived through. The scent of antiseptic still burned unpleasantly in her nose but at least she couldn’t smell smoke from the various cooking fires outside.

"You helped a lot of people today." Aselia said softly, eyes still on the injury. "You don't get to call yourself an idiot for not noticing your own blood."

Adelle scoffed. “I know better. I know adrenaline dulls pain. I know my own sense of pain has been warped. I know even non-life-threatening injuries can become infected. I should have checked sooner. And I would’ve yelled at any other medic that pulled this. So if I’m not an idiot, then I’m a hypocrite.”

Aselia held the ankle and Adelle twitched from the bruising. She confirmed what Adelle had originally planned, staying knelt by her side a moment longer than was strictly necessary. If Adelle didn’t know better, she might have called it lingering, and something she couldn’t quite read was layered behind calm in Aselia’s expression. The moment passed and Aselia stood, the usual distance between them now.

“Not with me, no,” Adelle said, shaking her head. “I had planned on retrieving a brace from the rest of my kit on my basilisk or going to a med-station later. But that’s not my biggest concern right not. Like you said, I’ll live with a sprain. I was grazed by one of their slugs.”

Now knowing how much deeper the wound on her leg was, Adelle wanted to address the injury she’d gotten on her right side. The one on her arm she’d been able to look at earlier while taking off her armor and it had looked like little more than a first degree burn and abrasion. Her side felt much worse than that.

Adelle pulled the compression tank over her head quickly. Fresh pain blazed in her side, sharp and hot.

“Shabuiryc Whills of the kriffing Force!”

She clenched her jaw and hissed through her teeth, clamping a hand over the wound as something started to trickle down her side. Her free hand turned her tank over until she found the hole where the slug had torn through the armorweave and compression fabric. The edges had melted.

Which meant it had partially fused to skin.

“Okay,” Adelle said, taking a steadying breath. “That fething hurt. Mind handing me some gauze? After that, I promise I won't make you play nurse any longer. You should go celebrate while there's still booze in the bar.”

 

[Maya]

Maya returned the nod as her eyes briefly met Aether. She had seen him before, knew of him by name and face but not much else. But the moment he had reached for his glass to answer her silent toast, she gave a small smile. Her eyes trailed to those who had now seemed to file around the man, each of whom had some kind of relationship or closeness to the man. Perhaps it best I stay put where I am...she mused, reaching for her glass once again and taking a sip. The chatter around them filled the air. There was a man who had two wolves sitting by his side, a woman who was close enough to the Mandalor to pat him on the shoulder, another man who observed silently as she did the crowd that had gathered, another man who had echoed her toast more audibly so the others could hear, and another woman she didn't recognize.

This was definitely turning into a party...

“Never have I ever, right?"

And as though on cue, Aether had proposed a drinking game. The woman thought for a moment, amused at the idea. She had played that game once before, although she had been a bit younger back then. Also, it had been with some close friends, back when she had some. Maya was skeptical at first, unsure of whether she was willing to risk what little reputation she had in a game. She knew that she could hold a drink, but the problem wasn't about her drinking, but more so the aftermath of it. Perhaps it was a good thing she knew almost no one here....Maya inclined her head, neither agreeing or denying joining the game. For now she simply listened.

“Never have I ever kissed a woman.”

She couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at this statement. It was definitely a strong way to start off the game, and one she appreciated at that. Maya allowed her glass to stay put for she had indeed...never kissed a woman. Her eyes went around the table, seeing if there was anyone else who would drink alongside Aether. But it seemed that this statement had triggered jabs towards the man of unparallel proportions. It was justified though, seeing as even Maya herself had raised an eyebrow. A spark of curiosity did cross her face though, seeing as there must have been a good reason for him not to have kissed a woman at his age and calibur.

Maybe he doesn't fancy a woman's kiss...? she dared not speak this out loud, fearful of having the wrong direction in thought.​

Aether Verd Kurayami Bloodborn Mia Monroe Xerxes Verd Tyr Mereel​