Private You Will Look After My Son

[Fabula Caromed]

Clan Caromed Holdings, Taris​

At no point in Fabula's life had she ever thought that years of retirement would suit her. At no point in her life had she ever thought that she'd have the time to understand what the sunset of a single world looked like at so many different times, in so many different seasons. An itinerant warrior had no need for next-door neighbors, recipe books, or a carefully manicured garden. A champion of the Blood Wastes had no need for aprons and dresses. Time had seen to it that many things in her life had changed in ways she hadn't expected.

Lynn Caromed was away today, attending a Clan meeting. While Clan Caromed was neither particularly populous nor terribly martial, Mandalore had called for war, and that meant that everyone had to do their part. Practically speaking, for Lynn, that meant organizing her smiths to produce weapons capable of putting the deceased to rest, timetables for local arms factories, and crash-course training for whatever support staff were being sent to the frontlines. As head of their Clan, she had a lot to do. Fabula had a slightly different task.

The landing pad atop their private apartment was peaceful and secluded. The path leading down to their modest penthouse was gently lit in the early hours of the evening, giving it either a cozy or eerie look, depending on one's perspective. Fabula had spent countless hours decorating the little place the two of them had been afforded years prior, after her spouse had taken over leadership of their Clan from her parents. Whatever laid on the lower floors, the top floor was for themselves... and whatever particularly esteemed guests they entertained.

There were no guards, of course. The bravest fool in the galaxy would have an exceedingly brief but very enlightening experience after attempting violence in Fabula's home.

Awaiting Fabula's visitor was a quiet, peaceful soundtrack on every speaker in her home. The smell of freshly-brewed, heavily-spiced tea gently fought with the scents from her carefully maintained garden. While it was absolutely the slightest bit of ceremony, it was probably far less than one would assume she would prepare for her very esteemed company. As she had no servants, Fabula stood outside - in her armor, as this was a time of war - and quietly awaited the unceremonious, unannounced arrival of her guest.

Of course, Aether Verd was a very busy man. But Fabula was a very patient woman.