Weight of the World [Devorah]

[Azrael]

Lianna

Melford Penthouse Retreat


A rarity in the Galaxy - a city planet that was full of commerce and trade not bound to a particular faction, laying south from the border of Mandalorian territory, nestled within a cocoon of both the Silver Jedi and the Galactic Republic, in a sector of space that wasn't allied with either. A chosen location as an escape from the ties bound in loyalty, duty, and allegiance - where the cares of the lives led could bask in the serenity of a sky lane view of one of the most illustrious cities not only of the continent, but of the entire world itself. Picturesque in serene quality, from the wrapping bay window of a penthouse residence among the litany of sky scrapers that rose in prominence etching their glistening shapes on the horizon of puffy white clouds and sun-kissed sky. A place of refuge and relief that could be enjoyed in the solitude of paired company - one, that after recent events, was not only desired, but warranted.

The investment made to carve out this little slice of pleasure was in earnest a movement towards the idea that while he was the chosen successor to a time honored and legacy ridden culture - the Mandalorian half-blood was not only a leader to his people - but a man that was just beginning to understand the lofty goals he had aspired to. Azrael had a life outside of the Mandalorians (or at least was beginning one). Since his first step onto Yaim, he'd committed himself completely to the cause, learning everything he could from everyone willing to teach. From Ord Mantell and a life of daily grind, burdened with the notion that it might of been his final resting place if he didn't break free from the chains that did so securely bind to the heart of the Mando'ade and it's glorious conquest and company - he'd always felt driven to find his place.

What had been lacking however was a far more personal thing, and it had taken him a while to find that the place in his kar'ta and runi where there existed a place reserved for a thing most invaluable. He'd seen what it had done for others - namely his Ori'vod that had found shereshoy within the embrace of his Jedi riduur. Ever since he had buried the first one he had loved - Azrael had been too focused to realize that he was ignoring a bond that he could not only cherish, but one that would be forged of mutual strength. A connection he'd not have with anyone else in the Galaxy. A human woman, whose own legacy stemmed from the Manda had changed his life in so many ways since he'd met her at that open air cafe at the Kuat Drive Yards several months prior. Now the two shared so much more than he knew he was capable of.

In a far more relaxed state of being - with the burden of his armor resting within the walk-in-closet of this new abode, Azrael was only half dressed in a pair of thin cloth pants while his bare feet pressed to the carpeted floor of the penthouse. Each arm's elbow rested on the bent knee, while his bare torso felt the press of graceful but firm digits trail over his back and shoulders. The metal plated cap to his bionic arm notwithstanding, the muscles in his shoulders and neck were stiff from the other more esoteric burdens the man carried. His head bowed and gray eyes shut in peace to feel Devorah's fingertips grace his flesh with the intent to release the stress on his frame. Not more than a few weeks from the day in the halls of Mandal Motors were he was chosen to succeed his fallen Buir as the newest reigning ruler of the Mandalorian people. So much had changed, and would change - but for now he needed to clear his mind, and rejuvenate his frame. If he was to bare this burden with the strength he had seen, he'd need more than just his own abilities - he would need to rely on those closest to him in order to carry the weight of the world.

"You think I can do it, Dev?" He asked in quiet tones while the physical press of her fingers soothed his muscled frame. Azrael had worked hard for what he had accomplished, and it showed in lines that peppered his frame. Scars, wounds, and also well toned muscle on the slight crimson vernier of his flesh. From both Mandalorian combat, war, and expert training even at the hands of aruetiise. "To be A'lor, and rally them all?" He sighed for a moment, relishing in her touch and the press of her body against his own resting on the bed behind him. "I've never done this - anything like this." He admitted in a released breath. He had doubts about this, questions that while he asked his cyar'ika, he wasn't even sure she could answer.

[member="Devorah Khaladan"]

 

[Devorah Verd]

The changes that could be wrought in the span of a single standard year were nothing short of amazing. Freedom was overwhelming...it had taken her a considerable amount of time to become accustomed to it. Choosing to serve the Republic and the Jedi Council had been an effortless decision, with the way the Force had spoken to her the day Michael discovered her on Manaan. Finding her footing within the Order was a work-in-progress, but a journey very much worth taking, in her estimation.

Finding Azrael when she'd journeyed to Kuat had been a similarly momentous occasion. He'd been a reminder of her Mandalorian heritage, a link to a past she'd known little of beyond a tongue she'd rarely spoken. He'd taught her the meaning of shereshoy in that short span of time, giving outlet to a side of herself she'd buried deeply within her mind.

He challenged her. Reminded her of her own strength. And somehow, he even managed to steal away the heart she'd forgotten she even had.

Devorah smiled softly, fingers smoothing out the silken lace against her skin before returning to their task. They sought out the knots of tension in the muscles of his back and shoulders, coaxing them away with a deft application of pressure. He carried his burdens with strength and dignity, but they still left their mark on him. As much as they both left their duties at the door, it was impossible to let all of them go. A fact that was soon quite evident as his voice broke into the comfortable silence that had fallen between them.

Her fingers stilled and her expression turned thoughtful as she shifted on the bed behind him, cinnamon locks tumbling down her back. She remained silent, leaning against him briefly before sliding to the edge of the bed and onto her feet. Slow steps took her around in front of him, where she gently cupped his face in her hands and drew it up. A glittering chestnut gaze met his of crimson-flecked gray, with one slender brow lofted.

"Cyare...gar sushi at ni." Her voiced emerged strong, with certainty warming her expression. "I have no doubt whatsoever that you are capable of bearing this burden. You proved it on Teta when you rallied what remained of the vode in the face of odds that would have broken anyone else."

Lips drew together as she fell silent but held his gaze tightly with her own. Her voice softened as she spoke again. "You haven't allowed me to doubt myself since the very moment I met you. I will not allow you to doubt yourself now. You paid homage to the traditions of our people that day in the Great Hall. You earned the right to bear the title of Mand'alor, just as your buir did before you."

Her thumbs gently coursed over his cheeks, a smile gradually curling her lips as she allowed her words to sink in. Devorah dipped her head down to capture his lips in a kiss, before gently pressing her forehead to his. "Anything else I can answer for you?"

[member="Azrael"]​

 

[Azrael]

A confidence of deep trust had been established in the months wherein Azrael and Devorah had shared each other's company. It would admittedly take a lifetime to understand someone else in their entirety, and perhaps even then it was not possible to fully know someone. Despite that philosophical debate, a leap of faith was made, one that also was reciprocated in depth and purpose. They had chosen to allow their own personal walls to be breached in order to forge something that both desired. The half-blood had been so focused and driven in his pursuits that the idea of love, the idea of a connection that potent had somehow slipped his mind. A single minded man that afforded his entire being to a goal was one not so easily distracted by the whims and notions of the heart. While he loved the vode, he had to learn that the love he could feel for his people couldn't replace the connection he'd once felt in the scrap yards of Ord Mantell. Devorah reminded him in many ways of the Arkanian he knew there - and yet in even more ways she was a breath of fresh air that Azrael drank in deeply as if he'd never fully relished a breath before. In a word - she was intoxicating.

The practiced pressure of her digits trailing his flesh caused deep sighs to ripple through his throat, and a posture of deep relaxation to fold him over. His weight only supported by the press of elbows to his thighs while she worked her magic. As if she could command the muscle groups themselves, the stress knots were fading, managing to straighten under her deft care - thereby soothing the physical sinew beneath flesh. A slow breath taken in, one that intermingled with the Nlorna flower's elegant notes from the petal oils grafted into the perfume that laden within her chestnut hair and traced lightly against her flesh. Few things in the Galaxy made Azrael relax better, and none of them were as intimate as the touch and press of the Jedi behind him attempting to reduce any kind of burden he had carried within to their penthouse. This was new territory for the couple - not so much the location itself, but the shift in responsibility. The young half-blood was reminded in waves of memories just what kind of role he was playing in this galactic game - and how it would affect the hearts and minds of countless people. Assuredly this was a lofty goal, and one that bore contemplation among action. This however was only half of the equation - as Devorah's own progress was of a concern to the Mandalorian. He wanted to see her thrive and grow, with the potential he saw in her, to rise into the Jedi ranks and fulfill her goals and aspirations. She had told him her secrets, leveled with him on her past - and he was so proud of the woman in how she had grown already.

The closed lids of flesh relishing her touch popped open as her digits relented from the stroking across his shoulders and upper back. Without turning to find her position, he merely felt her press against him before she padded softly before his seated frame. Gentle hands drawing his face and gaze to capture his attention with delicate grace were heeded without sound. Pleasure boiled at the surface, as her dazzling gaze of honey and golden brown hue drew a match in his own eyes. The memories incited by her words that rang full of conviction and love brought him back to the events. He couldn't argue with the truth - and while that wasn't what he was doubting, it was making him recall that under pressure, and in times of need he had risen to the challenge and met it head on. What did linger in his mind was doubts of the future - of a role he didn't feel yet ready for. Apparently you never were ready for the next level - you took that leap of faith like any other and you met the challenges that came to you. A small wry smirk tugged on his lips as the truth broke from her divorced tiers and reminded him just how insightful this woman could be. A knowing glance, a simple question - it was normally all it took to get around a stubborn and sometimes single minded focus. Then her lips touched his and the world vanished outside their bay window, as both arms moved to cradle her form against his own. Most wouldn't peg Azrael for a romantic person, but he certainly had his moments where that side came to the surface. Lifting her frame to light upon his lap and snake her legs behind him while he supported her back.

"Just one. "How in the Manda did I ever got this lucky?" His simple reply that came from a knowing smile while their foreheads touched gently, leaving only a sparse inch between their lips. She was a treasure to be sure, and a very singular creature. Digits of flesh trailed up and down her spine, gently tracing invisible lines across her back while the bionic hand rested still and pliant. He took great care with that hand when she was involved. It wasn't meant for soft things, but the practiced art of precision work had allowed him a degree of movement that would be hard to distinguish in movement alone from a true left arm. "You're right though, as always." He paused for a moment, letting the smile rise. "Enough of that though, c'mere." A gentle chuckle rolled from his lips while rising from his seat on the bed turning to toss her body against the soft sheets and mattress and let her head fall into the plush pillows that splayed her chestnut hair out like a halo. Bodies colliding, with the right behind her and the left to the side propping himself up a bit before he'd meet her lips again. He could brood another time, and reflect on the changes in life. Today was for leaving those problems at the door and enjoying their time together.

[member="Devorah Khaladan"]