Private Where The Sea Takes Us

[Lyras Valein]

"Finding, Friends?"

Tags - Jenn Kryze , Reina Daival

The waters of Scarif were almost too perfect.

Sunlight fractured through the surface in golden ribbons, glimmering off the coral spires like liquid glass. Schools of silver-blue fish wheeled past her in synchronized bursts, dispersing when her crimson tail cut through their midst. Lyras Valein drifted lazily beneath the reef's shadow, fingers trailing through curtains of kelp that swayed in time with the current. Even here, in paradise, the silence pressed in.

She'd come here between assignments—at least that's what she told herself. A brief reprieve. The Dark Court had no presence on Scarif, no duties, no reports. The only sound was the slow, steady pulse of the tide and the faint whisper of her own heartbeat in her gills. It should have been peaceful. Instead, it was lonely.

Lyras surfaced with a soft exhale, water streaming from her hair in sheets of scarlet light. The horizon stretched endlessly before her, all glittering waves and distant atolls. Somewhere nearby, tourists laughed over drinks and droids ferried cargo between resorts. She floated for a long moment, watching the clouds roll like lazy giants overhead.

"Not even a patrol," she muttered, half to herself, half to the sea. "Figures."

The siren's hum carried faintly across the water, a gentle note that rippled through the shallows and sent a pod of seabirds wheeling into the air. She smiled faintly at their reaction—at least something had heard her. She hadn't meant for the note to escape, but her voice always seemed to leak into the world when she was bored.

Maybe that was why she missed the others. Virelia's soldiers, the endless bustle of Malachor's spires, the quiet pulse of discipline and danger. Here there was no command to issue, no system to maintain. Just herself—and the water.

She brushed a strand of wet hair from her face and glanced toward the beach. There were people there. Dozens, maybe more. Some splashing in the surf, others dozing under sunshades. It wasn't her element, not really. But the ache in her chest—the one that had nothing to do with gills or breath—made her hesitate only a moment.

With a flick of her tail, she swam toward shore, each motion smooth as song. Maybe she'd find someone interesting to talk to. Or at least someone who didn't mind sharing the sun.

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
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| Location | Scarif
| Objective | We swim, we sing; by sea we are

The waters of Scarif were as refreshing as ever. Tropical warmth, pleasant for one to swim in - much unlike cold, cold Kamino. Jenn could remember the first time she dipped her fins on each of these worlds, and realized that her new nature as an aquatic being hardly made a stormy sea more pleasant. Oh, there was an appeal, to swimming in a storm, but only when one was prepared for it, in body and mind alike! ​

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Not today, however. Jenn's many failures haunted her, and so she found herself retreating deeper and deeper into isolation and melancholy, skirting the edge of known space in order to be left alone, content to pursue her craft as a Forgemistress with few equals... on those occasions when the sea did not sing out to her, called her home. And when it did, she found herself drawn back to familiar waters. None more so than those of Scarif.​

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The Mandalorian would, normally, be content to swim as naked as the day she was born. There was something so very liberating about it, really, to find all of herself embraced by the ocean's invisible grasp. Alas, with the world falling under the banner of the Mandalorian Empire, she found it more prudent not to forego the armaments integral to her vambraces, prepared as she was for the eventuality of some upstart seizing their chance to kill the Alor of House Kryze. Her story, diminished as it seemed to be now, could not end on such a disappointing note.​

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And so she swam, languid in the motions of her tail, sometimes stopping to reach out and grasp her own fin with her hands, gloved digits caressing the silk-like texture of it. Soft, yes, but not translucent as she heard some of those sisters-never-met possessed. They were all so different, if what the information she had found about her own kind was accurate. Much like herself, the Mandalorian found strength, even in the softest part of her bein. Seemingly satisfied, she headed a little closer to the surface, still taken in admiration of her own self - how the light of day shone upon her scales, letting her admire the manner in which the main body of them evoked uniformity, even as those nearing the sides became interspersed with darker touches of blue.​

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Then came the hum. It should have been but that - a mere hum, to be lost in the waves, and not dragged by the current to the Ersansyr's ears. That, alone, was enough to rouse her interest. Still lurking beneath the surface, yet close enough to it for someone to spot her and the manner in which her tail slipped past the surface at times, she lifted her helm from her visage, if only for the note to carry more clearly, and perhaps a little more honestly, and let it drift...​

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In a return call of sorts, a note of her own. A greeting, and beauty besides, returned.​

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Lyras Valein
Reina Daival ​